“To go to bed at night in Madrid marks you as a little queer. For a long time your friends will be a little uncomfortable about it. Nobody goes to bed in Madrid until they have killed the night.”

– Ernest Hemingway

Two places in Madrid to kill the night, as Ernesto put it :

The San Miguel Mercado, where eating is an art form that you can linger over or shovel through. Pimentos de Padron, charred and littered with rock salt. Jamon y Queso, folded into croissant dough and toasted till the center is a molten, mind-blowing combination of grease and heaven. Patatas Bravas, decorated in mayo and wrapped in cones made from Spanish newspapers. The bubbled refreshment of cold cerveza or the stripping power of strong, dry sherry. Grab a pretzel-shaped churro before you leave and a tiny paper cup filled with warm milk chocolate for dipping.

The La Latina neighborhood, where people congregate directly after the siesta, adapting quickly to the day’s nose dive into twilight. Possibly even causing it. After a few glasses of wine at Taberna Txakolina, request something they call the Bomba Rellende de Carne Picada. It’s a melon-sized, deep-fried mashed potato ball, covered in a puddle of mushroom gravy, hiding a center filled with warm ground beef.