Madrid one more time 12

Cats and food are not an appetising mix. How often have you drank a glass of cheap white wine and thought to yourself: 'how does the cat manage to balance on top of a bottle long enough to fill it?' And we all know about the lost kitten posters you supposedly see near Chinese restaurants. So most people might think again about ordering the lager in a place literally called 'The Cat Beerhouse'!

Don't worry, because Cervecerias Los Gatos is named in honour of the Madrid citizens who frequent it. The Madrileños call themselves 'cats' possibly because they sleep in the afternoon and stay out all night, caterwauling.

Los Gatos came recommended to me as a decent 'pick and point' tapas joint. Yes, I can still remember a bit of Spanish from university and had a phrasebook tucked in my pocket, but sometimes you just want to point at what you want and be eating it as soon as possible, without trying to remember the Spanish for 'is that fried in beef tallow or vegetable oil?'

Sure enough, in about two minutes flat we were feasting on the tapas we'd pointed at (4 for €10) and knocking back some reassuringly ice-cold beers (€2.40 each). Each tapa was a thick slice of chewy bread with a different topping (a cold slab of egg & potato tortilla on one, anchovy on another, crabmeat on the third and then tomato with mozzarella). These came out on a platter with potato crisps piled in between the gaps.

In between bites we absorbed the wacky interior of the place. We were stood at a marble countertop in front of an antique mirror, with an old-fashioned streetlamp stood in the middle of the room behind us.

Above us was a copy of the Sistine Chapel ceiling, albeit one where Adam was holding out a pint of beer towards God and the angels were sat on kegs. In another mural, skeletons were getting sh*t-faced. Behind the bar, what may what once have been reliquaries or other repositories for religious artefacts were now filled with liquor bottles. Very fun and inventive!

It was quiet that time of afternoon, but the server was busy slicing paper-thin pieces of ham off the leg of pork kept at the bar. About half the ham slices went onto small plates to be served later, the rest she was eating. We were full ourselves for the time being, so headed back to the hotel via some gift shops along the way.

A few hours later and we were out on the tiles again after our siesta. As I have mentioned before, there is a fork in the middle of Madrid and of an evening the tourists go down one way while the Madrileños head the other. For a change this evening, we took the tourist trail through the Huerta district, but none of the touts could tempt us in. Before we knew we were back at Los Gatos, which is on the outer fringe of Huerta, past the point where most tourists probably poop out.

This time it was heaving, but a chap greeted us and found us some space at the counter near the server, who was still slicing away at the ham. This time we had only the two tapas (one slice of bread with salmon, the other with goats cheese). The server handed over a slice of ham gratis and we agreed it was delicious (melt-in-your-mouth soft and not at all greasy), so she started assembling a large plate of ham for us. 'That is going to cost at least €5 alone,' Christian said at the time.

The ham came with toasted bread smeared with tomato and some crackers. Needless to say all this bread was filling after awhile, so we asked if we could pay. While waiting for the bill we finished our second (or third?) round of beers. The server put down her carving knife, took our glasses off of us and filled each one up about halfway. She indicated we didn't have to pay for this and commented it was early for us to leave already: Que temprano! It was only midnight, after all and the cats were only starting to come out to play.

With tip, the bill came to €40. Although we were stuffed and had lost count of the beers we'd had, Christian was agog we had spent quite so much. I confirmed that according to the receipt, our big platter of ham alone cost €18. 'Yes, ' I said, 'we just paid £15 for a plate of lunchmeat.'

But it was the best baloney we've ever had! If you want to know where the cool cats hang out, make your way to Calle Jesus 2.