If you ever happen to be down on your matrimonial luck, you’ll be glad to know that Íñigo Lopes is standing by to help. Well, not exactly standing, as he’s been dead for 520 years, but Sevillano friends tell me that if you kick the side of his tomb, you’ll be married within the year. How Íñigo became associated with marriage and good fortune is anyone’s guess. The guy was, as far as I can discover, not only single but singularly unlucky, and his final resting place has suffered a series of what I can only call grave misfortunes.
It all started in 1493 when Christopher Columbus was leaving Puerto Rico and asked the king to give him, as a tribute, a young man to serve as his “assistant” (meaning slave). The king, possibly misreading the nature of the position, gave him Íñigo, his own son. Back in Spain, the young man was baptized a Christian, acquired a nobleman as his godfather, and entered Seville’s San Francisco convent to become a friar. Later the nobleman invited Íñigo to live with him, showered him with gifts, then made advances of a very frisky nature. Íñigo objected strenuously, and the nobleman killed him. Yikes! Like I said, not a lucky guy.
In a fit of remorse, the nobleman had Íñigo buried in a magnificent but secret tomb in Santa Ana, the main church of Triana, then a separate city but now part of Seville. Three centuries later workmen discovered the tomb, and the church put it on display. In no time a legend sprang up that if you kicked the tomb you’d soon be wed. As you can imagine, the ancient tiles have taken quite a beating. Eventually, exasperated church officials installed a low railing — but placed it just close enough that if you really stretched, your toes could still make contact.
I’ve never actually kicked Íñigo’s tomb myself — one husband is enough for me! — but I drop by occasionally to admire the tilework. On a recent visit, I was shocked to discover the grave has been moved from the wall to the floor and given a thick plexiglass cover and painted base. Another token barrier has been installed, but as you can see from the orange chip in the black paint, that hasn’t deterred local hopefuls.
This shrine makes a weird kind of sense in Santa Ana’s church. Ana was Jesus’ grandmother, Mary’s mother, and is the patron saint of unmarried women, those hoping to get pregnant, moms, housewives, and grandmothers. Her enormous church is filled with statues of holy females, from Ana to medieval martyrs to Seville’s own Saint Angela of the Cross, canonized in 2003.
Some say the remarkable amount of respect for females can be traced back to the city’s legendary founder, Mesopotamian goddess Astarte, who for 3000 years represented Mother Nature, fertility, and carnal pleasures.
The saints in Santa Ana’s church are far less risqué, of course, but the cult of the sacred female is remarkably vivid there.
Maybe that’s one reason the church is so popular. In these secular times, 72% of Spanish Catholics rarely attend mass. But Santa Ana still draws crowds, not only for Sunday services but as the launch point for activities such as Holy Week processions and the spring pilgrimage known as the Rocio.
Another reason people flock to the church of Santa Ana is that it has its own bar.
OK, it’s not officially part of the church, but Bar Santa Ana stands directly across the street, serving those going to, coming from, and avoiding religious worship. Everyone meets there, often to celebrate milestones, and during its 110 years, the photos on the wall have become the family album of Triana. For nearly 60 years José Cárdenas stood at the bar, serving up classic dishes such as
colo del toro
(tail of the bull),
tortilla de españa
(potato omelets), and thinly sliced
jamón
(ham) along with ice cold beer and a friendly smile.
So you can imagine my shock and horror when I read last week that the bar was sold to a hospitality company from the city of Cadiz and had been “tastefully redecorated.”
“Is nothing sacred?” I exclaimed upon hearing the news. “What can we expect now? Chrome chairs, plastic menus, and avocado toast?”
Downtown Seville has all too many soulless corporate eateries serving 27-euro hamburgers and refusing to provide tap water by claiming it’s unsafe (no it’s not!) in order to make customers pay for bottled beverages. To think this blight could spread to the heart of Triana was almost too much to bear. Fearing the worst, Rich and I dragged ourselves across the river to check out the “improved” Bar Santa Ana.
We could not have been more overjoyed at what we found. The new owners are a lively young couple, María from Barcelona and American-British Benjamin, who hired a Sevillano named Saul as manager.
“The papers got all the facts wrong,” María confided cheerfully as she placed a couple of cold Cruzcampo draft beers on our table. She and her husband have carefully preserved the character of the bar and happily showed me around the old photos.
“This one’s from the 1940s,” Benjamin said. “You see the boy at the right? He’s around seven. That same guy was just in here. He’s a bit older now, of course.”
The former owner, José, lives across the street and drops in often; I saw him collecting a drink from the bar when I arrived. The atmosphere is as welcoming as ever, but naturally, the new proprietors have made changes. The bathrooms had their first comprehensive makeover since they were spruced up for Seville’s 1992 World Expo. The false ceiling is gone, revealing a wonderful crazy-quilt of old wooden slats high overhead. And while sticking to classic dishes, the menu now features more fresh ingredients.
Rich and I felt we owed it to my readers to do a taste test and ordered a local delicacy called
carrilladas
. These are pig or beef cheeks that have been lightly braised then simmered for hours in port wine with onions, peppers, thyme, and bay leaves. “Carrillada is a
melt in your mouth, get up and dance, and smack yourself in the head for not having eaten this earlier
type of food,” says my friend Lauren on her
recipe blog Spanish Sabores
. “Yes, it is that good.”
Lauren is so right, and I have to say, having sampled
carrilladas
all over Spain, the beef cheeks at Bar Santa Ana are the best I’ve ever tasted, tender enough to cut with a fork and bursting with flavor. Far from being ruined, the bar is better than ever. Whew!
Luckless Íñigo Lopes may not be allowed to spend eternity in peace, but I am sleeping a little easier these days, knowing Triana’s iconic bar hasn’t been sacrificed to the modern gods of tourism and globalization. Do we have St. Anne to thank? Maybe Astarte is still keeping an eye on her city, making sure we pay homage to life’s sensual delights, starting with hot
carrilladas
and ice-cold beer. Whoever deserves the credit, I say amen!
WANT MORE
OUT TO LUNCH
POSTS?
This story is part of my ongoing series about visiting offbeat towns in the city and province of Seville, seeking cultural curiosities and great food.
DISCOVER MORE PLACES TO EAT IN SEVILLE
LEARN MORE ABOUT MY 2023
NUTTERS’ WORLD TOUR
AND THE GREAT
MEDITERRAEAN COMFORT FOOD TOUR
Now an award-winning Amazon best seller
WANT TO STAY IN THE LOOP?
If you haven’t already, take a moment to subscribe so you’ll receive notices when I publish my weekly posts.
Just send me an email and I’ll take it from there.
[email protected]
Be sure to check out my
best selling travel memoirs & guide books
here
.
PLANNING A TRIP
?
Enter any destination or topic, such as packing light or road food, in
the search box
below
. If I’ve written about it, you’ll find it.
Leave a Reply