Menorca: tapas and turquoise waters

Andrew Barker discovers the unspoilt Balearic island of Menorca
Cova d'en Xoroi clifftop bar
Andrew Barker14 May 2015

Menorca is perhaps the most unspoilt of the Balearic Islands: less populated than its big sister Mallorca, less sceney than its prodigal sibling Ibiza and greener than arid Formentera. At first glance it’s remarkably empty, but a peaceful voyage of discovery was just what two overworked Londoners were after.

My partner Javier and I like nothing more than renting a car and exploring far-flung corners of the Med. On the first night we drove to the capital, Mahón, a harbour town named by Hannibal’s brother in about 205BC, which has since played host to marauding Vikings and Arabs. Even the British called it their own in the 18th century, and a locally distilled G&T in a fishbowl glass is practically a national drink. But we weren’t after a history lesson — we wanted tapas. On Mahón’s main drag, a big screen was broadcasting The Marriage of Figaro to 100 locals sitting on fold-out chairs. We sought a recommendation from the most urbane-looking couple we could find and headed in the direction of Ses Forquilles, a restaurant inside a traditional terraced townhouse.

The décor was plain enough — tiled floor, wooden tables, chorizo-red paint on the walls — but at 9.30pm on a Saturday it was packed and the only space was at the bar. We could have ordered one of everything on the giant blackboard of daily specials but settled on a bowl of squid ink rice as black as tar, roast Ibérico pork that fell apart on the fork, crispy jamón croquetas and an escalivada (roast pepper salad), washed down with local Mahou beers. We left wanting to come back the following day and eat our way through the rest of the blackboard.

Local gin. Picture: age fotostock / Alamy

Our hotel, Torralbenc, was a ten-minute drive away. We’d already visited its owner Pablo Carrington’s other hotels, including Cap Rocat, a converted fortress in Mallorca, and the recently opened Urso in Madrid, so we had a good feeling on arrival. Set in a converted farmhouse dating back to the 19th century, the style is spartan with whitewashed walls, blond wood furnishings and limestone detail. The restaurant is run by Michelin-starred chef Paco Morales and we ate there at least three times, mainly for the volcano-like almond fondants with ice cream. Throughout the grounds, the scent of lavender wafts from the flowerbeds, bougainvillea dangles, and there’s a large pool with a wooden deck that we hardly left for the first 48 hours.

On the third day, after a breakfast of cured meats, fresh yoghurt and fruit, we borrowed bicycles and followed the track around the grounds. There are plenty of vineyards to see but few immediate neighbours to spy on, so we jumped in the car and headed in the direction of the island’s second city and original capital, Ciutadella. Menorca’s main road runs for 50km through its centre like an artery linking the two cities, and there are countless places to turn off at, such as Monte Toro, the highest point on the island, and a palatial villa near Alaior where you can now buy local cheese.

The pool at Torralbenc hotel

All along the road, calas (coves) are signposted but with over 120 to choose from, you’d need more than a week to see them all. We’d had a tip-off from the hotel that the best was, in fact, the furthest away. Ten miles before Ciutadella, we turned on to the road to the town of Sant Joan de Missa and followed signs to Cala Macarella and its sister Macarelleta. Having parked, it was a good 15 minutes’ descent on foot through olive groves and wild rosemary bushes to the beach. But it didn’t end there — a further 15-minute climb up another cliff and we could see the bleached white limestone and cerulean waters of Cala Macarelleta below. The inaccessibility and lack of facilities meant we saw few children, but there were plenty of young Spanish couples holding hands on the rocks and Scandinavian tourists unpacking their picnics while trying not to stare at the occasional nudists. This should make any list of top ten beaches in Europe.

All that swimming, walking, climbing and driving meant we had earned ourselves one of those famous gin and tonics. Fortunately, the best bar on the island was one of the closest to our hotel. Cova d’en Xoroi (above) hangs off a 100m-high cliff face. A combination of staircases and tunnels leads you to its sundeck, where on a clear day you could send a smoke signal to your friends on Mallorca. We ordered two G&Ts and watched the sunset over the Med while the DJ fired up his decks. Peace and quiet? It’s a bit overrated, really.

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Rooms at Torralbenc start from about £131 per night for a standard room and £175 for a sea-view room, including breakfast (torralbenc.com)

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