Fierro, the Mediterranean with Argentine sparks
Fierro, until recently a rather unconventional restaurant—a single communal table, a tasting menu only, and inconvenient hours—now boasts a more conventional format after its latest renovation: individual tables, a new private room for eight people, and a very impressive wine cellar with around 1,600 bottles.
The cuisine. Although throughout the meal diners discover—and enjoy—various nods to their native Argentina, the restaurant's overall concept isn't tied to any nationality or ideological manifesto. Germán Carrizo and Carito Lourenço, whom I met years ago when they started out with Quique Dacosta (earning, incidentally, the first Michelin star for El Poblet in Valencia), are chefs of rare solidity, meticulous in their execution, and with a keen eye for subtle nuances. They are avowed lovers of Mediterranean light and masters of their imagination, free from adjectives or clichés. However, due to market whims, the dish that has brought them the most success is the Argentine empanada, the criolla, which they prepare entirely themselves and which, I can't help but say, is exquisite both in its texture and its robust flavor.
But Fierro is much more than that. Starting from creative freedom limited only by the available raw materials, the two chefs, who also pride themselves on a dining room that is exemplary in every aspect, play boldly with textures and flavors, overseas memories and the colorful diversity of Valencia.
The journey begins, preparing the palate with seasonal vegetables pickled in mead, cherry vinegar, lime, kombucha, anchovy vinegar, and elderflower vinegar. Chic acidity. The refined and delicate tartlet that follows contains succulent raw prawns enlivened with yuzu. Enveloping freshness. A pelagic jolt: sea urchin in a cube of nori seaweed, profound depth. Finally, the moray eel cream and its crispy skin, another exhilarating burst.
Inspired by the classic Italian affogato, the chefs present a subtle foie gras bathed in coffee, a dish that leads into the renowned empanada, which Germán named Justina in honor of his mother. I stand by what I've already said: perfectly fattened, maddeningly crispy, and with a clean, vibrant flavor. Alongside the empanada is a fried, spherified gilda.
The parsnip is, in my opinion, one of the highlights of the menu. A masterful dish that surprises with its textural interplay and the parsnip horchata that accompanies it. Equally impressive is the (local) oyster with seaweed of varying textures—which enhance the sensory experience—and an arugula cream. The meat, cured in salt and sugar, preserved in oil, and sliced thinly, is another Argentinian touch, here recreated as a ravioli filled with tomato and lettuce, the liquid from the salad.
A turning point. The cremona (or rosca) from Córdoba, Argentina. A memory from overseas. A slightly cake-like bread made with smoked beef fat supplied by a local baker, Jesús Machí. Just looking at the large loaf is addictive, and even more so with the fermented shiitake butter that accompanies it and the spoonful of caviar. In short…
And we continue: grilled porcini mushrooms with Iberian bresaola. Impeccably grilled lobster with subtle acidic and marine notes. The inevitable (grilled) pigeon is perfectly presented, with strawberries in chutney, flame-grilled cauliflower purée, and mushrooms.
The desserts. Grapefruit with coffee ganache and pistachio and orange creams. Rice with sake ice cream and a shot of rice wine. A surprising soy and miso flan.
Spain and Argentina, in Fierro, add up to much more than two.
