The Travel Critic

I don’t like restaurants where you can’t book. I also don’t like restaurants where you can’t get a booking. If I had to choose, I’d go with the former—provided there’s a nice bar where you can wait, a team who haven’t forgotten about you, and no passive-aggressive clipboard wielder telling you they “might be able to squeeze you in at 9:45 if you don’t mind perching on a barstool next to the toilets.”

Pintxo in Bath doesn’t take bookings. On a Saturday night, they don’t need to. The place is full, the place is buzzing, and the staff, while busy, are in that glorious zone of controlled chaos where they actually seem to enjoy their jobs. We’re told it’ll be a short wait, and I believe them. The room is packed with people having a good time, the waiters squeeze past with plates of croquetas and Rioja, and everyone looks like they belong.

And when we sit down, it all just works. The service is friendly, the food arrives quickly, and it’s… nice. Not the best tapas I’ve ever had, but then this isn’t Barcelona, and I’m not an insufferable purist. This is Bath, the sherry is flowing, and the whole place is doing exactly what a tapas bar should—making you feel like part of something.

All restaurants should be like this on a Saturday night.