Tapas and flamenco in one evening

These are the two things everyone wants in Seville, and the two things easiest to get wrong.

Both exist in tourist versions right by the cathedral, at double the price and half the quality. This evening does both properly, in the order they should be experienced.

Tapas and flamenco grew up in the same place at the same time: in the taverns of Seville and Cádiz in the 1800s. People sat with a drink and something to eat, and someone sang. One was not entertainment for the other — they were the same evening. Flamenco has roots among the gitanos, in Moorish and Jewish music, and in the Andalusian countryside, and Seville, Cádiz and Jerez are considered the three places the form took shape. UNESCO added it to its heritage list in 2010.

The first stop is an old-fashioned gourmet grocer, where the evening opens with Spanish cured meats, montaditos and a glass of beer, wine or sweet vermouth. This is where the guide gives you the background, both on the food and on the flamenco you are about to see. Then into the old Jewish Quarter, to one of the district's oldest bars: Iberian ham, croquetas, spinach with chickpeas, and a glass of manzanilla alongside.

The performance is held in an Andalusian patio inside an 18th-century palace, one of the few remaining authentic flamenco venues in the historic centre. No microphones, no elaborate staging — song, guitar, clapping and dance, with the audience a few metres away. It is improvised: the dancers follow the singing, and the singing follows the mood that night. No two performances are the same, and that is why it works. The group is twelve people at most and the ticket is included, so you are spared working out which tablaos are real and which are set up for coach parties.

Afterwards the evening ends the way Sevillanos end it: a last stop at an old winery turned tapas bar, with a glass of sweet orange wine — a local speciality you rarely find outside Andalucía. Three stops in the historic centre in all, eight-plus tastings and a couple of drinks. It amounts to dinner; you do not need to eat before or after.

What you take home is knowing how to tell the real thing from the tourist trap. At the bar: are locals standing there, or only people with maps? Is the menu in four languages with photographs? Is the ham carved by hand? At a flamenco venue: a room that seats a hundred and runs three shows a night gives you choreography, while a room that seats forty, with a singer who can see the audience, gives you something else. Price does not always tell you which one you are in — the room does.

This evening is run in English by our partner, and we recommend it because we would send friends on it. If you would rather have the same evening privately for your party, with Gunvor guiding, ask us and we arrange it.