La Bahía — Restaurant in Salobreña

The atmosphere was a five. The food was good, but not outstanding. So overall I would rate it as a very good four our of five. I had the gambas, which were very fresh. My husband had a pizza, which came out much later. It’s funny, because they put the Gambas down at the table and I pulled them toward me, because I don’t think they understood that I wasn’t sharing my gambas! And I wasn’t having some of its pizza, because of all of the cheese. So I pulled the entire steaming plate toward me, and said, “Esto es todo para mí.” His pizza came out a little bit later. And the gambas were very fresh. His pizza was a bit disappointing, it sounded amazing, and it had some sort of nut on it, I believe walnut, and the problem is they put the nuts on after the pizza was cooked, so they just kept falling off. They weren’t embedded in the cheese or anything. And walnuts are so good when they’re toasted, so my suggestion (if the chef is reading this) is to put the nuts on the pizza and at least give them the last five minutes or so of toasting in the oven with the pizza, so they will embed with the cheese and cook a little bit. Having raw nuts on top of the pizza just wasn’t fabulous, and again, hard to eat because they kept tumbling off the pizza while my husband was trying to eat it!

Again, atmosphere was wonderful. Right on the beach, big spacious restaurant, lots of parking nearby, and festive lighting and decor. And again, it was really big! So I imagine it would be easy to find a seat anywhere. They were also out of an app, which made me pretty darn sad. I was really looking forward to them.

We ate pretty late at night, I think it was almost 11 PM, and so they were a bit slow, and starting to pack a couple of things up. But still, there were a couple of tables lingering.

Overall, I would go again for the location, but maybe just stick to...

Initially had a meal for two here in September 2020. The service was very attentive and the meal so-so. On two subsequent visits and having got to grips with the fact there are two menus here and an invisible line that divides serving areas for each, our experience got better.

In one part, the busy beach restaurant has a menu of pizzas and traditional grilled meat dishes with some interesting starters too. In the other, there are more salads and a large selection of fish dishes.

On night one the best dishes was the tomato flatbread because it had the most flavour, whereas the giant spinach and ricotta ravioli was devoid of seasoning. Plumo iberico cooked on the grill and served with veg and potatoes had lovely flavour but TBH I would have been happy just with the flatbread.

The following evening we found ourselves with the different menu, asking for pizza but getting shirty responses about the other “Pizza Hut” restaurant. Obviously we were very confused but got what we wanted eventually.

On the whole, it’s a great spot. Say what you fancy to eat when you arrive and they’ll park you at the right table with the correct menu. Fancy something else and you take your life...

Este lugar es el ejemplo fáctico del "cría fama y échate a dormir". Cuando se toca el techo del éxito y el lleno absoluto está garantizado el factor calidad parece quedar descuidado. No era la primera vez que veníamos a comer aquí, de hecho repetimos por la nostalgia de volver a comer ciertos platos que antaño eran sublimes, pero la frase más recurrente en nuestra mesa acabó siendo: "no recordaba yo que aquí se comiese tan mal". Decidimos empezar paliando la añoranza por ese pulpo picón con almendras garrapiñadas y una ensalada con mango y pesto que en la teoría sonaba a gloria. Toda la sofisticación de aquella ensalada se esfumó nada más verla, por no hablar de que el pesto que prometía ser el aderezo estrella tenía el don de la invisibilidad. Cuando llegan los dos platos de pulpo el sentido de la vista nos gasta la misma broma macabra que al que ve el espejismo de un vergel en el desierto. Y cuando pensábamos que el secuestro del pesto en nuestra ensalada sería una tragedia banal nos aventuramos a probar las patas de pulpo con la ilusión del adulto nostálgico que vuelve a catar un manjar infantil. Es entonces cuando nos dimos de bruces contra la fatal realidad; aquel pulpo bien podría haber sido el producto experimental de una marca de chicles y la parrilla ni la había olido. Pero sorprendentemente la textura correosa del cefalópodo no era lo más escandaloso de aquel plato: el pulpo reposaba sobre una cama insulsa de patatas mal cocidas y sobre este había untada una especie de espuma amerengada, sosa, inexpresiva y sin razón de ser y un sutil espolvoreo garrapiñado que poco aportaba a aquel despropósito. "Que no decaiga el ánimo, los arroces no pueden estar malos", dijo el más optimista de la mesa. Y es así como volvimos a ser vilmente defraudados. Valientes ilusos pedimos no una sino dos variedades de arroz: paella mixta y arroz negro. La traca final llegó rauda (otra cosa no, pero el servicio marchaba con la celeridad de un McDonald's, imagino que para llenar dos veces el comedor) y ésta vez el juicio visual no dejaba tregua al equívoco. La paella mixta era el rancho de subsistencia de la milicia en la posguerra, de esos arroces que no sirven ni para poner como tapa en un chiringuito cutre. Tenía un sofrito consistente en tomate de bote y desdén, cuatro trozos de costilla de cerdo con un adobo sospechoso, un par de cigalas que en otra época fueron frescas y un arroz barato, pasado y con un palmo de espesor. La otra paellera, que tampoco clamaba a la esperanza, contenía una oda a la tragedia del Prestige; un despropósito aún mayor que el de la paella cuartelera. El mal llamado cocinero había decidido verter todo el petróleo de Arabia Saudí en aquella perola como si aquello fuese a compensar la ausencia absoluta de sabor. Este arroz, que llamarlo negro es quedarse corto, estaba igual de pasado, desabrido y desprovisto de tropezones que el anterior. No nos la jugamos con un postre, somos masoquistas pero tenemos un tope. Y con este idílico almuerzo dominical el restaurante La Bahía se convirtió para siempre en lugar non grato para los seis comensales que decidimos confiar en...