To Cadiz, where life is just one long lunch

I'LL declare my hand: I love Cadiz. It is beautiful - grand sandstone buildings, built on colonial wealth - and warm. It is historic - the oldest continuously inhabited city in Europe - and it has great beaches.

But more than anything else, I think I love Cadiz because this tiny, crowded blob of land - on the end of a peninsula that sticks out defiantly into the Atlantic - is full of bars (I'm English, remember?).

In fact, Cadiz lays claim to having invented the tapa, which means cover.

Supposedly, King Alfonso XIII (1886-1941) stopped at the Ventorrillo del Chato, a restaurant that still exists. It was a blustery day, as it often is on the Atlantic-facing Costa de la Luz, so the waiter placed a sliver of jamon serrano - Spain's peerless cured ham - over the top of the glass to stop sand contaminating the royal beverage. The king apparently liked it and ordered another "tapa".

On the map, Cadiz looks a bit like a frying pan. The handle consists of ugly modern suburbs. The pan itself is the historic centre, a labyrinth of narrow, winding streets, broken up by leafy squares. The lack of traffic - with the exception of the occasional pesky moped - makes it an enchanting place to wander around and get lost in. And it is impossible to stay lost for long because the sea is never far away.

Spaniards generally lead a structured existence, built around the impregnable fortress of lunch. Tapas are usually consumed around midday, with a soothing glass of beer or, in this part of the world, a sherry - tiding you over until lunch, between 2pm and 4pm. As Spanish lunches are long, large and late, the small size of tapas also makes them a good evening meal and ideal for children.

There is no better place to start a tapas route than with an appetiser in La Taberna la Manzanilla, an old sherry bar in Calle Feduchy. Each glass will get you a tapa of exactly two olives. But you don't come here for the food.

Stacked up under a sandstone arch, which gives the impression of being in a cellar, are several vast oak barrels, each containing a different type of Manzanilla - wine from nearby Sanlucar de Barrameda.

Wines like Manzanilla or Jerez's Fino are often served cold. But this live, organic version - not the dead stuff we get in bottles - is served at room temperature and the taste is far superior. It is rude not to do the "recorrido de la Manzanilla", which involves progressing from the youngest and lightest through all the varieties in the casks to the oldest, darkest and strongest. This will also involve the consumption of 14 olives.

Afterwards, you might head for the Plaza de las Flores to soak up the Manzanilla with a carton of freshly fried fish - the ubiquitous pescaito frito - from Freiduria Las Flores.

This is fish and chips Cadiz-style with an amazing variety of fish and no chips. Options include fried prawns, red mullet, calamares and deliciously tender and meaty, if slightly rank- sounding, dogfish (cazon), often marinated (en adobo).

Or you might try a berza, sleepinducing Andaluz chickpea stew fortified with the robust flavours of chorizo and morcilla (black pudding), at Cumbres Mayores, in Calle Zorrilla, off Plaza Mina.

In the evening, the essence of Cadiz can be found in the down-at- heel Barrio de la Vina, near La Caleta, the small, picturesque harbour where the city's fish used to be landed. Any restaurant along the lively Calle Palmera will do.

It is a joy to sit outside, paying little to sample fish and seafood cooked simply. Classics include gambas al ajillo - handfuls of prawns and slices of garlic served in bubbling olive oil, with a hint of chilli. Then there are almejas (clams) a la marinera, deep- fried ortiguillas (sea anemones - slightly unappetisingly

green, but bursting with the taste of the sea), mackerel with picadillo (green pepper and tomato salad), grilled choco (cuttlefish) and mounds of puntillitas - deep-fried baby squid, exquisite with lemon juice.

And, of course, tortillitas de camarones - deep-fried shrimp fritters.

There is nowhere better to sample them in the whole of Spain than at El Faro, which has refined the tortillita - originally conceived as a cheap, post-war source of nourishment, making use of the tiny shrimp employed as fishing bait into a delicacy.

Founded 40 years ago by the godfather of gaditano food, Gonzalo Cordoba, El Faro towers over the province's cuisine like a colossus.

Standards of food and service are impeccable - and when you are used to London prices, the value is superb.

The atmosphere is formal yet unstuffy, the food traditional yet original.

Try lubina (seabass) or dorada (sea bream), baked under a mound of sea salt. Pulpo a la gallega (tender slices of warm octopus served on slivers of potato, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with pimenton) was eight-legged heaven. Deep-fried bechamel prawns dipped in ali oli were crustacean nirvana.

Try salmorejo - a thick gazpacho or the delectable foie with jamon serrano and apple sauce.

And don't miss out on puddings raisin ice cream flavoured with sweet Pedro Ximenez sherry and warm chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream are among the menu's heavyweights.

Top tapas bars in Cadiz El Balandro: choose from a large selection of good-value, top-quality tapas and raciones (larger portions) at the bar or sit down in the restaurant.

Veedor: possibly the best racion of succulent, glistening jamon serrano to be had in Cadiz. Chacinas - cold, cured meats - are eaten with picos, little bread sticks. The modern 10 de Veedor, opposite, is also good value.

El Manteca: barely a patch of its peeling walls is visible under the mosaic of bullfighting pictures. Chacinas and cheeses are served on greaseproof paper.

Expect spontaneous outbreaks of flamenco. Don't expect other foreigners.

Marisqueria Aurelio: a vast range of sizes of shrimp, from tiddlers to giants, and razor clams, crabs and other shellfish.

La Marinera: for your churros con chocolate breakfast.

(c)2005. Associated Newspapers Ltd.. Provided by ProQuest Information and Learning Company. All rights Reserved.