Lanzarote: Charcoal, Chorizo and Winter Sunshine

We ambled along the marina, all sleek yachts and gleaming modern buildings reflecting the January sunshine. Lanzarote has this wonderfully clean, volcanic beauty about it — black rock, whitewashed walls and bright blue skies. It feels stylish without trying too hard.

Then we stumbled upon Carbón Carbón.

At first glance, I’ll admit, I was sceptical. Menu boards outside restaurants can often scream “tourist trap” louder than a karaoke bar at midnight. You know the sort — photos of paella, menus in seven languages and Union Jacks plastered everywhere. But this one felt different. Clean, simple, local. Right up my street.

The name, incidentally, comes from cooking over charcoal. I didn’t twig immediately either.

Inside, the place was airy, modern and welcoming. Before long, we had bread, water and little cubes of local cheese in front of us. Always a good sign. The menu leaned heavily towards Iberian pork, which frankly suited me perfectly. Suckling pig, lamb and even goat featured prominently. Proper food. Honest food.

I kicked off with grilled octopus served with Mojo Verde (Spanish for “green sauce”), that gloriously punchy Canarian coriander sauce with just enough chilli warmth to keep things lively. The octopus was beautifully cooked, tender with proper char from the grill, resting on a dense potato purée. The edible flowers on top? Completely unnecessary. I’ve never quite understood flowers on food unless they actually taste of something useful. Still, beneath the pansies was a cracking dish.