Ambient Light

If I asked you to picture an authentic Spanish bodega, I bet we’d have similar mental images. Dark and moody, with low ceilings and plenty of candlelight. A place where sultry señoritas shoot smoldering looks at their lovers across rickety wooden tables. Tapas, obviously, and red wine in abundance, set to the haunting sound of an elderly mustachioed gentleman plucking mournfully at his guitar.

Take all of that away, except the abundance of wine, and you have Bodega Fila in Valencia, Spain. With its plain walls, fluorescent lighting and sticky floor, Bodega Fila is perhaps the least atmospheric place I’ve ever been to. That’s just one of the things that makes it so special.

My first trip to the bodega was an assault on my senses. Heaving with people, the harsh strip lighting and thick cigarette smoke left me more than a little tearful. Thanks to its very high ceilings and the sea of customers, it was almost impossible to hear anything. Even if I’d had space to move, the stickiness of the floor, a sea of ex-sangria, would have thwarted my attempts. I fell head over heels instantly (not literally – that would’ve required more space).

What is it then that makes this place so wonderful? I think that it’s exactly what could make it so terrible: the complete and utter lack of any sort of ‘atmosphere’. For without any enforced lighting, or décor, or music, this warehouse has more genuine atmosphere than any other place I’ve been to.

One wall is entirely occupied by wine barrels (functional, not decorative); the other is floor-to-ceiling wine and spirits bottles. Again, these are not just for show. It’s a bit like having a drink in a supermarket’s wine aisle.

The real magic happens at the counter. Wine is served by the jug, straight from another battery of casks, along with a variety of snacks. Forget artfully arranged tapas and pinchos, here you order freshly carved ham, cheese or chorizo by weight. There are also gargantuan tins of anchovies, olives and tuna to choose from. No frills, no pretentions.

Set a few blocks back from the terrifyingly steep Mestalla stadium, Bodega Fila occupies an unimposing position on Carrer del Dr Manuel Candela. My advice: get there early and tuck yourself away at one of the few small tables with a plentiful supply of wine and jamón. Then sit back and soak it all in. On leaving, pause to admire the bin; the array of pigs’ feet jauntily peeking over the top is testament to the quality of Fila’s ham.