Conscientious industry writer Kathy Ombler undertook some thorough research in the traditions of tapas and pinxtos, bars and bodegas, while travelling through Spain this winter.

You walk in and, no matter how crowded the bodega, your presence is immediately noted. In fact the busier it is the better; both the service and quality of food. That’s why it’s popular of course and, like anywhere in the world, you look for where the locals are.

You chose a stool, or lean at the bar and your drink order is promptly taken, then just as promptly delivered along with olives, breads, and/or any other complimentary tapas on offer that day. You enjoy that you’re not paying $5 for a small plate of olives.

You watch the constant flow of organised motion that is the waiters, most likely older men, clad in stiff white shirt, tie and waistcoat no matter how casual the ambience. They’ll be pouring and delivering cervezas (beers) and wines (possibly house wines sourced from huge kegs), carving jamones (hams), spooning olives from massive pottery jars, serving plates of tapas, always efficient, exuding personality. In Madrid, they’ll be adding showy flair with the beer, banging glasses under the tap as they pour to stir up the city’s preference for a frothy white head.

The proliferation of boutique brewery/bars emerging in New Zealand is a different beast from Spanish bodegas. While some offer a more varied bottled selection if it’s from the tap it will be the regional standard; in Madrid the beer will be Mahou, in Sevilla Cruzcampo, the aptly named Alhambra in Granada and, for Barcelona, Estrella.

Get away from beer however and local specialties take prominence. On the southern, Andalucian coast, in historic Sanlucar de Barrameda, for example, the local manzanilla (fino sherry) is the traditional tipple of choice (probably matched with tapas of coquinas, sweet little cockle-like shellfish dredged that morning from the local beach). In the northern Asturian villages, pouring local cider has become an art form. Barmen hold the glass as low as they can reach, tilt it, lift the bottle above their head and pour; usually with an impressive lack of spillage. Just a mouthful, that’s all, which must be drunk immediately before the resultant bubbles subside, and any dregs thrown away.

Whatever the village, or city, wines are poured with speedy flourish, a flick of the wrist achieves exactly the correct level with no fancy branding on the glass for guidance. There’s also no state of the art point of sales system. Just chalk, your waiter chalks your orders on the bar as you drink and eat. Come time to leave and the figures are totalled, bill paid and the bar wiped clean ready for the next customer.

Tapas are an essential part of a bodega. The menu can range from basic - gambas (shrimps) with garlic, or cold potato with allioli, to comprehensive. There’ll definitely be jamones (cured hams), croquetas (croquettes, probably with jamon, or perhaps fish), and likely tuna, sardines, anchovies, octopus, cod, clams, cockles and very tender calamari in various forms. Carnes (meats) will be there and vegetables will be prominent – no token vegetarian offerings but a moreish assortment of pimientos (peppers), aubergines, artichokes and much more, plus tortillas, ensaladas and huevos (eggs, scrambled perhaps, with wild mushrooms).

There’s no modern fusion confusion here either; these tapas come with centuries of tradition. Migas, for example (fried bread pieces with perhaps egg, jamon or chorizo depending on the region) originated as a use of old bread for a shepherd’s meal. In the Asturias la fabada, made with fabes (large white beans), morcilla (blood sausage), chorizo and lacon (thick bacon) is a menu tradition while the Basques offer their own version of tapas, called pinxtos (pinchos). These moreish snacks of seafood, vegetables or meats, often enhanced with intricate sauces are ‘pinched’ by skewers to a small piece of bread and the bill is paid by counting up the discarded skewers. (We assume honesty prevails!)

So yes, there’s a ton of tradition in the bars and bodegas throughout Spain. (The term bodega, essentially meaning a winery, has evolved through the centuries to encompass bars offering tapas and pinxtos.)

Take El Rinconcillo, Sevilla’s oldest bodega, founded in 1670 when, according to a tile displayed on the wall, a glass of jerez (sherry) would be chalked up on the bar at 40 céntimos. One Saturday morning, 341 years later, El Rinconcillo was still trading briskly, serving sociable locals and one Kiwi attracting attention with a camera. No-one seemed to mind. Perhaps there was a touch of added strut and banter as the barmen weaved their fluid way from jamon carving to beer pouring to tapa serving to chalking numbers on the bar.

The tapas were tasty and after several plates; spinach and bean, rice, bacalao con tomate (salted cod with tomato), Ibérican pork, croquetas, the standard complimentary olives and breads, plus a couple of beers, the total bill for two came to 13 euro. A mere $22.

The real value however, was the social interaction; meeting in a bodega is an everyday ritual in Spain. As chef Rafael de Haro wrote: the charm of the daily routine of tapas generally goes hand in hand with pleasant company. Those who relish a tapa or two understand what life is all about.