Dalt Vila

My friend is waiting for me now at the Rebel Ibiza clothes shop, which is not far away. He designed the logo for the shop and has been invited for an aperitif to celebrate the opening. The two German owners, René and René, welcome us into their old townhouse boutique designed to look like a funky living room - with its little bar corner behind the counter, glimmering disco dresses on the hanging rails, and a huge metallic globe on the accessories table. I want to try a black see-through dress with leather details just to get a glimpse of that shady night creature feeling. But I fear that tiny tight thing won’t fit anyways and René no.1 is already pouring round two. People are popping in from the Michelin Restaurant next door to wish them good luck for the new season, and René no. 2 is telling some anecdotes about the parties in the store last season after hours (which I should not repeat here). Since we don’t want to spoil their first after hours celebration of this year, and feel like it’s overly due to line our stomachs, we make our way to La Bodega.

The Ibicencan tapas restaurant is well known in town, and obdurate smokers sit on the terrace despite the still chilly spring temperatures at night. But the view from the outside tables towards the castle is outstanding. So is the inside of the former storehouse: the ancient walls are beautifully decorated with paintings from local artists, and objets from all five continents are placed in many corners. A colourful painting of an old Ibicenco playing the sitar while riding a tiger into the moonlight covers one of the walls. A mirror gallery hangs on the other side, reflecting the colourful table set ups like kaleidoscopes, and the atmosphere on this Friday night is buzzing. The tables are full and trays are flying in and out of the kitchen - one crashing on the floor leaving a lake of alcohol behind. It doesn’t matter, the Spanish waitress has it cleaned up before the applause has stopped . Then she sees us, and thanks to my friend’s Spanish skills we get the tiny table next to a bachelorette party. The night is still young, and the women are just warming up - no pink plastic penises or veils around, just some decent Tapas plates on the table and carafes of wine. The dishes look mouth-watering and with all that rosé rushing through my blood I feel like eating them all. Remembering my Granny’s words not to let my eyes grow bigger than the stomach, we choose to share sweet potato and aubergine hummus with vegetable sticks, the obligatory Spanish olives and burrata - a delicious creamy kind of Mozzarella. With this perfect foundation laid, and some nightspots to cross off my list, we decide that it’s time to move on.

With many bars like the popular Zoo Bar or Paradise Lost still being closed until May, we just drift through the narrow streets close to the sea, trusting the magical energy on this island to lead us to the right place. And guess what? We found a bright diamond among all the other gems: Boodiou. This very stylish rural place run by two French guys, only opened a week ago, and they hadn’t even had time yet to put a sign up, or do any kind of advertising. Looking at it, they won’t need to. They did an impressive job renovating, and doing everything themselves. And when I say everything, I mean from the hanging lamps made of old keyrings to the wooden swinging bench to fermenting the alcohol itself! The French family has their own distillery named Bowls, close to Montpellier, where they produce rum, gin, whiskey and vodka. Tony and Hadrien both worked in gastronomy all their lives - Hadrien as a chef in the south of France, Tony as a bartender all over the world - previously in Hong Kong. With Boodiou - which means the multi-purpose f-word in old French - they made their dream of a shared place on Ibiza come true. It is a dream, indeed. All ingredients come from local farmers, and the menu varies daily. I try the organic pea soup with goat’s cheese, while my friend has clams in a lemongrass-curry vinaigrette with coconut foam, a sauce just blows us away! The cocktails are made with organic products, and we can’t help ourselves but try a few different ones. Hard to say (or remember) my favourite, but the ‘Twisted Sister’ certainly is a palate conqueror. Made from aged gin, two different kind of chantreuse, fresh pomegranate juice and some honey from a local beekeeper - or should I say beedoctor? Tony tells me that he will try the doctor’s beespike-acupuncture himself after the season, when he’ll need a treatment to recover from hard work. Some might find this slightly dubious, but this is Ibiza, and dubious cases are on the daily agenda. If it got dubious in our case later on that night I will keep you guessing: what happens on Ibiza, stays on Ibiza…”

Judith Heede