The chandelier shone over the main dining room like a star made of sparkling wine.The bride and groom would dine here with their family and closest friends. An equally impressive space, just as large, housed at least a hundred more next door. But let's not get ahead of ourselves...
The Casino de Madrid was founded in 1836, and this specific building finished in 1910. From the great chandelier to the arched doorways, high ceilings and elegantly ornate walls, feelings of opulence, luxury, history and tradition permeate the place.
Following the wedding ceremony, I walked up from the church with my Uncle Manuel, listening intently as he described the history of the other lovely buildings (the roots of Spanish banking, mostly) that shared the street with this now private club. We were among the last to arrive and entered a party that had already blossomed. The large foyer was filled with a buzz of excitement while multicolored trays of cava rosado and other aperitivos floated amongst the throngs of pretty people like butterflies through spring flowers.
A grand staircase wound up from the main floor. From there one could see the whole event, which really looked like several small parties all happening at once, as colleagues, cousins, siblings and spouses gathered in groups, sharing smiles and hugs and kisses on the cheek. Still more trays, loaded with tapas - Jamón ibérico, grilled shrimp, foie gras, caviar - wound their way through the crowd, dispensing perfect little mouthfulls to be washed down with yet more Spanish sparkling wine.
This went on for a couple of hours, while the wedding party finished their formal photography session. Then, it was time to be seated for dinner.
The dining room was a study in softness and sensuality. From the light green walls, upon which hung paintings of various nudes in idyllic settings, to the ornate ceiling and fantastic chandelier, to the crisp, white linens covering the tables and chairs, the feeling was completely old-school (as in 19th century) luxury.
We sat at the table next to the bride and groom's table (accompanied by the sister-of-the-bride, so, really, we were assigned a pretty important place in the room, if I may say so myself) and toasted each others good looks and good fortune. Thus began one of the most epic meals of my life.
I did not want to be "that guy", the one spending the entire party taking pictures of his own food. However, I had to take a picture of this. It was the first half of what we dubbed "deconstructed surf-and-turf" - a type of Spanish lobster called bogavante, served atop a mushroom carpaccio and alongside a small coil of perfectly cooked pasta.
I love it when I get to eat something with flavors I don't recognize but instantly like. This dish was one of those and I found myself repeating "Wow, what is that?" over and over again. The earthiness of the mushroom, the taste of the sea, and whatever went into the heavenly sauce (I still don't know), accompanied by a fantastic Albariño (a delicious white wine from the groom's region, Galicia) matched up so surprisingly well I felt like I had just discovered something important, even if I hadn't really discovered anything and this dish had been prepared countless times before. For me, it was a discovery.
The "turf" - a beautiful steak in a rich sauce of port, honey, onions and chestnut - came next, paired with a bold Rioja. I ate the whole thing.
I am not usually a "surf-and-turfer," preferring to opt for either seafood or steak, eschewing the combo as just too much. But then I am not usually dining in an impossibly elegant 100 year-old royal casino, surrounded by hundreds of handsomely dressed people from all over the globe, including members of my own family as well as friends I had just made and really liked. If ever there was a time to enjoy both the surf and the turf, this was it.
The evening glided along effortlessly, as the bride mingled with the crowd, stopping at our table for a chat, and pictured here with cousins from her father's side.
The groom did his thing as well, stopping to share anecdotes and make sure we were all having a good time. Here the bride's uncle assures him that nothing could be more perfect.
But soon things did get more perfect, as dessert arrived...
La Pantera Rosa (the Pink Panther). That is the name of this confection, a combination of some type of formed cream, intensely flavorful caramel and crushed cookie. It looks like a collaboration by Dr. Seuss and Salvador Dali. It tasted fantastic, a set of careful contrasts: creamy and crunchy, sweet and tart, mild and bold. I ate all of it, too. Had coffee, as well. It was approaching midnight, and the night was young.
A meal like this cannot end at dessert and coffee. The whole thing must be tied up neatly with a digestivo. It just must. I had orujo de hierbas, a bright greenish-yellow liquor that delivers a cooling, herbal closing to any meal, and was the perfect close to this one.
The time had come to get up from the table and take the party to the next level. Actually, it was time to take it down a few levels, to the discotheque in the basement.
If the entire evening had been spent in the 19th century, the night was going to be spent in the 1970's, as the disco captured the Studio 54 vibe and preserved it in equal measure to the era that was preserved in the floors above. I almost expected to run into Diana Ross, or Truman Capote.
We danced. I think "Rock the Boat" was the highlight for Marissa and me. We left around 3:00 AM, and the place was still packed. The last guests (some of whom had been at our table at dinner) left at around 6:00 AM.
This was a night I will not soon forget. For several hours I stepped outside the realm of the everyday (and my everydays are actually quite nice) and entered a rare space where time stood still, luxury reigned, romance filled the air and laughter filled our hearts. I even danced pretty well. Yes, a night to remember indeed.
