Valdemorillo

The lamb arrives under a glass cloche filled with smoke from burning rosemary. When the dome lifts at La Casa de Manolo Franco, the scent drifts across the terrace towards the 16th-century church tower that still marks the hour for Valdemorillo's 5,000 residents. Forty-five minutes earlier you were circling Madrid's M-40; now you're 818 metres above sea level, watching vultures ride thermals above oak forests while eating food that costs half what it would in London.

This is the paradox that brings Brits to the western Sierra de Madrid. The village sits on a ridge where mobile-phone coverage flickers, yet houses a Michelin-starred restaurant booked solid at weekends by Madrileños escaping the capital. The streets are ordinary – concrete balconies, parked hatchbacks, the occasional betting shop – but within five minutes you can be walking between wild thyme and granite boulders while the city skyline shimmers on the horizon like heat haze.

The Plate and the Landscape

Manolo Franco isn't cooking for tourists. His tasting menu (€70-90, advance booking essential) uses lamb from Segovia, mushrooms from the sierra, olive oil from Toledo. The famous "landscape on a plate" dish arranges soil-coloured crumbs, moss-green purée and a single quail egg to mimic the dehesa outside. British visitors report staff willingly swapping unfamiliar items – no eyebrows raised when someone asks for the pork instead of the pig's trotters.

Those not chasing stars eat better here than in most Spanish towns. The menú del día runs €12-15 and arrives in three courses: perhaps gazpacho, then roast chicken with chips that actually taste of potato, followed by rice pudding flecked with cinnamon. Portions are built for agricultural appetites; nobody minds if you can't finish. Shops shut 2-5pm, so plan accordingly – the small supermarket on Calle Real reopens at five, but the bakery sells out of decent bread by noon.

Walking Through Two Worlds

Valdemorillo's best side reveals itself on foot. From Plaza de la Villa, where old men still play cards under plane trees, narrow lanes climb past stone houses with wooden balconies. The Iglesia de la Asunción keeps eccentric hours; if the door's open, step inside to see the 18th-century altarpiece gilded with American gold. Ten minutes east, the tarmac ends at the dehesa – ancient pasture dotted with holm oaks where locals collect mushrooms after October rain.

Tracks fan out here. The easiest loops back to town in 45 minutes, passing an abandoned stone sheep pen. Longer routes link to neighbouring villages: the Ruta de los Tres Pueblos traces 12km through seasonal streams and stands of wild lavender. Download the GPS file beforehand – paths cross forestry tracks, and signposts disappear when the bracken grows high. Summer walking means 7am starts; even at this altitude the sun bites by eleven. In winter, north-facing paths hold ice until lunchtime – proper boots, not trainers, essential.

What Passes for Tourism

Don't come expecting souvenir shops or medieval walls. Valdemorillo functions as dormitory town for Madrid commuters, which explains the functional 1970s blocks on the outskirts. The attraction lies in watching real Spanish life unfold: the Saturday morning market where farmers sell eggs with feathers still attached, the Corpus Christi dance in May/June when locals in embroidered waistcoats stamp out traditional steps beneath a rain of flower petals.

August's fiesta brings processions and outdoor discos that rattle windows until 4am. Accommodation triples in price; book Manolo Franco three months ahead or forget it. February carnivals are quieter – fancy-dress parades, children throwing confetti, hot chocolate served from steel vats in the square. British families timing half-term breaks find the village half-empty, restaurants happy to heat chicken nuggets for fussy eaters without the Spanish eyebrow-raise.

Practicalities for the Car-Bound

No railway line reaches here. Buses leave Madrid's Moncloa every hour or two, but the last return departs 9pm – useless if you want dinner. Hire cars rule: take the A-6 west, exit at M-510, follow signs. The journey clocks 45 minutes unless Friday evening traffic crawls. Free parking spreads behind the sports centre; ignore the underground car park charging €12 a day – blue-zone bays cost €1 daily and spaces turnover regularly.

Airbnb cottages with pools cluster on the northern edge, typically £70-90 for a two-bedroom house. Mornings bring views across the Guadarrama range; night skies remain dark enough to spot Orion without light pollution. Bring layers – 823m altitude means July nights drop to 15°C, and February's wind cuts through denim. Mobile signal weakens in the dehesa; download offline maps before setting off.

The Honest Verdict

Valdemorillo won't change your life. It's a workaday Spanish town that happens to sit beside scented oak forests and houses one exceptional restaurant. Come for the food, stay for the walking, combine it with El Escorial's royal monastery twenty minutes up the road. Manage expectations: the historic centre covers about four streets, and Sunday afternoons feel so quiet you could hear a cork drop. But for Brits seeking affordable countryside within reach of Madrid's Prado and tapas that cost less than a London sandwich, the maths adds up. Just remember to book the lamb – and ask them to hold the smoke if you're driving back to the city afterwards.