The Basque Country has a greater history of culinary quality, and Catalonia may be the modern gastronomic leader of Spain, but there are good reasons to consider Madrid its gastronomic capital, and there is really no reason to go hungry there. For one thing, the successive waves of immigration from other parts of the country mean all its regional cuisines are well represented, and Asturian, Galician, Leonese, Extremaduran, Manchegan, Valencian, Andalusian and other regional restaurants abound. For another, in spite of its present status as a single-province autonomous region, Madrid is really part of New Castile and its own gastronomy reflects this, it being common for a restaurant here to be classified as "Castilian-Madrileñan" (it usually means that its roast meats are its greatest selling point). And in addition, like any large city with a strong personality, it has developed its own specialities, more working-class than cocina alta.

Its most emblematic dish is the relatively harmless cocido a la Madrileña, which all visitors except those with acute flatulence problems or legume allergy should try: it is essentially a stew of chickpeas, vegetables, chicken and meat, and is traditionally served as two or even three separate courses, the cooking liquid being separated and served as soup (probably with noodles) for the first course. It is, essentially, a poor person's dish, like the French pot-au-feu but, as almost always, the better (i.e., more expensive) the ingredients used, the better the results, so even top Madrid restaurants are likely to prepare a cocido one day a week.

There is a less appetizing theme running through most other Madrileñan dishes: guts. And this is illustrated by Madrid's second dish: callos (tripe) a la Madrileña. Unless you are a real tripe fan, do not be fooled by the appetizing appearance of this - innards are innards, however mouth-wateringly red the sauce they come in. And you are unlikely to need my warnings to stay away from the utterly repulsive entresijos or gallinejas - the smell alone should prove deterrence enough, for they are not just stomach but lamb's intestines, long tubes of them, washed (we hope) and deep fried. They are unfortunately popular at fairs and other outdoor festivies, for the aroma is pervasive and sticks to your clothes.

Another striking feature of Madrid's gastronomy is the importance of fish, here in Spain's most inland city, and not trout or other river or lake-dwelling species, but the freshest merluza, hake, or besugo, sea-bream, not to mention the enormous quantiities of seafood brought daily in freezer trucks from all Spain's ports. In part, there is an anachronistic snobbishness about this, a leftover from the sixties and seventies which, in turn, followed the near-famine conditions of the postwar años del hambre, in the forties and fifties. That does not mean fish or seafood are excessively expensive, though, and a blow-out at a Madrid marisquería can be a memorable affair - wise to keep an eye on the prices, though, for lobster is lobster-priced everywhere.

The Madrid region has its own wine denominación de origen, Vinos de Madrid. These wines are made in the south of the province, in the area next to Castile-La Mancha, and are very similar to La Mancha or Valdepeñas wines, generally more functional table wines than great wine experiences, though there are notable exceptions.

On the beverage front, Madrid's most remarkable peculiarity is the fondness for chocolate (pronounce every syllable, cho-coh-lah-tay), hot chocolate. It's a cross-class affinity, Madrid's working-class barrios having street stalls selling chocolate con churros, while middle-class chocolate lovers will indulge in a cafetería. Chocolate stalls are always found at verbenas, fairs, though few permanent chocolaterías survive, the most famous being the very central Chocolatería San Ginés, in the alley behind the church of the same name. Visitors are always struck by the large numbers of often inebriated Madrileños who queue for a table here in the early hours of the morning.