Casa Labra: Salt Cod and Socialism
Tucked behind the bustling Puerta del Sol, just steps from the city’s tourist epicentre, Casa Labra is easy to miss. Since 1860, this historic taberna has been dishing up salt cod with such conviction and simplicity that it feels like a Spanish answer to Britain’s own fish and chips. Easy to miss? Yes. Easy to forget? No.
A cornerstone of Madrid’s culinary and political heritage, Casa Labra was once the unlikely birthplace of the Spanish Socialist Workers’ Party (PSOE), founded here in 1879 by Pablo Iglesias. At the time cafes and taverns were the beating heart of political life. More than just places to eat or drink, they offered relative safety and freedom. In Madrid, they served as informal parliaments, alive with debate and late-night strategizing. Today, its atmosphere remains quietly serious, with dark wood panelling and an old-world charm that speaks to its long history and a discreet plaque on the façade commemorates this historic foundation, ensuring Casa Labra isn’t just a restaurant, but a living monument.
But don’t let the traditional interior fool you… this is fast food, Spanish style
The house speciality is Bacalao de la Casa: thick pieces of salt cod battered and fried to a golden crisp, alongside silky croquetas de bacalao, little cod and potato croquettes with a soft, salty centre. Everything is sold by the piece from a small, glass-fronted counter no more than a metre long. Service is brisk and efficient—there’s a queue, but it moves quickly thanks to a tightly-run system. You pay, collect your hot plate of cod, then migrate to a nearby high table, often standing, balancing your food and beer like a local.
Beer (of course) comes from a separate bar, poured with the same no-nonsense rhythm. For those who want to linger longer, there’s indoor seating and a small but well-curated menu of tapas, raciones (larger sharing plates), and bocadillos (crusty Spanish sandwiches). A short list of regional wines rounds things out nicely.
When we visited in June 2025, a sudden thunderstorm struck as we stood outside under the shade of a canopy across the street. The crowd thinned, the staff caught a rare moment to breathe, and we watched the rain fall. For a few minutes, it felt like a scene from an old film—quiet, nostalgic, full of unspoken reverence for the kind of food that never goes out of style.
Casa Labra is many things. A relic of Madrid’s political past, a culinary experience, and possibly the best place in the city to taste how fast food once was. Simple, bold, and deeply satisfying.
It’s a reminder that food isn’t just to be eaten. It’s to be shared, remembered, and sometimes, quietly revolutionary.