I’ve followed Adrián Quetglas’s cooking for years, yet somehow this was my first time sitting down at his signature restaurant in Palma. It felt long overdue. I’m a regular at Dmenu, where his menu del día consistently delivers some of the most creative, well-priced and genuinely enjoyable lunchtime cooking in the city. But this visit was about finally experiencing the chef’s flagship vision in full. The fact that it coincided with my birthday lunch with my friend Georgia was a welcome bonus, but the real motivation was curiosity: to see how Quetglas tells his culinary story without any constraints.
Lunch at Adrián Quetglas felt like a deliberate pause in the city’s rhythm. From the moment we sat down, the room hummed with calm confidence: warm wood, thoughtfully set tables, light filtering in just enough to make you forget emails, deadlines and November’s creeping chill. A welcome glass of cava arrived, warm bread followed (the kind you immediately tear into), and the mood was set. I sensed that this was going to be a meal to savour, not rush.
The tasting menu unfolded gently, each course revealing both restraint and imagination. It began with roasted aubergine, paired with eel sauce, redcurrants and an aerated tzatziki. On paper, it sounds bold; on the plate, it was beautifully composed. The smokiness of the aubergine anchored the dish, while the eel brought depth rather than heaviness, lifted by the sharp pop of redcurrant and the lightness of that almost cloud-like tzatziki. It was the kind of opening that wakes up the palate without overwhelming it: quietly confident, precise, and unmistakably Quetglas that I know and love from Dmenu.
Next came oxtail, wrapped in vine leaves, accompanied by wild mushrooms, foie and a delicate cream of celeriac. This was comfort and elegance in equal measure. Rich, slow-cooked meat met earthy notes and silkiness, each element in harmony rather than competition. Georgia and I exchanged that look, the one that says “yes, this is exactly why we came.” It felt autumnal, deeply satisfying, and technically flawless.
The fish course was corvina with creamy corn, smoked chilli mousse and a salty carob crumble. This dish stood out not just for its flavours, but for its balance. The corvina was perfectly cooked, firm yet tender, while the sweetness of the corn played beautifully against the subtle heat of the chilli. That carob crumble (salty, unexpected) added texture and a distinctly Mallorcan accent. It was modern without being showy, clever without trying too hard.
By the time the lamb arrived, the menu had established a rhythm. Pistachios, wilted Mallorcan black olives and garum formed a bold trio, yet the dish never tipped into excess. The lamb was succulent, deeply flavoured, and grounded by the savoury, almost ancient character of the garum. It was a reminder that this kitchen isn’t afraid to reference tradition, even antiquity, while still feeling thoroughly contemporary.
Dessert took a different, more restrained direction with a goat’s curd cheesecake served with pomegranate and spiced walnuts. Light, almost savoury in character, it avoided the usual sweetness trap entirely. The fresh acidity of the cheese was beautifully offset by bursts of juicy pomegranate, while the walnuts, gently spiced rather than sugary, added warmth and crunch. It felt refreshing and grown-up, a composed and intelligent ending that cleansed the palate rather than weighed it down, and one that lingered quietly rather than shouting for attention.
Of course, it’s impossible to talk about Adrián Quetglas this year without mentioning the Michelin star that slipped away. I’ll say it plainly: I disagree with that decision. This lunch — thoughtful, coherent, technically sharp and emotionally satisfying — proved that the soul of the Quetglas's cooking remains very much intact. Stars come and go; consistency, identity and genuine pleasure at the table matter more. And those, without question, are defohere.
As we lingered over coffee, Georgia and I talked about returning one day in the evening, to explore the extended tasting menu and see how the kitchen stretches itself after dark. If lunch is this assured, I can only imagine what the full evening experience holds.