The best bravas I've ever had were in a place in Alboraya, just outside Valencia, where we were living at the time. An unlikely - and not at all picturesque - setting in a bar-restaurant that also had a softplay area for kids. Ours were of that age at the time, so it was a popular option for all the family.

Spain being Spain, of course, the down-to-earth surroundings did not mean they didn't take their food seriously: proper Valencian paellas made to order, fantastic rice with lobster, but also the perfect bravas. The secret was that they were fried twice - standard practice for chips in the UK, but not usual for deep-frying potatoes in Spain. Here they did, though - the outside was as crisp as batter, the inside a separate entity of the creamiest, fluffiest potato. Sprinkled with sea salt, and drizzled with a fairly fiery tomato sauce, but also aioli, which is typical in the Valencia region on their bravas.

Divine.

There was another place in town, a simple sandwich bar that later went fancy and upmarket, much to its detriment, that did the second-best bravas ever. Maybe the local potatoes had something to do with it as well - it's a market garden town and all the veg you eat there will have been sourced from a smallholding within a couple of miles, quite possibly tended by the restaurateur's own family.