Finding it is a bit like going to a rave. First, you need to know a local hombre to get the number. On tinkling, you are directed to another telephone box to wait for a call. Then, like the shopkeeper in Mr Benn, a taxi appears to pick you up from Alicante town centre and you are driven 20 minutes up the coast, blindfolded.
This sort of experience excites the hell out of me and has my salivary glands pissing like a Dutch dyke.
The hyper-observant of you will notice that there is a sex shop a couple of doors up from this back street tapas joint. When I sat down to eat at La Taberna del Gourmet recently, I started to wonder whether “Pikante” might offer better value, and possibly have more edible items for sale.
Sometimes the seedy looking places turn out to be greatest. When walking along a Spanish seafront a good tip is to choose the place that has the most punters irrespective of decor or appearance. Xe Que Bó, Alicante Marina is just one of those places. It looks tackier than a Leeds nightclub carpet, but the food is fab.
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