El Toro review: our verdict
An iron bull planted between the letters of the sign, large black-and-white arena prints on the walls, carved wood, and tadelakt: El Toro plays Spain with Moroccan hands. On the grill side, twenty-one-day-aged beef pieces seared over embers; on the sea side, morning fish, prawns, lobster, and paellas prepared to order.
This is the address for vacationers who want to step out of the hotel for a real dinner, like Gadiris celebrating something: white tablecloths, a rose per table, a singer or violinist on certain evenings, and a six-page wine list. It is not an address for a quick meal between swims, nor for a small budget: the paella takes half an hour, and the bill follows the standard.
The dish to order: a piece of aged beef, or the paella, to order upon arrival. The trap: coming in the evening without a reservation, as the dining room fills up. The good tip: the free shuttle from the hotel, for three people or more, to request when booking on WhatsApp.
