One of the things we admire most about Spain is the way its people preserve ancient food traditions. In a world where efficiency and lower costs often drive decisions, it's remarkable to see how much effort the Spanish put into producing exceptional food using methods passed down through generations.
Take the dehesa, for example. This beautiful savanna of open pastures and scattered oak trees covers roughly three million hectares of Spain, much of it in the southwest. For centuries, farmers and herders have maintained these woodlands, raising Ibérico pigs, Merino sheep and cattle beneath the branches of holm and cork oaks.
Maintaining the dehesa takes work. Trees are pruned every year and grazing is carefully controlled. But the rewards go far beyond the animals raised there. These remarkable landscapes support wildlife, provide cork and acorns and preserve a way of life that has shaped rural Spain for generations.
Similar traditions can be found throughout Spain, from saffron flowers picked by hand in La Mancha to traditional sea salt harvesting and the slow curing of jamón. These methods require patience, skill and generations of knowledge. They are part of what makes Spanish food so special.
One of our favorite examples is the almadraba, an ancient method of catching Atlantic bluefin tuna along the coast of Andalucía.
Every spring, enormous Atlantic bluefin tuna migrate from the Atlantic Ocean toward the Mediterranean Sea. For thousands of years, fishermen along the coast of Cádiz have known when and where to expect them.
The tradition dates back to the Phoenicians, who established fishing and trading settlements along this coast. The Romans later developed a thriving industry preserving tuna in salt, and during the centuries of Muslim rule, fishermen learned to optimize the elaborate system of nets that became known as the almadraba.
Today, the tradition continues near the fishing towns of Conil de la Frontera, Barbate, Zahara de los Atunes and Tarifa, along the Atlantic coast approaching the Strait of Gibraltar. Instead of chasing tuna across the open ocean, almadraba fishermen wait for the fish to arrive.
They install an extraordinary maze of nets near the coast, carefully positioned along the tuna's natural migration route. As the fish swim past, some enter a series of chambers toward a final fish pen. Then comes the most dramatic moment, known as the levantá.
Fishermen surround the enclosure in boats and slowly raise the net from below. As the space becomes smaller, the massive tuna rise toward the surface. Working together, the fishermen harvest the fish in a remarkable display of strength and skill. It's a scene that has played out along this coast for centuries.
What makes almadraba especially interesting is how this traditional method can teach us about sustainable fishing. Unlike bottom trawling, the stationary nets do not scrape across the sea floor. Because the traps are placed along a seasonal migration route, fishermen do not need to chase tuna over vast distances. The system also allows fishermen to release smaller tuna or bycatch.
Of course, almadraba is still commercial fishing, and no fishing method is perfectly sustainable by itself. Its sustainability depends on responsible harvesting, healthy tuna populations and effective regulation.
But there is something beautiful about this fishing tradition that works with the natural movement of the fish rather than constantly pursuing them.
The fishermen have maintained a remarkable body of knowledge about the sea, the weather and the behavior of bluefin tuna. And that knowledge is passed from one generation to the next, to this day.
Along this stretch of the Andalusian coast, you can still find old stone lookout towers, known as atalayas. In centuries past, lookouts watched the sea for approaching schools of tuna and signaled to the fishermen below. Before modern technology, knowing when the fish were coming was essential to a successful harvest.
Bluefin tuna have always been an important part of life in these coastal communities. The fish is prized for protein and remarkable fat content, adding up to an exceptionally delicious food source. Generations of local families have developed countless ways to prepare and preserve it.
Traditionally, almost every part of the tuna was used. On one visit, we were even shown a salted and dried tuna intestine, still containing the small bait fish the tuna had eaten. It was a memorable reminder of how much these communities understood and valued their catch.
Today, fresh atún rojo is celebrated in restaurants throughout Spain, while preserved tuna remains an important part of Andalucía's culinary heritage.
An inspiring part of this story is the recovery of Atlantic bluefin tuna. Not so long ago, the future of these magnificent fish looked uncertain. Decades of intense fishing pressure, including illegal and unreported catches, had severely decreased their numbers.
Fortunately, international cooperation began to make a difference. The International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas, known as ICCAT, introduced stricter catch limits and stronger management measures. Over time, the eastern Atlantic and Mediterranean bluefin tuna population made a remarkable recovery.
The improvement has been strong enough that regulators have increased allowable catches, although careful monitoring remains essential to protect the progress that’s been made. The fishermen of Cádiz are part of this modern system, operating under regulated quotas while continuing to use a fishing method with ancient roots.
For us, almadraba is about more than catching tuna. It’s a wonderful example of something we love about Spain: the belief that traditional knowledge, skills and a connection to the land and sea are worth preserving.
These traditions have survived because generations of people took pride in the work of their ancestors, learned through hard work and curiosity.
And as the almadraba fishermen gather each spring to welcome the returning bluefin tuna, they remind us that progress isn’t the only choice. Sometimes it is important to carry the best of the past into the future.
¡Hola! I'm Jonathan Harris, one of the owners of La Tienda. I love sharing insights about Spain's amazing food culture. Learn more >
