A glass of horchata and a sweet farton at Horchatería de Santa Catalina in Valencia. All photographs: Mirja Vogel
Horchata, the revered creamy drink made from tiger nuts, is still served in grand Valencian parlours – always accompanied by sugar-glazed pastries
It was a glimpse of an old couple sharing a tender moment in the bustling horchatería that drew me into one of Valencia’s most storied culinary traditions. As he sipped his milky horchata de chufa and a white crescent moon appeared on his coiffed moustache, they shared a soft laugh and she dabbed it away from his upper lip.
“There’s no fixed time to drink horchata,” the lady said. “As long we have at least one every day.”
In Valencia, this refreshing, creamy, non-alcoholic drink is so beloved it is nicknamed “white gold”, and grand parlours dedicated to making it are still going strong in the city’s most sought-after locations. These often historic, traditional places are called horchaterías (or orxaterias in Valencian) and there are dozens dotted around the region.
Production is authorised in 16 towns in the Valencia region, with the quaint town of Alboraya (Alboraia in Valencian), about 45 minutes’ walk from Valencia old town, acknowledged as its birthplace and global capital. Here, buried in the low-lying, fertile fields around the town, you’ll find the drink’s principal ingredient: the chufa.
Chufas, known as tiger nuts in English, have been cultivated in Valencia for more than 1,000 years. They look like wooden raisins but taste nutty and slightly sweet when eaten raw. Tiger nuts are not actually nuts, but tubers of a grass-like plant from the sedge family. Valencia’s agricultural zone north of the city produces 5.3m to 8m kilograms of dried tiger nuts a year. Most of the harvesting takes place in spring to ensure ample supply for the balmy summer months.
‘The horchata is darker, creamier and richer than most’ … a table at Horchatería De Santa Catalina in Valencia.
To turn the wrinkly tubers into horchata, chufas are cleaned, soaked and crushed, then mixed with water. Nowadays, cinnamon, lemon or orange zest and sugar are added to boost the flavour.
Alboraya is also the birthplace of horchata’s companion: the farton, a long, cigar-shaped pastry glazed with sugar, created in the 1960s by the Polo family to dip in and mop up every last drop of horchata from the bottom of the glass. Some stay loyal to its humble predecessor, rosquilletas (breadsticks), which are less absorbent but an intriguingly salty, anise-flavoured counterpart to horchata’s sweetness nonetheless.
Leaving Alboraya with a bellyful of the indulgent combination, I weighed the task of finding the perfect horchatería. It felt wrong to split up horchata from its farton, so I would consider both. Horchaterías tend to offer three versions of horchata: líquida (liquid), granizada (semi-frozen slush) or mixta (a blend of liquid and slush). It would be the traditional classic líquida for me.
In Valencia, there are hundreds of places serving horchata and fartons, but I wanted tradition and old-world charm – places that exist only to make horchata, not as an afterthought to spiced lattes or ice-cream. After sifting out the cafes, coffeehouses and ice-cream parlours, a handwritten list on a single sheet of A4 remained.
Horchatería Fabián
Sweet offering … at Horchatería Fabian. Glass of horchata, farton pastry, customers in background of near empty cafe
It’s early evening in the old town, and the narrow shopping alley leading to my first stop, family-run Horchatería Fabián, is filled with tourists and an after-work crowd. Past bustling taverns and restaurant terraces, I glimpse its entrance and the date it was founded: 1975. Sounds promising, but something is missing. Where are the customers?
Although the place is empty, the staff are distracted and cold. The horchata they unwillingly produce is over-sweet, almost artificial tasting, and the farton is parched and crumbles on to the plate. Horchata seeps into its pores nicely when I dip it into the glass, but the overriding sensation is a numbing sweetness.
I slink out of the unwelcoming room, back on to the busy street and into a local tavern, fearing my high expectations for this jaunt are misplaced.
Horchata €3, 4/10
Farton €1, 3/10
Horchatería Daniel
A man dunks a farton into a glass of horchata.
The next day, I spy the queue spilling out of the glass-panelled room at Horchatería Daniel. This is arguably the most well-known horchatería company in Valencia, founded in 1949 and still a family business, with three locations in Valencia.
I visit all three. The original, and the largest, is in Alboraya, decked with wooden tables and a constant flow of regulars. In its basement, production of horchata and fartons begins at 5am for here and its other locations – one in the famous Mercado de Colón and the third in a grand parlour in the centre of the old town, near to Plaza de la Reina.
That’s where I wait now, warmed by the evening sun, before I’m shuffled into a grand, airy room and handed a glass from a cluttered tray.
I can barely hear myself think over the noise of chatter and glasses clinking. The horchata is creamy and only moderately sweet. Together with the traditional farton, it’s easy to see why this is still one of the most popular horchaterías in town. Giddy, I order its newest farton creation – coated in a layer of chocolate, raspberries and crushed pistachios. Its dry interior and disjointed melange of flavours bring me back down to earth. Stick with the old favourites here and you can’t go wrong.
Horchata €1.95, 6.5/10
Farton 85 cents, 6/10
Horchatería Santabárbara
Horchateria Santabarbara
South from the old town the streets widen out into sun-filled, palm-lined avenues leading to the suburb of Montolivet, where neighbourhood favourite Horchatería Santabárbara has been in situ for four years.
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Most tables are busy, but this does not deter the manager, Rafa, from skipping between them to pat regulars on the back and run through each step of horchata production with wide-eyed tourists. By the time he reaches our table, my glass – which is refreshing but a little too sweet – is empty.
“Try this,” Rafa commands, passing me a new glass. “This is the original horchata, no sugar, no nothing. Just chufa and water.” It’s a revelation. The overburdening sugary aftertaste is gone, and what’s left is a clean, refreshing natural drink that sings above the mediocrity of the sweetened version. Pair it with its spongy, glazed farton and you’ll want to join the sea of smiling regulars coming back for more.
Horchata €2.50, 7/10
Farton 80 cents, 6.5/10
Horchatería de Santa Catalina
Horchatería de Santa Catalina. Ornate entrance with art nouveau style lettering and gothic script saying ‘house with two centuries of tradition’
In the shadow of the stunning 17th-century baroque bell tower of the Santa Catalina Church in the old town, Horchatería de Santa Catalina is the grandest of them all.
A tight entrance decorated with ceramic tiles from Manises opens into a grand dining room packed with marble tables. A curved wooden staircase leads into an equally beautiful room upstairs – both are heaving when I arrive in the evening.
A chilled white glass and a longer farton dusted with icing sugar arrive on the table. Like the locals around me, I don’t hesitate. The farton melts in my mouth, while the horchata is darker, creamier and richer than most. It is a delightful combination. The place itself is a class act in one of the city’s most beautiful neighbourhoods.
Horchata €4, 8/10
Farton €1.55, 6.5/10
Horchatería Mari Toñi
Horchatería Mari Toni in Valenica. exterior of cafe with couple at outdoor table.
North of the river in residential La Saïdia is another neighbourhood favourite, Horchatería Mari Toñi. It’s just a few minutes from artsy Benimaclet and on the way to Alboraya, if you’re leaving from the old town.
Opening at 6.15am, it’s the first place in town to get a horchata and stays busy until it closes 15 hours later. Fartons are freshly made each morning and initially they look dry. The sugar glazing seems to wilt rather than crack. But the first bite proves looks aren’t everything – they are light and fluffy, perfectly porous to the creamy horchata produced in this charming, authentic location.
Horchata €3, 6/10
Farton 80 cents, 7.5/10
On the move? The takeaway alternative
Horchatería Mon Orxata.
In more than 20 visits to different Valencian horchaterías, I watched as horchata was decanted into unbranded buckets and large flasks, conducted away from the main floor. In Alboraya, at both Horchatería Panach and Horchatería El Sariers, at least 10 litres of horchata were transported out by three families in under 10 minutes.
In the city, two standout takeaway alternatives emerged. Across most central plazas in Valencia, Món Orxata is bringing back a lost 400-year-old tradition of selling unpasteurised horchata from street carts. Its horchata is clean, crisp and one of the most refreshing on the hottest of days.
Pair it with the orange-infused farton, made with fermented dough by award-winning Valencia-born pastry chef Migue Señorís at Gelática Ice Concept near the coast, and enjoy both during a sunset walk along the city’s beach.
Món Orxata horchata €3.30, 7/10
Gelática Ice Concept farton €1.90, 8.5/10
