In Barcelona, when the sun begins to dip behind the Tibidabo mountain and the city air turns slightly cool, the lights of the bodegas begin to glow. This is the time for la hora del vermut or a glass of crisp wine, always accompanied by Spanish small plates—something we call para picar.

At my family’s tapas bar, my papá always said that the best food is the kind you can hold in one hand while the other holds a glass of Rioja. While I was studying the strict French classics at the Hofmann School, I found myself constantly trying to “tapas-ify” the heavy dishes we were learning, like the best Beef Wellington. These Spanish Tapas Mini Wellingtons are the result of that playful rebellion. We take the elegance of a Wellington and give it the soul of a Spanish pintxo.

The Secret is in the Sherry mushroom duxelles

In Spanish cooking, we don’t rush the ingredients; we let them tell us when they are ready. For this recipe, the Sherry mushroom duxelles is the heart of the dish. (For a plant-based twist on this filling, check out my savory mushroom & walnut wellington). The secret I learned at the school, which I brought back to our family kitchen, is the “whistle.”

When you sauté your mushrooms, you must cook them until every drop of water has evaporated. In a wide pan, you’ll hear the sizzle eventually turn into a faint, high-pitched whistle. That is the sound of flavor concentrating. When you deglaze with Oloroso Sherry, you aren’t just adding liquid; you are adding the history of Spanish vineyards. The oxidative notes of the Oloroso bridge the gap between the earthy mushrooms and the rich beef.

Why Serrano ham appetizers are the key

Traditional Wellingtons use English pancakes or French prosciutto, but here we use Jamón Serrano (hah-MOHN seh-RAH-noh). Because it is cured in the mountain air, it is saltier and less fatty than its Italian cousins. This is vital for a Bite-sized Beef Wellington. As it bakes, the Serrano creates a waterproof barrier that protects the puff pastry from the juices of the beef, ensuring that the bottom is just as crisp as the top.

The Spirit of Sobremesa recipes

These little parcels are more than just an appetizer; they are an invitation to Sobremesa recipes—that beautiful Spanish tradition of lingering at the table long after the food is gone to talk and connect.

When you pull these out of the oven, they should be a deep, shimmering “Barcelona gold.” I like to give them a tiny dust of Pimentón de la Vera (pee-men-TOHN) right at the end. It adds a whisper of smoke that makes people think you’ve been cooking over a wood fire in the Catalan countryside.

Serve these on a rustic wooden board in the center of the table. No individual plates are needed—just napkins, a bottle of good Spanish red or a chilled dry Fino, and plenty of conversation. ¡Buen provecho!