Lobster fishing is one of the most traditional and valuable artisanal fishing activities in the Balearic Islands. This crustacean lives on rocky bottoms and is mainly caught with traps, a selective fishing gear that allows young specimens and egg-bearing females to be preserved. Its exploitation is subject to very strict regulations, with closed seasons, limitations on the number of traps, and a minimum catch size, measures that have contributed to maintaining some of the best-preserved populations in the Mediterranean. Although catches are limited, its high commercial value makes it one of the most profitable fisheries for the Balearic artisanal fleet. Beyond its economic interest, lobster holds a prominent place in the gastronomic heritage of the Islands, especially in Menorca.

One of the most emblematic bars of traditional Mallorcan cuisine says goodbye. Ca'n Biel Felip has announced the definitive closure of the restaurant, in a publication on social networks, after more than thirty years of trajectory, a decision that the establishment itself admits "is never easy". The venue, recognized this year with the award for the best classic bar in the Balearic Islands, is now negotiating a possible succession so that the business can continue with a new stage. According to reports, the main reason for the closure is the lack of generational succession.

Born in Montuïri in 1944, Antònia Verger Jaume Sopeta is one of those anonymous but key figures in the local history of Pla de Mallorca and, in this case, Montuïri. Antònia Verger was for many years the lady of the Puig or of Cas Carboner, later. Without realizing it, she was a leader, a reference for other women who in the last quarter of the last century too often did not escape household chores. Verger began like this, not in vain when she is asked about her studies, she explains that she managed to take exams at the Institute of Felanitx, but, "the boys continued their studies and the girls, as was usual at that time, ended up doing household chores or as seamstresses". It was at the beginning of the seventies – and not without difficulties, as you will see in the interview – that she embarked, together with her husband, Biel Bennàssar Mayol Carboner, on the adventure of managing the bar and restaurant of Puig de Sant Miquel. In this conversation, Verger reviews from the beginning the success of her cuisine to the tensions and the social transformation that, without knowing it, it represented for the women of the town.

They had installed the perch in the kitchen. The feathered ducks swayed there, hanging from a hook. A macabre curtain from which the animals had just dripped the last drops of blood. The scorched skin gave off a metallic and penetrating smell that mixed with the scalded feathers. Those powerful animals that organized the coop with their scandalous comings and goings looked like others, stripped and sad, staring at you from that small head with cloudy eyes.

The dining hall of CEIP Pare Bartomeu Pou in Algaida is, since last June and forevermore, Can Moncho. It is in recognition of José Ramon Gómez Lorenzo (Pedrayo, 1962) who from 1988 until this year has been the cook at the public school in the municipality. At times and amidst nostalgic memories, he explains very valid and practical tricks and recipes for any family trying to get the little ones at home to eat everything. Moncho didn't want any farewell party, but after almost 40 years of service, the event was completely inevitable.

We had coffee facing each other, sitting at the kitchen table. It was the little pleasure after lunch with my grandmother. She prepared the coffee maker and I took out the cups and the anise. Inside the display cabinet where she kept it, the smells of liqueurs and the wood of the furniture mingled. Some bottles had never been opened, the yellowish seal unbroken betrayed them, others were wrapped in cellophane; presents from France that were savored on special occasions. She poured me that transparent liquid like one perfumes coffee with a pinch of cinnamon. This was our ritual: coffee, conversation, and a teaspoon of sweet anise while she watched me with a mischievous girl's smile.

Then the street was flanked by plots of land. The almond trees leaned over our path, offering such green almonds that we could still eat the skin. We opened them with our teeth and took out the kernel that burst in our mouths like a small gulp of acidic water. We filled our pockets with them and ran off in fours for fear that some neighbor might give us away. In the month of September, when it was time to harvest the almonds, I always ate some of those we shelled outside the cloths. The pulp broke crunchily in the mouth, milky and sweet, braving such a wonderful transformation, just like a chrysalis waiting for its final state.

There are cuisines that not only nourish, but also explain who we are: those that are passed down in silence, from generation to generation, and that live in memory before recipe books. From this invisible thread starts A kitchen in every home, the book by Pau Gómez Calvo, which combines memories, recipes, and reflection to reclaim a domestic legacy that, according to the author, is undergoing a complete transformation.

The sofrit pagès suffers like never before. Yes: it's a very bad pun. The situation of Pitiüsan gastronomy is also not good. Sofrit and other Ibizan specialities are drowning amidst an avalanche of pizzas, tacos, sushi, chicken tikka masala and spring rolls. Not to mention the competition from Michelin-starred restaurants, establishments by famous chefs and fast food franchises. It's an unequal fight. A quick search on Google Maps reveals the difference in forces: in the capital of the main Pitiüsa island alone, the search engine offers 23 Japanese restaurants, 16 Chinese restaurants, 24 restaurants classified as Italian cuisine, 21 pizza-only places, and 23 Mediterranean cuisine. There isn't a specific tab for local cuisine, but we must assume it's included in the 'Mediterranean cuisine' category. Without even going online, any Ibizan knows they will have plenty of options if they want to eat sushi or pizza, and practically none if they fancy a sofrit pagès, the main meat dish of traditional Ibizan cuisine.But the sofrit is no longer alone. Last week, the Academy of Balearic Islands Cuisine was presented to the public in an event at the Consell d’Eivissa; this organization, for the first time, has four members from the Pitiüsa Islands, three from Ibiza and one from Formentera. A kind of Pitiüsan resistance against culinary globalization. There was talk of "defending our own" and the "danger of extinction" of local cuisine. It is still relatively easy to find the famous fish stew (bullit de peix) on the menus of Pitiüsan beach restaurants – another matter is whether the fish used is truly Pitiüsan – alongside international cuisine dishes. It is much more difficult to find less popular preparations, such as sofrit and borrida de ratjada. The same applies to desserts; beyond flaó on some menus and perhaps greixonera, it will be almost impossible for you to find any other.

The summer solstice, the moment of the year when the day is longest and the night is shortest, has been celebrated for thousands of years by many of the cultures that have populated the earth. These were pagan festivals where ritual celebrations were held and where the triumph of light over darkness was celebrated. This is the case of the festivities of Classical Greece dedicated to the god Apollo, god of the Sun, during which purifying bonfires were lit. When Christianity spread, the Church adapted many of these existing festivities. This is the case of Saint John, the day on which the birth of the saint is celebrated. According to tradition, Saint John was born at 12 AM, at the same time as Jesus was born and exactly six months before him.

Bread, a staple food for humanity, seems to have originated by chance. It is said that the first inhabitants collected wild cereals and then used the grain by crushing it between two stones to make porridge. It is believed that one day, someone forgot some of this porridge near the fire, or perhaps poured it intentionally onto a hot stone. The result was a dry, flat, and crispy paste, the first unleavened bread (without yeast) in history. Bread as we know it today, fluffy, with crumb and volume, was born in ancient Egypt. Chance again played in its favor when some forgotten shepherd captured some of the yeast fungi that live suspended in the air. That dough swelled and when they found it, they decided to bake it. The result was truly a miracle: a soft, tasty, and much easier to digest bread.

An enormous casserole dish presided over the center. We sat around it. Someone cut bread with a small knife and ate directly from the dish with the help of a slice. The others repeated the gesture and took our share without haste. Then the old man said that when he was little, everyone would pounce like a ferret when the plate touched the table. There was hunger. He and his brothers learned to eat quickly and since then he had an instinct, a jolt that twisted his throat and stomach when lunchtime arrived. It was necessary to feed, to calm the groans that echoed in the belly. In his memory lived the smells of his mother's dishes, the taste of dishes he would never taste again and that he still felt. Cuisine made of nothing that configured a world, a handful, a pinch, a trickle.

Doughnuts constitute one of the most widespread types of traditional pastry within the peninsular sphere. This fried dough, generally in the shape of a ring or a closed horseshoe, made with flour, fat, eggs, and some flavorings, refers to a much older origin, to preparations of doughs fried in oil, often sweetened with honey or sugar, already documented in the classical world and which later developed in medieval cuisine.

The Mexican restaurants of the Balearic Islands are gaining ground in high-end state gastronomy. The Casa de México Foundation in Spain and the Mexican Academy of Gastronomy have recognized 10 establishments in the Islands with the Sello Copil seal, an accreditation that highlights establishments that preserve the authenticity of Mexican cuisine and its culinary identity.

The Mallorcan brand Miss Vermut has once again been recognized at the World Vermouth Awards. After winning the award for the best vermouth in the world in the semi-sweet category in 2025, this year the company from sa Pobla has obtained the Gold 2026 medal in the same category with its most daring proposal: Miss Vermut Picant.

Ink was a decisive invention in human history because it allowed us to fix and transmit knowledge with ease, permanently and simply. The word 'ink' is a very broad term that includes any pigmented liquid or paste used for writing, drawing, or printing and comes from the Latin tincta, meaning 'dyed'.

The imposing mulberry tree offered shade and fruit to the hens when it was the season. There was enough space to roam all day, to peck at small blades of grass that didn't have time to grow, or to put an end to some insect that had had the bad luck to enter. At the back was the old nesting box where the birds went to lay their eggs and the old rabbit hutches that now served to store grain. A metal bed base converted into a door that never closed invited the hens to enter when the sun set. I liked to go looking for the eggs, discovering that offering that the little animals left us inside a box covered with straw. It surprised me that they were so unconcerned, absent of jealousy for that perfect little box that had come out of their bodies.

One of the most emblematic products of the Ibizan gastronomic tradition and the Balearic Islands has crossed borders and reached Japan. The Ibizan herbs from the Marí Mayans firm have participated in the Anuga Japan 2026 fair, in Tokyo, where they have aroused the interest of professionals and visitors in one of the most demanding markets in the world.

The best llonguet of Mallorca is not eaten in the capital, but in the heart of the Pla region. In fact, it is made in the beautiful center of the island, in Lloret de Vistalegre, and precisely very close to the spot where the marker indicating what - for many people - is the center of Mallorca is located.

The best llonguet from Mallorca is not eaten in the capital, but in the heart of the Pla region. In fact, it is made in the center of the island, in Lloret de Vistalegre, and precisely very close to the place where the milestone indicating what - for many people - is the center of Mallorca is located.