I have been waiting for years to write this commentary. I'm conflicted; I want to share Bar Taxi…read morewith the tourist world but at the same time, I hesitate because it's the microcosm which best reflects what it is to be a "churretin". It's hidden down in the southwestern corner of town, away from the tourist channels. Its summer terrace is set up on a raised, triangular plaza which anywhere else would be called what it is: the center of sort of half-assed triangular roundabout. Perfect. The restaurant's door is on the corner of a building set at the terrace's apex. Above the door an guileless metal sign reads "BAR TAXI". Clientele step down into the small, oblong dining room directly from the street. There is no music, but there always are a lot of loud, southern Mediterranean conversations competing constantly for audibility against the others. A series of four great clay wine tuns are the dominant feature of this dining room. They stand along the length of the room and the menu is written in chalk on the side of a couple of them. No plate costs more than six or seven euros. The greasy jewel is the magro de cerdo, which like all of the meats at Bar Taxi is grilled in the bar's charcoal-burning clay oven, and is tended by the manager/waiter's leaner brother. Their mother is the kitchen general. The waiter's name is Javi, and he is a cannonball of a man, moving with a grace which defies the speed and intensity of his practice. If there is a mold from which all the greatest waiters are made, it is shaped like Javi. The magro is a cut of pork, chopped into thin strips and then marinated in a house ajillo sauce before being grilled and served with a few shakes of rock salt. Potatoes are two and a half euros, and they are best taken dipped in the magro's extant juices. You can count on the other menu items as well; I think there are six or seven other options (all meats). A word of warning: nearly everyone that eats at Bar Taxi is a regular and will likely give you some long looks if you clearly aren't from the area. Keep smiling and greeting your way out of awkward stares and everything will be okay. (Anecdote warning!!) When my girlfriend's parents visited, they stayed in Zafra a full week and we ate at Taxi three nights out of six. Whatever social weirdness arose quickly dissipated as we made it clear that we were happy, benign people just like everyone else. Skip Bar Taxi only if you want to visit Zafra and miss the point entirely.