The smoke is not lost,
it returns where it started.
Every flame, a memory. Every dish, a story.
keyboard_double_arrow_down
Every flame, a memory. Every dish, a story.
At Restaurante Alberca, we believe that fire is the oldest storyteller in the world.
Our kitchen is built around its primitive dance: the flame and the wood in perpetual dialogue, smoke as a living ingredient that does not season, but testifies. Preserving the soul of each product before time can claim it.
Every dish is a return. An archaeology of heat, a gesture that connects seasonal ingredients with something prior to recipes, prior even to language. Here, the hearth does not decorate or accompany: it is the eternal protagonist of a silent, fragrant narrative, the same one told around the first embers, which we, with humility and craftsmanship, simply continue.
There are fires that never go out; they only sleep beneath the earth, waiting for the moment to tell their story once again. This menu is not just a dinner, it is a play in sixteen acts written in the language of smoke, the dehesa pasture, and time.
Every bite is a sensory chapter of Extremadura. From the smoked whisper of pastrami and patatera sausage, to the Atlantic heartbeat that merges with sweet paprika and the pastureland. It is a journey that traverses the memory of the orchard, the delicacy of the embers, and the sweet echo of shared memories.
Ceniza is the origin. Ceniza is the return. Take a seat at the table and let the fire awaken.
Trujillo rises upon its granite rock, facing the world head-on, a living memory of those who set sail for another continent and returned with new flavors. Surrounding it is the dehesa pastureland, where the Iberian pig roams among acorns and goat and sheep cheeses mature with peasant patience. Olive oil confirms its place in the great Mediterranean narrative: bread, wine, and after-dinner conversation as a form of wisdom.
Yet, other worlds also pulse within its hearths: Pimentón de la Vera (paprika) brings the echo of an American voyage, and Arabic spices still whisper in convent sweets. Trujillo, daughter of conquistadors and cook of adventures, does not understand its identity without the entire world passing through its table: every dish tells, without words, everything this land has witnessed.
Mario Clemente carries marks: a broken knee that cut short a football dream, and tattoos he chose later, always reminding him of his origins and his fire.
It all began in 1997, when his father, Rafael Clemente, opened a family grill house in a ruined building in Trujillo. There, Mario grew up among pots and play with his sister Laura, until cooking, without intending to, became his calling.
He studied culinary arts almost by default, but the fire was already within him. He spent time at BiBo with Dani García in Madrid, and then at Etxebarri in the Basque Country, where he discovered the sacred respect for product and the mysticism of the embers.
Upon returning to Trujillo, he did not break with the past: he embraced it. Today he cooks alongside his mother and aunt at Alberca, with the Josper smoke as the guiding thread of a menu structured in three acts: Embers, Smoke, and Ash.
With no ambition for fleeting stardom, Mario prefers the warmth of his team and his roots: a round trip to learn how to light the fire and return home to keep it burning.
An intimate sanctuary where light and shadow perform a choreographed ritual.
The Michelin Guide's Bib Gourmand —obtained in 2022— celebrated what Alberca has always defended: that emotion has no entry price. The Repsol Sol, which arrived in 2025, placed the restaurant on the map of great Spanish gastronomy, recognizing a kitchen with character, technique, and its own project. And the T de Oro from Tapas Magazine 2024 rewarded something harder to name: the bravery of a rooted kitchen that is not afraid to look forward.
Three different guides. Three ways of saying the same thing.
