Hanging Houses of Cuenca
By Isabel Soto; Isabel Soto is on the staff of the Madrid bureau of The Times.
Published: October 21, 1990
Most Spanish towns faced with Cuenca's need to expand in the 18th century would have spread out along the surrounding countryside. But Cuenca, perched on the top of a hill, turned not to the earth but to the sky. Its improbable solution stands all along that part of the town that clings to the side of of the hill and that faces the River Huecar: its hanging houses. The flat-fronted dwellings in the Barrio de San Martin, so starkly simple a child could draw them, rise seven or eight teetering stories above a ravine and the River Huecar to the east.
The dwellings, called rascacielos, or skyscrapers, are entered on the street level from their west-facing fronts, at which point they rise no more than two or three floors. Their closest architectural counterpart is probably the monastic city on Mount Athos in northern Greece. While the Greek monasteries tower up on brick turretlike edifices, the hanging houses of Cuenca, some 85 miles east of Madrid, appear to extend from the rock itself. It is as if the town were trying to outgrow itself, reaching ever higher in an effort to compensate for the ravine below.
The hanging houses are unadorned and unassuming, an exact reflection of their purpose: homes for ordinary people. The functional having long ago yielded to the esthetic, they are undergoing restoration in a regionally-financed program that aims to preserve the local heritage. The houses, which are part of the casco viejo, or old quarter, are reached by walking up the steep, narrow cobbled streets that link the new and old parts of the town. A rich reward lies at the end of the grueling 15-minute climb: medieval and Renaissance Cuenca, perched atop a gigantic limestone scar surging dramatically between the rivers Jucar and Huecar.
It is hard to say where the casco viejo begins and the bedrock ends. So closely intertwined are the two that the new town did not begin to emerge, slowly, till the 18th century from the huddle of buildings that Cuenca had more or less remained since King Alfonso VIII of Castile wrested the town from Moorish rule in 1177. This expansion came to be known as the casco moderno, or new town.
The Moorish layout of the town is still evident in the narrowness and seeming arbitrariness of the streets that radiate from the Plaza Mayor.
The old town's architectural high spots are gathered around a maze of narrow, cobbled streets. Many lead off the main square, which offers a tempting selection of shops selling pottery and ceramics from all over Spain - from the cream-glazed earthenware of Jaen to brightly colored ceramic jars of Talavera.
One of the square's finest buildings is the City Hall, dating from the 17th century and with a richly ornate Baroque facade. Also of interest is the triple-naved 12th-century cathedral.
There is a cluster of hanging houses close by the cathedral at the northernmost part of town that are clearly distinguishable from the skyscrapers by virtue of their location, function and appearance. These houses, reputedly of noble origin and squatter, acquired somewhat ornate wooden cantilevered balconies in their first reconstruction in the 1920's and today accommodate one of Cuenca's finest restaurants, the Meson Casas Colgadas, as well as the Museo de Arte Abstracto Espanol.
It is perhaps fitting that in this town of sharp contrasts between the contemporary and the historic, Spain's leading abstract artists (Eduardo Chillida, Fernando Zobel, Antonio Saura, Antoni Tapies) should find their works displayed to perfection in a 15th-century building.
The museum, restored and coaxed into a worthy setting for the works by the small founding group of artists, itself stands as a work of art.
It is no surprise to learn that the Museo de Arte Abstracto was chosen European Museum of the Year in 1980 by the European Council. The museum is run by the Fundacion Juan March, and offers in addition to the paintings an art library and archives on Spain's abstract artists.
Nearby, the Meson Casas Colgadas offers spectacualar views over the Hoz del Huecar; its parent restaurant, the Figon de Pedro, is in the modern quarter. Both are decorated in traditional Castilian style, combining whitewashed walls with rustic folk-art features such as ceramics, exposed wooden beams and antique household utensils.
Traditional starters make full use of local produce. Morteruelo, served hot, is a rich but surprisingly digestible pate of hare, partridge, jamon serrano (a Spanish cousin of Parma ham), pig's liver, all pureed together with hogaza, a large, flat loaf traditionally baked in small towns and villages. It is much less compact than most other pates and chunks of hogaza may be dipped into it or it can be eaten with a spoon. Ajo arriero is another local pate. It is made with mashed potato, together with shredded salt cod fish, egg and blanched garlic.
For those familiar with Spanish Mediterranean cuisine, Cuenca's mojete will be strongly reminiscent of the Catalan esqueixada or Valencian esgarraet.
Mojete combines baked red peppers, peeled and torn into strips, with shredded salt cod. The ingredients are liberally doused in olive oil. It is best eaten by dipping hogaza into it.
Though the Spanish are a nation of enthusiastic fish eaters and good, fresh fish is available everywhere, even inland, Cuenca specializes in meat and game and should be tried.
Perhaps no meat is more assured of successful preparation than milk-fed lamb, roasted or charcoal-grilled in the form of succulent tiny cutlets known as chuletillas, often with the kidney left on.