15 June 2026
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If you ask someone what they know about Huelva, the most likely answer (if they know anything about the province at all) will be one of three things: 1. It was the departure point for Christopher Columbus’ first voyage. 2. It’s the road to Portugal. 3. Ham. Not long ago Chef Albert Franch might have given similar answers. He arrived in this corner of Andalusia without very specific expectations (and with some not entirely settled beliefs) and found something he hadn’t counted on: that Andalusia’s least known province is also possibly its most diverse.
Here, between pastures and marshes, with mists and Atlantic sun, and with the mountains and the beach just 25 miles (40 km) away, you can find Iberian ham and white shrimp on the same day. Huelva’s pantry is incredibly versatile: Its products don’t just go into the frying pan, as you might expect, but also into the casserole or over the coals, and sometimes they barely need any cooking at all.
Franch was born in Sallent, a mining town in the Catalan region of Bages. He studied biology before working with Chef Jordi Cruz in Barcelona, then he landed in Helsinki almost by chance — and he stayed. Today he has a Finnish wife, two children born in Helsinki and his own restaurant: Together with Carlos Henriques from Portugal and Luka Balac from Serbia, he opened Nolla in 2018. “Nolla” means “girl” in Catalan, but in Finnish it means “zero.” And that is the restaurant’s commitment and guiding principle: to waste absolutely nothing.
Nolla is the first zero-waste restaurant in the Nordic countries and one of the first in the world. The kitchen has no garbage cans or single-use plastics, the dining room boasts a compost bin and software measures every milligram of waste. Added to this is its Bib Gourmand distinction, which highlights its outstanding value for money.
Despite being born and raised in Spain, until this trip Franch had an image of Huelva that was missing a few pieces. His host in Andalusia is Xanty Elías, the first chef in the province to earn a MICHELIN Star with Acánthum. At any moment, Elías could have gone to Madrid, Barcelona or New York, but he chose to stay.
Acánthum closed in 2021, but Elías opened Finca Alfoliz on the family property his parents bought in the 1970s. Here he created a farm-to-table establishment with its own vegetable garden and a menu that changes with the seasons, surrounded by protected pine forests in Aljaraque, a few miles from Huelva. As with Franch, Elías also proudly displays a Bib Gourmand distinction on his MICHELIN chef’s jacket.
The blind date between the two chefs felt like a great match before it even began. Two restaurants at opposite ends of Europe — frigid Finland and sunny Huelva — but on the plate they are much closer than they appear on a map. The northern one works with zero waste using Finnish produce; the southern one, without intermediaries and with ingredients from the chef’s childhood.
Where Iberian Ham Is Born
Franch’s journey begins in his gut, in his very being. He wakes up in the Sierra de Aracena mountains, shrouded in mist and dampness: The first myth shattered for someone who thought Huelva was arid, flat and dry. The chefs’ first stop is Cinco Jotas cellar in Jabugo, where one of the best examples of acorn-fed Iberian ham is cured. Elías wants Franch to understand the product that best defines this land, and to do so like a true Huelva native by “sticking his nose” where it really matters.The place is reminiscent of the Cave of Wonders in Aracena: It has something mystical and primitive about it, but instead of stalactites there are hundreds of pieces of Iberian pork hanging in the dim light, curing slowly and silently. The air smells of yeast, ham and time itself — an intensity that for Franch, the outsider, is “almost intoxicating.” He says, “Going down to that cellar is something I’ll never forget. It’s the most powerful image and aroma I’ll take with me from here.”
To understand why this ham is so special, you have to understand its characteristics: “Iberian” and “acorn-fed.” The Iberian pig is a native breed of the Iberian Peninsula with a unique genetic characteristic similar to Japanese Wagyu cattle: the ability to infiltrate fat between the muscle fibers. This fat, responsible for its marbled texture, is rich in oleic acid and provides depth of flavor and aromatic complexity.
It’s worth noting that an Iberian pig lives a dream life. Roaming free in the dehesa (pastureland), it eats acorns, herbs and roots to its heart’s content as it wanders along the Camino de Santiago for miles a day.
The Jabugo PDO (Protected Designation of Origin), centered in this mountain range, is one of the most prestigious in the world. And Cinco Jotas has been working with the same philosophy since 1879: 100% Iberian pigs, always fed on acorns, with hams cured for three to five years in their cellars.
What most surprises Franch is not the visual spectacle, but the method: The master ham-maker determines if a ham is ready simply by piercing, smelling, feeling and tasting it. No machines or statistics — just a nose and experience. “In 2026, when we do everything with technology, for a taster to decide if a ham is good just by tasting it — it’s amazing,” Franch says. “It’s about truly understanding the product, knowing exactly what you’re looking for.”
For Elías, the ham he grew up with, the ham that nourished his breakfasts, snacks and dinners, “is the result of the symbiosis between climate, nature and human craftsmanship throughout history. Simple and noble.” He says, “Gastronomically, it’s difficult to match because of its perfection, as it requires hardly any preparation.”
Franch pauses thoughtfully and tries to answer the million-dollar question: Where to put a product that speaks for itself? “In my stomach,” he finally replies, amused. “Ham has almost everything. I don’t really know how I could improve it. Perhaps I would serve it as an appetizer, mixed with some mushrooms from the forests where I live, trying to enhance its umami.”
Elías suggests another approach: “I would go for the humblest dishes: That’s where the true essence of Huelva lies.” He speaks of habas enzapatás, a dish he considers “the most honest and least known in the province,” prepared using the last beans from the plant, when the grain is large, and seasoned with pennyroyal. “They are incredibly easy to cook, they herald spring and accompanied by a good acorn-fed Iberian ham and a fine Condado wine, they are a unique experience,” he says.
White and Whiskered: The Lady of the Atlantic
It takes an hour and a quarter to get from the Cinco Jotas cellar to Huelva’s Mercado del Carmen. Elías drives while telling Franch more about the province, from the mountains to the coast, from the pastureland to the Atlantic.The market opens early and Elías knows every stall. The gamba blanca, the white prawn, displayed at the fishmonger’s counter, is the star of the show. Franch stops: He knows prawns from Palamós, the quintessential Mediterranean prawns and the pride of the Costa Brava. He looks at the ones here, smells them, touches them: They are delicate, sweet, almost transparent. He notices the intact antennae, the sign of freshness that sets them apart and proves they haven’t been frozen at sea.
Elías points out, one by one, all the treasures of the Atlantic: the cuttlefish (the local variety, more tender than any cephalopod in the Mediterranean), the clams and the mojama from Isla Cristina. Of the mojama, Elías explains, “This air-cured tuna loin is the ham of the sea. It’s based on the same idea as Iberian ham, but with a product from the Atlantic. It’s a humble raw material. The technique is simple and the result is extraordinary.” Franch understands what he’s talking about: Fish is cured in Finland too. Iberian ham and Baltic smoked salmon share the same concept, practiced at opposite ends of Europe.
Doñana, El Rocío and Respect for Origins
The entire afternoon is dedicated to Doñana and it deserves it. Doñana National Park is the most important wetland in Europe: 133,000 acres (54,000 hectares) of Guadalquivir marshes, shifting dunes, pine forests and miles of pristine beach where half a million migratory birds arrive each year. Here, flamingos gather in colonies, waiting for their perfect sunset photo, and the Iberian lynx and the Spanish imperial eagle, two of the most endangered species on the planet, find refuge.After a pause to appreciate nature, the chefs make their way to El Rocío, a white, dusty village, silent almost year-round except when it becomes the epicenter of Spain’s largest pilgrimage. There, they sit down with a glass of fino sherry from the Condado region and talk about ingredients and the essence of cooking. A man from Huelva, proud of his homeland, and a man who’s practically Finnish, accustomed to cold forests, gaze at a tiny chapel in a village with a touch of the Wild West, where the streets are unpaved and horses roam freely. There are no words to describe the moment.
When asked what a chef should never lose, Elías replies: “Respect. History precedes you. Something that has been evolving for centuries deserves deference. Without that deference to the product and the producer, gastronomy wouldn’t be what it is today.”
That’s precisely what has most impressed Franch in Huelva. “I think you can really feel that respect for tradition. Things are done with a lot of love, trying to ensure that these traditions aren’t lost, generation after generation, to keep them alive in the region.”
Famous for Frying, but a Master of Slow-Cooked Stews
The evening ends at Finca Alfoliz. Elías prepares his tartare of acorn-fed Iberian ham shank with frozen mustard and free-range egg yolk. The shank — the most gelatinous and least glamorous part of the ham — is elevated as a tartare, and the chilled mustard provides an acidic counterpoint that awakens the palate while the yolk brings everything together. It’s a dish that showcases technique at the service of the product — as it should be.“What myth have you shattered these past few days?” Elías asks Franch at the end of dinner.
“I came with a very different image of Huelva than what I’ve found,” Franch confesses. “There’s an incredible array of ingredients. You think that everything here is fried, but there’s a real culture of hearty stews, slow-cooked dishes, surf and turf on the same plate.”
“And what do you think will be the hardest thing for people in Finland to understand when you tell them about your trip?”
Franch thinks for a moment and answers with a laugh: “Why I don’t live here!”
Elías smiles. “So you’ll come back. And every time you do, it will continue to surprise you.”
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Hero image: Xanty Elías and Albert Franch, two chefs at opposite ends of Europe with the same philosophy on the plate. © MICHELIN Guide
