Chigre

Meléndez, D. G., Los bebedores de sidra, 1856, Private Collection, Spain, Sidra y Manzana de Asturias by Jose Antonio Fidalgo Sanchez, Prensa Asturiana, 1993, p. 133

Chigre is the equivalent in Asturianu to the Castellano word taberna and somewhat analogous to the English term tavern. In contemporary usage in Asturias, it means a bar that focuses on serving cider, as opposed to beer or wine. It may have both of those other options as well, but the majority of their business will be done in cider. It also focuses on drinking, not eating, and is never used to describe a restaurant with cider, as one might describe a sidrería.

Some History

The chigre rose to prominence during the industrialization of Asturias. In the 19th century a profound change swept over Asturias. Mining exploded in the 1830s and ’40s, transforming the predominantly smallholder inhabited Nalón and Caudal valleys into the industrial heartland of the peninsula.

These cuencas mineras – mining valleys – became the first urbanized areas in Asturias, as young men moved to the environs of the mines for work. In doing so, they moved away from their caserías – farmhouses – and the barrels of cider so typical there. Around 1843, La Industria, a glass factory in Gijón, pioneered the glass bottle now so associated with cider in Asturias. In that bottle, the cider followed the workers from the farm to the mine, and later the foundry. A place was needed for drinking this cider. In their villages people would congregate underneath an hórreo or in a cuadra where the barrels were kept. Without these communal meeting places, a new solution arose: the cider bar. El chigre.

...and some etymology

There is some local dispute in Asturias as to the etymology of the term chigre, at least as applied to a place to drink cider. We have two (possibly mutually exclusive) origins. One claims that a chigre was a local tern in Langreo for a type of lever-handled cylindrical winch used in mining. The other, championed by the philologist Julio Casares Sánchez, claims it as a term local to Gijón as a type of windlass used in the local fishing fleet. In either telling the artifact in question was adapted to holding a corkscrew on the end in order to remove the cork from bottled cider and from their gave its name to first the cork remover (chigre de carraca) in cider bars and eventually to the cider bars themselves.

A 19th Century Chigre Described

José María López Dóriga, a doctor and writer from Oviedo wrote in the late 19th century of the explosion of these taverns throughout Asturias. According to López Dóriga, they were the dive bar of the time. Perpetually under lit, smoky, and potentially violent, a late 19th century chigre did not bother hanging out a sign like the cafe-bars that hoped to attract tourist traffic. The locals knew where the chigre was, and could find it without any trouble.

Some of them would, in a rather coded fashion, subtly announce their presence by placing a laurel branch above the door and/or hanging a small curtain across the top half of the doorway. Occasionally a small red and white flag or banner was hung to announce that there was wine to drink in addition to the ubiquitous cider.

Inside the dim room there would be a counter from which to get your cider. There might also be a small table laden with tortilla de patata, hard-boiled eggs, pickled herring, and bread. In autumn, chestnuts might join the other snacks. There might be a square table for card playing as well. The rest of the furniture would be barrels. Some empty, some full; the tops would serve variously as tables, seats, and chalkboards for recording the debts of the regulars.

A chigre was not a place with a good reputation. Poor ventilation, constant tobacco smoke, and a very good chance of getting in a fist or knife fight characterized the chigre in the popular imagination of the time.

The Chigre Today

Today the chigre is a much cleaner, safer, and more salubrious location. However, the best of them retain much of the original character of their forebears. Few proper chigres have a sign to announce their presence, and thus are usually missed by all tourists, Spanish or otherwise. In doing so, they remain admirably local. And while unknown visitors are welcome, chigres hold fast to their hyper-local history and function.

The chigre is almost always small. A short bar counter and a table or two suffice to describe the majority of them. While many of them now offer a small menu of things to snack on, some offer little more than a bagged snack or two, or perhaps a slice of tortilla. Cider is the thing. Cider and of course conversation. As always, the chigre is primarily a social space. Lights are normally dim, in contrast to the almost clinical over-lighting one finds in many modern Spanish bars. Recorded music is rare. However, singing is tolerated, if not positively encouraged, and knowing a few tunes will go a long way towards fitting in and making friends. I have rarely, if ever, encountered a TV set on the 24 hour news station in a chigre. That’s a blessed change from the norm in other types of bars. Most will have a TV going when the football is on however.

It is rare to find a chigre where the cider is poured for you. At this type of establishment, everyone assumes that you are capable of escanciando for yourself.