Aventura and the Table That Started Everything
At 216 East Washington, a Spanish tapas restaurant built on an old building and a trip to Spain is still the best argument for sharing.
The bravas arrive in a shallow dish, cut into rough cubes with the kind of crispy exterior that only comes from double-frying. Salsa brava with real heat on top. Garlic aioli underneath, thick and homemade. I order these every time I walk through the door, and I have never once considered ordering something else first.
Aventura is at 216 East Washington Street, in a building that dates to 1872. Sava Farah bought it because she liked the bones of it. In the stone-carved basement, she found an antique table left behind by a previous tenant. She called it La Mesa. Something about that table sent her to Spain. She and her team spent weeks eating their way through the country, studying how tapas bars work, what makes a good sherry list, how a meal built on small plates changes the rhythm at the table. They came back and opened Aventura in 2013.
The table still sits in the dining room.
The Food
The menu runs over twenty-five tapas, several paellas, a section of Basque pintxos, and cocas, which are Spanish flatbreads that deserve more orders than they get. The format is the thing. You order four or five small plates for two people, everything arrives when it's ready, and you share. It forces a different kind of eating. You're reaching across the table, negotiating the last bite, building opinions about what to order next. Tapas are social in a way that an entree with two sides cannot be.
The gambas al ajillo come sizzling in a cast-iron dish, swimming in garlic and olive oil. They cool just enough to eat, and then they're gone. The croquetas de jamón are worth ordering every time — crisp shells of béchamel and ham, served with romesco.
The dátiles wrap a date in bacon with chorizo and romesco. The sweetness of the date against the salt of the chorizo, the sauce cutting through both. I could eat six of these and not regret it.
Paella is where the kitchen scales up. The marisco comes with seafood on saffron rice, enough for two. Socarrat on the bottom — the caramelized rice crust that tells you the kitchen knows what it's doing. Order the Americana if your table is split on seafood: chicken and chorizo on the same saffron base. The Spanish tortilla arrives as a thick wedge of eggs, potatoes, and onions, slow-cooked in olive oil. It looks simple. The ratio of egg to potato has to be right, and the crust on both sides has to be golden without drying out the center. This one is.
The Room
The building predates almost everything else on this stretch of Washington Street. The interior leans into that age with exposed brick, warm wood, the kind of weathered surfaces that a decorator would spend thousands trying to fake. La Mesa anchors the space. The room seats about forty people, which keeps it intimate without feeling cramped.
When the weather turns, sidewalk seating opens and Aventura becomes a different restaurant. Two or three tables on East Washington, close together, a glass of sherry, the bravas. Those tables fill fast. Plan for it.
The Drinks
The sherry list separates Aventura from restaurants that happen to serve Spanish food. Sherry is one of the most underappreciated categories in this country, and this kitchen pairs it with intention. A fino with the gambas. An amontillado with the charcutería board. If you've never spent time with sherry, Aventura is a low-pressure place to start. Ask about the sherry. The staff knows the list and will walk you through it.
The cocktail program draws on Spanish flavors. The wine list skews Iberian.
Sava Farah's Ann Arbor
Farah opened Sava's on State Street in 2007 with twenty-five thousand dollars, some of it a family loan, by taking over the lease of a shuttered café. That restaurant became a fixture. Aventura came six years later. The Dixboro Project, set on seven acres of woodland in Dixboro Village, opened in 2020. Together they form the Pulpo Group, named for the octopus.
Farah emigrated from Albania to the Bronx at five years old. Her family crossed what was then the Yugoslav border on foot. That background doesn't explain everything about how she runs restaurants, but it might explain the directness. Aventura doesn't feel managed by committee. It feels like one person's vision of what Spanish food in a Michigan college town should taste like.
Why It Lasts
Thirteen years is a long run for any restaurant. In a college town where a good chunk of the customer base graduates every four years, it's the harder version of the test. Aventura has survived because the format is right, the food is consistent, and the price is honest. Tapas run roughly ten to twenty dollars each, paella is in the mid-thirties to mid-forties, and dinner for two with drinks lands somewhere north of a hundred dollars if you order the way you should. For what you get, in this room, that's fair.
I keep coming back for the bravas and the gambas. La Mesa is still in the dining room, thirteen years later. The food hasn't changed much. That's the argument.
Aventura is at 216 E Washington St, Ann Arbor. Sun–Thu 3 p.m.–10 p.m., Fri–Sat 3 p.m.–11 p.m. Happy hour daily 3–6 p.m. Reservations through Tock. 734-369-3153.