I wrote about my experience at this restaurant after my camino in 2017. It still amuses me to read this.
"I had just rolled into Rionegro. The only accommodation is the very fine albergue, and when I went in, there was a group of pilgrims sitting around the table who turned out to be Irish. It was very late in the day and I was famished. When I asked where I could get some food, they all enthusiastically pointed in unison, indicating the restaurant across the road. Off I went and I was greeted by the owner, a lady, who sat me down at one of the 20 or so totally empty tables. She then explained, I think, that the cook had gone home, but she'd get him back, and proceeded to do just that over her mobile phone. I didn't think that this was very promising, but I ordered a vino tinto, and we waited.
A few minutes later, in rushed this quite extraordinary man, looking a bit like a leprechaun, in bright green shorts and extravagant Hawaiian shirt, with a wild mop of unruly hair. After a few words with the lady, he made an immediate start on my Menu del Dia, in full view of me, at the far end of the restaurant. I was given soup, which only took a few minutes to reheat, then he began the main course and I realised he was putting on a real performance for my benefit. An operatic CD was playing, and he began to sing along in a loud, very passable tenor voice while he prepared the main course. This involved hilarious theatrical flourishes as though he were a magician performing a trick. The sliced pork with potatoes and vegetables was very much to my taste, and when I requested a refill of vino tinto, he produced a large carafe of the stuff, complete with a blue ribbon tied around it. A delicious sweet and coffee followed, and I indicated that I'd like to sit outside and have a smoke. He beamed at this, and insisted on carrying both the coffee, and still virtually-full carafe of wine to a table in the street, opposite the albergue, where he proceeded to sit down opposite me, produced his own pack and offered me one. At this point we were joined by the Irish contingent, who must have been watching the antics from the albergue. We all, including the chef, polished off the wine, followed by shots of whiskey from a large flask which he produced, (again with a dramatic flourish) from his pocket. He chatted amiably in an accent that completely defeated all of us, but that didn't seem to matter. Come 11pm, (one of the Irish guys had the albergue key in his pocket), I thought it time to call a halt, and asked for “la cuenta”. “Diez euros” says he, and he cleared the table, locked up the restaurant, and wandered off up the street."
Of course I got an important detail wrong. The lady must have been just cleaning up, but my complete lack of conversational Spanish deluded me. The chef was of course the owner, Tio, and he is just as remarkable as described. I hope his restaurant is still flourishing.