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This lunch break is just one of many gastronomic adventures we find in the region of Castilla y León, about two hours northwest of Madrid. It’s a gourmet destination serving up not just inventive tapas but also revered traditional fare, all with the help of farm-to-fork ingredients — not to mention incredible wine.

The rich culinary traditions are practically sacrosanct, which is unsurprising, given that is one of the oldest regions in the country. During the Middle Ages, it was the centre of Spain’s universe, responsible for a long list of cultural and historical milestones, including the birth of the Spanish language.

Valladolid, the unofficial capital of Castilla y León, is about an hour from the Ribera del Duero wine region. The area is famous for its complex reds, which are mostly small-batch, with limited availability outside the country. The fact that many wine estates in the region also have upscale restaurants or five-star spa-hotels sweetens the pot.

I sense a kind of peaceful hush as I step into the foyer of , a 12th-century Cistercian monastery transformed into a winery, hotel and spa, located on the Ribera del Duero’s Golden Mile. The buildings have been painstakingly restored, the original architectural elements preserved and the decor left authentically spartan, though the experience is fully luxurious.

After an hour or so in the spa’s private hydrotherapy circuit, we head into the main dining room and unfold napkins for a slow-food feast. Ordering takes ages, as we hem and haw, finally settling on a melt-in-your-mouth fish crudo, delicious cured mackerel and a roast hen doused with rich gravy. A second restaurant has recently been added here, featuring just two tasting menus, each about a mile long, with special evenings hosted by guest chefs from Michelin-starred spots.

After a night spent dreaming of ham, which I manage to eat at practically every meal in Castilla y León, we drive up the road to for a tour of its undulating hillside terrain and spotless wine-making facilities.

Tinto fino (Tempranillo) is the main grape in these parts, and when the wine — aromatic, full-bodied and silky smooth — starts flowing, no one is disappointed, judging by the oohs and aahs. Our tasting is accompanied by delicate tapas, which alone are worth the visit: a parade of delicate fish, caviar-topped tartlets and suckling pig cakes.

Castilian cochinillo or suckling pig is a traditional staple of the region’s gastronomy. And it’s a highlight of our leisurely lunch the next day at , a family-run restaurant established in 1786, in the small city of Segovia. The hunting lodge-style upper rooms are packed with diners settling around thick wooden tables dressed in white linens. The ancient leaded-glass windows offer views of the town’s massive 1st-century Roman aqueduct.

Family patriarch Alberto Cándido is ushered into the dining room to perform the traditional carving ceremony. He delivers a small recitation while breaking the piglet down with the edge of a small plate, to show how tender it is. And with the smashing of the plate on the ceramic floor, the dish is served. The pork is moist and delicious, the crispy skin snapping like hard candy. I never want to leave, but it’s almost four o’clock.

More traditional gastronomy awaits, along with plenty of peace and quiet, just outside the city of Salamanca at the wine hotel . A former monastery that dates back to the 14th century, this 40-room hideaway comes complete with a tasting cellar and a small spa.

The gastronomic claim to fame around Salamanca is the acorn-fed pata negra, the “black hoof” Ibérico ham, dry-cured and exceedingly delicious. I sample it at Zorita’s Kitchen, along with plenty of goodness from the resort’s organic gardens and the neighbouring farms, many of which are more than 700 years old.

Later, in the heart of itself, we find a big university town with a youthful spirit, and a cluster of medieval churches and squares to discover. We wander the rooftops of the cathedrals, taking close-ups of the gargoyles, no zooming needed.

We pop into a campus basement bar just as the five o’clock crowd of students and office workers is drifting in for beers and bocadillos, simple sandwiches on crusty bread. The bartender is well prepared, with dozens of them pre-made and already plattered. It’s no surprise: In Castilla y León, even a humble ham sandwich is a taste of heaven.

Doug Wallace travelled as a guest of Turespaña, which did not review or approve this article.