Granada's Sacromonte quarter has sheltered flamenco artists in troglodyte dwellings since the sixteenth century, when Romani communities carved performance spaces into the hillside above the Darro ravine. The caves' whitewashed interiors and natural acoustics transformed domestic refuges into intimate theatres, preserving the zambra — a wedding celebration dance that predates standardised flamenco — through centuries of cultural suppression. By the early twentieth century, tourism had discovered the quarter's nightly gatherings, yet the performance tradition remained rooted in family lineages and oral transmission rather than commercial choreography. Today the Sacromonte caves host a concentrated cluster of flamenco venues operating under family management, each maintaining distinct repertoires and house styles. Cueva La Rocío, founded in 1951, occupies three interconnected grottoes with seating for sixty; Los Amayas traces its performance lineage to 1964 and showcases four-generation troupes. The caves' compact dimensions — typically twelve metres deep with vaulted ceilings — create acoustic conditions that amplify heel percussion and hand-clapping without electronic reinforcement. Performers work within arm's reach of front-row patrons, a proximity that dissolves the fourth wall and implicates audiences in call-and-response dynamics. Dinner service in these venues reflects Andalusian mountain cuisine: slow-cooked stews, cured meats from the Alpujarras, and estate olive oils served on ceramic plates. Most sacromonte caves flamenco show with dinner tours begin at seven o'clock, allowing seated dining before performances commence around nine. The menu structure varies — some caves offer multi-course tasting sequences, others present family-style platters — but the pacing remains consistent, designed to conclude the meal as guitarists take their positions. Wine service draws from Granada's emerging denominación de origen, particularly Contraviesa reds that pair with spiced lamb and chickpea preparations. The quarter's topography reinforces its insularity. Camino del Sacromonte climbs steeply from Plaza Nueva, a twenty-minute ascent past prickly pear hedges and terraced gardens. Evening arrivals navigate cobblestone switchbacks under gas lamps, the city's floodlit Alhambra visible across the valley. This geographic remove — combined with the caves' unchanged architecture — sustains an atmosphere distinct from Granada's commercialised Albaicín district, where flamenco venues occupy converted mansions and ticket prices reflect heritage-site premiums. Sacromonte remains a working neighbourhood, its performance tradition embedded in residential fabric rather than museumified for day-trippers.