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Precious little remains of Greenwich Village’s beatnik heyday, but its sixties-era paella palaces still flaunt the ambience and tastes of the beret-and-bongos epoch. At the unambiguously named Spain Restaurant, a 13th Street fixture since 1967, the menu, décor, and prices seem untouched by time or trends. Spain’s brownstone digs are fronted by a low-ceilinged bar whose wood paneling and boisterous air would do justice to a frat house. The quieter, graciously proportioned rear dining room is a perfect period piece: Worn white-cotton tablecloths, vinyl banquettes, nail-head-studded chairs, and haphazardly hung Picasso knockoffs. The fare is equally nostalgic and appealing. Gratis appetizers include pre-tapas-era grilled chorizo, briny mussels, crunchy lamb riblets, and a time-tripping salad of iceberg lettuce and French dressing in a plastic bowl. The house specialty is copious seafood stews—paella and mariscada—laden with reliably fresh shellfish. Served in rustic, battered tin crocks, these robust dishes are improved by a side request for caramelized garlic sauce. Chicken and veal are executed with flair; chicken-breast campesina turns out to be a week’s worth of cutlets immersed in a wine-and-butter reduction. What to drink? Spain’s diners still dig that crazy sangria. — Karen Tina Harrison

Spain is open 364 days a year and closes on that most American of holidays, Thanksgiving.

Paella, $18 (with lobster, $21); mariscada, $18; chicken-breast campesina, $13.50