Wheelchair accessible. Non-smoking, except for patio seating. Reservations strongly suggested. VISA/MasterCard.

Who would have expected it? Authentic Spanish food, tucked away in a tiny mall in East Goshen. But the locals have clearly discovered it, and they’re coming in droves.

We never anticipated a long wait at La Encina, but the patrons lingered happily over their meals, and the harried staff clearly could not help things along. Finally seated, and opening bottles of Alberino white wine that we had brought, we were ravenous. We immediately ordered a round of tapas from the extensive menu (all in Spanish with English translations). Another wait ensued, during which time we surveyed our surroundings. There was nothing very Spanish about the pale-gold walls and the plaid curtains on the windows. Only the pottery plates hanging around the room spoke of Iberian heritage.

The friendly staff is all Spanish-speaking, supervised by the wife of the handsome, 31-year-old chef/owner, Javier Cuesta. They soon brought out the hot tapas on plates almost too hot to pick up. We had creamy croquettes filled with Serrano ham and deep fried to a succulent crisp ($7), and we had tiny clams baked with soft and smooth fava beans in a green sauce that consisted mainly of parsley with a hefty dose of garlic. But the favorite dish of all of these was the Gypsy-style eggs -- baked in earthenware with chorizo, peas and mushrooms, napped with a spicy tomato sauce. The flavors mixed expertly, the textures were both runny and resistant, and not a drop was left after mopping up with coarse bread. (It was the same with the clam and fava dish, too.) A warm eggplant terrine ($7) came in a conical shape with a compote of tomatoes and slivers of manchego cheese on the side. It had a smoky, elusive flavor with a subtle, smooth texture -- truly a terrine, and not an eggplant salad like baba ghanoush. All the presentations were handsome, with the rusticity one associates with Spain.

There were many other tapas to sample, from the simple marinated assorted olives that are a fixture on any tapas bar, through tiny meatballs in white wine sauce ($5), to the familiar empanadas filled with beef, raisins and rice ($5), but we still had the whole meal ahead of us.

Onward to try two of the four featured soups. A seafood soup ($7), from the Vasco countryside of Spain, had incomparable flavor from the assorted chunks of fish and clams that floated in a thick, sage-tinged broth. The traditional garlic soup ($6) from Cordoba, which I almost always avoid, was not too garlicky, after all --rather, it had a soothing chicken-based broth with ribbons of egg whites and crisp croutons. Other versions I've tried have usually been so assertively garlicky that I've tasted them for days afterward, but not this hearty brew.

Could we manage entrees? Well, we gave it a fair shot, and in truth, the wait was long enough between courses for us to get a second wind, and open some red wine. The 30-minute advertised wait for paella ($19) we had passed long before, and when it came we were delighted. The rice was baked with all the requisite chicken, pork, mussels, clams, squid and langostino that would have appeared on any table in Valencia, and it tasted just as good. After the sensation that the paella made, another Vascan dish of sauteed grouper ($19) might have paled, except that it was served with the unusual flavors of peas, clams, asparagus and hard-boiled eggs, in more typical parsley and garlic sauce. Lowly flounder filet got glamour from a stuffing of smoked salmon ($21) and a lobster sauce, heavily flavored with cilantro, and with chunks of sweet crab for good measure, Vascan-style. Tender pork tenderloin ($18) got a kick from a green mustard herbal crust and a rosemary sauce that enhanced the pork as it usually does lamb.

Groaning at the thought of dessert, we nevertheless were induced to have the "Tocino de Cielo" from the chef's native Seville, a light, eggy souffle with a rich caramel sauce ($5). We are told that this dish originated in a convent, hence the word "heavenly" in the title. We preferred it to the traditional crema Catalan ($5), which was firmer and had a slightly burnt taste in the caramel. The chef brought out something with which he had been experimenting, a taste of the "new" Spain: olive oil ice cream, flecked with steely saffron, which is definitely an acquired taste. I can see it as a savory, perhaps next to some grilled fish, but not as a dessert.

Cuesta is a man with a mission. He started cooking in Seville when he was 13 years old, and he came to Philadelphia to work in the kitchen of the old Ritz-Carlton (now The Westin). From there to East Goshen was a short journey for someone with such drive and ambition. In only eight months he has developed a following that he can barely contain, and he plans an outdoor terrace for warm weather. A true professional, he gets all of his products from Spain, all of his recipes are authentic, and he's already planning additions to the menu ("foie gras in Pedro Ximenez sherry..."). This little acorn of a restaurant serves the best Spanish food in the area, and I can see it growing into a mighty oak (encina is an oak tree), but I doubt it will lose any of its charm. Javier Cuesta will see to that.