Lots of black tar, dark fruits, raisins, prunes, figs, dark chocolate and just the right tannins. Excellent, silky smooth and just the right hint of saddle leather. I had this at Salero in Chicago with a cheese plate and pulpo – it was just right.
Tucked away in the corner of Plaça de Passeig you will discover this family owned gem. The proprietor proudly claims that four generations of his family have been toiling away, making and selling all manner of ceramic and pottery goods to a mixed clientele of local consumers and foreign enthusiasts.
If you’re in Cadaqués and in the market for any sort of houseware, stop here. And don’t forget your credit card. This is not the home to touristy nonsense – here you will find gorgeous housewares, from plates to bowls, tea sets to figurines. They have it all and it’s all top notch quality, often proudly signed by the, in some cases, famous artisans. You’re welcome. And so is your mom.
Can Saló, Plaça de Passeig, 12, 17488 Cadaqués, Girona, Spain
So what do you do when you’re starving and it’s after 11pm in little ol’ Cadaqués? You go see the Godfather, of course. Jaume is the proprietor of this tiny little spot down a back alley, where he presides over a raucous crew of locals and seasonal residents.
Upon returning from the spectacular Vívid wine festival in Sant Martí d’Empúries (highly recommended in its own right) a couple of hours south of town, we discovered that the tapas served during the festival had already burned off and were craving anchovies intensely. Although most of Spain is more than willing to feed a weary soul late into the night, Cadaqués is oriented more toward relaxation and outdoor activities and there wasn’t much to choose from. Actually, there wasn’t anything.
On a wing and a prayer, we went for broke on a crowded and jovial alleyway, winding our way through wine-swilling revelers and the occasional dancer. Without my trusty Catalan companion, I surely would have perished this time. She was able to sweet talk Jaume into breaking out some of those famous excellent L’Escala anchovies (served over bread with piquillos, of course) and some pa amb tomaquet – the famous Catalan staple of crispy bread rubbed with garlic and tomatoes, then drizzled with olive oil. It really hit the spot and I thanked my lucky stars, for surely, with both my trusty Catalan and my Godfather looking out for me, I couldn’t go wrong.
El Padrí, Carrer Miguel Rosset, 6, 17488 Cadaqués, Girona, Spain
For over twenty years El Bulli in nearby Roses cast a shadow over Spanish, and really any, haute cuisine in a way that may not be seen again. Though many chefs graduated from her kitchens, a few (Mateu Casañas, Oriol Castro, and Eduard Xatruch) chose not to stray far from home, landing in Cadaqués.
As the name suggests, plates are created with sharing in mind. Toeing the line between El Bulli-style molecular gastronomy palate-bending taste experiments and traditional Catalan cuisine, this place hits all the perfect notes.
This intimate, upscale place is where you need to go to continue your Cadaqués theme of relaxation and rejuvenation. I don’t often engage in a play-by-play breakdown of menus in this space and won’t be diverting from practice for Compartir. But I will say, do yourself a solid and just book this one on faith. And when you get back to Barcelona, check out their sister restaurant, Disfrutar.
Compartir, Riera de Sant Vicenç, 17488 Cadaqués, Girona, Spain
Named for the Northern Wind that cools this seaside town, this tiny hotel is aptly named. Sitting atop the tallest hill in town, and surrounded by picturesque winding streets, this place is an absolute gem where you will be lilted to sleep each night by the sound of its namesake breeze.
Carles and Rose are the locally born-and-bred couple that own and operate this lovely spot. All the rooms are recently renovated and feature a modern Catalan esthetic of clean lines and slick design in a white-to-neutral palate. We chose the pine room – the whistling of the wind racing through the pine needles created the sweetest lullaby, and kept us in bed a bit longer than expected each morning.
Suffice to say that we came for one night, stayed three, and nearly begged Rose to kick one of the French couples out and give us their room. Even with my trusty “pesada” Catalan negotiator at my side, Rose stood by her reservation policy and refused to treat the Frenchies shabbily. We were only half-joking, anyway.
To be honest, this is the kind of place that you’re afraid to write about: you don’t want them to get too much exposure because you’re afraid to lose your place in line. That said, everything was perfect. The breakfast was spot-on each morning and Carles is happy to use his electric golf cart to haul you to the head of the hiking trails on the other side of town. I know I’ll be back here soon.
For a gorgeous introduction to nights and Barcelona, it doesn’t get much better than this. If you come early enough, you can add a dip in the small pool to the night’s festivities. Barring that, do like I did, bring some great friends, order from the gintonic menu, and forget that you’ve ever heard of the word “problem” – surely some form of rare rodent that lurks only in the caverns between the rooftops – only clear skies and bright hopes can you see!
Tibidabo is the name of the small mountain looming over Barcelona like an ever-vigilant sentinel peering out to sea. Part way up the side of it, through winding streets of former villages-turned-suburbs like Sarria and Vallcarca, you’ll find this small neighborhood bar and restaurant with the out-sized, sweeping views. Really, this is a locals spot.
What you want to do here is order a gintonic from the extensive menu – I suggest Mare with pink peppercorn Schwepp’s – and sit talking about life, loves, dreams, and hopes for tomorrow and forever. After all, as her name suggests, Tibidabo has the power to give them all to you.
Mirablau, Plaça del Doctor Andreu, 08035 Barcelona, Spain
Rice. You came for arroz. At least, you want to have excellent paella while in Barcelona, and not from one of the tourist traps serving overcooked-to-mush shrimp rolling around in glow-in-the-dark irradiated yellow rice. You came to the right place.
Located perfectly, almost as if the traditional fisherman’s neighborhood of Barceloneta were a spear jutting into the sea, if you ask nicely you can score a table looking out onto Playa de Sant Sebastiá. Bring a scarf so that you can leave the windows open; the briny sea breeze is the perfect seasoning for the rice.
But don’t rush to the rice too quickly! The chef creates magnificent symphonies of mussel concoctions based on whatever is fresh that day. On our day, my companion and I were simply blown away by a Szechuan pepper and lemongrass broth that was perfectly balanced, and not too spicy for my spice-shy dining partner.
As regards the service, I believe this little vignette will tell you all you need to know about Barraca’s standards and care for excellence: on our first visit, we ordered a bottle of wine. Normally I find the rote present label-open-present cork-taste-approve traditional wine service song and dance to be a gratuitously formalistic bore. But, as any wine nerd can tell you, every now and then a cork goes bad or bottle gets mishandled, turning the otherwise good wine inside into something from a dare reality television show. My poor Catalan companion was horrified when I sent the wine back. She, and the waitress, both were noticeably nervous that I had somehow executed a breach of etiquette, the punishment for which was likely to be grave. The owner, however, came to the table, nonchalantly poured a taste into his glass, and took 1.5 seconds to nod and declare the bottle a dud, removed it from the check and issued us a new wine. No fuss at all.
So, for the location, the service, and the food, make this an afternoon stop for classic seafood rice (paella, that is) in the sun.
If you’ve never dined in a classic-style Spanish or Catalan restaurant, here is your opportunity to do it right. From the moment you enter, the vaulted ceilings, stately décor, and impeccable service are on display. Austere luxury, served up as only the Catalan’s can. The white table-cloth, white glove service is simply perfect. But, as with other entries in this blog, you came here for one specific thing: sea urchin, or eriçó de mar. I cannot honestly say that I’ve ever had sea urchin like this: served in the hollowed out spiny shells of the creatures, the preparation is the thickest, richest, almost gravy-like, umami-packed preparation I’ve ever spooned into my mouth. The effect of the deep richness is that you’ll feel like you just ate steak covered with melted gelato, or some other insanely indulgent concoction.
This is an amazing little date-night spot, even if Sarria is a bit of a hike from the city center. If you’re lucky, your date will confuse the sea urchin-induced swoon in their belly for one in their heart.
St. Rémy, Carrer d’Iradier, 12, 08017 Barcelona, Spain
Some nights when traveling, you just need to stretch out and enjoy a long, satisfying meal in a relaxing and quiet atmosphere. This adorable, tiny spot sits on the somewhat hidden Traginers Plaza – a real oasis of quiet and relaxation in the middle of the often wild and wooly Barrio Gótico. Snag an outside table if it’s warm enough and you can. If not, I’m quite fond of the first table on the left.
Don’t bother being in a hurry. The server and the kitchen won’t be, and you shouldn’t be either. I know I’d happily sit starving for a couple of hours right now if it meant sinking my fork into a plate of their house-made gnocchi. This is yet another discovery that I can claim no credit for: all praise to my native Catalan friends.
Restaurante La Luna de Júpiter, Plaça dels Traginers, 8, 08002 Barcelona, Spain