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.
Your fearless author pigging out!
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
There’s a hilarious pun afoot in this convivial and wonderfully designed little drinking establishment in the Barrio Gótico. I’m not going to unravel it here for you, though. Just feast your eyes on the stiletto-heeled décor, Barbie doll chandeliers, and numerous homages to pop culture’s most gorgeous femme fatales adorning the walls. But, wait! What’s with all the portraits of nuns?
The locals are friendly, the bartenders hilarious and efficient, the music on point, and the space gorgeous. What more could you ask for?!
Sor Rita Bar, Carrer de la Mercé, 27, 08002 Barcelona, Spain
There is one specific reason to come here: navajas. But not the razor clams you’re used to. Rather, Navajas!!Navajas!!Navajas!!
This rather non-descript little spot, tucked away at the intersection of Sant Antoni and El Poble-Sec neighborhoods, is a semi-hidden gem. Not exactly on the tourist studded path, you’ll be pleased you made the trek. Serving excellent versions of many Spanish and Catalan classics, it’s the Galician-style navajas a la plancha (grilled razor clams) that will captivate your tongue and imagination. My companion, who had recently spent a month eating her way through several villages on the Galician coast while on holiday, attested that the bright green garlic, olive oil, and parsley brine coating the clams was indeed at least as good as anything she had on Spain’s northern coast. Probably better.
At a relatively friendly price point, including for the wines, this jovial and informal spot should be high on your list of places for a great meal. And, yes, you should get that second order of navajas.
Casa de Tapes Cañota, Carrer de Lleida 7, 08004 Barcelona, Spain
Welcome to the amusement park of Catalan gastronomy! One of the coolest places in all of Barcelona. For such a large space, it’s not the easiest place in the world to find. Built inside of a restored factory, it has all the gorgeous iron work and design details one imagines in the Barcelona of your memories and dreams. Inside there are four distinct restaurants and four distinct specialty bars, all under the same roof: Beer Bar; Wine Bar; Oyster Bar; Cocktail Bar; La Braseria (specializing in steak); La Llotja (fresh fish cooked your way); La Taperia (tapas); La Paradeta (deli and baked goods). All of the bars serve exquisite renditions of traditional Catalan cold tapas. Think the most gorgeous, upscale, high design food court that your brain can conceive of, crank it up two notches, and then you’re close.
The first couple of times that I went was with a Barcelona native who had been hearing the rumors and was dying to try it. It was like getting a grand tour of Catalonian gastronomy – from the Costa Brava to Girona, Priorat down to Valencia, all under one roof. Our first stop was at the beer and tapes (that’s “tapas” in Catalan, friend) counter, the first little island in the middle of the place. My companion took the excellent and chatty bartender, Colombian by birth (friendly Colombians: there’s a theme here), on a tour of his own wares, netting us fresh tins of anchovies L’Escala; a version of your grandpa’s favorite delicacy unparalleled by any other coast. So much yum!
Honestly, I could swoon here for paragraphs. But I’ll spare you. Just do yourself a favor and go, and go hungry. Everything is on point: from the wine selections to the fish preparations, the balanced cocktails to the perfectly shucked oysters – just do it.
El Nacional BCN, Passéig de Gracia 24 bis (down an alley between Carrer de la Diputació and Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes), Barcelona, Spain
Get the oyster shooter. Get. It. I know you don’t like them and I don’t care. Really. Perhaps it was the quail egg. Or perhaps it was the sezchuan pepper tickling the throat as it went down. Maybe the perfect balance of spice, umami, and salty oyster flavors. Or I could have just been caught up in a moment with my awesome companion (hi, Doc!). Doesn’t matter. Everything we had here was great, from the ice cold Sapporo, to the delicious Hamachi preparation (me ecanta ha-MASH-iiii!!), to aforementioned oyster shooter. Just go. If you are sushi friendly at all, go. And did I mention that you should order the oyster shooter?
Sushi Dokku, 823 West Randolph Str., Chicago, IL 60607
Something seems rather familiar at this place. Perhaps it’s the bright airbrush paintings on the wall, the friendly hipster-cum-athleisure suited patrons, the sassy Sicilian guy taking my order, or all the years I spent hanging out with the X-gamer crowd. Naaaaah, it’s the best açai bowl I’ve had since those two summers living in Ipanema, Rio de Janeiro. This is a great little coffee spot, rife with hearty breakfasty and snacky items – it really is tough to choose and I look forward to several more mornings’ deliberations. But that açai bowl – the right balance of granola, strawberries, banana, and just a sprinkling of coconut shavings on top. My old Polisucos guy in Rio would be proud. Oh, and the coffee’s good too, served with a return smile.
Dogtown Coffee, 2003 Main St., Santa Monica, CA 90405
I heard about this place from a friend who had recently passed through San Sebastián. It had been a good twelve years since I’d been through the gorgeous Basque fishing town and its horseshoe bay. But the food I remembered well. Years ago I had my local spot where I would get a late breakfast of mussels and cava, before going to sleep for a bit out on the beach. Sublime.
Chuleta de buey
At Bar Nestor questions are kept to a blessed minimum, and the answer is always “sí!” Do you want chuleta? Of course. Do you want tomatoes? That’s not a real question. Will you have peppers? You’re no fool. The only real question to ponder is what wine you will choose, and they do have a selection. One thing to keep in mind for those inclined to order a bottle: in English we might use the words “powerful” or “strong” to refer to a big-flavored or robust wine. In the Spanish wine lingo of Spain, the word “fuerte” (i.e. strong or powerful) actually refers to the tannins. A fuerte wine will have a lot of tannin. I learned this the hard way by expecting a powerful and robust red to accompany my chuleta, but ending up with a wine so tannic that it felt like sucking on tree bark. Please be advised.
Perfection.
The first thing you will see is the most gorgeous hunk of meat you have ever laid eyes on. Amazing, sea salt-coated slabs of chuleta de buey (a bone-in local grass-fed ribsteak), steaming and spitting on their flatiron grills. They don’t ask you what temperature to cook it. They already know what’s best: sizzling medium rare, with an emphasis on the rare. Whatever alchemy Nestor has wrought; the incantations you will never learn. Just be happy he lets you enjoy the fruits of his magical labors. The tomatoes come crudely sliced into uneven hunks, coated with olive oil, and generously heaped with more sea salt. The peppers are fried and deliver only light heat every seventh pepper, or so the local grandmothers will tell you.
Tomates!
Nestor won’t discuss opening another restaurant or expanding the one he has. Believe me, I tried. He laughed heartily at the suggestion that he open a spot in Washington or New York, waiving his finger and shaking his head all the while. Whatever else you do while visiting San Sebastián, do yourself a huge favor and just go here. The staff is magnificently friendly (particularly for Spanish speakers) and you will not be met with a bewildering array of choices: just an amazing steak, cooked perfectly. Get the tomatoes and, if you’re hungry enough, get the peppers. You can thank me later.
Address: Bar Nestor, Pescadería no. 11, San Sebastián-Donostia, Spain