This is a way for the authors to share recommendations with each other and with their friends. Having lived and traveled all over Latin America, South America, and Europe, Sheridan can be trusted to lead you to the best barstool in Rio for a traditional shot of gengibre or around the labyrinth of cobblestone streets in old town San Sebastian for the best steak of your life.
I had been trying to go here for a while. The last attempt I was rerouted to the sister restaurant, Pubbelly. It was a great experience (and where I first heard about la Guajira from the nice Colombiana bartender, nice and Colombian being redundant), but not on the same “wow” level as Barceloneta.
In case it isn’t already clear from the rest of the blog, I’m a Spanish food fanatic. As in, the kind of fatty that spends an entire summer eating and drinking his way through the country. There are many excellent spots along the Eastern and Western seaboards of the United States serving wonderful, and sometimes faithful, versions of many of my favorite dishes from Galicia, Castilla, Catalonia, Andalucia, and beyond. But only at Barceloneta have I been transported completely. A truly transcendent experience. I kept looking around the dining area wondering if the young models, rich yachters, and SoBe scenesters truly had a grasp on what they were undertaking with this menu. They couldn’t possibly – too skinny, the lot of ‘em.
I don’t tend to outline every dish here, but am making an exception this time. But first, and to out myself completely, the captain of the kitchen is Juliana Gonzalez, a cousin of one of my closest friends. For me, that means I would have gone here no matter what, and even returned if it was at least serviceable. However, I would not have become an evangelist for the place, which is what I consider myself now: a convert. I passed by initially to finally grab a tapa or two so I could report back to my buddy in DC that I had finally made it. I told the bartender to let Juliana know that her cousin’s friend stopped in and was surprised when she pulled herself free from the line to say hello. Puerto Ricans: classy, kind, and all about family – why was I surprised?
Things kicked off mightily when Gabriel, the Mallorcan bartender, made the best gin-tonic I’d had since leaving Barcelona this July. I ordered the pulpo grillada (grilled octopus tentacle) and boquerones. For the boquerones, I requested the slight modification of no truffle (the allergy isn’t just from my wallet, people). Both were exquisite iterations – the boquerones came with some type of salty gel, olive oil, parsley, and many blessings, and the pulpo with shaved fennel and a fine aioli. Juliana then sent me an order of croquetas de jamon iberico that, I must say, were the best I’ve ever had. Whoever she has manning the fry station could not possibly be making enough money – a perfect shell of light crispiness that just barely resists the fork, creamy and hot in the center. Amazing balls. Yes, I said that.
The esqueixada gets its own paragraph. The traditional Catalan dish esqueixada is sometimes compared to ceviche or a salad in that it consists of fish, vegetables, oil, and an acidic fruit marinade. For her version Juliana substitutes the magnificent, if somewhat a hidden South Florida gem of a fish, wahoo for the traditional salt cod. The results are stunning. As good as the dish sounds to a ceviche fanatic such as myself, it tastes even better. At the end, I requested bread to sop up the last of the oil and juices left on the plate. I may have licked the plate too – I can’t say for sure because my brain and taste buds were in another world-level state of nirvana and joy.
Do yourself a favor the next time you are in Miami and go to Barceloneta. Order the esqueixada and anything else that strikes your fancy. If you are missing Barcelona or Spanish food in general, it’s a cheaper trip to South Beach than across the Atlantic and you run a very good chance of getting a better meal.
Address: Barceloneta, 1400 20th St, Miami Beach, FL 33139
By Guest Contributor and all around food, drink, and travel pal, Linda French:
L’Esquisse sits at the bottom of the butte of Montmartre, 2 sets of stairs below the Lamarck-Coulaincourt metro stop, on a small residential side street. It’s owned by two friends – Thomas runs the front of the house and his friend makes the food. The menu is on a large standing chalkboard that Thomas will bring over after seating you and lean it up against whatever wall is closest to you. The place is small enough that only one table can see the menu at a time.
I found L’Esquisse in August of 2014 when I was staying at a hotel just down the street. My aunt and I were traipsing back from the ballet, looking for a late night snack and a glass of wine. Thomas welcomed us into L’Esquisse, which we quickly learned had opened only a month before. We asked Thomas for a glass of wine and he started asking questions. “White or red?” I was in the mood for white. “Are you looking for something particular or are you open to trying something . . . interesting?”
I, of course, opted for interesting. (Editor’s note: really, is there any other way to answer that question?) I remember very clearly my first whiff of that glass of wine. It smelled like mellow burnt toast. The toast rapidly morphed into something else that I don’t exactly remember. Instead I have a memory of the sensation of tasting that wine – I remember looking at my aunt in wonder and thrusting the glass at her saying, “just smell this!” I was taking huge unladylike sniffs in shock at how the smell kept changing. I also ordered an oeuf aux champignons, which was a poached egg cradled in a dense mushroom foam. And then I saw figs, mint, and Parmesan marshmallows on the dessert menu and had to have it.
I returned in August of 2015. I was traveling with my husband and insistent on going back to L’Esquisse. Thomas greeted us and paused – “wait, you were here right after we opened . . . with your mom?” I texted my aunt after dinner to let her know Thomas remembered us. This time I knew exactly what to do. I confidently asked Thomas to pair wine with our dinner.
I should have taken pictures of the labels, but I have a thing about using my phone during meals and I foolishly let that hold me back. Eventually I gave in and snapped the label of this one particular bottle that Thomas described at length. Something about how they harvested the grapes after this huge storm and found that the flavors had intensified in this odd way. I also remember being shocked at how articulate he was in English. It’s hard enough to describe wine in your native tongue. Then again, it’s clear he’s obsessed. Thomas told us he bought as many bottles of that vintage as he could, but that there were only a few he could get his hands on.
The oeuf aux champignons was, thankfully, still on the menu. Again, I don’t have a factual memory of the rest of that dinner, just a memory of the feeling of being that level of delighted where I was bouncing in my chair, almost vibrating in ecstasy.
Address: L’Esquisse, 151 bis, Rue Marcadet, 75018 Paris, France
Before going you need to know about a few annoyances that manage to only slightly mar the magnificent beauty of this jewel of the Caribbean. Prostitution is legal and rampant. Look no further than the Secret Service scandal; they got busted because they refused to settle the bill with a local service provider who simply phoned up the police. To each his or her own, but you really need to be able to tell when a woman is clocked in and don’t waste her, or your, time. Second, drugs are very illegal, you will be offered them, and you will get stopped and patted down by local police. Third, Cartagena and its locals have a reputation in Colombia as being so anxious to take advantage of visitors so as to actually damage its own tourist industry. In my experience, this is pretty accurate, but is a minor annoyance that you should just treat as a tax – pay the minimum you can reasonably get away with and get over it. Finally, beware Devil’s Breath: a flavorless, scentless knock-out drug that is sometimes used to relieve travelers of their hard earned cash. Make a pact with your travel buddies (whether you packed your own, or met others there) that you will look out for each other. This nasty stuff can be passed orally or by touch, can kill in excessive doses, and results in the victim becoming a happy-go-lucky party animal open to maxing out credit cards and emptying bank accounts just to help out their newfound friends. Yes, this is not Kansas, Toto, but Cartagena is a gorgeous new lover who will seduce you with her charms and reward you deeply for loving her.
Like many Latin American cities, Cartagena doesn’t have very nice city beaches. Blame it on the busy port or on poor sewage and waste management. In Boquilla you will find the nicest beaches available on the mainland near Cartagena. Locals compare it to Miami for the small strip of beachfront properties, relative security, and availability of water sports rentals and instruction. We rented a beachfront property here via AirBNB and it was an excellent decision. Beware the locals hanging around on the north end of the beach – the beach abuts against an old shanty town and not all of the locals get that stealing from beachgoers is less sustainable than selling them things of value. Not a good spot for night beach walks, but very secure during the day.
Address: La Boquilla, Highway 90A, Cartagena, Colombia
I know it seems touristy and cheesy, but just do it. Do it, and do it early in your trip because 
you’re likely to make friends that will last longer than your time in Cartagena. For a set fee (I think it was about $20 per person, but not certain) you will ride around for a few hours with 50 or so of your best new friends from around the globe, drink the rough local aguardiente freely, and sing new songs at the top of your lungs. In fact, be smart and buy your own clave, guiro, or maracas from one of the hawkers plying the streets of el Centro before you board so that you can play along with the Vallenato band in the back. Buy your own bottle of Ron Medellin to take with you – you’ll make plenty of new friends by sharing shots with former strangers that can’t quite stomach the cheap local firewater the chiva provides. The chivas will tour around to pick up folks from various hotels that booked their activities in advance – welcome each group loudly with a smile and you will be their hero. Each bus has its own MC who will goad you into activities and contests, the most fun of which are against the other chivas at stoplights. Don’t be a wet blanket – throw yourself so far into it that other passengers think you’re part of the show and you will not be disappointed. Most chivas stop into several discotecas for a drink and a dance, then load up and you’re off! If you do nothing else touristy the whole time you are there, do this.
Address: Chivas Party Tour, various departing from La Torre del Reloj, intersection of Avenida Venezuela and Avenida Calle 24 Real, Cartagena, Colombia
Yes, this is a plaza in front of a church. Yes, street drinking is legal. Yes, you were just offered drugs by a teenager (thank him warmly as you decline). Yes, that is a cop in head-to-toe body armor carrying a crowd-dispersal beanbag shotgun. Don’t worry. Go buy yourself a few cold ones from the guy with the cooler, step over to the food cart where the most insanely delicious burger you will ever have is being made. Talk to some strangers. Make some new friends. This is how we do it in Cartagena, because “Colombia es una chimba!”
Address: Plaza de la Santísima Trinidad, Calle 29 between Carrera 10 and 10b, Cartagena, Getsemaní, Colombia
All good nights in Cartagena revolve around the “Havana club.” Simply put, it’s among the best small live music venues in Latin America. Whether you like Salsa, can’t dance to save your life, or are a serious aficionado, if you can’t have fun here you don’t belong in Colombia. My all time favorite live Salsa experience is dancing here, the band made up of mostly 60+ year old pros, simply killing it. James Brown would be proud to watch these gentlemen “do it to death.” What makes it even more amazing is their banter with the crowd, excited encouragement to get you up and moving – no canned Señor Frogs tourist nonsense here; these men mean business! One of my favorite moments here was the first night in Cartagena, my good law school buddy Jorge and I flanking my 19 year old nephew and teaching him the basic salsa steps, and we called out to the band during a small break between songs “El Cuarta de Tula!” The bandleader nodded in recognition of our refined taste, and fired up the horns for a rousing rendition. One of our last nights we hauled a chiva full of people from all over – Portuguese, Bolivians, Colombians, Gringos – and to a person we were thanked, hugged, and a fine time was had by all. I’ve sent several people there since and they all gush. If it’s quiet when you go, give it until the 10-11pm hour and watch it go. If you’re into partying with drunk Aussies and the backpack set, all of Calle 30 next to Havana will be full of it.
Address: Café Havana, Corner of Carrera 10 y Calle 30, Cartagena, Getsemaní, Colombia
This is the placeholder for a great little “locals only” spot at the South West corner. It probably has a name, but I have no idea what it is. You’ll know when you pass by whether to stop in by the squeals and peeling laughter of neighborhood folks – if it’s full, step inside, order a beer for yourself and one of the locals, and prepare for a lovely time that might include a Salsa lesson from one of the ladies, some soccer talk with the guys, and just great, authentic times. You’re welcome.
Address: Local Corner, Carrera 9 and Calle 38, Cartagena, Bolívar, Colombia
A very solid pan-Andes restaurant. Prices are solid, service good, and food quite good. Not a romantic spot, or in any way fancy, but a good solid choice for fueling up for a night of fun.
Address: Atahualpa Restaurante, Carrera 7, Cartagena, Bolívar, Colombia
Posto Novo 