Barcelona, a tapas town?

Historically speaking, Barcelona, we must recall, was never a tapas town. And now? I don’t think so, or rather it isn’t in the way that the rest of Spain understands tapas. The city has changed radically in recent years and that undoubtedly has forced most people to adapt their traditional ways to the new times. But the Barcelonan, as a good Catalan, has always been a man (or woman, lest I should offend anyone) for having a full meal at the table. Only for the customary Sunday vermouth and olives would some dispense with the seat, required for breakfast, which at home or at the fonda was always a hearty sit-down meal. And it goes without saying, lunch and dinner, simple and round the family table. People went out to eat only on extraordinary occasions or for the local festivities: the well-heeled, in the plush chairs of the Restaurant Martin or the bar-cafè-brasserie Maison Dorée; workers and artisans on the ground, in the shade of a tree, or on excursion to Montjuïc, Vallvidrera or Les Planes. But everyone sat. The Catalan has always eaten sitting down.
Barcelonans were gobsmacked, I’m sure, when they saw their first strangers eat standing at the bar. The flowing throngs of the so-called “wine zones” (for the tapa, in its origins, is no more than a complement to wine), which are common to just about every Spanish town, in Barcelona had no more than a pale imitation – and after the Civil War, at that – centred on Carrer de la Mercè, which in the 1950s and 60s became the favoured hangout for university students, drawn by the earthy ambience and cheap drink and eats. Of course, scattered around the city there were a few establishments where people would tapear, but no one said: "Let’s go out for tapas", but rather "Let’s go out for a beer" or " Let’s go out for a vermouth".

Historical places

Los Toreros is one such place, if not exactly centenary, close enough. A veritable museum of tauromachy, its menu offers a wide range of tapas, over fifty to choose from, of the most traditional stripe (squid, fritters, tripe...). Or l'Amigó opposite the Sant Antoni Market, famous for its clams; Bar Borrell, opposite El Molino, opened as a restaurant during the Tragic Week of 1909, or La Pansa, in Plaça d'Espanya, no longer in existence.
In Barceloneta, La Cova Fumada, which half a century ago created "la bomba", a ball of potato stuffed with meat and hot peppers; El Vaso de Oro, which is known for pouring a better beer than anyone in the city, and Jai-Ca, with their fried anchovy espines... Around El Born, El Xampanyet, where the clientele wash down anchovies with that faux cava of dubious denomination, and El Mundial, in the Plaça de Sant Agusti Vell.
In Gràcia, one-hundred-year-old El Roure, and in Sarrià, Can Tomàs, a neighbourhood bar that has rightly gained fame for its patatas bravas... How many, of the essential ones, have we missed? Bodega Sepúlveda (with its traditional cap i pota amb rovellons and fresh foie preferred by a certain clientele), Bar Mañé, on the corner of Borrell and Floridablanca... There are so many!

It is my belief – and if anyone has a better theory, may they expound it – that in this city the costume of having tapas standing up (habitual in the area of La Mercè as well as in Spanish immigrant neighbourhoods) originated when the people discovered the glories of shellfish, the price of which demanded modest portions. For if in the 1940s and 50s the poor man’s dream was a bit of good ham, in the sixties he began to dream of shellfish, a product as scarce as the marisquerias that sold it, of which for many years there was just one, El Cantábrico, in Carrer de Santa Anna, to which the well-to-do would travel to buy oysters and lobster: "Everything else, for the poor", they said with the confidence of authority. Well, the poor started to awaken, to dream of driving a SEAT 600 and of eating better, and they took their goose barnacles and mussels, razor clams and prawns in stride.
From that time, the beer halls, bars and taverns that did assorted tapas began to multiply, but they still had tables and did not serve a bite of a tapa with each glass of wine; here, the clientele preferred more substantial servings, platets and racions. In the eighties the boom in Basque taverns, theretofore rare, took off, and people began to speak of “pintxos", and then "montaditos". And on the threshold of the new century came designer mini-cuisines. What next?
But let’s not kid ourselves: the proliferation of Basque taverns has led to the appearance of franchises, Basque in name only, and the boom in designer food has turned edible textures into a mystery, original and exotic perhaps, but more hazardous than the invasion of cheap Chinese goods. Meanwhile, with the switch to the euro the prices of tapas and prix-fixe menús rocketed to the far side of the moon. Increasingly we find that even the most modest tavern takes credit cards... and it must be for some reason!

Just as a reminder

Of the hundreds found around the city, and without any desire to preach, we propose a list of places where tapas reign:

Traditional:

Quimet i Quimet, as much of a classic as the terrace of Els Tres Tombs, opposite the Sant Antoni Market, or El Pinotxo and El Quim, both in the Boqueria Market. Also in Ciutat Vella, in a rather different style, there’s the historic Quatre Gats.
In the Eixample, La Bodegueta; in Gràcia, Casajuana; in Sant Gervasi, next to Turó Parc, Casa Tejada and Bar Cherpi. In Sant Andreu, the tavern Can Roca, and in Horta, El Quimet.

New, but for traditional tastes:New, but for traditional tastes:

In the Eixample, Paco Meralgo, Ciutat Comtal and Capritx. In the Barri Gòtic, Taller de Tapas. In El Born, Lonja de Tapas.

Basque:

After the classics centred around the Sicília-Gran Via area – Udala, Jaizkibel, El Chato, etc. – have come Txakolin, Euskal Etxea, Taktika Berri, and the chains Lizarran, Sagardi... Today they’re counted by the dozens: Golfo de Bizkaia, in El Born; Bilbao Berria, by the cathedral, Txalaparta, in Sants, etc.

Where the shellfish is:

In Ciutat Vella, El Carballeria, a pioneer in Galician cuisine, and Cal Pep, with fresh Mediterranean catch. Near the Paral·lel, the beer halls Moritz and Bohèmia; in Poble-sec, La Perla, the lavish enclave on Passeig de l'Exposition; the bar at Botafumeiro, in Gràcia; La Barca del Pescador, in the Eixample; or Los Pajaritos, in Sant Martí.

Shops with a taste of the wares:

In the Barri Gòtic, La Pineda. In the Eixample, Casa Alfonso, Can Ravell, and Jamonísimo. In Sant Gervasi, Casa Pepe. In Sarrià, Tutusaus, among others.

Food from the provinces:

La Esquinica and El Rincón de Aragón pay tribute to the produce of Teruel; El Furacu and Picayo, to the cider, chorizos and cheeses of Asturias; De Tapa Madre, to specialties such as cochifrito or farinato from Castile-Leon; El Trillo, with a strong touch of the South, to the gazpacho and cheese of Aracena; José Luis, to the tapas of Madrid, olla included.

International:

In the Eixample, Alt Heidelberg offers German specialties; nearby, Dinjao, with Asian tit-bits, beer and sake; and at Maes de Flandes, beers and mussels to please a Belgian palate. At La Cantina Mexicana, typical dishes from that country available in half portions. At El Negro, Japanese tapas.

Designer tapas:

In El Born are Santa Maria and Comerç 24, which, along with the Estrella de Plata, mark the limits of culinary minimalism; nearby, CheeseMe has a menu made up exclusively of cheese dishes, everything in cheeses.
Smooth presents small portions with an oriental touch, such as asparagus and prawn sushi, and Blanc i Negre is as minimalist in its servings as it is in the interior design.

A short list? A long list? In any case, if you want to try them all you’re guaranteed enough entertainment to last the summer through.