The Ubereater Goes International: Barcelona, Spain

Though it's been more than a month since I returned from the Iberian peninsula, my 7 day stint in Barcelona remains wildly fresh in my mind. In fact I think about the beautiful capital of Catalonia and the time I spent there, almost every day. Weeks later I find myself still reeling from painfully persistent, neck-burning Spanish sun while strangely mesmerized by the intoxicating stink of Jamon and Cider that has seemingly permanently permeated my skin. I can smell the memories.

It then probably goes without saying, that our week in Barcelona was a gluttonous one.

The culinary vagaries of this Catalonian crusade are, and always will be, embroidered securely to the tensile strings of my heart. Barcelona is a gorgeously honest ancient city whose dizzying labyrinth of narrow streets and cock-eyed alleys connected by expansive Plazas and Squares, in concert, breath life into the countless neighborhoods and districts that manage the pulse of this of this Mediterranean metropolis. Personality runs rampant here, be it by way of fashion, art, or most interestingly for me, food.

My initial impression of the food of Barcelona, and thus Catalonia, is that it is a cuisine of consistency in almost all respects. The streets are replete with tapas bars and bodegas that run the gamet in terms of size, scope, and cleanliness. Every corner proudly claims anchorage from a small bar, sometimes well kept, other times not, offering a standard array of Spanish, or more appropriately, Catalan, fare. There is no question that in terms of the food here, variety mostly lies in the "where" and not in the "what". This is not by any means a criticism of the cuisine, but more an observation that, if anything, is a testament to the powerful culinary tradition that surrounds and defines this ancient culture. At the same time, it is undoubtedly true that Barcelonins' love for tapas need not compromise their predilection for everything else from Snails to the middle-eastern favorite Doner Kebab.

Spanish cuisine is an enigma, and a tasty one at that.

So here are some of the highlights.

Bar Celta
First off, one of the first realizations you will come to in Barca is that 95% of the tapas bars share more or less the same menu. This is not at all a bad thing, but something you learn after only a few hours and most definitely an element to which you must acclimate yourself. Essentially, all tapas bars offer a common collection of classic Spanish small plates, one of the most popular being Patatas Bravas, the quintessential small plate consisting of fried or boiled salty potatoes topped with spicy red pepper sauce or tangy aoli, or sometimes both. There are as many versions of this dish as there are faces of Michael Jackson, which elucidates my point about Spanish cuisine being consistently variable as well as variably consistent. Philosophically speaking or not, the best Patatas Bravas I encountered on the trip are to be found at Bar Celta (Below) on Calle Merce in the Gothic Quarter. Unlike so many versions that feature potatoes that are way too crispy or just completely sogged with heavy, creamy aoli, Bar Celta's was a boiled version, salted perfectly and dressed mindfully with a light red sofrito-type sauce that complemented the potatoes instead of conquering them.


In fact, the highlight of our first day was without question our late night meal at Bar Celta, a small, bustling L-shaped tapas bar on busy Calle Merce that in addition to its 'Bravas, offered up some of the best tapas we would have all week. Included in that list is the Pulpa (Octopus) (below left), which is grilled briefly and served with nothing more than a moderate dusting of coarse sea salt and paprika. Another popular small plate found almost everywhere in the city are the Pimientos del Padron (below) right, Celta's version being one of the best I had while in Barca. These small, thumb-sized peppers are seared in a super-hot pan until wilted and then hit with a heavy dose of sea salt. Though generally on the mild side, these little bastards are unpredictably hot - in that every now and then you'll get one that will bite back, which is why I fell in love with pods from the very beginning. Celta's were soft, slightly crisped on the outside, and salted to the 9's, the way they should be.














Additional favorites from Bar Celta were the Grilled Cuttlefish (Below left), Croquetas de Jamon (below right), and the uber-ubiquitous, but strangely satisfying Pan Con Tomate (below center), Spain's classic offering of toasted bread rubbed with tomato and garlic. Painfully simple as well as painfully addictive.
















Los Caracoles
After a couple food-filled days marked by bocadillos (sandwiches), bottomless patatas bravas, piles of pimientos, and baskets and baskets of pan con tomate, I began to wonder whether the Spanish table possessed room only for the almighty tapa. I realized that tapas will forever represent the backbone of Spanish culinary tradition, but this is a people as convivial as it is proud of its millenia-old heritage, and thus too vibrant and excited about life to take solace merely in its love for a thin slice of cheese on a piece of bread. There had to be something more - and at Los Caracoles, I found it.

Situated on the corner of one of Barcelona's busiest sections of the Gothic Quarter, Los Caracoles is a narrow, sub-terranean restaurant, packed with tourists and locals alike, that takes its name from its signature offering, Caracoles, which is the spanish word for snails, better known in the states by its French name Esargot. Equally as popular (and the real reason we checked out this place) is the spit-fire rotisserie chicken served in a variety of ways, cooked atop open flames that you have to pass in order to the get to the dining room. Given the circumstances, it was only right that we sample the Caracoles (below left), which come swimming in a pool of garlic-infused, buttery brown sauce. These alien-looking shell-dwellers taste and feel as you would expect them to - much chewier than clams or mussels (which you shouldn't be chewing anyway), and decidely more elastic than anything I've ever tasted. The Caracoles are all about the sauce, which was excellent to say the least. Nevertheless, I would venture to say most people wouldn't enjoy the texture of these little critters, let alone having to pry them out of their shells. That said, my chicken with garlic, a special for the evening, was an amazing compilation of spit-fire-crisped breast and thigh meat mixed with a tart, vinegar based melange of red peppers, mushrooms, and of course, lots and lots of garlic. This dish was outstanding and a pleasant respite from the all the tapas we'd been consuming over the previous few days, let alone the fact that it struck me as Iberian version of Chicken Murphy, only heavier on the garlic and lighter on the vinegar. Either way, it was one of the best dishes within one of the best meals we enjoyed on the trip.









Notwithstanding its keenness on catering to the tourist crowd (our menu was printed in 7 languages and there was live music), Los Caracoles remains recognizably authentic, and though crowded and loud, and perhaps even a little hectic, its spit fire chicken is as much a treat for homesick Americans as it is a comfort-food treat for native Barcelonins.

Bar Inopia
Much to our pleasure, we realized in the days leading up to the trip that our flat was directly across the street from one of Barcelona's most sought after dining experiences. Featured recently in On the Road Again, the pedantic-dialogue-infused PBS mini-series that follows Mario Batali, the New York Times "Minimalist" Mark Bittman, and anti-American Gwyneth Paltrow on a culinary road trip through Spain, Inopia has risen to fame within Europe's continually ascending culinary community.

I may poke fun, but Mario knows what he's talking about. (Or I wouldn't be eating at Otto 3 times a month like I do now.)

Open stricly for dinner every night at 7, Bar Inopia for the better part of the day, remains shuttered only to display its kaleidoscopic garage door that is in and of itself, wholly impressive. In fact it makes you want to eat there.
Having enjoyed increasingly widespread popularity and an ever-expanding reputation for its mix of traditional and non-traditional tapas, Inopia enjoys Babbo-like demand, drawing hoards of people from all over the world to see just what this swanky, svelte tapas bar is all about.

Unlike Babbo however, here reservations are nowhere to be found, and instead, people begin accumulating outside the "door" shortly before 7 pm. Having claimed the last high-table at 7:15, by 7:30 the place was packed to the gills, and was already managing a small mob gathering outside. At this point, I had fallen victim to an importunate desire to eat - what is going on here?

At the risk of sounding cliche', I can't help but describe everything about Inopia as sexy. The decor, the waitstaff, and most of all the food. Inopia is sleek and trendy, nobody can deny that, but even better, the food is exquisite and clean. Loud and a bid chaotic, Inopia's menu consists of an intriguing mix of uber-classic Spanish small plates and more unconventional creations that stray boldy from the Iberian sensibility entirely.

In terms of the former, we kicked things off with preserved squid packed in olive oil as well as its own ink, served just like that. This is one of the many classic preserved tapas found throughout Spain that come highly revered as some of the best bites in all of the land. It seems counterintuitive to rejoice in something "preserved" or that comes out of a can, but these morsels burst with flavor and and salt-borne texture that I can't begin to describe. Ours consisted of juicy, tender rings of squid sopped in olive oil and draped with thick, semi-sweet ink. Absolutely delicious to say the least.


We continued on with Inopia's take on Pimientos del Padron (below left), which aside from its arachnid presentation, was on par with Celta's version. Additionally, we opted for what at this stage in the trip had become the obligatory Patatas Bravas (Below right), which at Inopia, manifested itself as a neatly constructed patata pyramid, crowned with a rich ketchup red sauce and a dollop of garlic aoli that in my opinion may have been a bit too much. I prefer my 'Bravas' lightly dressed and these weren't that at all, though tasty and filling nonetheless.















Less traditional were the chicken morsels (below left), dusted with a corn-flake type breading and served with mustard. As delicious but far from non-traditional, the Inopia's Croqueta de Jamon were my favorite of all the plates - filled with ham and manchego cheese, lightly covered in breadcrumbs and fried until melted throughout, these bites went seconds after the hitting the table.















Our trip to Spain was probably one of the most extensive culinary experiences of my life to date having afforded me the opportunity to learn about a culture and the food that feeds it in the best way I know how - eating it. It has only been in the last decade or so that Spanish food, and more specifically tapas, has begun to really take hold in the United States. We, as Americans are as open a people as any when it comes to the various victuals of the world, yet it cannot be overlooked that our relationship and perceptions of Spanish food falsely end with tapas. And while we may have inadvertently tapped tapas as the ambassador to all things edible and Spanish in our country, the cuisine of the collection of communities we know today as "Spain" extends far beyond the realm of chorizo and potatoes.

More simply, with my better understanding of Spanish culinary sensisbility comes a more fervent appreciation for the pride and soul with which this country approaches its food. As Americans living in a land of borrowed cuisines, I can only implore anyone and everyone to make the trip to this beautiful country so you can fully comprehend the habits and breath of this unique cuisine.

Don't forget to have a bocadillo and a Cafe Cortado for me while you're at it.

As for you Espana - I'll be back soon.

-The Ubereater

P.S - On the 4th night of our trip we hit Barcelona's largest market, La Boqueria, to buy foodstuffs for a massive homecooked dinner. With famed Jones Sous Chef, known in these parts as The Uberchef, left to design the menu and of course cook it, we ultimately sat down to an unforgettable meal. Here are some pics to show for it:

Panzanella Cataluyna - The Uberchef's Catalan-inspired take on Italian Bread Salad: Green Peppers, Large Tomato Wedges, Red Onion, and Chunks of Manchego mixed with Spanish high-righ bread that is dressed with copious amounts of vinegar at the last minute before serving. Outstanding.














Pan Con Tomate - Our version of this classic (one of my contributions to the meal)















Pimientos del Padron -














Chicken braised in wine with potatoes














Roast beef tenderloin cooked medium rare














Roasted Chicken with garlic and herbs














The Full Spread