Wilfrid

Finally, lunch at La Pineda, a large selection of embutidos and too much Penedes rosado.

Agree with all the above criticism but the basic problem is not knowing or caring that Terroir was connected with Hearth. Hardly esoteric.

Casa Maians opens for lunch at 1pm and I was early. I stopped for a beer in, thank god, a remaining quirky neighborhood unchanged real bar, Bar Leo. Existing forever, at some point it decided to celebrate the flamenco star Bambino. I was not too familiar with him, though I am listening now, but was content to see my favorite shrimp pictured too.

Casa Maians is a pretty little restaurant in the heart of Barceloneta. Small (reserve for dinner) with a neighborly feeling. At lunch, tables of regulars outnumbered tourists. But the kitchen is ambitious as proffered by the books on a prominent shelf. Seafood is doubtless the way to go; two women at the next table devoured a massive cauldron of arroz negro con sepia. But I had seafood lined up for dinner. So a heaping portion of veal head (I think cured two different ways, in a brine and in salt) over frisée with an unexpected and wonderful garnish of strawberry slices. Then a huge grilled butifarra with crisped potatoes and pimientos. And a coffee.

Some of Hisop. More on IG but I know some of you won’t look at it.

Bar Celta

I’m sorry, but unless you have a reason… He’s a career Times journalist (they get things wrong but correct them) and by all accounts and in my experience a good guy. The idea that he would write about Terroir in ignorance of its connection with Hearth, be corrected, but stick his fingers in his ears and never admit it or apologize is, I submit again, inconceivable.

I write from a tiny bar up behind my hotel drinking a very large conac and wondering what it will cost. In good news, Bar Celta still exists. Maybe it is the only old school tapas bar left in the central city. Still serving Albariño in little stone cups. Bunuelos, orejas, morcilla. I couldn’t finish the orejas, drowned in paprika and so rich. Funny, I said “Dame una morcilla,” and the owner checked in with “You mean blood sausage?” as if I might know the word “morcilla” but not what it was.

Best pop group in the world unveiled new tour dates today. Bunch of godawful places in England and Wales. Given that they can sell out the Music Hall of Williamsburg almost instantly why isn’t a promoter bringing them here? Ana is going to get some DMs about this.

This was a comments thread showing Sietsema to be an *unrepentant* fool. Special case. It’s inconceivable that Wells, for example, would not have corrected himself and apologized.

Oh today, two adjacent museum-type spaces. In the first, the ticket seller tells me “a senior” and gives me a discount. Okay, I am not arguing. In the second, she says, “You don’t look 65, right?” I tell her muchas gracias and happily pay full price and would send her flowers. 😅

Patsy Kensit. Is not what I expected my reaction to be. (Have I read any of her novels?)

I am indebted to @GerryOlds2TheReturnofGerry for both Casa Maians and Estimar, although both in the same day was ambitious. One great merit of cocktails is that they can make you feel peckish even though you had thought you would never eat again.

I am falling behind. The menu at Hisop was mainly as planned: exceptional crisped sweetbreads with pickled chanterelles. Then (slight change) horribly ugly scorpion fish presented whole tableside, fileted in the kitchen, it’s carcass squeezed in something like a duck press back at the table, the juices added to a rich mussel sauce and poured over the filets. Then a brioche stuffed with rabbit and showered with truffles (not the smelliest truffles). Cheeses were excellent, especially a good Epoisses, but I could have wished for more local emphasis; a Catalan blue rather than a fourme d’ambert. Two glasses of cava, a half bottle of Vicarra red, various amuses and sweets. 140 Euros. Yep. And that service: all the rigor and finesse of traditional fine dining, but none of the pomposity.

Yes. That’s another grudge I bear. This blogger knew who owned Terroir and where they could store wine. As @Sneakeater recounts above. One happy outcome was Grieco placing Sietsema’s comment on the front of the Terroir wine list.

There’s a print edition of Time Out! Exclusively in Catalan. It reminded me I wanted to visit the Disseny Hub exhibition space; I had completely forgotten. It also recommended a head and tripe omelette somewhere. Useful.

Sietsema not only has a history of egregious errors, but refuses to admit them when they are pointed out. When it became clear that his claims that Terroir’s wine list was dishonest were nonsense — for reasons that should have been obvious — he shut the comments thread down. I don’t know anyone else who would act like that; certainly not Wells.

Another unimpeachable meal at Hisop. Details will follow. In the small dining room, only I ordered from the carte. Other tables, all first timers I guess, ate the tasting menu (as I did first time). Three young Japanese diners opposite were delighted photographing their plates until I had a scorpionfish put into a big duck-like press table side. I waved on their photos. Then I had truffles shaved tableside over my rabbit and I felt I was spoiling their evening.

No, not all, I mean like being served slices from a ballotine and calling them rabbit medallions.

Salon de Tinell is now an “event space.”

Yes indeed. Remember the roller coaster of Frank Bruni?

I was wondering if the famous Wayback machine has our Barcelona thread (I also personally regret the loss of Currently Reading).

I planned a hearty lunch today but the Miro-Picasso show up Montjuic was vast, it’s 3 in the afternoon, and I have dinner at Hisop coming up. So oysters and cava at a familiar place. The boquerones are interesting, marinated in orange juice with some kind of fresh cress, I think, garnish.

My godson has recently been to Cinc Sentits and liked it. That reminded me of the time I went there with the munchkin, then a child, and her mother. Previously, at Hisop, we had ordered tastings for the adults and negotiated some child-friendly dishes for the small one. Fools. Her fork was soon in our plates. At Cinc Sentits we abandoned caution and ordered tasting menus for three. The munchkin licked every plate clean and the servers were so impressed they took her (not us) back to the kitchen to meet the chef. 😅

Oh, good experience at Bar Babula last night. Bustling but not too noisy. I’d say Catalan food but with some kind of Japanese aesthetic brought to plating and some accents. All plates for sharing. Terrific raw shrimp tiradito with a touch of wasabi in little tuiles. Good scallops with rather bland pumpkin relish. Tacos stuffed with excellent roast pork panceta, fatty as it should be, topped with pickled onions; bright green, spicy (kimchi-based) sauce on the side. A pressed block of ox cheek with little spring vegetables; could have used salt and pepper. But I am picky. Nice meal, a classic martini (eschewing the fantasia of signature cocktails), then a garnacha* blend La Fosca. Cost? I was treated. RTBC: my godson has lived here two years and my Spanish is [i]still[/i] better. *Spellcheck preferred “garbage blend.”