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GerryOlds2TheReturnofGerry

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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. 
 

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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. 

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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.
 


 

 

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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. 

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Last night, Bar Celta. Is it the only remaining old school tapas bar in the central part of the city? Heaping dishes of calamari, shrimp, chistorras, ensalada russ along the counter, Albariño served in little china bowls. No microwave, dishes are passed back into a cubicle of a kitchen for heating.

Pig’s ears, bunuelos and great morcilla for me.

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I still haven’t posted about Estimar. A small, pretty dining room hidden near Santa Maria Del Mar (I think there was a room to the side as well). Reservations essential.

The team work an open kitchen behind mounds of fresh seafood. My main server was the image of a 19 year old Nate from Ted Lasso. 

Small bites of boquerone and gigantic olives were complimentary. From a long menu, a fresh sea urchin, then percebes. Inexplicably, I took a photo of the steamer in which they were served, but not of the percebes themselves. There were six, honestly not as big or tasty as those at the restaurant with no name. But they did squirt everywhere (now, then).

The esperdenyas were just that, spread out on the plate, neatly seared and drizzled with very good oil. My favorite esperdenya *dish* was at Hisop where it was a garnish for some porky concoction.

Finally, I thought I ordered a small plate of scorpionfish, but they heard a whole fish and it was out and fileted and served while I was scratching my head. I couldn’t do justice to it, although it was fine. It made a $150 check into something like a $220 check, but I have been eating ridiculously cheaply all week.

 

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A new one for the list. La Sosenga, a short walk from El 4 Gats, is new Catalan. I walked past by chance and the menu looked interesting. I saw some good comments online. Why not?

You need to reserve. The website showed a few late night slots so I tried showing up at opening time (8pm) as a walk-in. After some thought, the two women running FOH decided they could risk giving me a bar seat — although they would need it back in two hours. Deal.

All organic/natural/local wines (I believe). Delicious cava (un mas); if the link to the wine list worked I might be able to tell you what the very good red was.

They specialize in seasonal croquetas so I started with one, packed with porky stuff and vegetables. Delicious.

I didn’t know what to make of the English version of the next dish: cured pork lard. The Spanish, chicharron, suggested something crunchy. Neither. Thin slices of moderately fatty roast pork dabbed with nectarine marmalade and sprinkled with tiny pieces of green pepper.

Finally, stewed beef 14th C style. Okay, that reminded me of the old Atheneu Gastronomica which used to recreate historical recipes. This turned out to be a serving of very tender beef cheek in a slightly sweet, spiced sauce. The orange slices, I felt, should have been a modest garnish rather than a full serving.

I don’t have the full cost at hand, but pork 8.5 euros, beef 18, not expensive. Very pretty, well lit dining room. Worth a try.

 

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This is another important place, and because it’s not new it may have been on the old thread. Boadas.

I knew the name but had never been there, but after engaging in some conversations about classic cocktails (more to come about the weird stuff), it seemed like a place to try.

And it’s right there under your nose. A narrow street on the west side of the Ramblas, just before Plaza de Catalunya, takes a sharp turn immediately and Boadas is right after that turn (invisible from Las R.s). A step down into a small, wood-lined room. A greeter and several staff behind the bar, all dressed in formal black suits and bow-ties.

No tables, bar stools and stools along counters around the wall. I wonder if the floor gets packed late at night? Early evening, the counter seats tended to be hogged by parties of older (than me) tourists led there by a guide. I got a seat at the bar each time I went.

Yes, they have a list of curiously named fruity tall drinks and a special Negroni and mostly that’s what people buy. But they are overtly interested in mixing classics.

The mixing is done by a tall guy, very much in charge, very much skilled (except when he’s on his break). His chorus do bar back work and hand him bottles.

The part I liked was when I asked him, “Tu sabes el Hanky Panky?” His response: “My god, yes.” And it was great, like the other classics I ordered there.

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