Cerveseria Catalana
Pla del Palau, 2
Barcelona 08003, Spain

Date of Last Visit: Saturday, July 18th, 2009

The Victims: Rutton, Kainaz

The Damage: Rutton paid, the ass. I think it was about 40 euros.

The Background: Richard has suggested we load up on tapas before the wedding. I, in my fragile state (cava…), venture out into the Barcelona sunshine with Rutton and Kainaz, on our way to Cerveseria Catalana, one of Richard and Mireia’s favorite places. I’ve actually been here before, a few years earlier, when I was in town for Richard’s birthday. And it’s just like I remember. Bustling. Friendly. Loud. Fun. Locals and tourists, all mixed up.

The Entrance: There are no seats available. We put our name on the list and then we strategize the bar. I take the south end. Rutton the north. Then we stalk a poor British woman and her son who have finished their food, paid for their meal, but show no signs of leaving.

But they do leave and we take their seats. I’m all up for anything anchovy. And anything jamon. We just point and point and the food starts arriving. Everything arrives but the calamari, which we have to order about five times before someone actually delivers it. (And when it does arrive, it’s bland and rubbery. That Jose Luis place in Madrid was much better.)

The pimentos de padron are great, better than last night’s. But they could maybe use a little more salt. I don’t mind though. They’re green. And Spain is a land of seafood, meat, and potatoes. Anything green is a good thing.

The Verdict: I like it here. Are you going to walk out saying, “That was the best meal of my entire life?” Probably not. But are you going to eat well and cheaply? Probably so.

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Passadis del Pep
Pla del Palau, 2
Barcelona 08003
Spain

Date of Last Visit: Friday, July 17th, 2009

The Victims: Barry, Natalie, Chris, Evelien, Robbie, Barney, Susan

The Damage: About 80 euros each

The Background: I’m in Barcelona for the wedding of my good friends Richard & Mireia. We’re to meet for drinks at 10 p.m. (this is Barcelona after all), so Barry organizes dinner for us at Passadis del Pep beforehand. When he tells me that it’s down a dark alley, I don’t put things together. But then I vaguely remember reading this in the New York Times.

The Entrance: We’re more than a little bit late. But it’s fine. We grab our table and the food starts its immediate procession, served by gentlemanly waiter-types. First is the jamon (above) and it is, of course, lovely. It’s accompanied by some pan con tomate, which is just okay, really. Actually, it tastes a bit old. I don’t say this out loud of course. I just think it.

Then come the clams, and they’re pretty great. I could eat a lot of these. But I don’t. Because Passadis del Pep is one of those “we keep bringing you food until you say stop” types of palces. And next up are the anchovies…

And I eat a lot of these. They’re great…crispy, fired in all the right batter, lemony. I feel distinctly unladylike, asking again and again for someone to pass me the plate of anchovies. I feel like a cat. And I’m allergic to cats.

Somewhere after the very delicious snails/whelks come the pimentos de padron and I’m struck by the fact that some of our table have never had pimentos de padron before. How is this possible? How have you lived? I tell them that 1 out of 11 is spicy. Just in time for Robbie to have a spicy one. These were better than good. A bit crispy. And good salt.

Ah, and this is where I put my camera down as things begin to go downhill. Some prawns arrive. And they’re okay. And then some more prawns arrive. (Of a different sort.) And they’re okay too, but I’m kinda tired of prawns. Then a server comes to our table and asks “Pescado o carne?” and we say “Carne!” And two more plates of prawns arrive. (Two different types of prawns.)

I’m serious.

I like prawns.

But I was a little prawned out.

Plus, we were late for drinks. So we rounded up the bill, with thanks to Susan’s Spanish, and made our way out into that dark night, to the party on the roof of a hotel, where we all wore white.

The Verdict: Eh. Things started off well. And the company, of course, was tremendous. But really…how many prawns can a gal eat? Maybe this would have been better if we were all a bit more chilled out about things. We were late and had to leave early. Never a good combo.  All that being said, I kinda think that maybe you should still go here, next time you’re in Barcelona. Just maybe.

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