The buriti, which grows in wet riversides and swamps, is among the most splendid of South American palms. This tree has special significance in Brazil: it is even an unsuspecting main character in the Brazilian epic novel The Devil to Pay in The Backlands, written by João Guimarães Rosa. For the Guaraní, an indigenous group of the southwest of the country, the buriti palm is a generous being from which each element can be used: fruit, bark, leaves, oil – it’s why its name means “Tree of Life.” Now, a new Buriti has flourished in Barcelona, just a stone’s throw from the shore in the beachside Poble Nou neighborhood. A Brazilian restaurant full of nostalgic flavors prepared with great skill and served in portions to share tapas-style, but with an authentic Brazilian taste.

The smell of clean clothes with a lavender sachet from grandma’s closet; the family farm in nearby Lleida province during summer with apple trees and wild aromatic herbs growing all around; peaches washed in seawater during a beach day; an afternoon snack of popsicles while playing under the pine tree in the garden. These are just some of the memories that neighbors left in the mailbox of Mamá Heladera in Barcelona’s Poblenou, where owner Irene Iborra turns them into gelato flavors – an initiative that was recently awarded by the Barcelona City Council as best new innovative business (XVII Premis Barcelona Comerç). Mamá Heladera sits next to Tío Che, a classic horchateria and ice-cream parlor on Rambla del Poblenou that opened in 1912.

When chef Alexis Peñalver was looking for a location to open La Pubilla, he found this gem adjacent to the Mercat de la Llibertat in Gràcia and decided to keep the name of the original establishment. Pubilla is a bygone word in Catalan for the eldest daughter destined to receive the family inheritance in the event that there were no male heirs. Nowadays a pubilla (the prettiest girl in town) is named reina de la fiesta at many festivals in Catalonia.

Sun-drenched beaches, architectural marvels, all-night parties, and tapas, tapas, tapas – that’s the seductive fantasy of Barcelona. But for locals, the reality is, as always, more nuanced. The city is bursting at the seams with tourists drawn in by boring paellas and chain restaurants around La Rambla and humdrum tapas in the Gothic Quarter. But the real Barcelona thrives in its family-run joints, independent market stalls, and tucked-away bodegas where local flavors get innovate twists. Food is more than a meal – it’s a celebration of the Catalan identity and the ever-flowing wheels of change, a story told through humble suquet de peix (fish stew) passed down through generations or calçots sold only in season. For almost a decade, our Barcelona bureau chief Paula Mourenza has been uncovering these stories – writing about the real Barcelona, bite by delicious bite. In this guide, we’ve rounded up her essentials: the places we return to time and again, no matter the hype.

Today is Día de Reyes (Kings’ Day), also known as Epiphany, and in Catalonia, as in many places with Catholic traditions, we celebrate the Magis’ visit to the baby Jesus with a tortell de reis (roscón de reyes in Spanish), or kings’ cake. Made of brioche and shaped like a crown, the cake is filled with marzipan made from marcona almonds, wonderfully fragrant with orange-flower water and studded with jewel-like candied fruit – such as orange, cherries, melon or quince – as well as pine nuts and sugar. Most people purchase their tortell at a bakery and eat it for dessert at the end of their family lunch on Dia de Reis, as it’s called in Catalan. The Gremi de Pastisseria de Barcelona, a Catalan association of professional bakers, estimates that some 1 million tortells will be eaten in Catalonia this year.

Sometimes the wine is so good, you forget about the food on your plate. And sometimes, the simplest bite has you forgetting your expensive wine, the people you’ve come out to dine with, and maybe even your own name. Your friends around the table are all laughing, and you have no idea about the joke. For a few seconds, you're lost in primitive aesthetic bliss, pure satisfaction, and something akin to communion with the universe. Here are a few moments from 2024 when we got lost in food, oblivious to the jokes and comments of our competitions at tables in Barcelona, La Garrotxa (in north Catalonia), and Galicia.

Sometimes the wine is so good, you forget about the food on your plate. And sometimes, the simplest bite has you forgetting your expensive wine, the people you’ve come out to dine with, and maybe even your own name. Your friends around the table are all laughing, and you have no idea about the joke. For a few seconds, you're lost in primitive aesthetic bliss, pure satisfaction, and something akin to communion with the universe. Here are a few moments from 2024 when we got lost in food, oblivious to the jokes and comments of our competitions at tables in Barcelona, La Garrotxa (in north Catalonia), and Galicia.

The quick trip to France for indulgences not found in Spain is something of a tradition among the Catalan people. During the Francoist regime, many people used to drive to France to skip the dictator’s censorship and wait in long lines in the Perpignan cinemas to see classics of erotic cinema of the time – like The Last Tango in Paris – or to get books and magazines forbidden in Spain. Nowadays, you’d still be hard-pressed to find a Catalan who travels to southern France for the weekend and returns empty-handed, though now they’re like to bring back wine, an artisan pâté, or one of hundreds of wonderful French cheeses.

De toda la vida is a Spanish expression that basically means “It’s been around forever,” and it’s a sure thing that the locals in Barcelona’s Gràcia neighborhood will utter those words if you ask them about Bodega Quimet. Opened in the 1950s by the Quimet family, the bodega (not to be confused with Quimet i Quimet, a popular Barcelona tapas bar) was passed down from father to son until 2010, when the younger (but nonetheless old) Quimet retired and brothers Carlos and David Montero bought the venue. David Montero had always worked as a cook and dreamed of owning his own place. However, after buying Quimet, instead of doing the renovations so typical of Barcelona bars that change hands (such as modernizing the furnishings or installing a huge flat-screen TV for showing fútbol matches), the Montero brothers made the somewhat unusual decision to keep everything, from the low prices to the décor, pretty much the same as it always had been.

n 2005, José Luís Díaz was thinking about retiring after working for many years in great local restaurants. He wanted to leave behind the stress of big kitchens, but still to cook the recipes that he loved with a different rhythm and with more time and care. And so he opened Sense Pressa – an antidote to the pressures and stresses of modern life. Sense Pressa (literally “Unhurried”) is a cozy, modest eatery. The narrow entry adjoins a bar that is flanked by more than 300 wine bottles and leads into a wider room appointed with round tables. The ambiance walks the line between elegant and homey, serene and lively. Each night, Díaz and his team cook around 25 covers (by reservation only) in a single, leisurely seating.