In Catalonia around the summer solstice, we make one of our most traditional liqueurs, ratafía, for which the herbs, fruit and flowers that are macerated in alcohol must be collected on Saint John’s Eve, or June 23. This highly aromatic digestif has long been believed to have medicinal properties. There’s even an old Catalan rhyme along those lines: Ratafía, tres o cuatro al día (“Ratafía, three or four per day”). Different versions of the liqueur have been made for centuries in eastern Spain and some regions of France and Italy but, like the other herb liqueurs throughout Europe, they originated from the Ancient Roman and Greek custom of macerating fruit and herbs in wine, from Arabian perfume distillation and from the sophisticated medieval distillations in monasteries and convents that created the first aguardientes, or grape-based, medicinal liqueurs.

In Spain, pork is serious business; it’s been a fundamental part of the diet here for millennia. Pigs were an important animal on the first Celtic farms and also for the Iberians (around the 6th century BCE), who would sell to other Mediterranean peoples salted and cured pork, as well as olive oil and wine. In that time, the Romans – who already loved and produced ham, even creating ham-shaped coins as a symbol of value – appreciated the ham from Iberian lands such as Tarraco, where, recently, a fossilized ham was found that was more than 2,000 years old (now that’s what we call aged!).

The favorite outdoor pastime of most Barcelonans is eating and drinking on a terrace. From the simplest bars to the most sophisticated, multi-starred alta cocina restaurants, something like half of our fair city’s eateries have space where diners can enjoy their meals a la fresca (and smoke a cigarette, too). Many of the best-known terraces sit on the rooftops of hotels, providing lovely tables and astonishing views that extend to the limits of the Mediterranean and menus that fill the pages of the latest Michelin guide.

In Barcelona, these are fortunate times we’re living in, gastronomically speaking. We’re blessed with a growing multitude of tapas bars whose humble appearances belie the excellent culinary chops behind them. Bar Resolís is one of these. The eatery is known mainly because of its location in the heart of Raval, the most multicultural neighborhood in Barcelona. It sits on a street lined with vintage clothing shops and is outfitted with a cute mini-terrace, a small open bar and windows that frame a wall full of colorful graffiti in the passageway adjacent. It’s the ideal laid-back setting for us to enjoy a vermut with our elbow on the sill while checking out the intriguing handbags in the shop window in front.

Editor’s note: In the latest installment of our recurring feature, First Stop, we asked Michael Costa, head chef at the award-winning restaurant Zaytinya, in Washington, D.C., where he heads first for food when he arrives in Barcelona. El Passadís del Pep is home to the best, most authentic Catalan seafood in the city. There is no menu but they curate the experience in such a warm, kind way that you may find that you prefer not to have to deal with a menu. The cooking is classic, minimal and serves only to enhance the natural beauty of the ingredients. No Egotarian Cuisine here, just excellent product treated with respect.

Dear Culinary Backstreets,My wife and I love to cook at home and for our friends, and we would love to learn more about Spanish cuisine on our next trip to Barcelona so that we can recreate our favorite meals when we return home. Where can we take English-language cooking classes in the city?

Editor’s note: We asked writer Anya von Bremzen where she heads first for food when she arrives in Barcelona. She is the winner of three James Beard awards, a contributing editor at Travel + Leisure and the author of five cookbooks, including the recently published Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking: A Memoir of Food and Longing.Most Barcelona tapas haunts, old and new, pay homage to the bares de producto, the astounding ingredient-laden kioskos (dining stalls) of the buoyant Boquería market. It might be crowded and touristy but on my first morning in town, Boquería is still my Holy Grail. The best time to go? Around 10:30 a.m., when the stalls are less crowded between lunch and dinner. Right by its entrance, I stop to pay my respects to the legendary chickpea-and-butifarra sausage stew at Pinotxo. Its owner, the venerable Juanito Bayen, is now nearing 80 but looking dapper as ever in his satin vest and bow tie. Juanito is still a maestro of counter banter, spiking coffee with brandy for dour resident fishmongers, plying Japanese tourists with pristine razor clams, smiling for cameras next to Ferran Adrià.

The reach of globalization and industrial agriculture is such that you can find pretty much any kind of vegetable all year long at markets throughout Spain, but there are a still a few holdouts that arrive at very specific times of the year, and only for a fleeting moment. This is the produce we look out for, along with signs indicating the precise provenance. Artichokes from El Prat and the Ebro Delta are nearing the end of their all-too-brief visit, while the rare strawberries and wonderful peas of Maresme, on the coast of Barcelona province, have just begun appearing at market stalls. Others, such as the humble fava, arrive with less heralding but are no less welcome.

You are what you eat, as the saying goes. Is it any surprise, then, that food figures so largely in popular culture all over the world? In Spain, we have a veritable cornucopia of food-related expressions. Here’s a taste: Dar una torta, “to give a cake.” To slap someone. But darse una torta, “give a cake to yourself,” means you hit something else. It’s a mild, lighthearted expression, even with tortazo, which is a bigger biff, and comes from the funny old circus setup where a clown throws a cake into the face of another clown.

The perpetually packed Bar Mundial is one of Barcelona’s elder statesmen. It opened for business in Santa Caterina-El Born in 1914 under the name Bodega La Chispa, and was rechristened with its current name in 1925, when the Tort family took over. The place is now run by third-generation owner Paco Tort. The old bar has history, that’s for sure – even El Chispa ("Spark"), the bartender, is a 30-year veteran of the place. And what keeps people coming back to Bar Mundial are the delightful seafood tapas, classic and contemporary, that issue from the tiny kitchen.

In the weeks leading up to Easter, Barcelona looks like an extension of Willy Wonka’s factory-fun house: chocolate castles, houses, animals, cars, motorbikes and even cartoon characters and fútbol celebrities fashioned out of cacao populate the city’s traditional patisseries. Catalonian confectioners expect to sell some 600,000 chocolate sculptures decorated with yellow chicks, chocolate eggs and cakes studded with hard-boiled eggs and colored feathers this year. The last are known as monas, and godparents traditionally give these to their godchildren throughout Catalonia and other parts of Spain to mark the holiday.

Early on in Jean-Pierre Jeunet’s 2001 film Amélie, the title character plunges her hand into a big sack of lentils, relishing the sensation of them slipping through her fingers, a look of pure pleasure on her face. That kind of behavior is verboten in shops that sell dry goods by weight, but buying groceries in bulk has its own inherent pleasures (and you can run your fingers through your purchases once you’re back at home). Just as with bulk wine, buying food in bulk is making a comeback in Barcelona. Not only does this practice yield less packaging waste, but in our minds, it also makes hunting for great ingredients all the more enjoyable.

Update: This spot is sadly no longer open. There’s pork, and then there’s pork – by which we mean pastured Iberian pork from Extremadura. These native black pigs roam freely on as much as ten hectares each of dehesa, through grass and brush and under oak trees, feeding on acorns and other forage. The meat is extraordinary, tender and deeply flavorful, used to make some of the world’s best ham and among the prized ingredients at Bar Ángel in El Born.

For so long, bulk wine has been synonymous with plonk – even in a country like Spain, where buying wine straight from the barrel was standard practice up until the 1980s, when it was largely replaced by bottles with certified designations of origin. We are well acquainted with the bad stuff, which we call vino peleón, literally “scrappy” wine, but thankfully, the era of its ubiquity is mostly over and done with. It’s much easier these days to find good wine at low prices (€1 to €5 per liter) that’s suitable for everyday drinking. And another upside to this practice is the environmentally friendly packaging: your own jug.

Making tapas is like playing the guitar. It's easy to sound pretty good if you strum away on three basic chords, but significantly harder once you start delving into the infinite possibilities of the instrument to get your own style. At Bar del Pla, the tune is a traditional Catalan and Spanish one, but imaginative flourishes, international influences and wonderful ingredients breathe new life into the same old, often-hummed songs. (Yes, we’re still talking about tapas.)