EL 23 GASTROBAR

Nou Barris is the part of Barcelona the tour buses forgot, and thank God for that. It’s a place of steep hills, laundry hanging over balconies, and people who work for a living. It is not 'charming' in the way a travel brochure wants it to be. It’s real. And in the middle of this concrete honesty sits EL 23 GASTROBAR, a place that proves you don’t need a Gothic Quarter zip code or a Michelin star to serve food that makes you want to weep with joy.

Getting here is a trek. You take the L4 metro to Via Júlia, walk past the old men playing dominoes and the kids kicking footballs against graffiti-covered walls, and you find yourself on Carrer d'Almansa. From the outside, it looks like another neighborhood joint. But the moment you step inside, the smell hits you—the scent of rendered pork fat, searing beef, and the sharp, sweet tang of honey. This is a gastrobar in the truest sense: the bones of a local local, but with a kitchen that’s punching way above its weight class.

The menu is a roadmap of Spanish soul food, elevated just enough to keep things interesting without becoming precious. Let’s talk about the torrezno. This isn't just fried pork skin; it’s the Torrezno de Soria, a thick, glorious slab of pork belly that has been rendered until the skin is a topographical map of salt and crunch, while the meat underneath remains impossibly tender. It is a masterclass in texture, a visceral reminder of why we evolved to eat meat. If you’re looking for a salad, you’ve come to the wrong neighborhood.

Then there are the berenjenas—eggplant fried to a crisp, drizzled with cane honey and a hint of miso. It’s a dish that balances on the edge of sweet and savory, a messy, addictive plate that you’ll find yourself scraping with your fingernails. The buñuelos de bacalao (cod fritters) are light, airy clouds of salt cod that shatter on impact, tasting of the sea and the fryer in perfect harmony. And if you’re feeling flush, the chuletón—aged beef, marbled with yellow fat and charred over high heat—is as good as anything you’ll find in the high-priced temples of Eixample, but at a price that doesn't feel like a shakedown.

The atmosphere is loud, cramped, and utterly devoid of pretension. The service is fast and efficient, the kind of service you get when the staff knows the food is good and doesn't need to sell you on it. You’ll see families celebrating birthdays, couples on dates who clearly know a secret the rest of the city hasn't figured out yet, and regulars who treat the bar like an extension of their living room. It’s the kind of place where the wine is poured generously and the conversation is punctuated by the clatter of plates and the hiss of the plancha.

Is EL 23 GASTROBAR worth the forty-minute metro ride from the center? That depends. If you want white tablecloths and a view of the Sagrada Família, stay in the tourist bubble. But if you want to see how Barcelona actually eats when the cameras aren't rolling—if you want food that tastes like it was made by people who actually give a damn—then get on the train. This is the best tapas Barcelona has to offer for those willing to look for it. It’s honest, it’s heavy, and it’s exactly what a gastrobar should be.