ABANIC

Eixample is a neighborhood of straight lines, grand ambitions, and a lot of people looking for a place to spend money. It’s the grid that defines modern Barcelona, and usually, by midnight, the options for a serious meal start to dry up. That’s where ABANIC comes in. It’s a precision-engineered operation on Carrer del Rosselló that refuses to acknowledge the concept of an early night. While the rest of the city is winding down, the kitchen here is just hitting its stride, staying open until 2:30 AM for the night owls, the industry crowd, and the lucky few who stumbled in off the street.

Walking into ABANIC, you don't get the dusty, sawdust-on-the-floor vibe of a traditional Gothic Quarter dive. This is Eixample. It’s polished, it’s got a bit of swagger, and it knows exactly what it’s doing. The space is intimate—some might say cramped when the 4.8-star rating draws the inevitable crowds—but there’s an energy here that’s hard to fake. It’s the sound of cocktail shakers, the hiss of the plancha, and the low hum of people who know they’ve found the right spot.

The food is where the pretension ends and the soul begins. We’re talking about Mediterranean staples elevated by someone who actually gives a damn about technique. The beef cheeks (carrilleras) are the heavy hitters here—slow-cooked until the collagen has surrendered completely, bathed in a red wine reduction so dark and rich it’s practically a religious experience. Then there’s the octopus paella, served 'a la llauna,' where the rice is thin, the socarrat is crispy, and the seafood actually tastes like the Mediterranean. It’s honest, protein-heavy cooking that doesn't hide behind garnishes.

But you can’t talk about ABANIC without talking about 'The Cherry.' It’s a dessert that looks like a giant, hyper-realistic cherry, a piece of trompe-l'œil art that usually signals a chef is trying too hard. But then you crack the shell. It’s a balance of chocolate, fruit, and texture that justifies the hype. It’s a stunt, sure, but it’s a stunt that tastes like a dream. Pair that with one of their Pisco Sours—which are arguably some of the best in the city—and you start to understand why this place is packed on a Tuesday at 1 AM.

The human element is what anchors the experience. You’ll likely hear the name Juan Carlos mentioned by the regulars; he’s the kind of host who manages the chaos with a level of grace that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room. The service is fast, occasionally blunt when the house is full, but always professional. It’s a team that works together, from the bar to the back of the house, showing the kind of passion that’s often lost in the more tourist-heavy parts of town.

Is it perfect? No. If you show up without a reservation during peak hours, you might find yourself perched on a bar stool wedged into a corner. The prices reflect the Eixample location and the quality of the ingredients—it’s not a 'cheap eat,' but it is a fair one. You’re paying for the skill in the kitchen and the fact that they’re still searing beef while the rest of the neighborhood is asleep. If you want a quiet, contemplative meal in a cavernous hall, go elsewhere. But if you want the pulse of Barcelona after dark, with a plate of melting beef and a drink that bites back, this is the place.