ADANA GRILL HOUSE

Sant Martí is not the Barcelona of your postcards. There are no winding medieval alleys here, no gargoyles peering down from Gothic cathedrals. Instead, you get wide, wind-swept avenues, towering glass office blocks, and the looming presence of the Diagonal Mar shopping complex. It’s a neighborhood that can feel a bit clinical, a bit too planned. But then you catch a scent on the breeze—the unmistakable, primal aroma of fat hitting hot charcoal. That’s your North Star. That’s Adana Grill House.

This isn't one of those fluorescent-lit 'Doner' joints where a mysterious cylinder of gray meat rotates sadly under a heat lamp for three days. No, this is a temple to the grill. When you walk into this spot on Carrer de Llull, the first thing that hits you isn't the decor—which is clean, functional, and refreshingly devoid of tourist-baiting kitsch—it’s the heat. It’s the sound of the plancha and the sight of skewers being prepped with actual, recognizable cuts of meat.

You’re here for the namesake: the Adana Kebab. It’s a beautiful, brutal thing. Hand-minced meat, kneaded with chili flakes and sumac, molded onto a wide flat skewer and grilled until the outside has that perfect, slightly charred snap while the inside remains a juicy, spicy revelation. It’s served with the kind of respect it deserves—usually on a bed of bulgur or rice that soaks up every drop of the rendered fat, accompanied by charred peppers and onions that have actually seen the fire.

Then there’s the lahmacun. If you’ve been eating frozen pizzas or those soggy wraps from the late-night spots in the center, this will be a spiritual awakening. The dough is rolled thin, topped with a savory, spicy paste of minced meat and vegetables, and fired until the edges are crisp enough to shatter. You squeeze a bit of lemon over it, throw in some fresh parsley and red onion, roll it up, and realize that this is what fast food should actually be. It’s honest. It’s cheap. It’s perfect.

The crowd here tells the story. You’ll see office workers from the nearby tech towers loosening their ties, local families from the Sant Martí apartment blocks, and the occasional traveler who wandered away from the Fòrum and stumbled into something genuine. There’s no pretense here. The service is efficient, perhaps a bit brisk when the lunch rush hits, but it’s the kind of efficiency born of a kitchen that knows exactly what it’s doing.

Is it the most romantic restaurant in Barcelona? Probably not. But if you’re tired of the overpriced 'tapas' in the Gothic Quarter and you want a meal that actually tastes like something, this is your spot. It’s a reminder that even in the most modern, glass-and-steel parts of the city, the old ways—meat, fire, and bread—still reign supreme. Finish it off with a piece of their baklava, which is honey-soaked and heavy in the best way possible, and a glass of hot Turkish tea. You’ll walk back out into the wind of Sant Martí feeling like a human being again. For anyone looking for authentic Turkish food in Barcelona 2025, this is a mandatory stop. It’s one of the best cheap eats Barcelona has to offer in a neighborhood that usually charges double for half the soul.