Bar Restaurant Mylka

You’re on the Travessera de Dalt, a roaring asphalt artery that pumps traffic through the upper reaches of Gràcia. You’re likely sweating, having either just descended from the whimsical, mosaic-encrusted fever dream of Park Güell or preparing for the uphill slog to get there. This is the danger zone—the territory where 'Tourist Menus' with faded photos of yellow rice and frozen peas lie in wait for the desperate and the uninformed. But then there’s Bar Restaurant Mylka. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, and honestly, it doesn’t look like much from the inside either. And that is exactly why you should walk through the door.

This is a place of fluorescent lights, functional tile, and the rhythmic hiss of a professional-grade espresso machine. It’s a family-run operation that feels like it’s been holding down this corner since before the city became a global theme park. There is no 'concept' here. There is no curated playlist of chill-out beats. There is just the business of feeding people. It’s a bar de barrio with a kitchen that punches way above its weight class, serving as a refuge for locals who need a morning caffeine fix and travelers who want a meal that doesn't taste like a boardroom decision.

The paella is the big draw here, and for good reason. In a city where 'cheap paella' usually means a salty, microwaved disaster, Mylka delivers the real thing. We’re talking about rice that has actually spent time in a pan, absorbing a proper stock, developing that elusive, slightly caramelized crust at the bottom—the socarrat—that separates the amateurs from the pros. Whether it’s the seafood version loaded with mussels and prawns or a meat-heavy rendition, it’s a protein-heavy, saffron-stained reward for your architectural sightseeing. It’s not the $100 avant-garde version you’ll find in the high-end spots of Eixample, but it’s honest, it’s hot, and it’s delicious.

If you arrive earlier in the day, the air smells of frying dough and thick, dark chocolate. The churros here are the antidote to the soul-crushing cereal bars of the modern world. They are crispy, golden, and served without apology. It’s the kind of breakfast that demands you sit down, shut up, and enjoy the simple chemistry of fat, sugar, and flour. Later in the afternoon, the vibe shifts to tapas and cold cañas. The patatas bravas are sturdy and spicy, the croquetas are creamy enough to make you weep, and the calamari hasn't seen the inside of a freezer bag in a long time.

The service is what I’d call 'efficiently human.' They aren't going to laugh at your jokes or ask about your day in five different languages, but they will get a cold beer in front of you faster than you can say 'Gaudí.' There’s a grit to this place that I find immensely comforting. It’s a reminder that despite the encroaching tide of boutique hotels and avocado toast, the real Barcelona—the one that works, eats, and argues over football—is still alive and well on the edges of the tourist map.

Is it worth the visit? If you want white tablecloths and a waiter who bows, go elsewhere. If you want to sit among people who actually live in this neighborhood, eating food that tastes like someone’s uncle is in the back making sure the salt levels are just right, then Mylka is your spot. It’s one of the best affordable restaurants in Barcelona for anyone who values substance over style. It’s a place to refuel, to watch the world go by on the Travessera, and to remember that the best travel experiences usually happen in the places that aren't trying to impress you.