BORO Bar

Eixample is a minefield. It’s a grid of beautiful architecture and wide boulevards where, if you aren’t careful, you’ll end up paying twenty euros for a plate of frozen patatas bravas and a glass of acidic sangria while a guy in a neon vest tries to sell you a plastic helicopter. It’s the kind of neighborhood that can break your heart if you’re looking for a soul. But then there’s BORO Bar.

BORO doesn’t care about your expectations of a 'traditional' Spanish tavern. There are no dusty bullfighting posters here, no sawdust on the floor, and nobody is pretending it’s 1954. This is modern Barcelona—fast, loud, industrial, and unapologetically focused on the plate. It’s a room of wood, metal, and warm light that feels like it actually belongs in the 21st century. It’s the kind of place where the kitchen is working with a sense of urgency that borders on the frantic, and thank God for that.

You come here for the hits, and the hits at BORO Bar are heavy. Let’s talk about the steak tartar. In a city where every third menu offers a pile of raw beef, BORO’s version stands out because it tastes like someone actually gave a damn about the seasoning. It’s balanced, punchy, and served with a level of confidence that suggests they know exactly how good it is. Then there’s the pastrami. It’s fatty, salty, and smoky in all the right ways—a nod to the great delis of the world but executed with a Mediterranean sensibility that keeps it from feeling like a heavy gut-punch.

But the real reason people are packed into these tables like sardines in a tin is the cheesecake. Look, I know 'legendary cheesecake' is a phrase thrown around by every food blogger with a smartphone, but this is the real deal. It’s that creamy, gooey, Basque-adjacent style that barely holds its shape, oozing across the plate like a delicious, dairy-based landslide. It’s not too sweet, it’s got that hit of salt, and it’s the kind of thing you’ll find yourself thinking about three days later while you’re eating a sad salad at your desk.

The menu wanders. You’ll find ceviche that’s bright and acidic, cutting through the richness of the meat dishes, and a risotto that actually respects the rice rather than turning it into a mushy porridge. It’s a serious contender precisely because it refuses to stay in one lane. It’s a bar and grill that understands that sometimes you want a refined tartare, and sometimes you just want something grilled and primitive.

Is it perfect? No. It’s loud. If you’re looking for a quiet, romantic spot to whisper sweet nothings, BORO might drown you out. The service is professional but brisk—they have a line out the door and they need that table back. You need a reservation, or you’ll be standing on Carrer de la Diputació looking through the glass like a hungry orphan. But that’s the price of admission for food this honest. It’s a place for people who actually like to eat, who don't mind a bit of chaos, and who know that the best things in life usually involve a high-quality cut of meat and a very large slice of cake. If you're looking for a place in Eixample that hasn't sold its soul to the tourism board, this is your spot.