Can vilamarí

Get away from the Sagrada Família. Walk past the selfie sticks and the overpriced frozen paella joints of the center until the sidewalk starts to feel like a neighborhood again. Here, on Carrer de Provença, you’ll find Can Vilamarí. It’s not trying to be the next big thing on Instagram. It’s not draped in fake ivy or lit by neon signs designed for influencers. It’s a restaurant that smells like wood smoke, garlic, and the kind of ambition that doesn't need a PR firm.

When you walk into this corner of the Left Eixample, the first thing that hits you isn't the decor—though the warm wood and industrial touches are easy on the eyes—it’s the sound. It’s the rhythmic thud of a cocktail shaker and the low-frequency hum of locals who know exactly why they’re here. This is a hybrid beast: a Mediterranean kitchen with a heavy Argentine heartbeat, operating as a bar and grill that actually understands the chemistry of fire.

Let’s talk about the empanadas. In most places, they’re an afterthought, a dry pastry shell filled with sadness. Not here. At Can Vilamarí, the empanadas are the real thing—crispy, blistered skin giving way to fillings like the 'Mendocina' beef that actually drips down your chin if you aren't careful. It’s a protein-packed punch to the gut that primes you for what’s coming next. If you’re looking for the best empanadas in Barcelona, this is where you stop.

Then there’s the grill. The 'entraña' (skirt steak) is the litmus test for any place claiming the 'Bar & Grill' title, and they pass with flying colors. It arrives with that perfect, salt-crusted char on the outside, hiding a deep, mineral-rich pink interior that reminds you why humans started cooking over fire in the first place. It’s honest food. No foams, no gels, just a piece of meat and the skill to not ruin it.

But this is still Barcelona, and the Catalan roots run deep. The croquetas are creamy, dangerous little landmines of jamón or mushroom that demand a cold beer to wash them down. And despite the Argentine influence, they handle a paella with more respect than the 'authentic' spots on La Rambla. The socarrat—that caramelized, crispy layer of rice at the bottom of the pan—is treated with the reverence it deserves. It’s the kind of meal that makes you want to cancel your afternoon plans and order another round of Negronis.

The service? It’s professional but has that neighborhood edge. They aren't going to hover over you, but they know when your glass is empty. It’s the kind of place where the regulars have 'their' table and the staff remembers if you prefer your steak medium-rare or blue. It’s a sanctuary for people who actually like to eat, drink, and talk without having to shout over a DJ.

Is it perfect? Nothing is. It can get loud, the tables are close enough that you’ll probably learn about your neighbor’s divorce, and if you don’t book ahead on a weekend, you’re looking at a long wait on the sidewalk. But that’s the price of entry for something real. Can Vilamarí is a reminder that the most satisfying meal in Barcelona isn't always the one with the view of the sea; sometimes, it’s the one on a quiet street corner in Eixample, where the grill is hot and the empanadas are legendary.