Casa de Menjars Buenavista

The term 'Casa de Menjars' translates literally to 'Eating House.' It’s a humble, blue-collar designation that carries a lot of weight in Barcelona. It promises a lack of pretension, a focus on the plate, and a refusal to bow to the whims of the 'gastronomic laboratory' crowd. Casa de Menjars Buenavista, sitting on the busy Ronda de Sant Antoni, is a resurrection of a 1918 legend that once fed the neighborhood’s intellectuals, workers, and dreamers. While it’s now housed within a sleek boutique hotel, don't let the polished brass and high ceilings fool you. The soul of the original Molleví family business is still rattling around in the kitchen.

Walking in, you’re hit with a sense of space that’s almost jarring for the Ciutat Vella. Huge windows look out onto the street, flooding the room with light—hence the name 'Buenavista.' It’s a borderland spot, perched right where the gritty, chaotic energy of El Raval meets the increasingly gentrified, brunch-heavy streets of Sant Antoni. The room manages to bridge that gap. It feels sophisticated enough for a date but grounded enough that you wouldn't feel like a jerk ordering a second bottle of cheap, cold vermouth.

Let’s talk about the litmus test: the patatas bravas. In this city, everyone has an opinion, and most of them are wrong. Here, they don't try to deconstruct the thing into a foam or a sphere. They give you what you want—crispy edges, a soft interior, and a sauce that actually has the cojones to bring some heat. Then there’s the 'canelón de la casa.' This is the Sunday afternoon of Catalan cooking—rich, heavy with béchamel, and stuffed with meat that’s been braised until it’s lost all its structural integrity in the best way possible. It’s a dish that demands you slow down and stop checking your phone.

The menu, or 'la carta,' is a tightrope walk between tradition and the present. You’ll find the classics—croquetas that shatter perfectly between your teeth, fresh seafood from the coast—but there’s a precision here that speaks to a kitchen that actually gives a damn. The arroz dishes are a standout; they have that deep, concentrated flavor that only comes from a proper sofrito and a lot of patience. And then there’s the cheesecake. It’s become a bit of a local celebrity in recent reviews, and for good reason. It’s creamy, slightly funky, and entirely unapologetic.

What makes Buenavista work is the lack of 'travelese' bullshit. It’s one of the best restaurants in Sant Antoni because it knows what it is. It’s not trying to be a Michelin-starred temple of silence, and it’s not a dusty relic of the past. It’s a place where the service is professional but has that old-school Barcelona snap—quick, efficient, and slightly dry. You see a mix of hotel guests who stumbled into something better than they expected and locals who remember when the Ronda looked very different.

Is it perfect? No. The prices reflect the 'boutique' surroundings more than the 'eating house' name might suggest. If you’re looking for a three-euro menu del día, you’re in the wrong decade and the wrong building. But if you want to understand what modern Catalan food looks like when it respects its elders, this is the spot. It’s honest, it’s consistent, and it tastes like the city actually used to taste before the theme parks took over. It’s a place to sit, drink, eat, and watch the world go by through those big windows, feeling like you’ve found a small, well-lit sanctuary in the middle of the beautiful, messy sprawl.