Casa Julio

If you’re looking for a 'concept,' keep walking. If you want a 'gastronomic journey' curated by a guy in a tailored apron with a degree in foam, you’re in the wrong neighborhood. Casa Julio doesn’t do concepts. It does lunch. It does dinner. It does the kind of unvarnished, soul-satisfying food that keeps the gears of Barcelona turning while the tourists are busy getting fleeced on the Rambla. Tucked away on Carrer de Sant Germà in the shadow of Montjuïc, this is a shrine to the working-class appetite, a place where the fluorescent lights are bright, the service is brisk, and the floor is probably littered with a few discarded napkins—the universal sign of a bar that’s actually doing something right.

Walking into Casa Julio feels like stepping into a version of Barcelona that refuses to die, no matter how many boutique hotels open up nearby. It’s a room of hard surfaces—tile, metal, glass—designed for efficiency and volume. At mid-day, the air is thick with the scent of garlic hitting a hot plancha and the low-frequency roar of a hundred conversations competing with the hiss of the espresso machine. This is the habitat of the Menu del Día, that glorious Spanish institution that ensures no one goes back to work on an empty stomach. For a price that would barely get you a watered-down gin and tonic in the Gothic Quarter, you get three courses, bread, and enough wine to make the afternoon bearable. This is one of the best menu del dia Barcelona has left for those who value substance over style.

The seafood here is the real draw, a fact that might surprise you given the humble surroundings. We’re talking about mariscos that haven’t been frozen into submission. The arroz caldoso—a soupy, briny rice dish packed with the essence of the Mediterranean—is a masterclass in simplicity. It’s not plated with tweezers; it’s ladled out with purpose. When the gambas arrive, they are charred, salty, and demanding to be eaten with your hands. You rip the heads off, suck out the essence—the best part, don't be a coward—and wash it down with a glass of house white that’s cold enough to crack a tooth. It’s a protein rush that reminds you why people started eating fish in the first place. If you're looking for an authentic seafood restaurant in Sants-Montjuïc, this is the unpolished gold standard.

The crowd is a beautiful, chaotic cross-section of the city. You’ve got guys in high-vis vests sitting next to suits from the nearby Fira trade fair, all of them hunched over plates of entrecot or grilled hake. There’s no hierarchy here. The waiters have seen it all and have the weary, professional grace of people who can carry five plates at once while navigating a room that’s perpetually five minutes away from a riot. They don’t have time to explain the 'provenance' of the tomatoes. The tomatoes are good. Eat them. This is exactly the kind of cheap eats Barcelona 2025 needs to protect.

Is it perfect? Of course not. It’s loud. If you’re looking for a romantic candlelit corner to whisper sweet nothings, you’ll be shouting them over the sound of a coffee grinder. The wine list isn't going to win any awards, and the decor is 'early 80s cafeteria.' But that’s the point. Casa Julio is honest. It’s a place that respects your hunger and your wallet in equal measure. In a city that is increasingly being packaged and sold back to us as a theme park version of itself, places like this are the resistance. It's one of those essential restaurants near Plaça d'Espanya that remains untouched by the hype machine.

Go for the lunch menu. Go because you’re tired of being treated like a walking ATM. Go because you want to see what Barcelona actually tastes like when no one is looking. It’s messy, it’s loud, and it’s exactly what you need. It is, quite simply, the real deal.