Casa Xica Restaurant i Bar a vins

Poble Sec is a neighborhood that’s been fighting for its soul for years. You’ve got the pincho crawls on Carrer de Blai—fine if you want cheap bread and toothpicks—but if you want the real shit, you walk a few blocks away to Casa Xica. It’s tucked into Carrer de la França Xica, a quiet street that feels a world away from the neon-lit madness of the Paral·lel. This isn't the Barcelona of the postcards; it's the Barcelona of the people who actually live here and refuse to eat garbage.

This isn't "fusion" in the way some corporate consultant imagined it while staring at a spreadsheet. This is the result of Marc Santamaria and Raquel Blasco packing their bags, heading to Asia, and coming back with their palates permanently altered. They didn't just bring back recipes; they brought back a philosophy. They took the sturdy, reliable bones of Catalan cooking and gave them a sharp, fermented, spicy kick in the teeth. The cooking works because it doesn't feel forced. It feels inevitable.

When you walk in, it feels like a home. It basically is a home—small, low ceilings, warm light, and the kind of atmosphere that suggests you’re about to lose track of several hours. You aren't here for a quick bite before a movie. You’re here to commit to the experience. The space is tight, the energy is high, and the smell of ginger hitting a hot pan competes with the funky aroma of a freshly uncorked bottle of natural wine.

Let’s talk about the food. The steak tartare is a revelation—not the tired, mustard-heavy version you find in every tourist trap from here to the Gothic Quarter, but something alive with Asian aromatics and a depth of flavor that lingers. Then there are the oysters, dressed in kimchi or ginger, sliding down your throat like a cold slap of seawater and spice. The baos are pillowy, cloud-like things holding together ingredients that have no business being this good together. It’s the kind of cooking that makes you realize how boring "authentic" can be when it’s used as a shield against creativity.

And then there’s the wine. If you’re the type who wants a consistent, chemically-stabilized Rioja that tastes exactly like the last ten bottles you opened, go somewhere else. Casa Xica is a temple to the natural stuff. We’re talking cloudy, funky, living wines that might smell like a wet dog one minute and a summer meadow the next. It’s wine with personality, wine that fights back. It pairs perfectly with the bold, unapologetic flavors coming out of the kitchen. It’s a natural wine bar in Poble Sec that actually understands how to pair the funk with the food.

Is it perfect? No. It’s small. If you’re claustrophobic or demand a three-foot buffer zone between you and the next table, you’re going to have a bad time. The service operates on its own clock—it’s friendly, sure, but it’s not rushed. They want you to drink the wine. They want you to taste the food. If you’re in a hurry to catch a show at the Apolo, you’re missing the point.

This is a neighborhood joint for people who actually give a damn about what’s on their plate and in their glass. It’s raw, it’s honest, and it’s exactly what the city needs more of. If you’re looking for a spot that isn't a cliché, or just a place to hide from the tourists and eat some of the most interesting food in the city, this is it. It’s a testament to what happens when you stop trying to please everyone and start cooking what you love.