Choko32

Carrer de Mandri is a street that smells like old money, expensive cologne, and the quiet hum of German-engineered SUVs. It’s the heart of the 'Upper Diagonal,' a part of Barcelona where the tourists rarely venture because there are no Gaudí chimneys to photograph. But if you want to see how the other half actually lives—and more importantly, how they eat when the tie comes off—you go to Choko32. It’s a narrow, buzzing corridor of a place that manages to feel both industrial and warm, like a well-loved workshop that happens to serve a mean gin and tonic.

You don’t come here for a white-tablecloth experience. You come here to fight for a stool and lean over a marble counter while the kitchen staff works at a pace that would give a cardiologist a heart attack. The vibe is pure Sant Gervasi: polished but frantic, local but worldly. It’s the kind of place where a group of twenty-somethings in crisp linen shirts will be arguing about a startup while an older couple next to them quietly dismantles a plate of bravas with the precision of diamond cutters.

Let’s talk about the croquetas, because in this city, the croqueta is the ultimate litmus test. If a kitchen can’t get the bechamel right, they shouldn't be allowed to touch a stove. At Choko32, they aren't just right; they’re a goddamn revelation. Whether it’s the classic jamón or something more experimental, the exterior is a shatteringly crisp shell that gives way to a center so creamy it’s practically liquid. It’s a protein-heavy hug from the inside out. Then there are the patatas bravas—not the soggy, oil-drenched cubes you find on La Rambla, but something thoughtful, with a sauce that actually has the courage to be spicy.

The menu takes a sharp turn into the Americas with their tacos, and usually, I’d tell you to stay in your lane. But the cochinita pibil here has a soul. It’s got that hit of acidity and slow-cooked funk that suggests someone in the back actually gives a damn about the lineage of the dish. It’s a gastrobar in the truest sense—taking the DNA of a traditional tapas joint and injecting it with enough modern technique to keep things interesting without becoming precious or annoying.

Is it perfect? No. It’s loud. The service can be brisk to the point of being surly if they’re slammed, which they usually are. You might feel a little underdressed if you aren't wearing something with a visible logo. But that’s the trade-off for authenticity in this neighborhood. You’re paying for the energy, the quality of the ingredients, and the fact that you’re eating in a place that doesn't need a single tourist to stay in business.

Choko32 is a reminder that even in the posh parts of town, the basic human need for a cold beer and a plate of something fried and delicious remains the great equalizer. It’s honest, it’s loud, and it’s exactly what a neighborhood bar should be. If you’re looking for the best tapas in Sarrià-Sant Gervasi without the pretense of a Michelin star, this is your spot. Just don't expect a quiet conversation, and for the love of god, order the truffled bikini sandwich.