El Colmadito

To understand El Colmadito, you first have to understand Sarrià. This isn’t the Barcelona of the neon-lit Raval or the gothic shadows of the Ciutat Vella. This is the 'village' within the city—an upscale, fiercely independent neighborhood where the streets are narrow, the air feels slightly cooler, and the money is old. It’s a place that doesn’t need to try hard because it already knows exactly what it is. And right on the Carrer Major de Sarrià sits this temple to the humble tapa, a place that feels like it’s been there since the dawn of time, even if the paint is fresh.

Walking into El Colmadito is like stepping into a curated memory of a Spanish grocery store. The name itself—a 'colmado'—refers to those old-school neighborhood pantries that sold everything from loose beans to high-end tinned cockles. Here, the aesthetic is preserved with marble counters, wooden shelves groaning under the weight of wine bottles, and a bar that demands you lean against it with a cold glass of vermouth in hand. It’s cramped, it’s loud, and if you arrive at peak hour, you’ll be fighting for elbow room with locals who have been drinking here since they were old enough to reach the counter.

Let’s talk about the food, because that’s why you’re here, and if you don’t order the patatas bravas, you’ve fundamentally failed the assignment. These aren't those sad, frozen cubes you find near La Rambla. These are the real deal: hand-cut, fried to a precise golden shatter, and smothered in a sauce that has just enough kick to remind you you’re alive. It’s a protein and starch rush that pairs perfectly with their tortilla de patatas. The Spanish omelette here is a masterclass in simplicity—eggs, potatoes, onions, and a soul-satisfying creaminess that makes you wonder why anyone ever tries to 'elevate' this dish with truffle oil or foam.

The croquetas are another mandatory entry on your tab. Whether it’s the jamón, oozing with béchamel and salty cured ham, or whatever seasonal variation they’ve got on the 'letter' (the menu), they are fried with the kind of respect usually reserved for religious icons. This is the best tapas in Sarrià, not because it’s fancy, but because it’s consistent. It’s the kind of place where the ensaladilla rusa is cold, the anchovies are high-quality, and the service is brisk, efficient, and entirely devoid of the fake 'hospitality' found in tourist traps.

The crowd is a mix of the Sarrià elite—men in well-tailored blazers and women with impeccable hair—rubbing shoulders with students and workers looking for a stiff drink and a reliable bite. It’s a democratic space in a wealthy zip code. There’s no pretension here. If you want a seat, you wait. If you want a drink, you catch the bartender’s eye. It’s an honest exchange of currency for quality.

Is it perfect? No. It can be chaotic. The acoustics are designed to amplify every argument and laugh. You might leave smelling slightly of the plancha. But that’s the point. El Colmadito is a reminder that the best things in Barcelona aren't always the ones with the most stars or the biggest marketing budgets. They are the places that serve the neighborhood, day in and day out, with a stubborn refusal to be anything other than what they are. It’s a stubborn piece of the neighborhood's identity, tucked away in the hills, waiting for anyone smart enough to make the trip up the FGC line.