El Racó de Molina

Sant Gervasi is where the money lives. It’s all manicured trees, private clinics, and people who wear sweaters draped over their shoulders like they’re perpetually ready for a yachting emergency. But tucked away on Carrer d'Alfons XII is El Racó de Molina, a place that doesn't give a damn about your tax bracket or your Instagram following. It’s a corner—literally, 'The Corner of Molina'—and it functions as a necessary sanctuary of normalcy in a neighborhood that can sometimes feel a bit too polished for its own good.

Walking in, you aren't greeted by a host with a headset and a fake smile. You’re greeted by the sound of a steam wand hissing, the rhythmic clink of a spoon against a ceramic espresso cup, and the low hum of neighborhood regulars who have been sitting in these same chairs since the Olympic Games were a distant dream. The decor is refreshingly indifferent to current trends. There are no Edison bulbs here, no reclaimed wood from a shipwreck, no succulents. It’s a bar. It’s a restaurant. It’s exactly what it needs to be.

If you’re looking for the best menu del dia in Barcelona that hasn't been discovered by the cruise ship crowds, this is your ground zero. For a price that seems like a clerical error in this part of town, you get the holy trinity of Spanish lunch: a starter, a main, and a dessert (or coffee, if you’ve got work to do), usually accompanied by bread and a glass of wine that won't win any awards but gets the job done. The food is honest. It’s the kind of cooking that tastes like someone’s uncle is in the back, leaning over a pot of lentils with chorizo or flipping a piece of hake on a well-seasoned plancha.

The tapas here are the classics, executed with the confidence of a place that knows it doesn't have to try too hard. The ensaladilla rusa is creamy, cold, and topped with just enough tuna to make it interesting. The croquetas have that essential shatter-crisp exterior that gives way to a molten, bechamel-heavy center. It’s not 'elevated' or 'deconstructed.' It’s just a damn good croqueta. When you order the patatas bravas, they arrive hot and unapologetic, smothered in a sauce that actually has a bit of a kick to it, unlike the watered-down versions served on La Rambla.

What makes El Racó de Molina special isn't a secret ingredient or a celebrity chef. It’s the atmosphere of a true neighborhood local. It’s the kind of place where the waiter knows the names of the kids and the preferred brand of cigarettes of the guy at the end of the bar. It’s a window into the real Sarrià-Sant Gervasi—the one that exists after the offices close and the school runs are finished. It’s a place for a mid-morning 'esmorzar de forquilla' (fork breakfast) or a long, wine-soaked lunch that bleeds into the afternoon.

Is it perfect? No. The service can be brisk when the lunch rush hits, and if you’re looking for a quiet, romantic candlelit dinner, you’re in the wrong zip code. It’s loud, it’s cramped, and the fluorescent lighting won't do your complexion any favors. But that’s the point. You come here to eat, to drink, and to feel the pulse of a city that still knows how to take a break. In a world of 'gastronomic concepts' and 'curated experiences,' El Racó de Molina is a reminder that sometimes, all you really need is a solid plate of food and a cold beer on a quiet corner.