El Xupitero

Sant Martí isn’t the Barcelona they put on the postcards. It’s not the winding, romantic shadows of the Gothic Quarter or the Gaudí-drenched opulence of Eixample. It’s a neighborhood that works for a living, and El Xupitero is the kind of place that fuels that work. You don’t come here for a 'gastronomic journey' curated by a guy in a starched apron. You come here because you want protein, you want salt, and you want to be treated like a human being rather than a walking wallet.

Walking into El Xupitero, the first thing that hits you isn't the decor—which is comfortably industrial, leaning into that raw Poblenou vibe—it’s the smell. It’s the scent of high-quality fat hitting a hot grill, the primal perfume of Argentinian soul transplanted into a Catalan corner. This is a meat-eater’s sanctuary. The name itself, a play on 'xupito' (the Catalan word for a shot), tells you everything you need to know about the philosophy here: eat well, drink hard, and don't take yourself too seriously.

The star of the show, the reason people trek out to Carrer de Provençals, is the vacío. In the states, we call it flank steak, but that doesn't do it justice. Here, it’s treated with the respect usually reserved for religious relics. It’s a thick, fibrous cut that requires a cook who knows exactly when to pull it off the heat. When it arrives, it’s got that perfect, crusty Maillard-reaction exterior, yielding to a deep, ruby-red center that leaks juice across the wooden board. It’s a protein rush to the cortex, a reminder that when the meat is this good, you don't need to hide it under a mountain of foam or microgreens.

But don't sleep on the supporting cast. The entraña (skirt steak) is equally formidable, packed with a mineral-rich intensity that demands a glass of heavy red wine. Then there’s the provoleta—a thick slab of provolone cheese melted until the edges are crisp and caramelized, topped with oregano and a hit of chili. It’s gooey, fatty, and utterly unapologetic. The empanadas are the real deal, too—flaky crusts giving way to savory fillings that actually taste like the ingredients they're named after.

The atmosphere is loud, buzzing with the sound of locals who have been coming here since the doors opened. It’s the kind of place where the service is fast and efficient, but they’ll still take a second to pour you a shot of something herbal and potent at the end of the meal. That’s the 'xupito' tradition—a little liquid fire to help the digestion and seal the deal on a night well spent. It’s a neighborhood joint in the truest sense. The prices are fair, the portions are honest, and the bullshit factor is zero.

Is it worth the trip? If you’re looking for a quiet, romantic candlelit dinner where you can hear a pin drop, probably not. But if you want to sit among people who actually live in this city, tearing into a piece of steak that was cooked by someone who gives a damn, then El Xupitero is your spot. It’s a reminder that the best meals aren't found in the 'best' neighborhoods; they're found where the fire is hot and the welcome is real. It’s one of the best meat restaurants in Barcelona for those who know that luxury is a perfectly salted steak, not a fancy tablecloth.