elPetitFIRO

Walking down Avinguda de Gaudí is like running a gauntlet of bad decisions. You’re sandwiched between the towering, unfinished obsession of a madman—the Sagrada Família—and the sprawling, kaleidoscopic Hospital de Sant Pau. In between, it’s a minefield of laminated menus, pictures of neon-yellow paella, and touts trying to lure you into places that serve food that would make a Spaniard weep. But then there’s elPetitFIRO. It’s the smaller, scrappier sibling of the Firo group, and it’s doing something increasingly rare in this part of the Eixample: it’s actually trying.

You don’t come here for a quiet, contemplative meal. You come here because you’re hungry, you’re in the shadow of Gaudí’s masterpiece, and you refuse to be another tourist statistic eating a frozen pizza. The terrace is the main event, a strip of tables on the pedestrian boulevard where the air smells of diesel, expensive perfume, and the faint, unmistakable scent of garlic hitting a hot pan. Inside, it’s tight, functional, and unpretentious—the kind of place where the bar is the heart of the operation and the kitchen is a blur of motion.

Let’s talk about the litmus test of any decent Mediterranean restaurant in Barcelona: the croquetas. At elPetitFIRO, they aren't those uniform, factory-made cylinders of sadness. They are irregular, golden-brown nuggets of joy. The jamón version has that essential, silky béchamel interior that threatens to scald your tongue, punctuated by the salty punch of cured pig. It’s honest grease. Then there’s the pulpo a la gallega—octopus dusted with pimentón, sitting on a bed of potatoes that have soaked up all that oceanic brine and olive oil. It’s simple, it’s classic, and it hasn't been over-engineered for an Instagram feed.

If you’re looking for the best paella Barcelona has to offer, you might find more storied temples in Barceloneta, but for a restaurant near Sagrada Familia, elPetitFIRO holds its own. The rice has bite. The saffron isn't chemical. Most importantly, it takes time. If a waiter brings you a paella in ten minutes, call the police. Here, you wait, you drink a cold Estrella or a glass of crisp white from the Penedès, and you watch the world shuffle past. When it arrives, you look for the socarrat—that caramelized, nearly burnt layer of rice at the bottom of the pan. That’s the prize. That’s the soul of the dish.

The service? It’s brisk. It’s professional. It’s occasionally indifferent in that way only a busy Barcelona waiter can master. They aren't there to be your best friend; they’re there to move plates of patatas bravas and keep the machine running. Don't expect a hug, but do expect your beer to be cold and your bill to be fair. It’s a Mediterranean restaurant in Eixample that understands its role: providing a sanctuary of competence in a sea of mediocrity.

Is it perfect? No. The crowds can be overwhelming, and on a hot July afternoon, the terrace can feel like the surface of the sun. But in a neighborhood where it’s so easy to get ripped off, elPetitFIRO feels like a win. It’s a place for people who actually like food, even when they’re doing the tourist thing. It’s a reminder that even in the most crowded corners of the world, you can still find a decent meal if you know where to look. Sit down, order the croquettes, watch the sun hit the spires of the Sagrada, and realize that for a moment, everything is exactly as it should be.