Flying monkey

Sarrià-Sant Gervasi is not where you go to find the grit of Barcelona. It’s the 'Upper Diagonal,' a land of wide boulevards, quiet money, and people who wear cashmere even when the sun is screaming. It’s an unlikely place for a revolution, but Flying Monkey isn't trying to overthrow the government. It’s just trying to fix the way you eat from 8:00 AM to midnight. This is an all-day operation with a pedigree that should make any food nerd sit up and take notice. We’re talking about a collaboration between Ronit Stern—the force behind Autoellell and La Balabusta—and Rafael Peña, the man who made Gresca a temple of modern Catalan cooking. When names like that get together to open a 'neighborhood spot,' you don't just walk past. You go in, and you prepare to pay for the privilege.

Walking into Flying Monkey feels like stepping into a minimalist’s fever dream. It’s all clean lines, industrial touches, and the kind of functional aesthetic that says, 'We care about the roast profile of our beans more than your comfort.' And that’s fine. You’re here for the coffee and the sourdough, both of which are treated with a level of reverence usually reserved for religious relics. The morning air is thick with the scent of toasted grain and high-end caffeine. If you’re looking for a cheap café con leche and a soggy industrial pastry, keep walking. This is specialty coffee territory, where the baristas speak in terms of acidity and origin, and the croissants have enough butter to make a cardiologist weep.

The star of the show, the thing that keeps the locals coming back despite the upscale price tags, is the 'Bikini.' In Barcelona, a bikini is a ham and cheese sandwich, usually a sad, flattened affair served in train stations. Here, it’s an art form. Whether it’s the classic version or the truffled iteration, it’s a masterclass in texture—the crunch of the bread, the melt of the cheese, the salt of the ham. It’s simple food done with obsessive attention to detail. Then there’s the shakshuka, a nod to Stern’s roots, bubbling and vibrant, demanding to be mopped up with that aforementioned sourdough. It’s one of the best brunch spots in Barcelona if you value substance over Instagram-friendly flower walls.

As the sun dips, the vibe shifts. The espresso machine takes a backseat to the natural wine list. This is where Peña’s influence really starts to shimmer. The wine selection is curated with a lean toward the funky, the unfiltered, and the small-batch. It’s a place to drink things that taste like the soil they came from, paired with small plates that don't try too hard. Roast chicken on Sundays, seasonal vegetables that actually taste like vegetables, and a rotating cast of tapas that reflect whatever is good at the market that morning.

Now, let’s talk about that 3.6 rating. You’ll see reviews complaining about the service being 'indifferent' or the prices being 'pretentious.' Here’s the truth: Flying Monkey doesn't coddle you. It’s a busy, high-energy spot in an expensive neighborhood. The staff are often moving at a breakneck pace, and if you’re looking for a waiter to hold your hand and tell you you’re special, you might be disappointed. It’s a place for people who know what they want and appreciate the craft behind it. Is it expensive? Yes. It’s Sarrià. You’re paying for the pedigree of the chefs and the quality of the ingredients. If you want a bargain, go to a chain. If you want a piece of sourdough that will ruin all other bread for you, stay right here.

Ultimately, Flying Monkey is a window into the new Barcelona—a city that is moving away from the old-school fried tapas and toward a more global, ingredient-focused, all-day dining culture. It’s honest, it’s sharp, and it’s delicious. Just don't expect a discount.