Forastera

Poblenou used to be the 'Manchester of Catalonia,' a sprawling landscape of smoke-belching chimneys and brick factories. Today, it’s the 22@ district—a shiny, glass-and-steel playground for tech giants and startups. But tucked into the ground floor of an industrial-style building on Carrer de Sancho de Ávila, you’ll find Forastera. The name means 'the outsider' or 'the stranger,' which is a bit ironic considering this place has become the beating heart of the neighborhood’s lunch hour.

When you walk in, the first thing that hits you isn't the smell of garlic—though that’s there, thank god—it’s the scale. High ceilings, exposed ductwork, and massive windows that flood the place with that harsh, beautiful Mediterranean light. It’s a room designed for volume, for the clatter of silverware and the rapid-fire Catalan of office workers decompressing after four hours of spreadsheets. It’s not 'cozy' in the traditional sense, but it’s honest. It’s a space that doesn't try to hide its bones.

The real draw here, the thing that keeps the 1,000-plus reviewers coming back, is the Menú del Día. In Spain, the daily menu is a sacred right, a three-course middle finger to the concept of a sad desk salad. At Forastera, they treat this ritual with the respect it deserves. You aren't getting reheated leftovers. You’re getting thoughtful, Mediterranean-inflected cooking that changes with the whims of the market. One day it’s a perfectly seasoned cream of vegetable soup followed by grilled sea bass; the next, it’s a hearty pasta or a piece of slow-roasted pork that falls apart if you look at it too hard.

Then there’s the poke. Now, usually, when I see poke on a menu in Spain, I want to run for the hills. It’s often a sign of a kitchen that’s given up and started chasing trends. But here, they actually put in the work. The fish is fresh, the seasonings are balanced, and it’s become a staple for the local crowd who need something lighter before heading back to their glass towers. It’s a nod to the modern world without losing the soul of the kitchen. If you’re not in the mood for the full menu, the 'carta' offers solid tapas and burgers that don't mess around.

The service? It’s fast. It has to be. Between 1:30 PM and 3:30 PM, this place is a war zone of hungry professionals. The staff moves with a practiced, slightly weary efficiency. They aren't there to be your best friend; they’re there to get you fed and watered so you can get back to whatever it is you do. If you want a leisurely, romantic four-hour dinner, look elsewhere. But if you want to see how Barcelona actually eats on a Tuesday afternoon, grab a seat on the terrace.

That terrace is where the magic happens. Sitting there, surrounded by the juxtaposition of old brick warehouses and the futuristic silhouette of the Torre Glòries in the distance, you feel the friction of the city. It’s loud, the traffic from Sancho de Ávila provides a constant soundtrack, and you might have to wait for a table. But when that cold beer hits the table and the first plate of the menú arrives, none of that matters. Forastera isn't trying to be a Michelin-starred temple of gastronomy. It’s an honest, reliable, and deeply necessary neighborhood joint that feeds the people who keep this city moving. It’s the kind of place that reminds you that even in a neighborhood of 'outsiders,' a good meal can make anyone feel like a local.