Gerbard

Sarrià isn’t the Barcelona you see on postcards. It’s not the sweaty, neon-soaked chaos of the Ramblas or the self-conscious cool of El Born. This is old money. This is the 'upper zone.' It’s a neighborhood that still feels like the independent village it once was, where people walk a little slower and the air feels a little thinner, or at least more expensive. But tucked away on Carrer d'Ivorra is Gerbard, a place that reminds you that no matter how much money is in the bank, everyone still craves the same thing: a plate of food that tastes like home.

Walking into Gerbard is like stepping into a time capsule of sanity. There are no Edison bulbs, no reclaimed wood from a shipwreck, and nobody is going to explain the 'concept' of the menu to you. The concept is simple: they cook, you eat, and you leave happier than when you arrived. It’s a Mediterranean restaurant in Sarrià-Sant Gervasi that refuses to put on airs. The dining room is a sea of white tablecloths and sturdy chairs, filled with locals who have been coming here since before you were born. It’s loud, it’s busy, and it smells gloriously of garlic hitting hot olive oil.

If you’re here at midday, you’re here for the menú del día. In Barcelona, the lunch menu is the great equalizer, and Gerbard does it with a level of respect that borders on the religious. We’re talking about three courses of honest-to-God Catalan soul food. Start with the canelons. These aren't those flimsy, supermarket versions; these are rich, meat-filled tubes of joy smothered in a béchamel so thick it could hold up a bridge. It’s a dish that demands you forget your diet and your dignity.

Then there’s the fish. Whether it’s the bacallà (salt cod) or whatever came off the boat that morning, it’s handled with the kind of restraint that only comes from decades in the kitchen. They aren't trying to hide the product under a mountain of foam or microgreens. They’re letting the ingredient speak for itself. If you see the fideuá on the menu, order it. It’s the shorter, thinner cousin of paella, cooked until the noodles stand up like they’re reaching for the sun, served with a dollop of allioli that will ensure nobody wants to talk to you for the rest of the day. It’s worth it.

The service here is what I call 'professional-indifferent.' They aren't your friends, and they don't want to hear about your day. They are there to move plates, pour wine, and keep the machine humming. There’s a beauty in that efficiency. It’s a reminder that dining is a transaction of respect, not a performance. You’ll see families spanning three generations arguing over football, businessmen loosening their ties, and the occasional solitary diner buried in a newspaper. This is the real Barcelona, the one that exists when the tourists aren't looking.

Is it the most 'innovative' meal you’ll have in the city? Absolutely not. But in a world of 'fusion' and 'gastronomic adventures,' Gerbard is an anchor. It’s a place that understands that a perfectly cooked entrecot or a simple crema catalana is more important than any trend. It’s one of the best restaurants in Sarrià because it doesn't try to be anything else. It’s honest, it’s reliable, and it’s exactly what you need when the world feels a little too complicated. Go there, sit down, shut up, and eat.