He Cheng

If you’re looking for a 'gastronomic journey' curated by a PR firm with a penchant for Edison bulbs and reclaimed wood, keep walking. He Cheng doesn’t want you. This is a place for people who actually like to eat. Located on an unassuming stretch of Carrer de la Independència in Sant Martí, He Cheng is the kind of fluorescent-lit, tile-walled outpost that defines the term 'no-frills.' It is loud, it is cramped, and the service has the brisk, unsentimental efficiency of a busy train station. And it is glorious.

Step inside and the first thing that hits you isn't a scented candle—it’s the heavy, humid scent of boiling dough and the sharp, metallic tang of a seasoned wok working overtime. This is one of the most authentic Chinese restaurants in Barcelona, specifically channeling the hearty, unpretentious cooking of the Zhejiang province. There are no garnishes here that you aren't meant to eat. There is no 'concept.' There is only the food, and the food is a revelation for anyone tired of the overpriced tapas traps clogging the city center.

The stars of the show, the reason you navigated away from the Sagrada Família crowds, are the dumplings (jiaozi). You can see them being prepped—thick-skinned, hand-pleated, and stuffed with a pork and cabbage mixture that actually tastes like pork and cabbage. When they arrive, they aren't delicate little purses; they are substantial, rustic, and steaming. Dip them in a slurry of black vinegar and chili oil, and you’ll understand why this place has a cult following. The texture of the dough has that perfect, slightly resistant chew that only comes from hands that have been doing this for decades.

Then there’s the 'ternera con pimientos'—veal with peppers. In a lesser establishment, this is a soggy, cornstarch-heavy mess. Here, the beef is sliced thin, seared with 'wok hei' (the breath of the wok), and tossed with peppers that still retain their snap. It’s a masterclass in heat control. Don't sleep on the eggplant with soy sauce either. It arrives molten, dark, and silky, having absorbed every ounce of savory-sweet liquid in the pan. It’s the kind of dish that makes vegetarians reconsider their life choices and makes carnivores forget the meat entirely.

The crowd is a beautiful, chaotic mix. You’ll see Chinese families sharing massive spreads, local students counting their copper coins, and the occasional food nerd who knows that the best Chinese Barcelona has to offer isn't found on a white tablecloth. There’s a shared understanding here: we are all here for the same thing. We are here for the honesty of a meal that doesn't try to be anything other than what it is.

Is it perfect? No. The chairs are basic, the lighting is unforgiving, and you might have to flag down a waiter with some enthusiasm during the 9:00 PM rush. But that’s the point. He Cheng is a reminder that in a city increasingly polished for tourist consumption, there are still corners that remain stubbornly, wonderfully real. It’s cheap, it’s authentic, and it’s a protein-heavy slap in the face to anyone who thinks 'authentic' has to mean 'expensive.' If you can’t appreciate a perfect dumpling served under a buzzing lightbulb, you’re in the wrong city.