JJ i amics Restaurante y Bar de tapas

Barcelona is a city currently engaged in a violent, high-stakes tug-of-war with its own soul. On one side, you have the 'concept' restaurants—places designed by committees to look good on a smartphone screen, serving overpriced nitrogen-chilled nonsense to people who wouldn't know a decent anchovy if it slapped them in the face. On the other side, you have places like JJ i amics. This is a bar and grill that doesn't care about your aesthetic. It cares about the plancha, the quality of the pork, and whether or not you’re having a good time.

Located on Carrer de Bailèn, in the upper reaches of Gràcia where the tourists start to thin out and the actual residents of this city reclaim the sidewalks, JJ i amics is the kind of place that restores your faith in the hospitality industry. It’s a family-run operation, and you feel that the second you cross the threshold. There is no host with a headset here. There is just the clatter of plates, the hiss of the grill, and the low-frequency hum of neighborhood gossip. It’s one of the best tapas bars in Gràcia precisely because it isn't trying to be 'the best' anything. It’s just trying to be a good neighbor.

Let’s talk about the litmus test of any self-respecting Barcelona establishment: the patatas bravas. Most places give you frozen bags of starch cubes topped with a pinkish slurry. At JJ i amics, the bravas are a revelation of simplicity. Hand-cut, fried to a precise golden shatter, and topped with a sauce that actually has some teeth. It’s a protein and carb rush to the cortex that demands a cold Caña to wash it down. Then there are the bocadillos—sandwiches that aren't just fuel, but a right of passage. Whether it’s the lomo or the chistorra, the bread is crusty, the meat is salty and fatty in all the right ways, and it’s served without an ounce of pretension.

Because this is a 'Bar & Grill,' you’d be a fool to ignore the heavier hitters. The grilled octopus and the various cuts of beef coming off that heat are handled with the kind of respect usually reserved for religious relics. They aren't hiding behind foams or emulsions. It’s just fire, salt, and decent product. This is why it’s consistently rated as one of the best affordable restaurants in Barcelona; you get the kind of meal that usually costs twice as much three blocks closer to the Sagrada Familia.

The atmosphere is what I’d call 'honest chaos.' On a Friday night, the place is packed with 'amics'—friends—who have been coming here since the doors opened. The service is fast, efficient, and occasionally blunt, which is exactly how it should be. They don't have time to explain the 'philosophy' of the menu because the philosophy is written on the plate: eat well, drink well, and don't be a jerk.

Is it perfect? No. The lighting is probably too bright for a romantic date if your partner requires candlelight and soft jazz. It can get loud enough to rattle your teeth. But if you want to understand why people still fight to live in this city despite the rising rents and the cruise ship crowds, sit at the bar here. Order the bravas, a plate of croquetas, and a bottle of red. You’ll see the real Barcelona—the one that still smells like garlic and woodsmoke, not just sunscreen and regret. It’s a reminder that the best things in life aren't 'curated.' They’re just made by people who give a damn.