La Mala Vermut & Tapas

The Eixample grid can be a soul-crushing exercise in geometry. Block after block of majestic, identical buildings that eventually start to feel like a beautiful cage. When the sun starts to dip and the shadow of the Sagrada Família stretches long over the city, you don’t need a museum. You need a drink, a stool, and something fried. You need La Mala Vermut & Tapas.

Walking into this joint on Carrer del Comte d'Urgell feels like stepping into the living room of that one friend who knows exactly how to live. It’s small, it’s tight, and it’s usually loud. The name translates to 'The Bad Girl' or 'The Bad One,' and there’s a certain irreverent attitude that permeates the place. This isn't one of those sterile, glass-and-steel tapas bars designed by a corporate firm to lure in cruise ship passengers. It’s a neighborhood spot that happens to be one of the best tapas bars in Eixample, serving the kind of food that makes you want to cancel your morning plans.

Let’s talk about the vermouth. In Barcelona, vermut isn’t just a drink; it’s a time of day, a social contract, and a religion. At La Mala, they treat the house blend with the respect it deserves—served cold, with an olive and a slice of orange, hitting that perfect bittersweet note that opens up the appetite like a skeleton key. It’s the essential fuel for what comes next. If you’re looking for the best vermouth Barcelona has to offer without the pretension of a high-end cocktail bar, you’ve found your home.

The menu is a tight list of hits, but the undisputed heavyweight champion is the berenjenas con miel y lima. These aren't your standard, soggy vegetable slices. We’re talking about eggplant fried to a shattering crisp, drizzled with honey, and hit with a zing of lime zest. It’s a masterclass in balance—sweet, salty, fatty, and acidic all fighting for dominance in your mouth. It’s the kind of dish that makes vegetarians feel smug and carnivores forget about steak for a minute. Then there are the empanadas. Barcelona is a city of migrants, and the Argentine influence here is real. These pockets of dough are flaky, honest, and filled with everything from spicy meat to humita, served hot enough to remind you you’re alive.

You’ll also see the huevos rotos—'broken eggs'—landing on almost every table. It’s a mess of fried potatoes, perfectly runny yolks, and usually some top-tier jamón or chorizo. It’s ugly, it’s greasy, and it’s magnificent. This is the ultimate cheap eats Barcelona experience: high-quality ingredients prepared by people who clearly give a damn, served in a space that values conversation over decor.

The service is exactly what it should be in a place like this: fast, slightly frantic when the rush hits, but fundamentally human. They aren't going to bow and scrape, but they’ll remember your second round of vermouth before you even ask for it. It’s the kind of place where locals from the surrounding blocks rub elbows with the few travelers lucky enough to have wandered off the main tourist drags.

Is it perfect? No. If you’re claustrophobic or looking for a quiet place to discuss your inheritance, go somewhere else. It’s cramped, the acoustics are challenging, and you might leave smelling faintly of the fryer. But that’s the price of admission for authenticity. La Mala is a reminder that the best parts of Barcelona aren't found in the guidebooks or the VIP lounges. They’re found in the small, noisy corners where the vermouth is cold and the eggplant is hot. It’s honest, it’s visceral, and it’s exactly what you need after a long day of navigating the Catalan capital.