La Taverna del Clínic

Don’t let the name or the location fool you. You’re sitting across from a massive hospital complex in the Eixample, a place where people are being born, dying, or getting their gallbladders removed. It’s not exactly the setting for a romanticized Mediterranean fantasy. But walk through the doors of La Taverna del Clínic and you’ll realize that the Simões brothers—Toni in the kitchen and Manuel managing the floor and a massive wine cellar—aren't interested in fantasies. They’re interested in the cold, hard reality of incredible ingredients and the technical skill required to make them sing.

This place started as a humble neighborhood joint, the kind of spot where you’d grab a quick beer and some fried bits. But over the years, it has mutated into a high-end gastronomic powerhouse while stubbornly clinging to the 'taverna' label. It’s a bit of a head-fake. You expect sawdust and surly service; you get white tablecloths, Riedel glassware, and some of the most precise cooking in Barcelona. It’s Galician soul filtered through a modern, obsessive lens.

Let’s talk about the bravas. In this city, everyone claims to have the 'best' patatas bravas. Most of the time, it’s a lie—soggy spuds drowned in jarred mayo and cheap pimentón. At La Taverna del Clínic, the bravas are an architectural feat. They arrive as uniform, upright cylinders, hollowed out and filled with a spicy, complex brava sauce, then topped with a precise dollop of allioli and a tiny herb garnish. They are crunchy, creamy, and spicy in all the right places. It’s a dish that tells you everything you need to know about Toni Simões: he’s a technician who respects the classics enough to reinvent them without losing the plot.

The menu shifts with the seasons like a weather vane in a storm. If it’s autumn, you’re looking at wild mushrooms that taste like the damp earth of a Galician forest. If it’s seafood season, the espardenyes (sea cucumbers) or the Palamós prawns arrive with minimal interference, because when the product is this good, anything more than a kiss of heat is a crime. The Galician influence is the backbone here—think beef that actually tastes like the animal lived a long, happy life, and seafood that still carries the salt of the Atlantic.

Then there’s Manuel’s wine list. It’s a beast. We’re talking over 600 references, ranging from obscure local Catalan whites to heavy-hitting French vintages that would make a sommelier weep. It’s a serious cellar for people who actually give a damn about what’s in their glass. The room itself is narrow, often loud, and perpetually packed with locals who know exactly what they’ve found. It’s not a 'hidden gem'—the secret has been out for a decade—but it feels like a place that belongs to the city, not the cruise ship crowds.

Is it expensive? Yeah, it can be, especially if you start diving into the deep end of the wine list or opt for the tasting menu. But you’re paying for the craft. You’re paying for the fact that someone spent hours hollowing out potatoes just so you could have a perfect three-bite experience. It’s honest, it’s rigorous, and it’s one of the few places in the Eixample that lives up to the hype. If you want the tourist version of Spain, go to La Rambla. If you want to see what happens when a neighborhood tavern grows a brain and a world-class palate, come here.