LATA-Bern@

In a city drowning in 'authentic' tapas bars that are about as authentic as a plastic souvenir bull, LATA-Bern@ is a weird, wonderful anomaly. It’s tucked away in Gràcia, a neighborhood that still feels like the independent village it once was, far enough from the soul-crushing crowds of La Rambla to maintain its dignity. The name is a play on words—'lata' means 'can' in Spanish—and the concept sounds like the kind of high-concept gimmick that usually makes me want to reach for a stiff drink and an exit sign. But here’s the thing: the gimmick actually works because the food is legitimately, unapologetically good.

Walking into LATA-Bern@, you aren't met with dusty wine barrels or hanging ham legs. It’s industrial, stripped-back, and buzzing with the kind of energy you only get when the kitchen is actually taking risks. This is the playground of Chef Matías Garber, a man who clearly decided that if you’re going to serve food in a tin can, the contents better be spectacular enough to make people forget they’re eating out of hardware. It’s one of the best tapas Barcelona has to offer if you’re tired of the same old patatas bravas and want something that actually wakes up your palate.

You start with the 'Wonderbox.' It’s exactly what it sounds like—a cardboard box filled with a rotating selection of the kitchen’s current obsessions. It’s a culinary Russian roulette where every chamber is loaded with something delicious. One minute you’re pulling out a delicate seafood salad, the next it’s a rich, savory bite that defies easy categorization. It’s fun, it’s messy, and it’s exactly how eating should be.

Then there’s the steak tartare. In most places, tartare is a mound of graying beef with a lonely egg yolk. Here, it’s a performance. They prepare it with a level of respect for the protein that you usually only see in high-end steakhouses. It’s seasoned with precision, hitting those acidic, salty, and spicy notes that make your cortex light up. And yes, they often serve things in cans. But we’re not talking about supermarket tuna. We’re talking about oxtail (rabo de toro) so tender it practically dissolves on contact, or cannelloni that would make a Catalan grandmother weep with either joy or jealousy. The bravas here also deserve a mention—they aren't the soggy afterthoughts found in tourist traps; they are crisp, structural triumphs topped with a sauce that actually has some teeth.

The service is Gràcia-style: professional but with a certain 'take it or leave it' edge that I’ve always respected. They aren't there to blow smoke up your skirt; they’re there to get the food to the table while it’s still screaming with flavor. It’s loud, it’s cramped, and if you’re looking for a quiet place to discuss your 401k, you’ve come to the wrong neighborhood. This is a place for drinking cold beer, sharing plates with people you actually like, and marveling at how a chef can turn a tin can into a vessel for high art.

Is it a bit self-conscious? Maybe. Is it a gimmick? Sure. But when the rabo de toro hits your tongue, you won't care. LATA-Bern@ is a testament to the fact that Barcelona’s food scene is still alive and kicking in the barrios, away from the pre-packaged 'experiences' sold to the cruise ship crowds. It’s honest, it’s creative, and it’s one of the few places where the 'fusion' label doesn't feel like a threat. If you want to understand what the modern Gràcia food scene is about, sit down, open a can, and shut up and eat.