Majide

Carrer dels Tallers is a street that has seen it all. It’s a narrow, jagged artery of the Raval that smells of vintage leather, old vinyl, and the lingering sweat of a thousand skateboards. It is the last place you’d expect to find a temple of surgical precision. But that’s where Majide sits, hiding in plain sight behind a facade that doesn't care if you notice it or not. This is the more approachable, slightly more rebellious sibling of Koy Shunka, the Michelin-starred heavyweight of Barcelona’s Japanese scene. If Koy Shunka is the tuxedo, Majide is the perfectly tailored black leather jacket.

Walking inside is like hitting a mute button on the chaos of the Ciutat Vella. The air changes. It’s cooler, sharper, smelling faintly of high-grade charcoal and vinegar. The design is minimalist—lots of warm wood, clean lines, and a long, commanding bar where the real theater happens. You don't come here for a quiet corner; you come to sit at that bar and watch the practitioners of the craft. This is Hideki Matsuhisa’s world, and even in this 'casual' iteration, the standards are uncompromising.

The menu is a love letter to the Mediterranean’s bounty filtered through a Japanese lens. We’re talking about fish that was probably swimming in the Balearic yesterday, treated with a level of respect that borders on the religious. The nigiri here isn't just food; it’s a physics lesson in temperature and texture. The rice is seasoned with a precision that makes you realize how much bad sushi you’ve tolerated in your life. When the toro—the fatty tuna belly—hits your tongue, it doesn't just melt; it stages a hostile takeover of your sensory cortex. It’s rich, clean, and dangerously addictive.

But Majide isn't just about the raw stuff. They understand the soul-affirming power of the flame. The robata grill is where they work magic with octopus, Wagyu, and eel. The grilled eel (unagi) is a revelation—smoky, sweet, and possessing a depth of flavor that lingers long after you’ve paid the bill. If you’re feeling overwhelmed by the choices, just say the word and go for the Majide tasting menu. 'Majide' translates roughly to 'Really?' or 'Seriously?'—and that’s exactly what you’ll be muttering to yourself as the courses arrive. It’s a progression of flavors that makes sense, moving from the delicate whisper of sashimi to the guttural punch of the charcoal-grilled meats.

The service is exactly what it should be in a place like this: efficient, knowledgeable, and devoid of the fawning sycophancy that ruins high-end dining. They know the food is good. They don't need to sell it to you. They’ll tell you which sake pairs with the tataki and then they’ll get out of the way so you can experience it. It’s a place for people who actually like to eat, not for people who want to be seen eating.

Is it expensive? For the Raval, yes. For the quality of what’s on the plate? It’s a steal. You’re paying for the pedigree of Matsuhisa without the star-studded price tag of his flagship. It’s honest, it’s raw, and it’s one of the few places in this city that reminds you why Japanese cuisine, when done right, is the ultimate expression of culinary truth. If you’re looking for a 'hidden gem' to brag about on social media, go somewhere else. If you want to eat some of the best Japanese food in Barcelona while the ghosts of the Raval howl outside the door, pull up a stool.