Makamaka | Barcelona

Passeig de Joan de Borbó is usually a gauntlet of misery—a sun-blasted stretch of pavement lined with guys waving laminated menus of frozen paella at passing tourists. It’s the kind of place where culinary dreams go to die under a neon sign. But then there’s Makamaka. It sits at the end of the line, right where the city starts to give way to the sand of Barceloneta, and somehow, it manages to be the exception to the rule. It’s loud, it’s crowded, and it’s unapologetically fun.

Walking into Makamaka feels like stepping into a 1970s surf film that’s been color-graded by someone with a serious affinity for yellow and wood grain. It’s a 'beach burger cafe' that actually understands the assignment. There’s no pretension here. You aren't coming for white tablecloths or a sommelier with a clipboard. You’re coming because you’ve spent four hours roasting on the Mediterranean sand and you need a protein hit and a cold drink, and you need them now. The atmosphere is a controlled chaos of international travelers, local skaters, and people who look like they haven't left the beach since 2012.

The menu is a love letter to the burger, but not the kind of over-engineered, skyscraper-tall nonsense that requires a structural engineer to eat. Take the Maradona. It’s a beast of a thing, loaded with chimichurri, roasted peppers, and arugula. It’s messy, it’s salty, and it’s exactly what you want when your blood is 30% saltwater. If you’re not feeling the beef, their veggie burger—the 'Green Power'—is one of the few in the city that doesn't feel like a consolation prize. It’s got texture, it’s got flavor, and it actually stands up to the bun. And the fries? Get the ones with the garlic and parsley or the wasabi mayo. Don't overthink it.

Then there are the drinks. In a city where 'sangria' is often code for 'cheap red wine and Fanta,' Makamaka does it right. They serve it in massive pitchers that are meant to be shared among friends who are probably arguing about where to go for late-night drinks in El Born. The mojitos are punchy, and the beer is cold. It’s the kind of place where one drink inevitably turns into three because the music is right and the people-watching is some of the best in the Ciutat Vella.

Is it perfect? No. If you’re looking for a quiet, intimate dinner, you’ve come to the wrong place. The service is 'beach-time'—which is to say, it’s friendly but can be relaxed to the point of frustration when the terrace is slammed. You will likely have to wait for a table, and you will definitely be sitting close enough to your neighbors to hear about their hostel drama. But that’s the point. Makamaka is a social hub. It’s a place that captures that specific, fleeting feeling of a Barcelona summer—the heat, the noise, the salt, and the simple, visceral pleasure of a damn good burger. It’s honest food for people who actually like to eat, served in a spot that refuses to take itself seriously. In a neighborhood full of traps, this is the real deal.