medina BAR & RESTAURANT

Sant Andreu is not the Barcelona they sell you on the postcards. There are no undulating Gaudí chimneys here, no overpriced sangria pitchers, and mercifully, very few people carrying selfie sticks. This is a neighborhood that still feels like a village, a place where people actually live, work, and—most importantly—eat without the performative nonsense of the city center. At the corner of Carrer del Tossal, you’ll find Medina Bar & Restaurant. It’s not a 'concept.' It’s a temple of fluorescent-lit honesty.

Walking into Medina is a sensory slap to the face. It’s loud. It’s the sound of a hundred conversations competing with the hiss of the plancha and the rhythmic clatter of coffee cups. If you’re looking for a quiet, candlelit corner to whisper sweet nothings, keep walking. This is a place for the business of living. The decor is functional, the service is brisk, and the air smells of seared pork and garlic. It’s glorious. This is one of the best Sant Andreu restaurants for anyone who values substance over style, a place where the regulars have their own stools and the bartenders know exactly how much brandy you need in your carajillo.

Let’s talk about the food, because that’s why you’re trekking out here. Medina is a bar & grill that understands the fundamental appeal of fire and salt. The bocadillos—the quintessential Spanish sandwich—are structural. We’re talking about bread with a crust that shatters like glass, holding together generous slabs of lomo (pork loin), melted cheese, or perhaps some spicy longaniza. It’s a protein rush designed to fuel a workday or cure a hangover, and at these prices, it’s one of the best cheap eats Barcelona has left. There is no pretense here, just the raw satisfaction of a well-made sandwich eaten at a zinc bar.

Then there are the tapas. The patatas bravas here are the real deal. They aren't 'deconstructed' or topped with some artisanal foam. They are chunks of potato, fried until they develop a golden armor, smothered in a sauce that actually has a bit of a kick. The sepia a la plancha (grilled cuttlefish) arrives tender, charred in all the right places, and swimming in enough garlic and parsley to keep vampires at bay for a month. It’s simple, Mediterranean cooking that hasn't been diluted for the tourist palate. It’s the kind of authentic Mediterranean restaurant Barcelona locals keep to themselves because they don't want to wait in line behind you.

Is Medina Bar worth it? If you want to see the soul of the city, yes. If you want to understand what Barcelona was before it became a theme park, absolutely. You come here for the caracoles (snails) if they have them, the grilled lamb chops that taste of the hills, and the feeling that you’ve finally found something real. It’s a reminder that good food doesn't need a PR firm or a Michelin star; it just needs a hot grill, fresh ingredients, and a neighborhood that refuses to change for anyone. Sit down, order a cold beer, and watch the world go by. This is the Barcelona that matters.