Més de Vi

Poblenou is a neighborhood in transition, a place where old-school industrial brickwork is constantly being shadowed by the glass and steel of the '22@' tech district. It’s easy to get lost in the shiny newness of it all, but if you want to know what the soul of this barrio actually tastes like, you walk past the chain coffee shops and head to Carrer de Castanys. There, you’ll find Més de Vi. The name translates to 'More than Wine,' which is both a promise and a bit of an understatement. It’s a place that feels like it’s been there forever, even if it hasn't, anchoring the neighborhood with the smell of garlic hitting hot oil and the low hum of people who aren't in a hurry to be anywhere else.

When you walk in, the first thing that hits you isn't a host with a tablet or a curated playlist. It’s the wine. Bottles line the walls like a library of good decisions, ranging from humble table reds to sophisticated Priorats that demand your full attention. The atmosphere is unpretentious—exposed brick, warm wood, and the kind of lighting that makes everyone look a little more interesting after the second glass. It’s a wine bar, sure, but it’s a restaurant in the most fundamental sense: a place meant to restore you. This is where you go when you’re looking to escape the tourist-heavy Gothic Quarter and see how the locals actually spend their Tuesday nights.

The menu is a stubborn defense of the classics, executed with a level of respect that borders on the religious. You start with the croquettes—crispy, golden shells that give way to a creamy, molten interior of jamón or whatever the kitchen felt like perfecting that day. Then there’s the pulpo, charred just enough to give it a smoky edge, served over potatoes that have soaked up every drop of olive oil and pimentón. But the real reason people trek out to this corner of Sant Martí is the rabo de toro. This isn't just oxtail; it’s a masterclass in patience. The meat is slow-cooked until it surrenders completely, swimming in a dark, glossy reduction that is so rich it feels like a physical weight on your tongue. It’s the kind of dish that requires a basket of bread and a complete lack of dignity to finish properly.

If you’re lucky enough to be here during the day, the menú del día is a local mainstay. In a city where 'lunch' is increasingly being replaced by overpriced avocado toast, Més de Vi stays true to the tradition of a multi-course, wine-included midday feast that is mercifully priced. It’s honest food for honest people. The service is brisk, professional, and refreshingly devoid of the 'customer is always right' sycophancy found in the more commercial parts of town. They know the food is good, they know the wine is better, and they expect you to have the sense to appreciate both.

Is it perfect? No. It gets loud when the room is full, the tables are close enough that you’ll likely learn more about your neighbor's divorce than you intended, and you might have to wait for a seat if you didn't call ahead. But that’s the price of admission for authenticity. Més de Vi is a reminder that the best dining experiences aren't about white tablecloths or molecular foam; they’re about a seat at a sturdy table, a glass of something fermented, and a plate of food that someone actually gave a damn about cooking. It’s a quintessential restaurant in Poblenou that proves, even in a changing city, some things are worth keeping exactly as they are.