Morning Glory

Carrer de la Riereta is not the Barcelona they show you on the postcards. It’s deep in the Raval, a neighborhood that still smells of old stone, laundry, and the lingering ghost of a thousand years of struggle. It’s gritty, it’s loud, and it’s exactly where you want to be when you’re looking for something real. Amidst the graffiti and the narrow shadows of Ciutat Vella, you find Morning Glory. It’s a high-ceilinged, industrial-chic refuge that manages to pull off the 'exposed brick and hanging plants' aesthetic without feeling like a corporate copy-paste job.

Let’s talk about brunch. Usually, I’d tell you that brunch is a cynical invention designed to sell leftover scraps to hungover tourists at a 300% markup. But then you sit down here, the hiss of the espresso machine cutting through the morning air, and you realize some people actually give a damn. This isn't just a cafeteria; it’s a temple to the morning-after recovery. The atmosphere is a chaotic, beautiful mix of digital nomads nursing flat whites, locals arguing over the previous night's exploits, and travelers who wandered off the Rambla and stumbled into something far better than they deserved.

The star of the show, the reason there’s often a line snaking out the door, is the Eggs Benedict. We’re talking about a protein rush to the cortex. The hollandaise is rich, buttery, and hits with just enough citrus to keep things interesting. Whether you go for the classic, the smoked salmon, or the pulled pork version, the eggs are poached with the kind of precision that suggests the kitchen staff views a broken yolk as a personal failure. When that yolk breaks over the muffin, it’s a glorious, messy business that demands you put down your phone and actually eat.

But it’s not just about the eggs. The coffee here is serious business. This is specialty coffee territory—no burnt, bitter beans or watery milk. The flat whites are velvety, the cappuccinos have actual structure, and the baristas treat the beans with more respect than most people treat their firstborn. If you’re not in the mood for a caffeine jolt, the smoothies are sharp, cold, and taste like they were made from fruit that actually saw the sun, not something pulled from a freezer bag in the back of a warehouse.

Is it perfect? No. It’s small, it’s popular, and the service can be stretched thin when the rush hits. You might find yourself squeezed onto a stool, elbow-to-elbow with a stranger, waiting a little longer than you’d like for your pancakes. But that’s the Raval. It’s crowded, it’s intimate, and it’s alive. If you want a sterile, quiet breakfast, go to a hotel lobby. If you want food that makes you feel like you’ve finally arrived in Barcelona, you come here.

The verdict is simple: Morning Glory is one of the few places that justifies the hype. It’s an honest, high-quality operation in a neighborhood that demands nothing less. It’s the kind of place where you can sit for an hour, watch the light filter through the high windows, and feel the city start to wake up around you. Just don't expect a quiet, lonely meal—this is a place for people who like their breakfast with a side of energy and a heavy dose of Raval soul.