OMA Bistró

Eixample is a grid of ambition, a sprawling testament to 19th-century urban planning that usually feels like it’s trying to sell you something expensive. But then you hit Carrer del Consell de Cent, a street recently liberated from the tyranny of the internal combustion engine and turned into a 'Superilla'—a pedestrian lung in the middle of the concrete. This is where OMA Bistró lives, housed in what looks like an old industrial skeleton that decided to stop working and start feeding people instead.

Walking into OMA is an immediate sensory shift. It’s got those soaring, cavernous ceilings that make you feel small in a good way, exposed brick that hasn’t been polished into submission, and the kind of vintage furniture that looks like it was salvaged from a very cool grandmother’s attic. It’s not 'shabby chic'—that’s a term for people who buy pre-distressed jeans. This is honest wear and tear. The air is thick with the scent of high-grade caffeine and the rhythmic hiss of the espresso machine, a sound that, for many of us, is the only thing standing between a functional morning and total existential collapse.

Let’s talk about the food, because that’s why you’re squeezing into a communal table. They do brunch, a meal often maligned as a tourist trap or a lazy excuse for overpriced eggs. OMA doesn’t play that game. Their Eggs Benedict are a visceral experience. We’re talking about yolks that don't just run; they escape, mingling with a hollandaise that actually tastes like butter and lemon rather than something squeezed out of a plastic bottle. Whether you go for the classic salmon or the more aggressive pulled pork version, it’s a protein-heavy gut punch that demands your full attention. Then there’s the Shakshuka—a bubbling, spicy, cast-iron pan of tomato-based redemption, topped with feta and eggs that have been poached to the exact second of perfection. It’s the kind of food that makes you want to tear off a piece of bread and mop up every last drop of sauce like no one is watching.

But OMA isn't just a morning affair. They’ve got craft beer taps that suggest they know exactly what you need when the sun starts to dip. The cakes, displayed with a sort of casual arrogance on the counter, are massive slabs of sugar and flour that look like they could sustain a small village. The carrot cake is a particular standout—moist, spiced, and topped with a frosting that isn't shy about its calorie count.

The crowd is a mix of the neighborhood’s creative class, expats looking for a taste of home, and the occasional digital nomad trying to nurse a flat white for three hours while staring at a spreadsheet. The staff are busy, sometimes bordering on blunt, but in a city this crowded, that’s just honesty. They aren't here to be your best friend; they’re here to get you fed and caffeinated before the line out the door gets any longer.

Is it crowded? Yes. Will you have to wait on a Sunday? Almost certainly. But in a city where 'brunch' is often a sanitized, Instagram-filtered lie, OMA Bistró feels like the real thing. It’s loud, it’s industrial, and it’s serving some of the best breakfast in Barcelona without feeling the need to apologize for it. It’s a place for people who actually like to eat, tucked away in a corner of Eixample that finally feels like it belongs to the people again.