Oníric Restaurant

Gràcia is a neighborhood that likes to think it’s still a village, a defiant little enclave of narrow streets and sun-drenched plazas that resists the creeping homogenization of the rest of Barcelona. But even here, the tourist tide rises. You have to walk a little further, past the boutiques and the organic juice joints, to find something real. That’s where you’ll find Oníric. It’s sitting on Carrer de Rabassa, far enough from the Gaudí-fueled madness of Park Güell that you can actually hear yourself think.

Oníric isn't trying to sell you a lifestyle or a brand. It’s a restaurant in Gràcia that actually cares about the craft. The name translates to something dreamlike, but the execution is grounded in hard-won technique and a deep respect for the ingredient. When you walk in, don’t expect gold leaf or waiters in white gloves. The room is minimalist, almost austere, with a focus that stays exactly where it should be: on the plate. It’s the kind of place where the kitchen is the heartbeat, and everything else is just secondary noise.

Let’s talk about the croquettes, because if you don’t order them, you’ve fundamentally failed the assignment. These aren't the leaden, floury logs you find at the tourist traps on La Rambla. These are tiny, fragile shells holding back a flood of liquid gold. They are a masterclass in texture—a crisp, shattering exterior giving way to a rich, creamy interior that tastes like the concentrated essence of jamón or whatever seasonal inspiration the chef has seized upon. It’s a high-wire act of frying that most kitchens wouldn't dare attempt.

The move here is the tasting menu. In a city where 'tasting menu' often translates to 'overpriced small plates for people with more money than sense,' Oníric is a revelation. It is arguably the best tasting menu Barcelona has to offer at this price point. You’re looking at a progression of modern Catalan cuisine that respects the seasons without being precious about it. One moment you’re staring down a perfectly executed rice dish—the socarrat exactly where it needs to be—and the next, you’re dealing with a low-temperature meat dish that falls apart at the mere suggestion of a fork. The presentation is precise, almost architectural, but the flavors are big, bold, and unapologetically Mediterranean.

Is it perfect? Of course not. The space is intimate, which is a polite way of saying it’s small. If the table next to you is having a loud argument about their divorce, you’re going to be part of that conversation. The service is professional but can feel stretched when the room hits capacity, which it almost always does. This isn't a place for a fast meal; it’s a place where you commit to the pace of the kitchen. If you’re in a rush to catch a bus, go get a sandwich.

This is a restaurant for people who actually like to eat. It’s for the locals who know that the best food in the city is often found in these quiet, unassuming corners. It’s for the traveler who is sick of the 'gastronomic adventures' promised by hotel concierges and wants something that tastes like the neighborhood it lives in. Oníric is a reminder that even in a city as picked-over as Barcelona, there are still places doing the work, day in and day out, for the sheer, stubborn love of the game. It’s honest, it’s sharp, and it’s exactly what Gràcia needs right now.