Pizzeria Nanà

Let’s be honest: most of the pizza you find within a three-block radius of the Sagrada Família is a hate crime against Italy. It’s frozen cardboard topped with industrial-grade sadness, served to people who don’t know any better. To find the real thing—the kind of pizza that makes you want to weep and call your mother—you have to get on the L1 metro and head north. You get off at Navas, walk past the nondescript apartment blocks of Sant Andreu, and look for a place that smells like wood smoke and fermented dough. That’s Pizzeria Nanà.

This isn't a place for people who want a quiet, candlelit evening whispering sweet nothings over a salad. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s tight. The reviews mention the noise like it’s a flaw, but they’re wrong. That noise is the sound of a neighborhood that hasn't been hollowed out by short-term rentals yet. It’s the sound of locals arguing over football, families passing around slices of mortadella-topped heaven, and the frantic, beautiful hiss of a wood-fired oven running at top speed. If you want a library, go to the library. If you want the best pizza in Barcelona, pull up a chair and get comfortable with your neighbor’s elbow.

The star of the show here is the dough. We’re talking authentic Neapolitan style—long fermentation, high hydration, and a crust (the cornicione) that comes out of the oven blistered with 'leopard spots.' It’s light, airy, and has that slight sourdough tang that tells you someone actually gave a damn about the process. When you bite into their signature Pizza Nanà, with its base of pistachio cream, silky mortadella, and a dollop of stracciatella that’s basically liquid gold, you realize why people trek out to this part of town. It’s a protein rush to the cortex, a visceral reminder that simple ingredients, handled with respect, are all you really need.

Then there’s the 'Menu del Día.' In Barcelona, the lunch menu is a sacred rite, but Pizzeria Nanà takes it to another level. For a price that would barely buy you a sandwich in the tourist zones, you get a starter, a full-sized pizza or pasta that doesn't cut corners, a drink, and a coffee or dessert. It’s the ultimate working-man’s luxury. You’ll see construction workers, office types, and grandmothers all sitting cheek-by-jowl, united by the common goal of eating well without getting fleeced. It’s honest food for honest people.

Is it perfect? No. The service can be harried when the 'noon' rush hits, and you might have to wait for a table if you didn't have the foresight to call ahead. The decor isn't going to win any awards in an architectural digest. But who cares? You’re here for the char on the crust and the quality of the San Marzano tomatoes. You’re here because you’re tired of the 'gastronomic adventures' promised by PR firms and you just want a damn good pizza in a place that feels alive.

If you’re looking for a 'hidden gem' to brag about on TikTok, stay away. We don't need you clogging up the works. But if you’re hungry, if you’re tired of the bullshit, and if you understand that the best meals usually happen in the places the tour buses ignore, then Pizzeria Nanà is your church. Order the Tiramisu at the end—it’s messy, it’s rich, and it’s exactly what you deserve.