Racó d'en Cesc

Eixample is a grid of ambition, a sprawling testament to Barcelona’s 19th-century ego. It’s easy to get lost in the uniformity of its chamfered corners, and even easier to fall into a tourist trap designed to look like a 'classic' Catalan eatery. But then there’s Racó d'en Cesc. It’s been sitting on Carrer de la Diputació since 1986, and it doesn’t need to shout to get your attention. It’s the kind of place that knows exactly what it is: a serious restaurant for people who take the act of sitting down to a meal as a sacred contract.

Walking in, you aren't hit with the frantic energy of a tapas bar or the staged 'industrial chic' of a new-money bistro. It’s refined. White tablecloths, wood paneling, and a sense of professional calm that feels increasingly rare in a city being hollowed out by Instagram-friendly brunch spots. This is a room built for conversation, for long lunches that bleed into the evening, and for the serious business of gastronomy. It’s not stuffy, but it demands a certain level of respect. You’re here to eat, and they’re here to feed you with a level of technical skill that borders on the obsessive.

The real story here, the thing that separates Racó d'en Cesc from the dozens of other high-end Catalan spots in the neighborhood, is the liquid. While most places of this pedigree treat beer as a secondary thought—a cold glass of something fizzy to wash down the heat—sommelier Cesc Sans has spent decades elevating it to an art form. They were pioneers in beer pairing long before it was a craft-brewery cliché. If you’re smart, you’ll skip the wine list—as impressive as it is—and let them guide you through a tasting menu paired entirely with beer. We’re talking about complex, barrel-aged, fermented masterpieces that pull flavors out of the food you didn't know were there.

In the kitchen, Chef Andreu Ruiz brings a steady, masterful hand to the pass. He’s taking traditional Catalan foundations and applying a modern, almost surgical precision to them. Take the 'bacallà amb mel'—a staple of the region. Here, the cod is treated with a reverence usually reserved for religious relics. It’s flaky, translucent, and perfectly seasoned, served with the kind of honey and rosemary glaze that makes you wonder why you ever bothered eating anything else. Or the rice dishes—the 'arròs de muntanya'—which carry the deep, earthy funk of the Catalan interior, every grain of rice saturated with a stock that probably took days to perfect.

Is it perfect? Nothing is. The service can be formal to the point of being stiff if you’re used to the casual chaos of a neighborhood bodega. It’s not a cheap night out, and if you’re looking for a quick bite before hitting the bars, you’re in the wrong place. This is a slow-motion experience. It’s a place for a business meeting where you actually want to close the deal, or a dinner where the food is the primary topic of conversation. It’s honest, it’s technically brilliant, and it remains one of the most consistent bastions of real Catalan cooking in the Eixample. In a city that’s constantly changing, Racó d'en Cesc is a reminder that some things—like good stock, cold beer, and professional pride—are timeless.