Restaurant Canet

Sarrià is not the Barcelona you see on postcards. It doesn’t care about your Instagram feed or your desire for a neon-lit cocktail bar. This was once a separate village, and in many ways, it still is—a place of quiet wealth, narrow stone streets, and a fierce adherence to tradition. Tucked away on Carrer de Canet, a street so slender you could almost touch both sides if you’ve had enough wine, sits Restaurant Canet. It is the kind of place that anchors a neighborhood, a reliable, unvarnished temple to the midday meal.

When you walk into Restaurant Canet, you aren't greeted by a host with a headset and a clipboard. You’re greeted by the clatter of silverware against ceramic and the low hum of people who actually live here. The decor is refreshingly indifferent to modern trends. It’s wood, it’s tile, it’s white tablecloths that have seen a thousand Sunday family arguments and just as many reconciliations. It smells of garlic hitting hot olive oil and the faint, sweet scent of roasting peppers. This is a place for eating, not for being seen.

The star of the show here—the reason the room fills up by 2:00 PM with locals—is the menu del día. In a city where the 'tourist menu' has become a sad parody of itself, Canet remains a bastion of the real thing. This is one of the best menu del dia Barcelona has to offer if you want to understand the rhythm of Catalan life. It’s a three-course affair that respects the seasons and the stomach. You might start with a fideuá, the short, thin noodles toasted and simmered in a deep, dark fish stock until they stand up like bristles, served with a dollop of allioli that doesn't apologize for its potency. Or perhaps the canelones, those rich, meat-filled tubes of pasta blanketed in bechamel that every Catalan grandmother claims to make best, though Canet gives them a run for their money.

Main courses are honest. No foams, no gels, no tweezers involved. Think of a perfectly grilled piece of bacalao (cod) sitting atop a bed of samfaina—a Mediterranean vegetable ragout that tastes like it’s been simmering since the dawn of time. Or a tender entrecot, charred on the outside and blushing in the middle, served with fries that actually taste like potatoes. It’s soul-satisfying food that doesn't require a degree in semiotics to understand. You wash it down with the house wine, which is exactly what it should be: cold, wet, and unpretentious.

Service here is professional in the way that only old-school European waiters can be. They aren't your friends, and they don't want to hear your life story, but they will ensure your wine glass is never empty and your bread basket is replenished with the efficiency of a Swiss watch. There is a dignity in this kind of service that is increasingly hard to find.

Is it perfect? No. If you’re looking for a 'gastronomic adventure' or a 'vibrant atmosphere' fueled by house music, you will be profoundly disappointed. The room can get loud when the lunch rush hits, and the pace is dictated by the kitchen, not your schedule. But that’s the point. Restaurant Canet is a reminder that the best things in life are often the simplest: good ingredients, cooked with care, served in a room full of people who know exactly what they like. It’s a slice of the real Sarrià, served on a plate, and it’s worth every cent.