Restaurant Ciudad Feliz

Nou Barris is not the Barcelona you see in the glossy brochures. There are no Gaudí chimneys here, no tourists stumbling over cobblestones with overpriced gelato. This is the north of the city—a place of steep hills, high-rise apartments, and people who work for a living. It’s here, on Carrer del Turó Blau, that you find Restaurant Ciudad Feliz. The name translates to 'Happy City,' which feels either deeply ironic or aspirational depending on how much gin you’ve had, but the reality is much more grounded. This is a classic 'Chino de barrio,' a neighborhood Chinese-Spanish hybrid that serves as a canteen for the local soul.

Walk inside and you aren’t greeted by a host with a tablet. You’re greeted by the hum of a refrigerator, the flicker of fluorescent lighting, and the rhythmic clatter of a wok being beaten like a rented mule in the back. The decor is a time capsule of 1990s immigrant ambition: faded red lanterns, perhaps a lucky cat waving rhythmically at a stack of delivery boxes, and tables covered in paper cloths that have seen a thousand lunches. It’s not pretty. It’s not 'curated.' It’s a room designed for the consumption of calories, and in that regard, it is remarkably honest.

The menu is a sprawling map of the Spanish-Chinese experience. You know the hits: the rollitos de primavera (spring rolls) that arrive piping hot and shattering with grease, the arroz tres delicias that has fueled generations of students, and the lemon chicken—a dish that is more about the neon-yellow sauce and the crunch of the batter than the bird itself. But the reviews don't lie about one thing: the 'raciones.' The portions here are aggressive. This is food meant to be shared, or more likely, to be eaten half at the table and half out of a plastic container the next day while standing over your kitchen sink. It’s a protein-heavy, sodium-rich slap to the face that hits exactly the spot it’s intended to hit.

There’s a reason for the 3.6-star rating, and if you’re the kind of person who needs a waiter to explain the 'provenance' of your sprouts, you should probably stay in Eixample. The service can be indifferent, bordering on the telepathic—they know you’re here for the cheap beer and the beef with oyster sauce, and they aren't going to waste time with small talk. The delivery guys are the real pulse of the place, buzzing in and out with helmets still on, carrying bags of hot food to the surrounding apartment blocks. It’s a logistics hub disguised as a dining room.

Is it the best Chinese restaurant in Barcelona? Not by a long shot. But it might be one of the most necessary. In a city that is rapidly becoming a theme park for the wealthy, places like Ciudad Feliz are the holdouts. They provide a service: cheap, filling, hot food for a neighborhood that doesn't have time for nonsense. You come here when the fridge is empty, the wallet is thin, and you need a plate of noodles that could double as a weighted blanket. It’s greasy, it’s loud, and it’s exactly what it claims to be. If you can’t find the beauty in a cold San Miguel and a mountain of fried rice in a room full of locals arguing about the news, then you’re missing the point of travel entirely. This is the real Barcelona, salt and all.