Restaurant La Tagliatella | Som Multiespai, Barcelona

Let’s be honest about where we are. We aren’t in a sun-drenched alley in Trastevere, and there isn’t a nonna in the back hand-rolling orecchiette with flour-dusted fingers. We are in Som Multiespai—formerly Heron City—a temple of modern commerce in Nou Barris. This is the part of Barcelona that doesn’t make it onto the postcards, a working-class sprawl where people actually live, breathe, and, after a long afternoon of retail therapy or a movie, get very, very hungry.

Restaurant La Tagliatella is a behemoth of the Spanish dining scene, a franchise that has mastered the art of industrial-strength Italian hospitality. You walk in and the first thing that hits you is the 'theatre' of it all. The decor is a fever dream of Old World artifice—dark wood, etched glass, and enough faux-Baroque flourishes to make a Medici blush. It’s a set, sure, but it’s a comfortable one. It’s the kind of place that feels 'fancy' enough for a birthday but casual enough that nobody cares if your kid is currently re-enacting a scene from a Godzilla movie with a breadstick.

The menu is a choose-your-own-adventure of carbohydrates. This is their gimmick, and they do it well: you pick a pasta shape—from basic spaghetti to stuffed 'Cuore di Zucca'—and then pair it with one of dozens of sauces. If you’re looking for the best Italian restaurant in Nou Barris for sheer variety, this is the undisputed heavyweight champion. But a word of warning to the uninitiated: the portions here are not designed for the faint of heart or the solo diner. These are 'raciones' in the truest sense. They are meant to be fought over, shared, and eventually packed into a cardboard box to be eaten cold over the sink at midnight.

The thin-crust pizzas are the size of manhole covers, stretched to a precarious, cracker-like crispness that shatters under the weight of the toppings. The '7 Formaggi' is a dairy-induced coma waiting to happen, and the 'Carpaccio di Vitello' is a reliable, if predictable, way to kick things off. Is it the most authentic Italian food in Barcelona? Of course not. It’s a machine. But it’s a machine that produces consistent, high-calorie satisfaction in a neighborhood that values value.

Now, let’s talk about the 3.8-star reality. When you deal with this kind of volume, the gears sometimes grind. Reviews mention the occasional cold plate or a waiter who seems to be contemplating the futility of existence during the Saturday night rush. It’s a high-traffic mall spot; the service is functional, not poetic. If you come here expecting a slow-food epiphany, you’ve missed the point. You come here because you’re in Nou Barris, you’re starving, and you want a mountain of pasta that tastes exactly like the mountain of pasta you had three years ago in a different mall in a different city.

In a world of 'hidden gems' that are neither hidden nor gems, La Tagliatella is refreshingly honest about what it is: a reliable, loud, and unapologetically massive Italian-themed refueling station. It’s the culinary equivalent of a blockbuster movie—predictable, high-budget, and occasionally exactly what you need when you don’t want to think too hard about your dinner. Grab a table, order a bottle of something red and cheap, and prepare to leave significantly heavier than when you arrived.