Restaurant Planta Baja

This isn’t the Barcelona of the postcards. There are no buskers here, no guys trying to sell you cheap whistles or lukewarm beer in plastic cups. You’re in Sarrià-Sant Gervasi, specifically the Tres Torres neighborhood, where the air smells like old money and expensive laundry detergent. It’s a part of the city most tourists never see, and frankly, the locals would prefer to keep it that way. In the belly of the Hotel Primero Primera, you’ll find Restaurant Planta Baja, and it’s a masterclass in how to do a hotel restaurant without losing your soul.

Walking in feels less like entering a commercial establishment and more like stumbling into the private library of a well-traveled, slightly eccentric uncle. It’s all low lighting, deep leather armchairs, stacks of books, and a fireplace that actually gets used when the Mediterranean winter turns damp. It’s a sanctuary. If you’re looking for a 'scene'—the kind of place where people stand on chairs to photograph their salad—keep walking. This is a place for low-voiced conspiracies and long, slow drinks.

The kitchen doesn't try to reinvent the wheel, and thank god for that. In a city currently obsessed with molecular foam and deconstructed everything, Planta Baja leans into the visceral pleasure of honest Mediterranean comfort food. Let’s talk about the croquettes. They are, quite simply, a benchmark. They arrive with a crust that shatters under the slightest pressure, giving way to a center so creamy it’s practically a liquid state of grace. Whether it’s the jamón or the seasonal mushroom, they are a mandatory order. Then there are the patatas bravas. Everyone in Barcelona claims to have the best, but here, they serve them with a confidence that borders on arrogance—perfectly crisp cubes with a sauce that actually has some teeth.

As you move into the heavier lifting, the menu stays grounded. The steak tartare is prepared with the kind of respect the cow deserves, seasoned with a sharp, acidic punch that cuts through the rich fat. If they have the 'arroz de montaña' (mountain rice) on, get it. It’s a dark, intense affair, stained with the essence of forest floor and woodsmoke, the kind of dish that demands a heavy red wine and a complete lack of plans for the rest of the afternoon. The burger, too, is a sleeper hit—no gimmicks, just high-quality beef and a bun that knows its place.

The service is what you’d expect from a family-run operation like the Primero Primera. It’s professional, yes, but there’s a warmth to it that you can’t fake. They aren’t rushing you to flip the table for the next seating. They want you to stay. They want you to have that second glass of Priorat. They want you to feel like the house is yours.

Is it perfect? No. If you’re on a budget, the prices might make you wince a little, and the menu doesn't change with lightning speed. But that’s not why you come here. You come here when the chaos of the city center has finally broken you, and you need a place that feels like home, only with better lighting and someone else doing the dishes. It’s one of the best restaurants in Sarrià for anyone who values substance over style, though it has plenty of both. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best thing a restaurant can be is a room where you actually want to spend time.