Restaurante Casa Luz

Ronda de la Universitat is, for the most part, a frantic, exhaust-choked artery of Barcelona. It’s where the city’s commuters collide with tourists lost on their way to Plaça de Catalunya. It is not where you expect to find soul. But then you find the entrance to Hotel Casa Luz, hit the button for the top floor, and the elevator spits you out into a different reality. This isn't your typical, over-polished hotel rooftop where the cocktails cost more than your shoes and the food is an afterthought. This is Restaurante Casa Luz, and it’s doing something much more interesting.

The first thing that hits you isn't the decor—which is tasteful, leafy, and flooded with that specific Mediterranean light the name promises—it’s the lack of pretension. In a city where 'rooftop dining' often translates to 'tourist trap with a view,' Casa Luz feels like a secret shared among locals who actually give a damn about what’s on the plate. The kitchen is overseen by Tomas Abellán, a man who understands that you don’t need to reinvent the wheel if you have the best ingredients and a hot enough flame.

Let’s talk about the 'Bikini.' In most of the world, that’s swimwear. In Barcelona, it’s a ham and cheese toastie. Here, it’s an elevated masterpiece of lomo ibérico and truffle, pressed until the bread is a golden, shatteringly crisp lattice and the cheese has reached a state of molten grace. It’s the kind of thing you order 'to share' and then immediately regret your generosity. Then there’s the truffade—a rustic, heavy-hitting mountain dish of potatoes and melted cheese that feels like a warm hug from a French grandmother you never had. It’s unapologetically rich, salty, and perfect for cutting through a bottle of crisp Catalan white wine.

The menu follows the seasons with a discipline that’s refreshing. If the artichokes are in, they’ll be grilled to perfection, charred on the outside and tender at the heart, served simply because that’s how they should be. The kitchen doesn't hide behind foams or unnecessary garnishes. They trust the produce. They trust the fire.

But the real reason people make the pilgrimage here—the thing that shows up in every review and every whispered recommendation—is the cheesecake. This isn't the dense, New York-style brick that sits in your stomach for three days. This is the Basque-adjacent, creamy, almost-liquid-in-the-center version that has taken the city by storm. It arrives looking humble, but the first spoonful is a revelation. It’s a protein rush to the cortex, a perfect balance of sweet and savory that makes you want to lick the plate clean. If you leave without ordering it, you’ve fundamentally failed your mission in Barcelona.

The service is 'Barcelona casual'—which is to say, it’s relaxed. Don't come here if you’re in a rush to catch a bus. Come here when the sun is starting to dip, when the sky over the Eixample turns that bruised shade of purple, and the city lights start to flicker on below. You’re sitting above the noise, watching the chaos of the world from a safe, delicious distance. It’s not the cheapest meal in town, and the wind might mess up your hair on the terrace, but for a moment, with a glass of vermouth in hand and a plate of that cheesecake on the way, everything feels exactly as it should be. It’s honest, it’s bright, and it’s one of the best rooftop restaurants in Barcelona for people who actually like to eat.