Secret tapas

Enric Granados is the street people think of when they imagine the 'civilized' Barcelona. It’s leafy, pedestrian-friendly, and smells faintly of expensive perfume and old money. But at number 122, inside the polished, brass-and-wood confines of Chéri, there is a sub-plot. They call it Secret Tapas. Now, let’s be honest: any place with over a thousand reviews isn’t exactly a state secret, but in a city where the 'tourist menu' is usually a death sentence for your palate, this place manages to pull off a rare trick. It offers a curated, high-stakes introduction to the Catalan kitchen without the cynical shortcuts of the Ramblas.

You walk through the main dining room of Chéri—a place that already feels like a well-tailored suit—and you’re ushered into a specific experience. This isn't a place where you point at pictures on a faded plastic board. This is a set-menu operation, a guided tour through the hits, but executed with the kind of technical proficiency that makes you remember why these dishes became famous in the first place. It’s the kind of spot that feels like a safe harbor for the traveler who is tired of guessing and just wants to be fed well.

The food hits you in waves. We’re talking about the heavy hitters of the Eixample tapas scene. The croquettes are the litmus test of any Spanish kitchen, and here they pass with floral colors—crisp shells giving way to a molten, béchamel-heavy interior that demands a glass of crisp white wine to cut through the richness. Then there’s the jamón, sliced thin enough to be translucent, sweating slightly at room temperature the way the good stuff should. But the real reason people are packing this place out is the paella. In a city where 'paella for one' is usually a sign of a microwave-heated disaster, the rice here is a revelation. It’s thin, concentrated, and boasts that elusive socarrat—the caramelized, crunchy layer at the bottom of the pan that locals will fight you for. Whether it’s the seafood version or the deep, earthy black rice with squid ink, it’s a protein rush that justifies the hype.

What’s interesting is the atmosphere. It’s a restaurant-within-a-restaurant, which gives it a layer of insulation from the street noise. You’ve got the buzz of a working kitchen, the clink of heavy silverware, and a service staff that actually seems to give a damn. They know they’re running a 'secret' that everyone knows about, but they treat the food with the respect of a grandmother guarding a family recipe. It’s polished, yes. It’s curated, absolutely. But is it honest? Yeah, it is.

The 'secret' here isn't the location—it's the consistency. In the wild west of Barcelona dining, where a great meal can be followed by a total disaster the next night, Secret Tapas acts as a form of culinary insurance. You pay your money, you sit in a beautiful room on one of the city's best streets, and you get exactly what was promised: a visceral, high-quality deep dive into the flavors of Catalonia. It’s not a dive bar in El Raval where you might get stabbed or fall in love, but it’s a damn good place to eat when you want the best tapas Barcelona has to offer without the guesswork. If you’re looking for a romantic restaurants Barcelona vibe or a reliable date night in Eixample, this is the play. Just don't expect to be the only one who found the door.