Soma restaurant

Eixample is a neighborhood that can easily swallow you whole. It’s a sprawling, geometric grid of grand boulevards and high-end boutiques, often populated by places that spend more on their interior designer than their head chef. But then you find Soma on Carrer de Provença, and the noise just... stops. It’s not trying to sell you a lifestyle or a brand. It’s trying to feed you, and it does so with a level of focus that is increasingly rare in a city obsessed with the 'new.'

Walking into Soma feels like stepping into a quiet refuge, even though the neighborhood has long since caught on. The lighting is low, the atmosphere is thick with the scent of reduced stocks and searing fat, and the decor is minimalist without being cold. It’s the kind of room where the conversation stays at a low hum because people are actually paying attention to what’s on their forks. There’s no stage-managed 'vibe' here; the energy comes from the kitchen and the people who know exactly why they’re sitting in these chairs.

Let’s talk about the rigatoni. In a world of mediocre pasta, Soma’s rigatoni with beef ragu is a revelation. This isn't some thin, watery sauce tossed over noodles as an afterthought. This is a slow-cooked, soul-shattering reduction that has spent hours—maybe days—getting to know itself. The meat is tender enough to give up without a fight, clinging to the ridges of the pasta like it’s afraid of letting go. It’s rich, it’s heavy, and it’s exactly what you want when the sun goes down and the Mediterranean breeze turns sharp. It’s a dish that demands your full attention, a protein-heavy punch to the gut that leaves you wondering why you ever settled for anything less.

Then there’s the socarrat. For the uninitiated, the socarrat is the holy grail of Spanish rice cooking—that thin, caramelized, nearly-burnt crust at the bottom of the pan where all the flavor lives. At Soma, they don’t make you hunt for it. They serve it with a confidence that borders on arrogance. Whether it’s paired with prawns or meat, that crunch is the sound of a kitchen that knows its technique. It’s salty, smoky, and dangerously addictive. You’ll find yourself scraping the plate, looking for one last jagged bit of charred rice, completely indifferent to who might be watching.

Don't overlook the smaller players, either. The burrata is a creamy, decadent mess that serves as the perfect foil to the heavier mains, and the 'Soma biscuits'—those savory, herb-flecked bites—are the kind of thing you’ll find yourself reaching for instinctively. The menu is tight, focused, and unapologetically Mediterranean, leaning into Italian influences without losing its Catalan soul. It’s a balancing act that most restaurants fail, but Soma sticks the landing every single night.

The service is exactly what it should be: professional, efficient, and entirely devoid of the fake cheerfulness that plagues tourist traps. They know the menu, they know the wine, and they know when to leave you alone with your ragu. It’s a place for people who love food more than they love being seen eating it. If you’re looking for a flashy show or a 'gastronomic journey' narrated by a waiter in a vest, go somewhere else. But if you want a meal that feels honest, visceral, and worth every cent of the bill, get a reservation at Soma. Just don't expect to share that rigatoni.