Ten's Tapes Restaurant Barcelona

You don’t come to Ten's for the nostalgia. If you’re looking for a surly old man in a stained apron pouring house wine from a plastic jug while you stand ankle-deep in discarded napkins, keep walking. El Born has plenty of those spots, and some of them are even good. But Ten's, situated on the increasingly polished Carrer del Rec, is something else entirely. This is the playground of Jordi Cruz, the man with more Michelin stars than most chefs have clean towels and a face familiar to anyone in Spain who owns a television.

Ten's is what happens when a chef obsessed with perfection decides to democratize his brain. It’s a sleek, minimalist space that feels more like a high-end design studio or a very expensive dental clinic than a traditional Spanish tavern. White walls, clean lines, and an open kitchen where young, focused cooks move with the kind of quiet intensity usually reserved for bomb disposal units. It’s a 'tapas restaurant' in the most modern sense of the word—a place where the tradition of small plates is used as a vehicle for technical wizardry.

Let’s talk about the food, because that’s the only reason to endure the slightly clinical atmosphere. The menu is a roadmap of Cruz’s greatest hits, stripped of the four-hour ceremony of his flagship, ABaC. You start with the patatas bravas. In any other bar, they’re chunks of fried spud with a dollop of sauce. Here, they are precision-engineered cylinders, crisp on the outside, fluffy within, topped with a dot of alioli and spicy tomato that looks like it was applied with a protractor. It’s a flex. It’s Cruz saying, 'I can even make a potato look like art.'

The steak tartar on toasted brioche is the undisputed heavyweight champion of the menu. It’s a protein rush to the cortex—rich, fatty, perfectly seasoned, and served on a bread so buttery it should come with a warning from a cardiologist. Then there’s the low-temperature egg, a masterclass in texture that reminds you why 'low-temp' became a buzzword in the first place. When that yolk breaks and mingles with potato foam and Iberico ham, you stop caring about the minimalist decor and start wondering if you can lick the plate without being escorted out by security.

The crowd is a mix of well-heeled locals, culinary pilgrims who couldn't get a table at ABaC, and the occasional tourist who wandered in looking for 'authentic' Spain and found themselves staring at a nitrogen-chilled oyster. The service is professional, efficient, and perhaps a little detached, but in a city where service can often be a contact sport, the cool efficiency is almost a relief.

Is it a 'best tapas Barcelona' contender? That depends on what you value. If you value the soul of the old city, the grit, and the chaos, Ten's might feel a bit soulless. It’s calculated. It’s a brand. But if you value the sheer craft of cooking—the ability to take a simple ingredient and elevate it through sheer technical will—then this place is essential. It’s an honest look at where Catalan cuisine is heading: polished, international, and deeply obsessed with the 'author' behind the stove.

Don't come here for a cheap bite. Come here when you want to see what happens when a three-star mind tackles the snack menu. It’s a calculated, high-precision strike on the senses that proves you don't need a white tablecloth to serve world-class food. Just be sure to book ahead; even in a city full of tapas bars, everyone wants a piece of the MasterChef's magic.