UGARIT Plaça Joanic

Gràcia is a neighborhood that likes to think it’s a village, a place of narrow streets and fiercely independent spirits. But if you’re wandering near Plaça Joanic and you’re tired of the same three tapas being shuffled around like a tired deck of cards, you look for the sign of the Ugarit. It’s not a secret—with over 3,500 reviews, the secret’s been dead and buried for years—but it is a goddamn relief. This isn't some high-concept fusion experiment. This is Syrian food served with the kind of directness that makes you realize how much time we waste on garnish.

Walking into the Joanic location of Ugarit feels like stepping into a well-worn living room that’s seen a thousand arguments and twice as many celebrations. The decor is heavy on the wood, the Middle Eastern lamps cast a warm, amber glow that hides the exhaustion of a long day, and the air is thick with the scent of cumin, garlic, and meat hitting the fire. It’s loud, it’s often crowded, and the service moves with the frantic efficiency of a kitchen that knows exactly what it’s doing and doesn't have time to hold your hand. You’re here to eat, not to be coddled.

Let’s talk about the hummus. In a world of supermarket paste, the hummus here is a revelation—a velvet sledgehammer of chickpeas and tahini, slicked with olive oil that actually tastes like olives. It’s the benchmark. Then there’s the mutabal, a smoky, eggplant-driven dive into the deep end of flavor that makes you wonder why anyone bothers with babaganoush anywhere else. When the falafel arrives, it’s hot enough to burn your tongue and crunchy enough to hear it three tables over. Break it open and it’s vibrant green, steaming, and fragrant. This is the best Syrian food Barcelona has to offer without a doubt, and it’s been fueling the neighborhood for decades.

The shawarma—whether you go lamb or chicken—is stripped of the greasy, late-night-regret vibes of the tourist traps on La Rambla. Here, the meat has texture, spice, and soul. If you’re smart, or just hungry, you go for the combo meals. They call them 'Combinados,' and they are a masterclass in value. You get the hits—the kibbeh, the tabbouleh that actually tastes like parsley and lemon rather than a bowl of wet bulgur, and the meat—all served on a plate that looks like it’s trying to feed a small army. It’s a protein rush to the cortex, a clean, spice-heavy high that leaves you satisfied but not sluggish.

Is it perfect? No. The tables are close enough that you’ll likely learn more about your neighbor’s dating life than you ever wanted to know. The wine list isn't going to win any awards, and if you come at peak hours, you might have to fight for a spot. But that’s the point. Ugarit is a pillar of the community because it’s consistent, it’s affordable, and it’s real. It’s one of the best cheap eats Barcelona can claim, especially in a neighborhood like Gràcia that’s increasingly leaning into the expensive and the precious.

You come here when you’re hungry, when you’re tired of the bullshit, and when you want food that feels like it was made by people who actually give a damn about their heritage. It’s a Syrian tavern in the middle of Catalonia, and somehow, it feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be. Grab a piece of pita, scoop up that last bit of hummus, and realize that sometimes, the best things in a city are the ones that have been standing right in front of you all along.