Volta Al Món

Let’s be honest: after three days in Barcelona, you might hit a wall. There is only so much pan con tomate and jamón a human being can consume before the soul starts crying out for something—anything—different. Enter Volta Al Món. Located on Carrer de Muntaner in the heart of the Eixample, this isn’t your typical Catalan tavern where the waiter has been scowling since the 1970s. This is a place for the restless, the curious, and the people who aren't afraid to put something on their tongue that used to hop, crawl, or kick in a completely different hemisphere.

The concept is simple, bordering on kitschy, but they lean into it with enough conviction that it works. The menu is literally a passport. You aren’t just ordering dinner; you’re picking a destination. The decor follows suit—suitcases, maps, and the kind of travel-themed ephemera that suggests the owners either have a serious case of wanderlust or a very specific eBay addiction. But you aren’t here for the interior design. You’re here because someone told you that you could eat a crocodile in the middle of a Mediterranean metropolis.

Let’s talk about the protein. This is where Volta Al Món separates the travelers from the tourists. We’re talking about a menu that features kangaroo, zebra, ostrich, and crocodile. It sounds like a gimmick, and in lesser hands, it would be. But here, they treat these exotic cuts with a surprising amount of respect. The kangaroo is lean, gamey, and hits the plate with a primal intensity that makes a standard beef burger feel like baby food. The crocodile? It’s that strange, beautiful middle ground between chicken and firm white fish, seasoned with enough intent to remind you that you’re eating a predator. It’s a protein rush to the cortex, a visceral reminder that the world is big, weird, and occasionally delicious.

If you’re the type of person who gets squeamish at the thought of eating Simba’s neighbors, they do have more conventional 'stops' on their global tour. You can find flavors from Asia, South America, and across Europe. The cocktails are equally adventurous, designed to wash down the heat of a spicy curry or the richness of a grilled zebra steak. It’s a chaotic, high-energy environment. On a Friday night, the place is buzzing with locals who are bored of the status quo and travelers looking for a story to tell. It’s loud, it’s cramped, and the service can be frantic, but that’s part of the charm. It feels like a transit lounge in a fever dream.

Is it the 'best' restaurant in Barcelona? That’s a stupid question. It’s an experience. It’s for the night when you want to stop being a polite visitor and start being a carnivore. It’s for the group of friends who want to argue over whether ostrich tastes more like beef or turkey (it’s beef, by the way). It’s an honest, unpretentious middle finger to the 'authentic' trap. It doesn’t pretend to be a centuries-old bodega; it pretends to be the whole damn world, crammed into a storefront in Eixample. If you’re looking for white tablecloths and hushed whispers, go elsewhere. If you want to tear into a kangaroo burger while surrounded by maps of places you’ll probably never go, pull up a chair. Just don't expect the crocodile to go down without a fight.