Xanc i Meli

Sant Gervasi is the kind of neighborhood where the sidewalks feel polished and the dogs probably have better healthcare than you do. It’s upscale, it’s quiet, and it’s often painfully boring. But tucked away on Carrer del Francolí is Xanc i Meli, a middle finger to the polished veneer of the surrounding blocks. This isn't a place designed by an architect with a mood board; it’s a room where people come to drink, eat, and forget about their LinkedIn profiles for an hour or two.

When you walk in, you aren't greeted by a host with a headset and a fake smile. You’re greeted by the smell of a kitchen that actually works for a living. It’s the scent of hot olive oil, searing protein, and the sharp tang of vinegar. The space is tight, the lighting is honest, and the decor doesn't try to tell you a story—the food does that. This is a taberna in the truest sense, a place where the clatter of plates and the hiss of the tap form the soundtrack to your evening.

Let’s talk about the patatas bravas, because in this city, everyone claims to have the best, and most of them are lying. At Xanc i Meli, they aren't reinventing the wheel; they’re just making a better wheel. The potatoes are hand-cut, fried to a precise crunch that shatters before giving way to a fluffy interior. The sauce isn't that pink, mayo-heavy sludge you find at the tourist traps near the beach. It’s got a kick, a slow-burn heat that demands another sip of cold beer. It’s simple, it’s brutal, and it’s exactly what you want.

Then come the croquetas. If you’ve spent any time in Barcelona, you’ve eaten a thousand of them, most of which taste like fried library paste. These are different. Whether it’s the jamón or the mushroom, the filling is a molten, creamy revelation held together by a breading that actually stays crispy. It’s the kind of technical proficiency that usually costs three times as much in a dining room with white tablecloths.

The menu is a greatest hits list of Catalan comfort. The ensaladilla rusa is cold, creamy, and balanced. The tortilla is served with the kind of respect usually reserved for religious relics. But the real closer—the thing that people whisper about in the reviews—is the cheesecake. It’s a Basque-style masterpiece, burnt and caramelized on the outside with a center that’s barely holding it together. It’s rich, it’s decadent, and it’s the kind of thing you’d consider fighting a stranger for if they tried to take the last bite.

The service here is what I like to call 'efficiently indifferent.' They aren't going to ask you how your day was, and they shouldn't. They’re busy making sure the food comes out hot and the drinks stay cold. It’s a neighborhood joint, which means if you show up at peak hours without a plan, you might be standing on the sidewalk. That’s the price of admission for authenticity in a city that’s increasingly being sold off to the highest bidder.

Xanc i Meli is a reminder that good food doesn't need a PR firm or a neon sign. It just needs a kitchen that cares and a neighborhood that knows the difference between a tourist trap and the real thing. If you’re looking for a 'gastronomic adventure' with foam and tweezers, go somewhere else. If you want to sit in a cramped room and eat some of the best tapas in Barcelona 2025, pull up a chair. Just don't expect a participation trophy for finding it.