Xera Restaurant

You’re five minutes from the human centrifuge of Plaça de Catalunya, but on Carrer de les Sitges, the air changes. It’s narrower here, darker, smelling of damp stone and the faint, metallic tang of the city. This is where you find Xera. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need to shout because the plates do the screaming for them. Formerly known as Rao, this spot has evolved into a masterclass of what modern Barcelona cooking should be: respectful of the past but not a slave to it.

Walking in, you’re hit with that immediate sense of relief. The interior is all exposed stone and low, moody lighting—a sanctuary from the neon-lit madness of the nearby Ramblas. It’s intimate, bordering on cramped, but in a way that feels like you’re in on a secret rather than being squeezed for a buck. The service is sharp, professional, and devoid of that weary indifference you find in the high-traffic zones. They actually seem to give a damn about the wine they’re pouring and the protein they’re dropping in front of you.

Let’s talk about the pork cheek, or carrillera. If there is a god, he’s hiding in this sauce. It’s slow-cooked until the structural integrity of the meat is a mere suggestion, collapsing at the mere sight of a fork. It’s rich, dark, and heavy with the kind of deep, resonant flavor that only comes from time and a kitchen that knows how to manage a flame. Then there are the scallops—seared with surgical precision and paired with a salty, spicy hit of chorizo and a pea puree that actually tastes like the earth it grew in. It’s a balanced, high-wire act of textures.

And because this is 2025 and Barcelona is a port city with its eyes on the world, the ceviche is a mandatory play. It’s clean, acidic, and cuts through the richness of the heavier tapas like a straight razor. This isn’t the 'traditional' tapas experience of dusty ham legs and oily bravas—though there’s a time and place for that. This is 'Tapas de Autor.' It’s the evolution of the form. You’re seeing the influence of the Boqueria market just a few blocks away, but filtered through a lens of modern technique and a refusal to settle for 'good enough.'

The crowd is a mix of locals who know better than to eat on the main drag and travelers who did their homework. It’s a loud, clattering symphony of glasses hitting wood and the low hum of satisfied people. Is it the cheapest meal in the Raval? No. But you aren’t paying for the view or the gimmick. You’re paying for the fact that someone in that kitchen spent twelve hours making sure that pork cheek would haunt your dreams for the next six months.

If you’re looking for a place to wear a plastic sombrero and drink oversized sangria, keep walking. But if you want to understand why Barcelona remains one of the great eating capitals of the world, sit down, order a bottle of Priorat, and let the kitchen do its thing. Xera is a reminder that even in the most trampled parts of the Ciutat Vella, you can still find a meal that feels like a discovery. It’s honest, it’s visceral, and it’s exactly what you need after a day of dodging selfie sticks.