i was stumbling around the neighborhood looking for a friendly place for one. down a dark little side street, i came across this place. i fell inside and met the nicest, earthiest waiter in the world. thank goodness, a place in barcelona where i felt like i could finally become a regular. if i lived here. if for no other reason than that man. if the chef's compliment with my glass of rioja is (was) any indication of the meal to came (that came) i am (was) in for a real treat. you could taste all of the ingredients of the spread (iberico, garlic, spinach and pine nuts) so vividly upon your first bite. but it was the second i took a sip of my wine that all of the colors of each flavor exploded in my mouth. heaven. smart, culinary heaven. now, for the record, the tosta (what this place is apparently known for) was basically just average bar food. oh well. so much for that exciting build up. i'll have twenty of my amuse bouche, please. now, when i say average bar food, i mean average bar food for new york, which is still much better than most of the average bar food that i had while in barcelona. sorry barca. you have so much going for you, but not every day bar food. this place feels like the birth place of new orleans. there is a black and white mural of creatures in trees, bird cages, whimsical buildings like a pop-up carnival town straight out of dr. suess and of course, skeleton heads on poles. i say of course to this last part, because it was my first hint of the voodoo on my tongue as i took my seat inside. then, as if the mural was coming to life in the room around me, branches protruded off the wall and were coming out of the ceiling in front of the bar. bird cages hung from the ceiling, melted candles replaced with lit candles on top of more melted candles were scattered throughout. trinkets littered shelves. the space was all brick and wood older than life itself with painted tiles subtly sprinkled in the floor. pinnochio sat in one bird cage. keys hung from the ceiling. i was in love with the place and missing new orleans, but experiencing its spanish heritage for real. i could go on and on... in the end, my new husband (waiter for the evening) left early, and i was left with a rather inattentive woman who was more excited by her phone than her job. alas, back to the rest of the service i've experienced in barcelona. but i still love this place and would come back often. if only for that man to greet me in the same way every time i walked through the door. read more