Barcelona - Drinking with donkeys, eating with lions May 2010

Where: Xaloc and El Cangrejo Loco
With whom: The Ginger Prince, Nice Guy Eddie and The Plumber (oh and an assorted gang of other stag party reprobates...)
How much?: Not as much as expected. We had 4 courses and a bottle of wine each (well it was a stag do) for EU 35 at El Cangrejo Loco and the tapas plates at Xaloc ranged from EU 3 to EU 11 for the bigger meaty platters. 


So a very traditional British stag do isn't the best chance to go on a foodie tour, but I've not been to Barcelona before and we had to stop drinking for a few hours at least.
There aren't many decent restaurants that will happily take a party of twelve 'exuberant' Brits and after all, we had other things to occupy our time. 
El Cangrejo Loco is based in the harbour, and does everything you'd expect of an upscale restaurant with great views, sadly both positive and negative. The views, with the beach one side and the harbour on the other, were stunning and the large display of fresh fish certainly looked wonderful. Sadly it also lived up to the expectations of snooty waiting staff, a sharp upsell wherever possible and, most distressingly, an occasionally mediocre treatment of the obviously excellent ingredients.


A recommendation from a food obsessed Barceloni sent us here and the menu looked top notch. Their Menú del Día or Menu of the Day was a very reasonable EU23 for four courses and sounded excellent. The large portion of mussels fisherman style (a picante blend of wine, garlic, onion, chilli and a healthy handful of parsley) made me think that we were in for a real treat. Plump, sweet and perfectly seasoned, they were the perfect start to the meal.


Sadly the monkfish that followed was a little more forgettable. Admittedly not as overcooked as the Ginger Prince's portion, but not as light a touch as it needed... The mushroom and clam (singular) sauce was both overpowering and underwhelming at the same time. A measly portion of Creme Cataluna (more on that later) finished the meal and, bored of waiters who refused to let us pour our own wine (seriously), we took our party back to the bars and squares of the Gothic Quarter. 
Maybe a good call for a nice leisurely lunch, if you pre-book a table on the terrace overlooking the harbour and order a crisp Cava and fresh fish off the a la carte menu, but as Barcelona isn't short of great places to eat, I don't think that I'll be going back there.

Xaloc on the other hand was a real treat. A light and airy Scandinavian style room with some beautiful light ash furnishings, its tall glass windows and modern design stand slightly incongruously in the winding, somewhat rundown maze of the Gothic Quarter.

I was instantly drawn in by the wall of ham, tall enough to need a highwired 'angel' flying up to collect the fatty gold from the top racks. Sadly, no such service existed, but the meat that came from the hams was welcome enough without. 

Perfectly and freshly cut, with a nutty, truffled flavour, the Iberico was superb. A huge portion of chorizo followed.

There were only the four of us at this point and we'd gone for 2 dishes each, planning to grab more if we needed. The platter of bread arrived, like most we had in Barcelona, with a thin covering of garlic, olive oil and tomato. 

The Pimientos de Padrón are a standard choice when they appear on a tapas menu near me or the Ginger Prince and this was no exception. Very well done and I liked the threat of the suspiciously orange one lying casually on the top of the pile, whistling innocuously. Yes, of course it was hot. But so good...

It wasn't all good, the chorizo stuffed squid was bland and uninteresting and while the Plumber eulogised over a salad of broad bean, toasted artichoke and leaf, I wasn't that impressed (though will be recreating the artichoke 'chips' at home).

I finished off with a proper version of the local speciality, Crema Catalana. If last night's version was thin, insipid and small then this was the real deal. I fought off the Plummer, feeling aggrieved at the interpretation of the menu that had landed him with a fairly pedestrian chocolate cake, and dug in. A perfect example of rich and creamy cold custard with a caramelised sugar crackle shell sat on top. Sat in the window watching the Sunday lunchtime crowds flow along the tiny streets of the Barrio Gothic, we ruminated on the weekend past. Not as food obsessed as most of my recent trips have been, but we'd done our best.