IT SOUNDED ILLEGAL
The moment your brain feels like one big taste bud, you know you're having food that's not only made with love but has everything it needs.
We all know how it feels to be a starving tourist in a city we barely know. Scared of falling into tourist traps, we avoid one restaurant after another. Our stomach threatens to digest itself while our inner voice insists "no, we're not just eating some greasy smash burger." So we keep walking. And walking. Until hopefully, we strike gold.
Barcelona gets tourists year-round, and honestly, some of us feel guilty for even being here. Fair enough. No wonder places try to rip you off. But not this time. Luck was on my side when I stumbled into GALA. I was criminally underdressed – my corduroy and basic knitwear looked rough next to people in actual gala outfits. If I'd known... But there we go.
Sitting there with my non-existent Spanish, you realize language barriers are still real. Ordering gets interesting. I asked for a dry white wine. Honestly don't care what: Chardonnay, Sovignon Blanc, whatever, as long as it's not too acidic and feels round and dry. That's basically what I gestured to the waitress. She got it.
The menu: Italian-Japanese fusion. How does that even work? I felt overwhelmed. Mediterranean and Japanese cuisines taste so different, I couldn't imagine fusing them. Almost couldn't. Started with beef carpaccio. Perfect for a hungry guy like me. The bread, the olives they serve first (smart move you should save for later: keeps you from over-ordering and rolling out sideways), all setting the stage.
The interior hits different. You enter through what feels like a hotel reception, complete with an oversized computer screen and randomly a horseThe moment your brain feels like one big taste bud, you know you're having food that's not only made with love but has everything it needs.
We all know how it feels to be a starving tourist in a city we barely know. Scared of falling into tourist traps, we avoid one restaurant after another. Our stomach threatens to digest itself while our inner voice insists "no, we're not just eating some greasy smash burger." So we keep walking. And walking. Until hopefully, we strike gold.
Barcelona gets tourists year-round, and honestly, some of us feel guilty for even being here. Fair enough. No wonder places try to rip you off. But not this time. Luck was on my side when I stumbled into GALA. I was criminally underdressed – my corduroy and basic knitwear looked rough next to people in actual gala outfits. If I'd known... But there we go.
Sitting there with my non-existent Spanish, you realize language barriers are still real. Ordering gets interesting. I asked for a dry white wine. Honestly don't care what – Chardonnay, Lugana, whatever – as long as it's not acidic and feels round and dry. That's basically what I gestured to the waitress. She got it.
The menu: Italian-Japanese fusion. How does that even work? I felt overwhelmed. Mediterranean and Japanese cuisines taste so different, I couldn't imagine fusing them. Almost couldn't. Started with beef carpaccio – perfect for a hungry guy like me. The bread, the olives they serve first (smart move – keeps you from over-ordering and rolling out sideways), all setting the stage.
The interior hits different. You enter through what feels like a hotel reception, complete with an oversized computer screen and – randomly – a horse carousel. They guide you through a dim lit hallway to your table. Solo dining means the single-person table with limited views, but honestly, who cares when your eyes are processing black and white lines, chandeliers, neon signs, all this elegant chaos on comfy couches.
Then the food arrives. Italian-Japanese fusion sounds illegal until you taste what these chefs are doing. The steak tartare looked almost sad at first, just some Cipriani sauce, could've used something green. Initial disappointment. Then I took that first bite and my taste buds went absolutely mental. Put my fork down. Remembered what my mother used to say: when something's truly delicious, you naturally slow down. That's exactly what happened. Sitting alone, not checking my phone, just experiencing food. That's as rare as what i was actually eating.
Then came the hidden gem. The craziest thing I've ever had: Creamy Uramaki of Truffle. Shrimp tempura, salmon, avocado, eel sauce, creamy truffle, furikake. Little soy sauce. Pick it up. Don't you dare bite. Stuff the whole thing in so your brain has no choice but to become one giant taste receptor. Almost in some kind of zen-state I put down my chopsticks. Started smiling. Then laughing. The sushi chef noticed, and next thing I know, three Nigiris appear. The waitress tells me exactly how to eat them. My heart jumped. I wanted to stay forever.
Eventually asked for the check. 62 euros for food like this, in tourist-trap Barcelona? Come on. You need to try this place.
