Dining Out 068: El Xampanyet
Lunch in El Born.
This week I spent a couple of days in Barcelona on a work trip. It’s been a while since I last went, because my jaunts there in the past were mostly centred on Primavera Sound, which I have not bothered with since they made the bridge that connects the entire site accessible to only Soho House members or something.
As such, my experience of Barcelona’s food has largely been limited to festival cuisine: burritos costing 15 euros, 2/3 size Heinekens, massive bags of Lays crisps consumed exclusively on the man-made beach while nursing The Rock In His 2001 Prime-sized hangovers, and shitloads of patatas bravas. This time I wanted to cast my net a bit wider, so I used my Ask the Audience lifeline, and posted an Insta story asking for recommendations for my short stay. The overwhelming champ among my mates was El Xampanyet in El Born, so during some downtime, that’s where I went, with my colleague and pal Tanya, who humoured me lots over the course of this visit (thank you Tanya <3).
El Xampanyet is a lil hole-in-the-wall tapas place with a reputation that obviously precedes it - when we arrived at about 3PM, there was a (short, in fairness) queue, and while there are many, many other places in the area to eat, lots of which are undoubtedly great, I’m glad that we waited the 20 minutes or so to get in, because I can’t really imagine having a first proper tapas meal more complete feeling than this one.
Here, you can stand at the counter - where there is a little miniature car showroom of montaditos, in front of a bar lined with bottles of spirits I have never even heard of - or sit on stools in front of a pretty wall tiled in blue near the door, or right at the back. We opted for seats, and chose some dishes quite quickly - some seafood, some meat, some veg, all killer, no filler.
What I liked best about El Xampanyet (other than the three euro wine) was how clearly well-oiled this operation is, in order that punters get to have what I would describe as a perfectly paced eating experience. Your little bits come first - the montaditos and patatas escalivadas come out of their display cabinet, and down to your table - then you get your slightly more complicated bits (mini sardines fillets fanned out cutely on a plate; peppers with cream cheese, because I am only human). After that, comes your grilled seafood and meats, and finally for us was a Spanish omelette with chorizo. There were also copious rounds of bread in amongst all of this because the good people at El Xampanyet are not in the business of pissing about.
It felt like we barely waited at all for food, but I also had the sense that I was taking my time, and going at entirely my own pace. When I got up and left, I felt weirdly elated as I walked down the street, like I’d experienced something genuinely new and novel. Obviously, I had not, duh, but it felt new, or at least refreshing, to me, because the simultaneous relaxation and efficiency of the whole thing just made being at El Xampanyet feel like so much fun. Food in London can be - often is, in fact - extremely laboured and effortful and, let’s face it, quite wankerfied. This, however, was just the complete and utter opposite: simple and accomplished and totally laid back because of that. Everyone was operating at an elite level, but nobody was trying because it was all muscle memory. What a thing, to be able to make your punters feel so comfortable. Anyway, I loved it so much that I’ve written an itemised rundown of everything we ate below, for fun but also to give individual picky bits the attention they so richly deserve.
(You’ll also note that I have somewhat solved my issue of being absolutely shit at taking photos of food, by giving my point and shoot digicam - which has a lovely way of making even the crappest composition look glam - a run out. Any feedback welcome, unless it is bad.)
Copa de Xampanyet
House cava, served by the expertly filled coupe at the table from a clear glass bottle with a metal stopper. Like the ones most restaurants serve water out of. When I asked for a second helping, the server came to my table, nodded at the dregs left in the bottom of my glass, and went “finish it then,” which I had to do before he would even countenance pouring me a new one. Two euros ninety. Enough to make me go full FBPE.
Montaditos
I think that when you say “tapas” you probably do think first of montaditos, which look quite iconic (in the dictionary meaning of the word and also the slay mama meaning of the word), and are basically bits of bread with various really good things on. Firstly we had peppers stuffed with tuna - essentially roasted peppers, draped, “paint me like one of your French girls”-style, around tuna mousse. A slightly odd flavour combo, but said flavours were great individually (vivid, rich peppers; smooth, savoury tuna; a brusque little olive), so I didn’t especially mind.
Secondly there was ham. Ham! What else can we say? Few nations better at ham than the Spanish. Let’s hear it for ham.
Mini sardinetes en oli d’oliva; pebrots amb formage
Both kings of the picky bits aisle and so of course even better here - virtuosic even. The voltage of the thrill that coursed through my body when I saw how those little sardines had been arranged could have powered a small village for like, a day.
Patates escalivades
What it is is that you get half of a potato smeared with addictively eggy mayo, and a little blob of roasted pepper and tomato in paprika on top, and you immediately order four more because what the fuck man.
Gambes amb all
There are few things more pleasing to me than a plate of garlicky little prawns and I think most of us would clap like seals upon being presented with the above. These were sweet and tender - as if there would even be the hint of a chewy shrimp at an establishment such as this - and peeling them down to get every morsel we could was a big part of the fun. Also, the serving comes with a single use wipe for the paws of everyone at the table so that maximum enjoyment can be had without concern, which is phenomenal service. Arf arf bitch!
Truita de patates i xorico
A perfect circle of bright egg, salty chorizo, and earthy potato. As a symbol, the circle represents completeness, wholeness, oneness. As does, in many ways, this excellent omelette. I’d have liked it to be gloopier if I’m splitting hairs but honestly who cares?
OTHER STUFF OF NOTE FROM THIS WEEK:
Elsewhere in Barcelona I did have a very gloopy (complimentary) tortilla at Colmado Wilmot. Write it down, gloop fans.
I went to the press night for Ornella, which is the new sister restaurant to Lupa in Highbury, headed up by Milanese chef Naz Hassan, whose food I have historically liked. For me it was a big fat hit - focaccia you could shove under your head for a brilliant night’s sleep, a dish referred to on the menu as “butter and Parmesan tagliatelle” which made me hit the Gob Bluth “COME ON” button extremely hard, and a chicken schnitzel for which I chanted BIG CHICKEN NUGGET at the table:
The big chicken nugget in question.
Also, potato puree to rival The French House’s “would you like some potato with your butter approach” (this rocks). I think the desserts could do with a bit of refinement but otherwise it gets a certified “hell yeah” from me.Next week I’m going glamping, lol. For journalism x
Dining Out is written by Lauren O’Neill. Weekly articles are free to read every Sunday, and you can follow me on Instagram here, but if you’d like to see more, you can subscribe for £5 pcm or £50 annually to get extra content a few times a month. Click below to see paid and free subscription options, and thanks very much for reading.