Ciutat Comtal
I love Barcelona!
We have not had a bad meal here. Let me change that, we’ve had nothing but GOOD meals here! Last night we went to Loidi, which had severe decor (and no music!) and tiny portions on the prix fixe menu, but the food was SO good. The veal was scrumptious!Â
And we had veal again tonight!
So we’re leaving in the a.m. Not over the Pole, that only happens if you’re flying via London, and actually, it’s not really the Pole, but northern Canada, sorry Arlo Guthrie. And needing a bite before we put our heads on our pillows we exited the hotel for Citrus, next door, which Andrea said was good.
But at the foot of the ramp I ran into Simon, the concierge, I’m a stickler for data, I love information, I’m constantly grazing for opinions. Simon pooh-poohed Citrus and said we had to go to Ciutat Comtal. Over one block and then down two.
Turned out to be down only one, but I’m not quibbling, because Simon was so right!
It was the way he waxed rhapsodic about the tapas that told me we had to go there.
One especially, a skewer of dates, bacon and cheese… We ordered this. DELICIOUS! With the dates inside the caramelized bacon.
But just as good was the veal sirloin flauta. MMMM! The drippings of the meat invaded the bread and one bite was like a magic carpet ride to heaven. And they’ve got real bread here, none of that phony L.A. soft stuff, the exterior is hard, it’s got CRUNCH!
The only loser was the Greek salad. Too much feta, not enough vegetables.
And the dessert! For such a lame billing, "Cake With Fruits", after quizzing the waiter it sounded like strawberry shortcake, so we got it. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sauce, an elixir of butterscotch and caramel, Felice had to savor the remnants with the tip of her finger.
Yes, Ciutat Comtal was a factory. The food started coming while I was in the bathroom, just having ordered. But the vibe! A counter with elements under glass like in a sushi bar, the din of waiting eaters, the savoring of tapas at each and every table…It felt so ALIVE!
So the magic everybody always talks about in Barcelona, I now feel it too. The museums are better in Florence. The shopping is better in Rome. But the overall feeling, the sensation that you’re a member of the cult even though you just arrived…I’ve never experienced this anywhere else!
