High and Low Eating...

We've finally found our eating groove here in Catalan country. We ate some blah, touristy stuff, but starting yesterday at breakfast... yumm. Surprising that the first good meal was at the ultra-touristy market just off La Rambla. But we found a counter cafe near the back that was devoid of Brits, Yanks, and Krauts... well, at least while we were there anyway. There's something about having an omelet and a quick beer for breakfast that sits well the rest of the day.

That night we went to a fancy restaurant recommended by Chowhounds. They've given us some good advice, though you do have to filter through the "I'm more obscure than thou" vibe. Drolma, in the Hotel Majestic, was sumptuous from the first. We sat at an enormous table for two, looking out over the wide boulevard. The first tastes were an array of bready, cheesy things, but that makes you think of cloying bites. These were light and ethereal, but still bread and cheese.

The wine we chose was particularly fine, a Miguel Torres 2001 Mas la Plana that we chose because Ira knows the part of the family that migrated to Sonoma Valley. Then we chose the Market Menu, which turned out to be one of the best three meals we've had so far.

• Dublin Bay prawn pureee with a fennel gelee.
• Sturgeon and pumpkin ravioli in vegetable soup. (The richness balanced by the clear broth.)
• Cream of mushrooms (ceps) with a deliciously cool foie gras chunk, plus some chopped artichokes and ceps.
• Baby squid, tender with just the right amount of chew.
• OK sea bass. This was the only dish that wasn't outstanding. It felt overcooked, though I think I'm just comparing it to the masterly performace of l'Ambroisie in Paris.
• Leg of baby goat, with a rich glaze and creamy mashed potatoes.
• There was a rich chocolate cake, but the best dessert course was a marshmallow. All the restaurants are serving them on a little plate at the end, but this one was tinted with orange blossom aroma and flavor and was like eating the flower from the tree.
  

It was the type of meal to put you in a reflective mood, as we sat and enjoyed the view out the window. Now, it wasn't all gravy. There was this annoying Italian couple in the same room who smoked constantly. They seemed to have read a book on how to be Bohemian and they were going to follow instructions until the end. They were affected and fake fake fake.

Today, after the Picasso Museum we went to a small, cooler-than-thou place on Carrer Saint Pau called Romesco that I heard about on Chowhound. (And yes, I feel bad about bad-mouthing them earlier now.) It's unprepossessing. Ira refused the first time we walked by because of the pinball/lottery machine in the front and the overall formica and fluorescent feel to the place. But I persisted and we were rewarded with a fine meal. I had the chickpeas, which were cooked in sausage fat. Then I had the rabbit, which was simply cooked with garlic. Unpretentious and just plain fun. Despite its renown as a place for a cheap meal, we heard nothing but Catalan around us. In a town so deluged with tourists, that felt like a small victory. Travel day tomorrow, then Venice!