Quick Bites: El Bar

It’s always interesting to see where past chefs of great restaurants end up, whether within the bosom of a less famous restaurant where they can dance more to the beat of their own drum, or, if they can afford it, their own place. El Bar is where Brian Matic, a Filipino chef previously at Saüc, landed together with Sergi Jimenez, sommelier and front-of-house, previously of Colibri. So despite the non-event of the exterior—frosted glass windows do little to entice one in—and the fact that this part of the Eixample Esquerra has always felt a bit soulless, El Bar does have a certain draw. Tripadvisor scribblers describe it as a ‘hidden gem’, and rightly so, for the truth is, were it not for an invitation from their PR (disclaimer), I’d probably never have stumbled across it.

The entrance leads you down some stairs to the Copenhagen-style, demi-basement—a light-filled, modern space warmed by stripped back wooden beams, slate-coloured walls and some interesting newspaper-print tiles. There’s a long, inviting bar with a less inviting TV screen for the football and slightly challenging acoustics, so I can’t help but feel they need to harness some kind of identity, be it tapas bar or modern bistro. But in an odd kind of way it does reassure me I’m somewhere thoroughly and unapologetically Catalan. That goes for the food too, albeit of the modish variety, which we order in half portions.

It’s all solid, perfectly executed stuff, but there are a handful of standout dishes that place El Bar some way ahead of its kind. A gigantic seared scallop on macadamia puree with lime jelly I find to be a quite brilliant combination; calçots wrapped in filo pastry, strewn liberally with Parmesan before being baked into crunchy, maddeningly moreish ‘cigars’ are possibly the best finger food ever, and the beef and duck liver cannelloni slathered in black truffles is as decadent as possible when it comes to reinterpreting the classics. Finally, there’s a cheese cart that is, frankly, a magnificent beast of a thing and includes some solid Catalan and Spanish offerings, such as an excellent herby goats’ cheese from Sort. But confronted with a Époisses de Bourgogne, that looked like fondue and gorgonzola from Milan that you eat with a spoon, I’m afraid my loyalty to my adopted home went careening out the door.