El Rey de la Gamba 1

It started with a small thing: nobody wrote down what we said. One portion requested, two portions billed, and when we questioned it, the shrug we received was the most animated service of the afternoon. On the Barceloneta promenade, with touts filling the terrace at El Rey de la Gamba, perhaps the kitchen feels no need to try. Our fish tasted of the freezer and of little else, the cuttlefish had the give of rubber, and the shellfish arrived carrying sand and remnants a careful rinse would have removed. For me the table is sacred and a bill should read like a receipt for pleasure; this one read like a toll. The sea deserves better, the city offers better within a short walk, and my advice is to take that walk. I will not be going back to see whether anything improves.