Eldelmar

Let me be blunt: I walked down to the Port Olímpic braced to be fleeced, and left wanting to apologise. This is Catalan marinera cooking done as though the marina's reputation did not exist: the day's catch given its due, rice with genuine depth, a kitchen that knows the sea rather than merely selling views of it. On that stretch the bill is the true test, and it passed. Not a small number, no, but every line of it accounted for on the plate, which is rarer along the front than anywhere else in the city. Take a table facing the boats and let the afternoon stretch; this is built for the long lunch. I only find myself out that way occasionally, yet each time I do, the money feels traded, not taken, and that sensation alone brings me back.