Leña Barcelona

On this broad, calm block of Les Corts, the light from Leña's windows does half the persuading before you reach the door. Once inside, the grill sets the rhythm, but what won me over was the drinking. Wine is handled as part of the meal's machinery, never an upsell: bottles suggested to match smoke and char, poured at the right moment, topped up without hovering. Ask vaguely and you get an answer with an opinion inside it, my favourite sign of a floor that tastes what it sells. The cooking has swagger and delivers on it, and the glasses keep pace all night, che meraviglia when both halves of a table pull together like that. I pass this way seldom, in truth, but every visit ends with me lingering over the last pour, promising myself the next one before the year gets away.