Tram-Tram

Up in Sarrià the street still behaves like a village, and Tram-Tram belongs to it: a genteel room where the loudest sound all evening was a cork leaving a bottle. I mean that as praise. The hush lets you hear the cooking, Catalan classics treated as a living foundation, modern touches applied with restraint and always in service of the roots. My mother would have recognised half of what I ate and been curious about the rest; that is the balance I want. Cooking points honest, seasoning measured, the calm of a kitchen that has had time to settle. Trends pass this place by, and everything is better for it. I could eat here every month without it ever going stale, and in a city this loud, an evening this unhurried deserves guarding.