Bon Profit

One of my coworkers, Sergio, thinks the idea of going out to eat alone at a restaurant is a sad concept.  He can't imagine doing anything of the sort.  I, on the other hand, seem to charge into situations alone more often than not.  And you know what?  Just because I start off the night alone doesn't mean I won't end it in good company.

I have heard wonderful things about Bar Jaica, a little seafood bar down in Barceloneta, since my first weeks in the city.  

  

I haven't eaten nearly enough seafood here, given how plentiful it is on menus and in marketplaces.  It was time to change that.  In terms of decor, Bar Jaica has a little bit of everything: a touch of stained glass, a bar topped with an impressive array of all things ceramic with spouts, barrel ends adorned with framed pictures or signed jerseys, tapas on display under glass, seafood fried in portions on a customer's whim, and the comforting murmur of great conversation.

 I arrived at around 8:00 pm and there were already no seats left.  There was space to stand at the bar, so I grabbed the empty place before it, too, disappeared.  From reviews online, I had an idea of what I wanted to order (I didn't see a menu during my entire time in the restaurant) and started off with a large portion of chipirones, which are fried baby squid, hot and crispy and salty.  The lemon cut the hot grease perfectly.

 Just about the time that my food arrived, I asked a gentleman at the table behind me if anyone was using the stool occupied by his backpack.  He said a friend was coming, but then got a guilty look and offered me the stool.  After a bit of prodding, I accepted but, given the bustle of the bar, ended up joining the man at his table for more space.  We struck up a conversation, discovered that we both love food, and smiled - a great night had begun.  He suggested we share an array of tapas - "they're meant to be eaten a little bit of everything at a time, you know," he advised in Spanish - and I accepted.  How else was I going to get a full taste of La Jaica cuisine?  And that's how our table ended up with the following La Jaica delicacies:

Fried shrimp (gambas).  You pull off the head shell and eat the rest of it in one big bite.

 Clams in an herbed broth.  Sucked out of the shell with a bit of lemon on top.  Mmmmm.
 The most glorious dish of the night; this stole my heart.  Pincho moruno is pork in paprika, and it is a revelation.
Bon profit, by the way, is the Catalan version of "bon apetit".
 My companion, Pedro, is a chef at Samsara, a tapas restaurant in Gracia.  Apparently, he used to be a tailor when he was younger but decided it wasn't his passion and - upon starting to work in a restaurant - found that he wanted to devote his life to cooking.  He learned quickly and now revels in finding oddly exquisite combinations of flavors (he was going on and on about porcini wrapped in pasta and covered with a white chocolate sauce and crumbled parmesan).  He showed me beautiful pictures of some recent experimental tapas, and they looked incredible.  Needless to say, when he invited me to come by the restaurant with friends, I was psyched.  Stay tuned for future Samsara adventures!
The night wore on as we shared large quantities of food and discussed our favorite aspects of Barcelona.  He kept suggesting events to see - currently occurring or those that had passed - and was surprised that I had been to all of them.  SuperTourist for the win!

Eating little baby clams

Tackling whole gambas

 Eventually, about an hour into our dinner, Pedro's friend did show up.  He was quite a character and only stopped by for fifteen minutes or so before hurrying off to another engagement.  I think he was involved in the restaurant business, too, but I couldn't quite understand him most of the time.
At around 11 pm, I wrapped up dinner in the hopes of a good night's sleep.  But when I went to pay, Pedro insisted and even teased me about my American feminist insistence that I would not be treated to dinner.  Eventually, I was allowed to leave the tip.  So, friends, I have no idea how much the food costs at La Jaica, but it's really good and completely worth the trip.
After dinner, I tried to find a Diobar, an dive with great live music on Friday and Saturday nights.  It doesn't seem to be my week; when I showed up at the listed address, there was no entrance to be found!  In any case, I was exhilarated but exhausted, and it was time to go home.  This statue next to Parc Ciutadella did catch my eye, though: 

It was a whole mess of furniture suspended at odd angles inside of a glass cube with water streaming down the sides and pooling at the bottom.  Not your everyday art, and it definitely deserved a Kids Don't Try This At Home warning.  After a bit of online investigation, I discovered that this art installation dates back to 1981 and is a monument to Picasso by Antoni Tapies.  The artist designed an assemblage of Moderniste furniture, a combination of a sofa, mirror, and cupboard smashed together and intersected by white-painted iron beams.  The piece is supposed to evoke the industrial nature of Barcelona during Picasso's formative years in the city.  Tapies then stuck the whole things inside a 4 meter-a-side glass cube so that he could run water down the sides... and protect it from the elements, too.  Apparently, this piece is supposed to prove that art can have a social function.  If nothing else, I guess that it can serve as an ice breaker in awkward social situations.

Spotted: Nighttime photography classes!

Are you a workaholic whose only free hours are after 11 pm on Friday nights?  Do you scorn the natural lighting of the sun and believe that the true lighting of art is the occasional street lamp?  Are you a vampire (the traditional, night time-only kind)?  If so, Barcelona has a photography class for you!  Sign right up.  Your teacher will invigorate you with motivational speeches via headset as he stands in the middle of a road that by day is busy but which, magically, is empty by night because everyone else has better places to be.