It was the 19th century and Barcelona was full of what were known as Fondas de ‘sisos’, taverns that offered typical Catalan cuisine – and were responsible for introducing the tradition of paella on Thursdays – for six reales. They were popular places, designed for families and workers, which were very famous during the Renaixença.
But with the arrival of the Universal Exhibition of 1888, things changed. Tourism and urban reforms in the area where the event was held gradually led to the disappearance of these inns, which were replaced by more pompous restaurants, with names in French or Italian, appealing to that cosmopolitan spirit that Barcelona had already pursued centuries ago.
History is a wheel that repeats itself and the same thing that happened then is being experienced today in areas of the Catalan capital such as superilla of Eixample, a peaceful area with a lot of tourist influx. With the arrival of visitors – and the consequent rise in rental prices for premises and homes – traditional residents and businesses have given way to boutiques. souveniryes, coworkings and gastro-bars.
But there are still some places that remain intact. One of them is the El Funicular bar, which has been part of the city’s history. So much so that it was where they arrested to Salvador Puig Antich. Its former owner is Justina Cardete, a thin woman, born in Cuenca in 1936 who, despite already being retired and having left the baton to her children, continues to spend her days in the restaurant. “This is my house,” he says, literally and figuratively.
Justina arrived in Barcelona when she was 14 and immediately found work at El Funicular. An Italian, Ana Maria Filomeno, founded the bar before the war and opened its doors. “He sold wine, sodas and siphons. Also menus of between six and ten pesetas,” he remembers. He worked long days that ended in a modest bed located on the second floor of the premises.
Last century, this neighborhood was home to some small factories and companies such as FECSA, the College of Pharmacists or the editorial office of El Periódico de Catalunya, which filled the tables in the bars at breakfast and lunch time. But over the years, many of these businesses have disappeared or moved. “A long time ago there were eight restaurants like mine, which were needed to feed all those people. But now only me is left. The rest, for the tourists,” Justina laments.
His bar has no generational change, since both his two children, Ana and Juanjo, and his nephew Manuel, who also works with them, are on the verge of retirement. And the grandchildren have a life away from the kitchen. “We have many suitors, but we don’t like all of them,” explains the hotelier. Her place is sweet and is attracting investors “the kind that make all bars the same,” Justina laments.
She has been at El Funicular for almost 75 years and has held its license since its founder died and gave it to her. “She was a second mother to me. “He taught me everything I know.” For this reason, she is worried that the heritage of this Italian entrepreneur will disappear and her bar will become in the umpteenth brunch place in Barcelona. “Look what happened to those next door,” Justina laments.
It refers to the Betlem gastro-bar, a establishment that dates back to 1982. This family business began as Miscelànea and was a grocery store that supplied products to all the bars in the area, including Justina’s. Over the years and still in the hands of the family, it became a tapas bar. But it could not withstand the onslaught of the pandemic and the business was sold to a chain of gastro-bars.
Now, tapas have given way to briskets, salmon tartare and poached eggs. Dishes that are served to a largely foreign clientele and with a price that is close to or exceeds what El Funicular asks for a complete menu. On the other hand, on the adjoining terrace, neighbors from the neighborhood gather, those who ask for “the usual” and who call Justina by her name.
Maintain the essence in a “soulless” neighborhood
“Staying here is resistance.” The speaker is Arnau, one of the workers at the La Riera winery, in the heart of Vallcarca. The place was born in the 40s, when the neighborhood was still on the outskirts of Barcelona. “It was the suburbs. People came here by car to have an aperitif or dinner after the cinema,” he explains. The place was popular, but it lost momentum as the years went by and the neighborhood changed, losing workers and neighbors.
Vallcarca is an area of contrasts: pending urban reform since 2002, it accumulates substandard housing and shanty settlements, while developments with high rental prices and full of tourist and seasonal apartments are being erected. “We are very close to Parc Güell,” summarizes Josep, also a worker in La Riera. “The neighborhood is soulless. It’s all souvenir shops, some soulless bars and places with lockers to leave suitcases and surfboards,” these hoteliers say.
In fact, it is curious that, despite being in a city full of bars and terraces, in this area of Vallcarca it is difficult to find a place to sit. But they, as they say, resist. Its objective is not to serve beers, but to reconnect with the history of the neighborhood. Seeing that the fate of the winery was doomed, its former owner did not want to leave it in the hands of anyone and went to the ateneu anarchist, who formed a cooperative to take charge of it. Today there are five partners and two workers who run this tavern, which preserves the barrels of vermouth and wine, as well as some tiles that refer to times gone by.
“It’s sad, but despite not having a stove, we are the best place to eat in the neighborhood,” says Arnau, who boasts that at the wooden tables of La Riera, “punks with trans people, grandparents, workers and scrap metal dealers gather.” . And everyone talks and conspires,” he says, laughing. La Riera’s menu is modest, because they cannot afford a kitchen license, but that does not stop them from offering tapas and cold sandwich menus with imaginative proposals, at reasonable prices, using local products and, for the most part, vegan.
“That has made us appear in some rankings. And it makes us very angry. Because we are not known for our history, but because we make cheap, vegan food. And we don’t want that pijerío who comes here to see a super-authentic place,” says Josep, emphatically, who wants to make it clear that neither vegan food nor vermouth are essentially expensive. “They are only so because they have become fashionable. And that ruins everything,” he says.
An ode to ’emorzar de forquilla’
In a city with as much gastronomic offer as Barcelona, Internet rankings and lists are a widely used tool to find places to sit down and eat. Now, according to what La Riera warns, they are cheaters: “They take us to places that are all the same and they take away from us what is so nice about getting to know places in the neighborhood.” For this reason, various alternative list initiatives have emerged since the pandemic. One of the most successful is ‘Esmorzars de Forquilla’.
This Catalan term, which translates as ‘fork breakfast’, describes the lunch that farm workers ate to have a great caloric intake and endure long days. Then, these meals made up of hearty dishes such as cheeks, pig’s feet or cap i potawere adopted by mountain lovers, walkers or cyclists. And Sunday people in general. But over the years, have been losing popularity compared to other gastronomic proposals.
“We tend to despise what is ours and believe that what is outside is better. The ’emorzar de forquilla’ is neither better nor worse than the ‘brunch’, but it is our history,” explains Albert Molins, journalist and founder of what was first a Twitter account and then became an app that collects and recommends places where this type of Catalan lunch is served.
In four years – less than one since the app was started – they have collected 2,500 restaurants and have more than 45,500 users. “This shows that there is interest in traditional foodbut it had been made invisible in the face of the avalanche of other proposals,” assumes Molins.
This journalist and lover of traditional gastronomy He recognizes that, perhaps, eating a sausage with beans for breakfast is not for everyone. But it claims variety and uniqueness in the face of the homogeneity of the gastro-bars that populate large cities. “All cards are equal. Eggs bennedict, octopus with parmentier and a salmon that they say comes from Norway, but in reality comes from fishing boats in Senegal that are destroying the coast and the local economy,” he says.
Justina, from behind her bar, shows her menu. She doesn’t have pig’s feet, but she does have cannelloni and someday also fricandó. “It’s normal for people to want to try new things, and that’s okay. But let’s not forget ours. And our thing is also to serve the usual people, at reasonable prices, cuisine without modernities, but made with love,” says this woman, while watching her family serve dishes and coffees.
They are among the last bastions of a changing neighborhood and, although they will not be able to decide what will happen to what has been their home when they leave, they will leave with their heads held high. “We have done what we had to do, and we have done it well,” he emphasizes.
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