Best Meals Of My Life: La Cova Fumada
Just a quick post today, not much to say. Last week was kind of an odd one. I’m feeling a bit cooped up lately. I miss traveling. I know some people have it much rougher than I do, but you live in your own situation, right? Your stuff always affects you, whether it’s trivial to other people or not.
Anyways, I thought I might recap some of the best meals of my life. That is, if my old photography allows, anyways. Today I was thinking about a lunch Liz and I had in Barcelona.
In the neighborhood of Barceloneta sits a tiny little tapas bar called La Cova Fumada. It came highly recommended to us by several friends of mine, as well as the travel guides and walking tours Liz likes to research before we travel somewhere new.
La Cova Fumada (“The Smoked Cave”) is a Barcelona institution when it comes to old-school delicious food. It’s been open since 1944 and has no signage over either door. Rather, you come looking for the great food and convivial atmosphere. It pulls you in from the street outside.
A stone’s throw from the ocean, the seafood is amazing. Everything we had was so fresh and delicious, treated humbly and lovingly. Each morsel of the sea sang of what it was. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
We sat at a tiny table, asked for white wine and received a pitcher and two tiny glasses. It was the perfect wine for a warm day, cold and crisp. The presentation was unfussy and friendly. Our server asked us if we were hungry, to which we replied “Absolutely!” He then asked us the one-word question we’d been waiting for:
“Bombas?”
Oh yes, please. Bombas.
If you don’t know, a bomba is a croquette on steroids. It might be the most delicious one bite of food you ever put into your mouth. Loosely translated, the bomba is a “potato bomb”; a morsel of shredded pork, wrapped in mashed potato, floured, egg-washed, crumbed and then deep fried gently in Spanish olive oil. They are served with traditional aioli and a spicy sauce of cayenne peppers. They are phenomenal, and sometimes in the middle of the night, I bolt upright in bed, awakened by the thought of them.
We told our server we trusted him, and to just bring us a few more plates. What followed was a study of fresh, delicate seafood. Every dish was our favorite, and while no dish could top the previous one, somehow each was also better than the last.
Various fish gave way to sublime plates of tender squid and baby octopus.
Finally, a plate of the freshest, plumpest whole shrimp I’ve ever had was set before us. They were cooked perfectly in the shells, just with a hint of spice and we eagerly devoured them. Every last drop of flavour was extracted from the heads. It was the perfect way to end a lunch.
We napped long and well after this meal, and although we had many memorable meals in Barcelona, this one sticks out in my mind. The atmosphere, the location, the honest feeling of being welcome in a space, and of course, the food. If ever you find yourself in Barcelona, you’d be a fool not to visit this gem. I mean, when travel becomes a thing again, anyways.
