The Spanish Civil War may have ended five years earlier, but in 1944 Barcelona was still recovering from the conflict. Franco’s budding dictatorship had put in place a complicated social and economic situation, while the city’s port – home to a humming underground black market – was rebuilding its fishing fleet, as fascist bombs had destroyed most of the boats during the war. Amidst all this action and uncertainty, the Galician Millán family opened a restaurant named Carballeira on Reina Cristina Street, in the Pas de Sota Muralla neighborhood of Port Vell (Old Port). Fisherman and port workers flocked to the restaurant, where over fish soup, grilled sardines, prawns or a bowl of hearty Galician Caldo Gallego – and almost certainly a glass of wine – they talked about the situation.

Sants is a working neighborhood with an industrial past and a communal present, both of which it proudly flaunts. There are the street names – like L’Espanya Industrial, Carrer Wat (dedicated to the engineer James Watt) and Vapor Vell (Old Steam) – that tell the story of industrialization in Catalonia, and the two buzzing municipal markets and the many bodegas and restaurants, like Terra de Escudella or Bodega Salvat, that serve as meeting points for an engaged community. Although shaped by a diverse set of international influences, the neighborhood’s sophisticated culinary scene is tied together by something more local: vermut culture.

One of the tenets of the Slow Food movement is that it’s impossible to make a really good meal out of industrial food. Of course certain ingredients can pass muster with diners even if they’re grown on an industrial farm. Yet sustainable farming has an obvious impact – it’s not just a matter of better tasting and healthier food but also environmental and societal benefits. In Barcelona, we are surrounded by a large number of independent, sustainable producers that, too often, are completely invisible. They work in nearby provincial areas such as El Prat, El Penedès, El Vallès, El Garraf and El Maresme that give forth a veritable cornucopia of food goods: vegetables, fruits, nuts, legumes, olive oil, cheese, marmalades, cereals, flours, honey, meat, fish, wine, vermut, beer and more. These producers work hard every day to remain independent and adhere to stringent standards of sustainability and quality.

The Slow Food movement may be all about slow living, but its spread around the world has been nothing short of speedy. What began as a protest against the opening of a McDonald’s in the Piazza di Spagna in Rome in 1986 has morphed into an international organization that safeguards some of the most authentic and unique local food products in 160 countries across the world, and even receives UN recognition and support for this important work. In Spain, the Slow Food movement mainly consists of independent regional groups made up of chefs, producers and other food-related professionals, and its influence continues to grow as new initiatives are gradually launched.

On the night of June 22, a fire is lit at the top of Canigó mountain in the Pyrenees. All through the night, hundreds of volunteer torchbearers carry the flame to towns and villages throughout the four provinces of Catalonia. The arrival of the flame the next day signals the start of the Revetlla de Sant Joan (St. John’s Eve celebration). Bonfires, firecrackers and fireworks light up the night, and people while away the hours drinking, eating and dancing in public squares and beaches or at parties. Fire, noisemaking and dancing are the main ingredients of St. John’s Eve, the Christian adaptation of ancient pagan celebrations of the summer solstice.

The streets are nearly empty. As light cascades down cobbled thoroughfares, dog walkers shield their eyes and market-goers tow their rickety carts toward Mercado de la Bretxa. The market of San Sebastián sits underneath a square just a pebble’s skip from crashing waves surging up the mouth of the Urumea Itsasadarra River. Lamps glowing red illuminate butchers navigating dangling strings of txistorra, Basque chorizo, while across the aisle, an bright white storefront advertises every imaginable form of bacalao, or salt cod. Tucked in a rear corner, Bar Azkena has been crafting delicate fluffy breakfasts for nearly 20 years. Tortillas, or omelets, stuffed with surprises like squid ink and blood sausage fill the bar counter, necessitating foldout tabletops and overflow seating across the aisle.

There are certain places that experience the strange phenomenon where everything and nothing change at the same time. Take the example of El Racó del Mariner (The Sailor’s Corner), located for 40 years at the old fishermen’s dock in the port of La Barceloneta until it was forced to move when the area was turned into a marina for luxury yachts. Regardless, even at its new address in the modern Port Fórum area, reaching El Racó del Mariner requires that you cross a port police checkpoint, just as you had to at the old spot.

Inside Barcelona’s lesser-known Mercat de Les Corts is a small, unassuming bar offering up the bounty of the Mediterranean. El Bisaura opens up shop at 6:30 a.m., serving esmorzars de forquilla (hearty Catalan breakfasts like sausage and beans, tripe stew and grilled cuttlefish) to local workers. At lunch, it serves a more refined seafood menu composed of whatever owner Alfonso Puig gets from Peixateria Anna, the fish stand on the other side of the market. The fish and seafood of the day are always seasonal, local and impeccably fresh – which is no surprise, since Puig is also the owner of the fish stand.

Mornings in Barcelona start with a strong "tallat" coffee and "pa amb tomàquet" (bread with tomato) along with some "tortilla" slices fresh from the market's bar! A promising start to a rewarding culinary walk!

A flashback from the end of March where we captured the first local peas as they hit Barcelona's outdoor markets.

Sergi de Meiá, in his own words, “started in cuisine the day he was born,” growing up as he did in his mother’s restaurant. He received his first cooking lessons from her and from a family full of chefs and cooks before heading off to cooking school at 14. Nowadays, his mother, Adelaida Castells, is still a fundamental part of the team at de Meiá’s restaurant and is in charge of the most traditional recipes they make. Those dishes are part of a concept dedicated to Catalan cuisine that is, de Meiá says, “evolutionary” and “determined by nature,” a tribute to local products, mixing tradition and modernity in the same pot and in a menu that includes a few historic recipes as well as vegan options.

Barcelona’s urban sprawl makes it easy to forget that the city is adjacent to two fertile regions to the north and south, El Maresme and El Baix Llobregat, which provide numerous hyperlocal culinary treasures throughout the year. In spring as in other seasons, these treasures appear at markets and restaurants, their origins proudly displayed, sometimes even with the names of the specific villages that they come from. The coast and gently sloping mountains of El Maresme are home to numerous villages, three natural parks and beaches. Unsurprisingly, there’s an abundance of seafood here, including gamba de Arenys (Arenys prawns), scampi (escamarlans in Catalan, cigalas in Spanish) and little Mediterranean sand eels (sonsos in Catalan).

The last calçots of the season mark the beginning of Barcelona's spring. Grab a batch on our Made in Catalonia walk while you still can!

Some sociologists say that Spanish society and culture can’t be properly understood without spending time in its bars. You can find bars in mountain refuges, subway stations, on the beach and by the highway. In Barcelona, there are as many bars as taxis and ten times more bars than bookshops. In fact, a recent study by Coca-Cola found that in Spain there’s a bar for every 132 Spaniards. The same study points out that a third of Spaniards wouldn’t hesitate to leave their house keys at their local bar and that two-thirds of them are on a first-name basis with the employees there.

It all started with a seriously delicious hamburger in New York City. Rumor has it that it was this burger that first gave acclaimed Catalan chef Oriol Rovira the idea of opening Sagàs Pagesos y Cuiners (“Farmers and Cooks”) in the Born district of Barcelona. Specializing in high-end sandwiches, the restaurant embraces the farm-to-table philosophy, with a menu that is both distinctively Catalan and international in scope. Rovira, who also runs Els Casals, a Michelin-starred restaurant in the tiny village of Sagàs near the edge of the Pyrenees, opened his sandwich spot in May 2011. As at Els Casals, nearly all of the food at the Barcelona venue comes straight from the chef’s village farm. But why sandwiches?