Glug, European, Eixample

Glug likely refers to the wine dispenser in bubble gum pink that serves as a feature element on the wall facing the front door. Six taps with a neat indexing of the wine options affixed to the wall above the taps. Local varieties like Garnatxa and Xarello but also Italian Nebbiolo and French Gamay.  A glass of wine is 4.5€ – 5.5€ around the same price as a cup of coffee in Barcelona these days and a third of what you will pay in Paris or London.

Pricing has a lot to do with Glug’s success as do the bold design choices taken. Glug is cheap. Eight dishes to share, a glass of wine each and we are still only at 35€ a head and fail to work up the appetite to share more than one dessert. Although the desire is there.

Meanwhile, the interior is a string of unlikely decisions that unite to create a distinct space. Chief amongst them is the use of red grout to set off the drab grey tiles that form the extensive wrap-around bar. The colour is echoed in the burgundy the window frames are painted in. The floor is a pseudo terrazzo. A simple rendition of chunky granite floating on a strawberry sundae pink background on large tiles.

They say you should never compare your children and so it stands to reason that can be extended to restaurants but I’ve never managed to stay within the lines. I am going to write this under my breath: Glug feels like it could turn into Berbena when it grows up. Here is another one, if you put Berbena, Suru Bar and Bar el Pollo in a ven diagram the overlap in the middle might turn out to be Glug.

I haven’t even told you about the food. There is cheek in the menu, playfulness. The croqueta at Glug is a tennis ball sized and filled with macaroni (3.5€). At once usurping the delicious proposition of both macaroni cheese and the croqueta. (Dare I say, this is the punch Arancini balls wish they could deliver.) Similarly, Glug sidesteps the entire conversation of “Bravas a nuestra manera” by getting rid of the spud entirely and replacing it with flattened battered and fried white shrimp crunchy enough that they could be a potato chip.

The celeriac is a miss. I’ve yet to see celeriac mastered in Barcelona (the celeriac at both Mantis and Xavier Pellicier were both a mistreatment of the ugly root). It is shaved thinly and folded like a ribbon in a salty hazelnut sauce with a smoked stracciatella. I pick out the stracciatella and drape it on bread.

The perfectly executed tortelini speaks to some serious talent in the kitchen as does the broth the smooth buttons float in. Again the filling is on the salty side. The chef must be in love alternatively they must be trying to navigate the extreme popularity that Glug is in the throes of. Glug went from unknown to impossible to get a table at instantly. I naively walked in when they pulled up the shutter at 7 pm a couple of months ago only to face the reality, that reservations are made online and there is at least a month to wait. I follow procedure, securing a two-top for a future date and finding my lunch date a couple of weeks before. When I misplace my reservation and DM Glug on Instagram, I get a reply at 3 am. Are any of the staff at Glug sleeping? Not for the first time I marvel at the dedication and grit it takes to open and run an independent kitchen.

Dessert should be ordered in multiples. The “we are not hungry so let’s share one dessert” sentiment evaporates instantly when we meet the banana popcorn ice cream sandwich. Don’t make the same mistake as us, you will have to wait two whole months for another chance.

The irony of Glug’s predicament is that it has spontaneous neighbourhood restaurant prices and vibes but is almost as hard to get a table at as Disfrutar. None of this should stand against it. The friend I had lunch with had a clever strategy.
“Treat it as you would the dentist. When you finish your check-up, make the appointment for your next appointment on your way out.”

Glug
instagram.com/glug.bar
Carrer de Viladomat, 289 and Carrer de París, 77
08029 Eixample