A Tu Bola‘s main activity is serving up round food. Meatballs the size of golf balls, falafel-brown and crunchy on the inside and a vibrant green on the inside or creative vegetarian ones made of sweet potatoes.
It’s the smallest of restaurants, about the size of my grandmother front room. Off to one side is an open kitchen, stocked with a deep fat fryer, a small grill and a hot plate. At the centre of this kitchen is a small, pretty woman named Shira, turning on the spot, putting together sandwiches or plates of roast cauliflower salad or mung bean noodles.
I start asking her questions, then think I might be bothering her as she is sending out food.
“Sorry, can you cook and talk? Or am I distracting you?” I ask.
Dead pan I get this answer “I’m a woman, I can do two things at the same time.”
(Clearly she is version 2.0 and I am 1.8 because I throw people out of my kitchen all the time for bothering me.)
I order falafel . I love falafel. When I land in Jordan, we always go for falafel (and then for knafeh – needless to say I put on weight. Fast.) Shira’s version is larger than I am used to (in keeping with her preferred format) and greener. She warms the bread and gives the falafel plenty of vegetable bedfellows. She gives me a dinky glass bowl of pickled carrots and cauliflower, a side of hot sauce, tahina.
I am relieved to know that if I ever have a nostalgic episode there is somewhere to scratch that itch. Even better, it’s not some greasy place where a guy with more hair on his back than his head and questionable hygiene has his paws all over my food. Shira is making delicious, healthy fast food and her place is open until late.
See this and find more addresses on my Foodie in Barcelona Map
A Tu Bola
C\ Hospital, 78