Bar Casa Miguel (Barcelona), being at home and at home

I sit down to write these lines just when I have just finished reading the last of ‘No soc uns dels vostres’, a book that I recommend and which deals, among other succulent topics, with Àlex Montiel, an admired chef from Horta. And it is that it is in this unique Barcelona neighborhood where the last visit that is explained below took place.

Of course, not done on purpose because, in addition to the geographical connection, starting this chronicle with the good feelings of having read a really interesting book is always a good exit ramp.

Weeks before, Rosa Molinero, the author of multiple articles and magnificent reports on the edges of everyday gastronomy (she collaborates with ‘Cata Mayor’, where she has written about the eternal kettle and cooking with stones), had summoned me to eat in this neighborhood, with the one that we come across a thousand times without noticing that they are essential in our daily evolution.

After reconnaissance tour of the area (what a pleasure that of Horta on a Tuesday at noon!), we stopped at house michaelstill unknown to both, but which, as you arrive, gives you the peace of mind of knowing that you are before a family home of which we should congratulate ourselves for knowing and pray hard that they find relief.

house michael has a small bar when entering to the left that solves a lot, because it is busy and it gives you a warm welcome when you enter, especially when, seeing its proud counter, you ask yourself if before going for it today’s menu It is worth putting your glove on one of the things that shine. Had it not been for the fact that the aperitif was celebrated in the Celler Antonio (what a place!), one of those cured cheese and sweaty It would have fallen yes or also.

Already seated in the dining room below the house, they tell us that the cannelloni to choose among the first. A pity, because it was the first option in mind, but a joy, because finding cannelloni in a menu of the day It’s always cause for celebration.

The second option was not minor, broth soup. Hen and chicken. with noodles. The ideal restorative to face a week not without complications. Very happy with the choice, because one has reservations about the soup that can be found in a today’s menu (The same thing happens to me with gazpacho) and visits like this make me take away this nonsense that I carry around.

With the second, despite the various possibilities of choice (my esteemed companion got a cheek in sauce that nothing trivial), I had a craving and with it to death. Because they have been and are one of the protein contributions that have most nourished entire generations in these parts.

I mean the well-known country sausages. In house michael accompany them with their garnish of potatoes and green peppers. Added to the previous broth, they fixed my week, nothing could go wrong from there.

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I’m sorry to tell you that, although the two previous passes have left the usual paella + ‘galta’ combo (I repeat myself more than garlic, it’s a fact), the menu’s finish was with custard. Also home, mind you, and flanked by not one or two, but three piles of cream. My child -interior?,- more than happy.

We left the place with many reasons to be happy that could be summed up in two: stepping back Horta it always makes you happy; because without having stepped foot in that house in life we ​​left wanting to return. Let’s hope it’s possible.