The south of Barcelona's Raval hides a powerful excuse that drives a Barcelonian to venture into the bustling city center to truly enjoy and have fun eating. My Fucking Restaurant is a business that does not leave indifferent, daring in its dishes, exciting, nestled in the hustle and bustle of Nou de la Rambla street, and with a name that becomes a magnet for restless 'foodies' or tourists who sense (finally) something different in the area.
The good news is that the invention of Matteo Bertozzi and Paolo Mangianti, after a successful start six years ago, has incorporated many more 'healthy' dishes into its new menu. So inspired, that they make one forget that they are devouring vegetables. Their green bet can make the restless palate jump for joy and surrender to their chef.
My Fucking Restaurant, which provokes with its neon and hides a modern but creative and very pleasant place, has always displayed good intentions: gluten-free cuisine, Km.0, quality local product, Mediterranean spirit and many Italian flashes and from other cuisines of the world, for which there are no borders. However, the 'veggie' proposals were flourishing in Bertozzi's restless mind and in the tempting menu of the place, until they took on authentic prominence.
Green visions
Thus, in recent weeks a carnivore can continue to salivate profusely with their ossobuco croquettes or their 'steak tartar' and smoked scamorza mollete, even devour a black angus 'onglet' with mild aioli… But they will find a repertoire of vegetables that will make them forget (if they want) the protein animal. By the way, there is no trace of fish like tuna and salmon, so omnipresent in local restaurants, because their kitchen ethics do not fit with the overexploitation of some species.
The new menu integrates three green quarters, and the mantra of turning every bite into something fun. By the way, two tasting menus of 39 and 46 euros make it easy not to have to choose between the house specialties, in the format of small dishes ideal for sharing. It usually starts with a broth prepared with the leftover vegetables used for other elaborations: in the establishment, there is no room for the idea of throwing away food. Almost all of them, from the Parc Agrari del Baix Llobregat.
Bacoyboca tried dishes from both menus, which deserve to be thoroughly expanded on new visits, so some images are reduced versions. Non-vegetarians cannot overlook the oysters, both natural and poached with yuzu and black pepper, totally addictive.
The zucchini and sour apple tartare was the first explosion of all the joy of the garden in the mouth, with the apotheosis ingredient of a green bean distillate that is a declaration of intent. The Destiloteca is a goldmine for rounding out their proposals. Because here there is no vegetable that has not been taken to the creative limit or honored as it deserves. The Mini bufala, with strawberry, hazelnuts and licorice marks another unexpected high.
Licking without prejudice
No one should leave My Fucking Restaurant without having licked the plate of Carrot couscous (another delicious trap of flavors that are not what they seem), and of theOnion Tatinwith cocoa crumble and truffled toffee. The 'veggie' festival can disarm the most omnivorous, because the invisible acidic dressing –in a very difficult balance based on trial and error, confesses the artist– gives the dishes an unexpected spark and freshness. Because beyond the pyrotechnics, behind it there isgenius andtechnique.
Another pirouette to train the taste buds arrives with the crisp Green bean with smoked stracciatella and miso. And the even more difficult feat once again enlivens the table with the Watermelon Tataki, which beyond being a trompe l'oeil is finger-licking good.
One surprise after another
A fabulous deception that extends to the 'false' (in that they are not pasta but celeriac)Alfredo fettuccine with kimchi.The desserts maintain the imaginative, rich, and coherent level with the discourse transmitted by Bertozzi's cuisine. Pushing the envelope, we dared to try the craziest one in search of the grand finale. The apricot with smoked butter, rosemary, grilled pear ice cream and… crispy 'bacon' with caramelized walnut did not disappoint. Not for all palates. But, with all due respect and living up to its name, a 'fucking' bomb of flavor, which makes one leave with a smile.
The space is divided into a bar at the entrance, a dining room with views of a small interior garden, and an interesting second space ideal for small groups on the lower floor.
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