Review

Situated centrally along Las Ramblas, you would be forgiven for wondering why such a central bar is so empty when all around are teeming. Perhaps the answer lies in the tall, glass-doored freezer, located near the door, which brims with cakes. Any self-respecting alcoholic stumbling into here expecting a drink is likely to assume he's fallen into a café serving afternoon tea and cakes only; and the décor doesn't deviate from that impression. The front part of the lengthy bar area does have a distinct café or resturant air, although the rear is far more akin to a bar.

With genuine 1920s décor and ambience, the walls, ceiling, fixtures and fittings are very ornate, and the dickie-bowered waiters could have just stepped out of a time-machine from 80 years ago! One of the waiters sports a Mallen Streak, as featured in Catherine Cookson's 'Mallen' trilogy; the white streak of hair being a curse, as the members of the Mallen family discoverd when their heredity streak appeared!

The walls have an aged appearance, like a thousand coats of paint finally cracking after 100 years, and are adornded with Romanesque styled paintings of green people with a Peter Pan resemblence. Mirrors are sporadically placed across the walls, etched with either a female Tutankamun or merry women about to do the Charleston. In your delight as such sights, don't be tempted to throw your arms in the air with glee, as there's a ceiling fan, situated between the two pillars in the rear bar, that is low enough to remove a few fingers.

Food is wide-ranging, as the excessive A3 menus demonstrate, and drinks are fairly expensive, especially if you choose to sit outside on Las Ramblas. A visit to the counter is a joy, as you can gaze admiringly at the selection of cheese salads under the bar or marvel at the 1970s Schweppes tissue dispensers, but the best entertainment is wondering what the mysterous brown substance is that endlessly churns in the large machine on the bar. The rear of any other bar, in any other city, in any other country throughout the World displays a choice of its finest beers, wines and spirits, but at Café de l'Opera you can choose from the numerous selection of teas on offer, which are stacked high behind the bar! Perversly, the bottles of beer and wine and kept in a fridge in the customer area - yes, I did say in the customer area! If this were London, or any other UK city, an unsupervised fridge full of beer and wine in the punter's area would be a red rag to a bull, and would be emptied quicker than one could say 'stop thief'!

As the name suggests, there is an Opera nearby: the rather plain and boring façade of the Gran Teatre del Liceu, one of Spain's premier Opera houses, can be underwhelmingly gazed at while seated within the bar. The dull exterior of the Gran Teatre del Liceu gives no clue to its exciting history. It has burnt down three times, firstly in the mid 1800s, once in the late 19th century, as a result of an anarchist's bombs, and finally in the mid-90s when the scenery accidentally caught fire from a blowtorch during last minute preparations for a show! As you can see, if the record continues, all you need do is get here at the right time, occupy the right table with the best view, and you could be in for a show of your own: an inferno on your doorstep!

As with any establishment that has a mini-chandalier, the clientele are mostly an older crowd and couples, although there are a few young women drinking here, sitting at the rear in one of the numerous tables that has a disparate set of chairs. The rear area is also home to the only plant here, although it's very neglected and seemingly dead.

A nice place for a quiet drink and a chat or a pre-opera/pre-arson feast. Get your choice of fridges wrong and you're either going to purchase a cake or a beer, but who needs to purchase anything when the option is there to openly take whatever you like unchallanged.

Review by mr_psm