The last time that D and I were in Spain was in November, 2009. Those of you who know me well know that I am a bit obsessive about food and anything to do with it. It follows, then, that one of my fondest memories of Spain is of tapas bar-hopping every night. We would walk into a tapas bar, stand at the crowded bar, order some cava (Spanish sparkling wine), then use a combination of very basic Spanish and pointing to different dishes lined up under glass at the bar to order what we wanted to eat.

It was no different this year. We enjoyed 3 nights of tapas and drinks in Barcelona at the following establishments: Taller des Tapas, El Xampanyet, and Sagardi. All three were located in the Ribera district. I would like to take up residency in Spain just so I could eat at any of these places over and over again.

I really wish that along with the photos, I could have captured the atmosphere of these places; the loud conversations and laughter, the sound of small empty tapas dishes quickly being removed and replaced with more dishes filled with new morsels, the sound of champagne corks opening, and of glasses clinking on the bar. I wish I could convey the smell of these places; frying garlic, vinegar-drenched vegetables, olives doused in floral olive oil, pungent preserved anchovies.

The crowds make tapas bars so much fun. There is no other time in my life where I’m happy to be standing in a crowded place, getting jostled by strangers, and having to almost shout to be heard. It’s rather intoxicating to spend an evening this way.

El Xampanyet is a family-owned bar that was packed the two nights we visited. All we had to do was wait three minutes while carefully eyeing the bar, watching for any patrons who had asked for the bill or who were waving money around. As soon as they left, we would move quickly to take their place at the bar, where the staff would give us a big smile and ask for our drink orders. As we ordered tapas after tapas, the little dishes would appear in front of us, placed there by people who were also pouring drinks for other patrons, and listening as yet another person asked for another tapa. It was controlled chaos, almost like a well-choreographed dance; no one received the wrong order. And at the end of the night when we asked for the bill (la cuenta, por favor), a pad appeared on which someone had been keeping track of our order, which was tallied by hand before being shown to us for approval.