Carrer del Comte Borrell, 148
08015 Barcelona, Eixample Esquerra
Quim and Joan have been friends since they were five. Roughly 25 years later they told their parents they were leaving fine-paying and stable jobs (bank and multi-national respectively) to capitalizar el paro and open a restaurant. Their folks, with what were surely the best intentions, told them they were out of their minds. But boys will be boys, and a year later they had finally found the perfect semi-industrial shell. Before signing, they put a fist through a cracker-dry false ceiling near a column, and with a camera and a flash tried to find out what was above: beautiful beam number one. It was pure luck that later – contract already signed – they found two more, these ones a unique cross-hatched iron.
They set to taking the place back in time, as any self-respecting barceloní should in a locale this beautiful. Brick here, obra vista there. Convince friend to help move very heavy element here, convince same friend to bring a van there. A few pieces of furniture from Quim’s grandfather’s macia here, a few restored French pieces there. Quim gives Joan most of the credit for the design, while he’s more of a make-it-happen guy, and one who hadn’t poured a beer in his life before day one of Tarambana (which basically means mischievous little fecker). They hired super-chef Héctor the day before they opened and stocked the restaurant with cutlery from their own apartments (Joan’s is still there). The rest is history. Breakfasts are chill, the menú works like a charm, teas and coffees and laptops in the afternoon, the cañas fire up at 7-ish, and from there it’s into the tapas, killer tostes de coca de vidre and the dinner crowd. And those jobs they used to have? “No volvería nunca.”