Barcelona Wine Bar & Restaurant

Another Sunday and I was once again husbandless. However, the mere fact that my husband was on a business trip should not and did not preclude me from seeking out nourishment in the form of tasty fare. Sure, I could have ventured into the kitchen and did the obligatory clanking of pots and pans in an effort to fool myself into believing I actually wanted to cook, but why go through all the pretense when I would end up making a PB&J sandwich and call it a night?

So when I saw the email from Carol, the organizer of "Let's Eat! Fairfield County" (a dining group that I recently joined), asking if anyone wanted to venture out for a bite at Barcelona that evening, I was all for it.

Barcelona, located in Downtown Stamford, is a rather appealing looking establishment. One of the most aesthetically pleasing features is the large wine cooler that separates the bar area from a cordoned off dining area.

When we walked in, we were greeted by the manager who was apparently doing double-duty as host. A pleasant man with an easy smile, I figured he was a prime candidate to joke around with. "So, is the food any good here?" I asked him with a glint in my eye. It took him only a second to recover from such an audacious question. "Of course it is!" he offered proudly.

Carol and I were seated at a table in what was considered part of the bar area. A word of caution: If you plan to engage in conversation while at Barcelona, you would be wise to either prepare to sit thisclose to the people you care to talk to or sit somewhere other than in the bar area. The acoustics don't bode very well in terms of sound carrying. On top of that, the music adds to the rising sound level, making it even more difficult to carry on a conversation without it being punctuated with shouts of "What?" or "Huh?"

The wine selection is rather large, which centered mostly on Spanish varieties at the Stamford location. I was in the mood for a Riesling and chose a glass of the German Kuntz 2007 Riesling. Carol looked at me and the apparent third eye I sprouted. "Oh no, I need something much sweeter than that!" She ordered a refreshing glass of Red Wine Sangria.

The dinner menu consisted of a various sections from tapas, "charcuteria" (cold cuts and cheeses), "ensaladas" (salads), "para la mesa" (family style dining for the table), "platos principales" (main entrees) and raciones (selections slightly larger than that tapas versions). It took me a long time to figure these translations out, and my head hurt afterwards. Erica tried to explain the various components of the menu to us, but we could scarcely hear her over the raucous din in the restaurant.

We decided to start the evening off with selections from the tapas menu. Carol and I are apparently kindred spirits because when we both began talking about what we wanted first, the Crispy Calamari and Homemade Chicken Empanada was at the top of our lists. That was so scary, I wanted to pinch her. We also ordered a portion of the Spinach-Chickpea Casserole. This should be interesting.

Before the real food arrived, a basket of bread and plate of EVOO was offered, which I decided to pass on because I didn't want to fill up with bread, which I have a tendency to do. The calamari was the first plate to arrive. It looked innocent enough, except . . . lounging there on the plate, casually mixed in with the small, lightly breaded triangular shaped pieces of calamari, were fried baby squid. Ugggh! I hate those things! Okay, maybe hate is a strong adjective; let's say I'm, uh, terrified of them. Come on, it's an entire little body, for Pete's sake. I deftly circumvented the baby squid in favor of the more reasonable-looking pieces. The breading on the calamari was very delicious and didn't have that gritty consistency that I've encountered at some other restaurants. The smoked tomato aioli was a nice accompaniment as it wasn't too spicy and had a smooth, creamy consistency.

By the time the two little empanadas arrived, I was feeling pretty confident in the food—this based on the lone plate of calamari (despite the baby squid that was staring up at me mockingly from the plate). That confidence slowly faded when I took a bite of the empanada. Oh sure, it was cute enough—the tiny half-moon shaped crusty pastry—but the cumin-scented chicken that filled the empanada was shredded beyond recognition. Apparently, this massive shredding effort also left the chicken devoid of much of the rich flavor that one would expect. The avocado puree served on the side rescued the dish a bit, but overall it really wasn't a bad taste to have in my mouth—just not as palatable as I had anticipated.

So now there was a question mark over my head? Would our selections go from really good to mediocre to bad? Carol and I were pretty much on the verge of fleeing when we tasted the spinach-chickpea casserole. There is just no way to make this sound pretty. It was the type of bland that other bland food makes fun of. The spinach tasted like it was frozen, and the few chickpeas that were scattered through the casserole were seemingly for adornment and really didn't serve much of a purpose.

By this point, the manager came over to our table and he was obviously bursting with pride. "So what do you think? Did I lie?" referring to how good the food was. To soften the blow of what was to come, I started with what was good about the food. "The calamari was absolutely delicious and the taste could stand on its own without the aioli, even though that just added to the flavor." He smiled broadly. Then I gave him the bad news as gently as I could.

"This spinach dish is not good at all. It's pretty bland." He looked at us in astonishment, like I had just dissed an original Rembrandt.

"Hmmm...okay, I'll take it away and take it off the tab." Now, wasn't that nice? Sure, he probably went into kitchen and talked smack about me, but at least we didn't have to pay for something that we clearly didn't enjoy.

When Erica returned to the table, she suggested we try the Patatas Bravas—potato wedges with salsa and roasted garlic aioli. At this point, I was out of wine and almost out of hope. The odds were against me and I was positive the next dish would follow that downward spiral trend. But where there's at least a glimmer of hope, things could always turn around. We ordered the patatas bravas—as well as a round of red wine sangrias—and crossed our fingers. Secretly, I was crossing my legs and butt cheeks, too.

The moment of truth arrived, right along with the potatoes. I eyeballed the plate suspiciously, perhaps looking for any tell-tale signs of culinary deception. I didn't detect any. Fork to plate...fork to mouth...food in mouth...smile on my face. The potatoes were absolutely delectable. Gone were the doubts, suspicions and garden-variety misgivings. Why couldn't the spinach dish have had that same star quality? It was a moot point, because I was happy once again.

Since things were looking up, Carol and I flashed a hint of bravado and ordered Drunken Goat, which was mild goat cheese marinated in red wine. When Erica placed the plate in the center of the table, we both fought to keep from laughing out loud. On the plate lay two thin triangles of cheese. Two. Thin. I was expecting a heftier portion, but I guess that's what I get for having expectations. Also on the plate, looking extremely lonely, was a tiny cube of quince fruit, which I had never heard of nor tasted. Initially, I only tasted the cheese. It didn't taste drunk to me, but it was very mild. I looked across the table at Carol and she was nibbling the cheese with all the enthusiasm of someone anticipating a dentist appointment. Meanwhile, I tasted a bit of the quince. It shared the same consistency as jam except slightly firmer and had a somewhat beady texture but it sure was good. Smeared on the wedge of cheese, the quince added a whole new dimension to the bite. I pressed Carol to try it and, hesitantly, she spread a thin layer on a piece of bread. We enjoyed that little taste of quince so much that Erica brought out two more tiny chunks for us to devour. If I hadn't been sitting in a restaurant, dimly lit as it was, I would have licked the plate dry.

Our confidence fully restored, we didn't bat an eyelash when Erica suggested we end the meal with dessert. Carol ordered the White Chocolate Cheesecake and substituted chocolate sauce for the raspberry sauce. In turn, I chose the Crepas Salguera with dulce de leche, chocolate sauce and Tahitian vanilla ice cream. Carol turned out to be not as impressed with her cheesecake as I was with my dessert, citing the lack of white chocolate flavor. I tasted it and got a hint of the white chocolate, but it probably wasn't nearly enough to justify the "white chocolate" label. On the other hand, the crepas salguera was, in a word, excellent. The caramel that oozed out the top of the crepe was a sugar lover's dream.

Barcelona was, for me, an interesting find. Aside from a couple of questionable dishes, overall I was pleased with my visit. From a purely selfish perspective, the menu could stand to have a bit more variety in the meats, mainly for pollo lovers such as myself. This first time around, I opted to dine from the tapas menu. On my next visit I'll switch to a selection from the "platos principales" as the Half Chicken al Pimientos, Pan-Seared Halibut, and Grilled Yellowfin Tuna each sound equally appetizing.

Would I recommend Barcelona? Sure would. Barcelona gave me the impression that customer service is very high on their list of priorities, and the service was commendable (especially our waitress, Erica, who was very knowledgeable and informed, and provided us with a wealth of information about everything that we ordered).

Is Barcelona a good value or do you need to take out a loan to eat here? As with any restaurant that offers tapas, you run the risk of running up the tab the more plates you order. Individually, however, the majority of the tapas are reasonably priced, and the main entrees are what you would expect of a restaurant of this caliber.

What about atmosphere and ambience? I would like to see more architectural elements added to enhance the acoustics so that the room is not one big sound conductor. Barcelona had a very cool and eclectic atmosphere that is especially appealing to a younger crowd (20’s and 30’s), but even us “older” folks can enjoy it as long as we can hear!

Barcelona Wine Bar & Restaurant

Barcelona has six locations in Connecticut. The Stamford location is open seven days a week, and you reservations can be made online from their website.