Bar Raval

A couple of weeks ago, my friend Nicole and I went for dinner at Woodlot. They kicked us out at 8, cuz we didn't have a reservation and that's how provincial this town is, whereupon Nic suggested that we head next door to Bar Raval, latest plaything of uber chef Grant van Gameren (he of the Black Hoof). At first, the guy who guards the door (and I'm not overstating this) advised us that we could not enter. The wait time had been 2 hours, since 6 pm. But when we reacted with good-humour, he invited us in. Just remember Ladies, good manners will get you everywhere. Especially if you're wearing heels and you have boobs.

Lord, the crowd. You know I don't love crazy lights when mixed with noise and wall-to-wall people. I had to suck in my stomach just to avoid the guy next to on top of me. Oh, it's scenester in a way the 45 year old in me finds utterly hilarious. The bartenders are fucking serious. Like, performance art, waxed moustache/neck tattoos/top knot/ TO hipster serious. One doesn't sit at Bar Raval. That's so North American. No, here we stand - as if we're at a pintxo joint in Barcelona. Alas, the awesome food costs about 8000 times as much as it would there. The drinks are awesome. They have 12 kinds of vermouth. One of the cocktails is a mixup of gin and turmeric - a collusion of plant and dirt (according to my husband).

How does my husband know what the cocktails taste like? Well, I made him go there for dinner with me on Friday night. Spur of the moment-like. I arrived at 5:30 to secure our standing zone. By 6, I was a chic sardine. But I was also 2 drinks in, so I didn't much care.

The food is freakin' terrific. Little mini-plates of delicious beef tenderloin and whole peppers, classic ham and bechamel croquettes, shrimp prepared with roe (how I don't exactly know - it's inside the exoskeleton), "kitchen bread" (whatever the fuck that means), perfectly-rendered squid in pork fat. Let's just say the eating was easy.

After 75 minutes, I could no longer stand (the fullness of my tummy might have had something to do with this) and we got the bill. In truth, I couldn't stand the crowd any longer. (Crazily, an exhausted couple, no doubt still in parenting denial, stood next to us with their infant in a carrier. They needed our square footage.) I knew it wouldn't be cheap - I mean, I'd read the menu and all of the reviews - but somehow I was still shocked that I'd spent 240 bucks on a meal for 2, that was gone in less than an hour and a half. (Yeah, half of it was the cost of the booze.)

I wish I could tell you I won't do it again. But there are some patio tables with chairs, peeps. I bet if I arrive at 5, I might just get one of those. Oh, who am I kidding? I'll stand.