Looking sharp in our new hats, Rachel and I browsed a few more shops in the Gothic Quarter before stopping for lunch at a restaurant called Momo, the name of which, reflected in glass amused me greatly and would actually make a great restaurant name. Omomnom…
Full of paella and sangria, we continued in our pursuit of Spanish souvenirs be returning to La Vientinueve, which we had visited during our first day in the city. Since we’d purchased a suitcase to bring home our wine, that meant we also had space for shoes and other items. La Vientinueve has a plethora of adorable dresses, skirts, and accessories, but the shoes are the real stars of this shop–colorful, unique, and made in Barcelona. Rachel tried on one pair and quickly determined those were the ones for her. I had a little more trouble making a decision.
I think I surprised everyone in the store when I finally made up my mind and only bought one pair (along with a dress and some sunglasses). Truth be told, if money and packing real estate had not been concerns, I could have easily gotten about five pairs (*pats self on back for exercising restraint*).
We hit a few more shops then headed back to the hotel to drop off our treasures and clean up before our much-anticipated fancy dinner that night at Monvinic. Unfortunately, the restaurant didn’t quite live up to our expectations. First, in order for one person to do the tasting menu, everyone at the table has to order it (which isn’t unusual, but I’ve never understood why this is the case), and they said they could not do a vegetarian tasting menu. Anyhow, I ordered an asparagus salad and the morel stew. Since I’d asked about vegetarian tasting, the server was nice enough to inform me that the morel stew had veal broth in it, which was not mentioned on the menu (again, not unusual in that regard) but that they could prepare a vegetarian version of it. Great!
One of the purported strengths of this restaurant was the extensive wine list and the sommelier to assist in pairing wine with food. The sommelier came along and first asked if we were thinking of getting a bottle or ordering glasses. We told him glasses, thinking perhaps we could dry a few different things that way. Then he asked if we wanted red or white. I said I liked both and was open to whatever he thought might go best with the food I ordered. “Red or white?” he asked again.
“Well, I guess I probably favor red somewhat, but I’m flexible.”
“Red then,” he said and began scrolling through menus on his iPad. “I would recommend this Tempranillo…”
“Oh…” I said. He’d hit on the one type of red wine I know doesn’t agree with me. I like it just fine, but after a few instances of having one or two glasses of it and being very sick the next day, I’ve learned to avoid it. I laughed and gently explained, but the sommelier seemed to take personal offense at my rejecting his suggestion. He turned again to his iPad and recommended another wine (the type of which escapes me) and I said that would be great. When Rachel asked what the sommelier would recommend with her order, he again seemed shocked and confused that we would want to order different things. Why this should be an odd concept to a sommelier, I have no idea. Ultimately, Rachel just said she’d have the same thing I’d ordered.
The wine, whatever it was, was good. I’ll say that much, even though I had been less than impressed with the process of getting it. My asparagus salad was also excellent. When the main dishes arrived, I was rather put off to see a large fried egg right in the center of my morel stew–another thing that had not been mentioned in the description on the menu–and this one I can fault them for. I’m a lacto-ovo vegetarian, so technically, I eat eggs, but only if I can’t taste them. I’m down with eggs baked into cookies or cakes, but I despise the taste of eggs more than anything else I can think of. I ate around the egg, and the rest of the stew was quite good. I know could have sent it back, and I probably should have, but for whatever reason, I didn’t feel like the bother. We declined looking at the dessert menu, instead deciding to cut our losses and go out in search of gelato and found it at Gelats Dino.
Not quite ready to call it a night yet, we strolled around with our cones and decided to seek out the Arc de Triomf, which we knew was somewhere in the vicinity. Besides, if I saw one in Barcelona, I knew I’d only need one more to have a collection. Since we’re apparently gluttons for punishment, we consulted Google Maps, which then seemed to indiscriminately pick directions for us to turn at random times. We literally went in circles until we finally spotted a sign on the street that pointed us in the right direction, and we found the Arc…triumphantly!