Where “two peppers” meets Spanish-Asian fusion…

Dos Pebrots, translated to “two peppers,” is one of the coolest restaurants ambiance-wise that I’ve dined in. When you walk in, you’re greeted with old-school refrigerators filled with a variety of smoked hams and massive slabs of cured Iberian meats dangling from the ceiling, giving off a butcher / meat-shop vibe. As you continue to walk through the restaurant, however, the dim lighting and sleek tables emit a hip, refined touch. That, along with an even more refined and unique gastronomic aspect served on mix-and-matched grandma-esque china with chopsticks for silverware create an overall funky, fashionable casual dining experience.

We had the choice between three different tasting menus and ordering small plates off of the a la carte menu. Since my dad can’t totally get on board with someone picking his food for him, we chose the a la carte.

Dos Pebrots’ menu is ever-evolving, but I checked out their most recent one and everything we ate is still there with slight changes. Here’s what we had:

The lineup

“Dry Age” Beef - “beef + salt + lime”
Ancient Leeks - “leek + beer”
Neopolitan Vegetables - “eggplant + beetroot + pumpkin + a long etcetera”
Barcino Oyster - “beef + oyster”
Pine Nut Omelette - “egg + pine nuts + parsley oil”
Gnocchi - “potato + stracciatella + truffle”
Txogitxu Beef Steak - “beef + fire”
Iberian Pork “a la Orza” - “Iberian pork + paprika + garlic + aromatic herbs
Desserts:
- Red Pepper Pudding - “bread + goat milk + wild stawberries”
- Xocoulant - “chocolate + egg + butter”

Let’s eat.

The dry age beef, while delicious, was just like any high-quality smoked Iberian meat I’ve tried in Spain—but with a hint of lime—when the menu marketed it as the restaurant’s play on beef jerky. It could have been a little more interesting or paired with something else to eat. Nonetheless, it was a good start to an overall impressive meal.

Dry age beef with lime — Dry age beef + lime
6/10

The ancient leeks with beer were bare but perfectly crafted. They were cooked until just tender and the simplicity of the complementary sweetness, black peppercorns, and beer let the earthiness of the leeks shine.

Leeks + beer — Ancient leeks + beer
7/10

The Neopolitan vegetables were the shining star of the entire meal—or at least one of them. Using the Italian preservation method sott’olio, “in oil",” infused the vegetables with the most flavor I think I’ve ever found in vegetables. This method is similar to confit but instead of heat, it follows more of a pickling method. Absolute perfection, both in looks and taste.

The oysters. The one thing I was extremely excited for.

One bite in, and my parents and I collectively “mmmd” at the taste of what we thought was delicious. Then, once the flavor and texture settled in, my parents quickly retracted their delighted hum. I still went back for me, undecided on if it was the worst thing I’ve ever tasted, or the most complex and intriguing. Looking back, I think it was both, with “the worst” being slightly more prominent. With a gamey-stinky flavor so volatile it could blind you, my parents told me to stop eating it in fear that the oysters were bad (they weren’t, as you’ll soon find out). I give it a 2/10 only because something was telling me that the oysters were actually perfectly executed, but we just didn’t like it — and I was right.

Quick intermission of the restaurant review, but I promise it circles around, and why this oyster was so foul will soon make a lot more sense.

Before I left for Spain, someone told me a story that I have kept close to me through all of my adventures here so far. In short, the story went like this: this person used to be a picky eater and would never branch out when they’d go out with friends. Then one day, they stopped being invited out, and when they finally asked why, their friends told them it was because they were boring to go out with — because they wouldn’t try new things or new experiences. So, this person decided to end that streak of skepticism and, from then on, tried everything, which has led them to an abundance of stories and experiences that they wouldn’t have had before. They told me this story mainly to give me the very obvious piece of advice when anyone endures a new experience, which is to ‘say yes to everything.’ It was something about their story, however, that gave that piece of advice a new meaning to me. And since then, I have tried as much as I’ve been able to: experiences, places, challenges, and food. Which leads me to my next topic: Tripe.

Now, I’m already an extremely adventurous eater, but even some things I can be on the fence about. One thing I’ve learned about Spanish cuisine is that despite it having strong ties to Mediterranean cuisine, showing off food for its simplicity with fresh ingredients like citrus, herbs, and good olive oil, it also has some traditional foods that are daunting to say the least. To name a few items that very commonly appear on menus: pig ears, Iberian meats, parts of the fish that I didn’t know could be eaten, and tripe — cow stomach.

I had seen a dish called “Callos” across multiple menus since being in Spain, most of which have a description of a stew involving the ingredients tripe, chickpeas, and/or chorizo — all of which sound right up my alley. That is, when I thought tripe was a kind of fish.

Coincidentally, the other day I came across an article about the “craziest things someone had eaten while in Spain,” and tripe was on it. I realized that what I thought was fish, is actually cow stomach. Knowing what I had to do next, I hesitantly opened up my notes app and added “try callos” to my Barcelona bucket list.

It wasn’t a few days later when I went to a tapas restaurant I had only heard amazing things about - Canete - now one of my favorite restaurants here. In bold letters under the restaurant’s specials, “Callos Stew with Tripe and Chickpeas” glistened. I thought, “if there is anywhere to try it, this is probably the place.” So, I ordered it. One bite in, and I recognized a flavor that was painfully familiar — the oysters at Dos Pebrots. Long story short, the stew actually tasted great despite the lingering hint of tripe that I wish would’ve lasted just a little shorter - it was spicy, herbaceous, and hearty, but the texture was not for me. The flavor is similar to liver, which I’m also not a fan of, so it makes sense that, with the added goopy and slimy texture, it’s not my new favorite food.

So, back to the oysters — once I put two and two together, I realized that the oysters at Dos Pebrots were not bad, the putrid flavor and bizarre texture oozing from the shell was indeed tripe. I still give the oysters a 2/10, but I admit that they probably would taste incredible to true tripe lovers.

Now that my oyster rant is over…

The pine nut omelette. This was actually made tableside by our waitress, and I’m pretty sure that’s the first time I’ve ever seen a server cook for the table. I was expecting a traditional Spanish omelette, or tortilla, but this was more like a very flat frittata — not a bad thing, just not what I expected. The crunch of the pine nuts, freshness of the herb oil, and the saltiness of the slightly sweet anchovie sauce drizzle all gelled to create a really unique palate, and while it was good, it kind of felt like just another thing we had to eat at this point. We could’ve gone without.

The gnocchi was definitely in the top two or three of my favorites from this meal. The flavor wasn’t off-the-walls or anything—like the leeks, it was simple. It was so stunning because of the texture of the gnocchi. Dos Pebrots’ version of gnocchi resulted in this pillowy, almost pudding-like dumpling that melted in your mouth. Paired with the heavy, creamy blobs of stracciatella and freshly grated truffle, it was next to divinity.

The steak was just like any good steak I’ve indulged in while in Spain — and that’s a good thing. I have yet to meet a steak that isn’t one degree off from mooing and perfectly salted. Despite half of this Txogitxu cut being composed of excess fat, what meat was there was delicious—although not anything too memorable. The sweet roasted red peppers served on the side gave it the extra kick it needed.

Steak with peppers — Txogitxu Steak + Peppers
7/10

And the finale of the main dishes, the Iberian pork “a la orza,” or pork loin. I’m not usually the biggest pork loin or chop-eater, but whatever Dos Pebrots did to prepare this pork might have turned me into an official fan. It was tender and beaming with smoked rosemary, garlic, paprika, and other Spanish spices and served with these addicting pan-fried bao buns. I have thought about this pork a lot since that meal.

As for the desserts, they were ever-so-slightly too simple for me. The red pepper pudding was really just a flan with a scant hint of red pepper and goat milk — it definitely could have used a little more of both flavors — but paired with the warm, melty chocolate xocoulant and a few espressos, it undoubtedly satisfied our sweet tooth to finish off the meal.

Stuffed and content with most of the meal (despite the oyster debacle—again, not the restaurant’s problem), I give it a solid 7/10. I’m obsessed with its eclectic atmosphere and cuisine style and would recommend to it anyone traveling to or through Barcelona, but for me it was more of a one time experience than a place I would continuously crave. I’m glad it’s one I got to experience, nonetheless.

Until we eat again!

Dinner at Dos Pebrots - Barcelona

30-minute Cotriade - “Brittany Fish Stew”

Barcelona Update I