With its stainless steel counter, Formica topped tables, tiled walls and floor, and faded photos of past FC Barcelona teams (and, interestingly, a poster portrait of former President, Lluís Companys) the place can seem like the set of a TV series based in the 1970s.

The place does have a certain retro charm — but it's the healthy mix of diners which lend the place its real feel — business executives rubbing shoulders with labourers, shop assistants, clerical workers, off-duty chefs and kitchen staff from nearby restaurants and, inevitably, a few pensioners — all brought together through a shared appreciation of keenly priced home-style grub. It's as local as it gets and is unashamedly democratic. It's the kind of place every village, every town and every barri in every city should have.

Demogastocracy — the coming together and the sharing of ideas and plans for the betterment of all via the medium of honest food. As opposed to demagoguery — the promise of basic foodstuffs via the medium of fake news and untruths, viz. Franco ('for bread and victory', 'for bread and peace', 'for bread and justice' and all the other bullshit).

Regardless of crop failures and pestilence, most famines are, and have been, created by politicians, viz. the Irish famine, the Soviet famines of 1920-22 and 1932-33, and Spain's Años del Hambre. 

But back on topic: It’s not the most romantic place. Although having said that, I can easily imagine a young, budget-conscious couple of backpackers, fagged from tramping the sights, enjoying a memorable meal here.