#biercab

FC Barcelona is the lifeblood of the Catalan capital, a living, breathing, 22-legged avatar of local pride and prowess. You can’t walk a couple of tree-lined blocks in the city without seeing images of Messi, Neymar and Suárez, or seeing the familiar red and blue stripes on shop windows, bar fridges, car license plates, or hanging from a hundred stylish balconies. It’s not just a football team. As they put it themselves, it is més que un club - More than a club.

I got a hint of this as El Clásico raged one Sunday evening, and I sat in our AirBnB apartment in the shadow of Sagrada Família, trying to follow along without the help of satellite TV. It wasn’t easy - the half-hearted streams my phone managed to pick up were sighing and stuttering, especially at the moments of high drama - but thanks to the echoes of cheers from every neighbour in the block, I was able to tell when Barça finally defeated their hated Madrileño rivals.

Of course, I wasn’t in town for the football. I was there on my first holiday as a dad, with a baby in tow, taking her on her first flight as a test run for a transatlantic trip to come. We were there to take things easy - stroll the streets, graze on tapas, soak up the blistered brilliance of Gaudí’s architecture. And drink the beer. That goes without saying.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from Barcelona’s beer. Driving in to the centre from the airport you pass the steely bulk of the Damm brewery, home of Estrella, while the other big name in the city is Moritz, the only beer in the word to label its bottles entirely in Catalan. Both of their flagship beers, which are available in bars across the city, are good, refreshing Iberian lagers, with the edge going to Estrella based on its adult strength. Mahou, one of Spain’s oldest brands, also got a look-in, and while it wasn’t great, the fact it’s available in a cup with a straw from McDonald’s definitely saves it.

But beyond the macro-lagers, I wasn’t sure what else to expect, until we stumbled into the neighbourhood around the university known as Eixample - or Bierxample, as it’s rapidly becoming. Within staggering distance of each other is a stunning range of bars and breweries, including outposts of the BrewDog empire, and more excitingly, Mikkeller. We dove in, and weren’t disappointed.

Mikkeller was a Scandinavian scene dropped into the late spring heat of a Barcelona afternoon, all clean tiles and pastel paints, with a beer range to match. There were a range of Mikkeller classics alongside a range of international hits, including Founders Kentucky Breakfast Stout, which was hard to turn down.

Another interloper, but a slightly more local one, was Naparbier, a craft brewery originally founded in Pamplona, but which now has a stylish brewpub in Barcelona. The decor - all black and white floor tiling, dark wooden cabinets and gleaming steel tanks - gave off the impression of an outsized lavatory in a steampunk mansion, but the beer was good and strong, with even a New England-style IPA updating things considerably.

More local, and more traditional - at least as traditional as craft breweries get - was Garage Beer Co, a local brewery with slightly dingy vibes, all mismatched chairs, ripped sofas, low tables and dim lighting, but a vibrant range of house beers that showed how mature the scene here is. I tried the Garage IPA to see what was what, and was pleased to find a smartly-constructed beer with a US West Coast edge, and a lasting piney bitterness. It’s not easy to get up from the low chairs, but you won’t want to leave quickly.

Unless, that is, you have an appointment round the corner at BierCaB. I haven’t been to every bar in Barcelona, or in Europe, or the world, but I’m confident in saying that BierCaB might be among the very best of them. It’s not the interior design that pulls you in - I have no idea what the bonfire explosion of sticks on the ceiling is all about - but the beer list will suck you into its orbit like a black hole, and it won’t let go. You don’t even have to go beyond the dozens of taps to be impressed, but give the bottle list a try and you’ll find a place that treats different vintages of Westvleteren XII like most bars treat different flavours of Rekorderlig - not to mention several different versions of Three Floyd’s Dark Lord, a beer so rare that it’s only sold in one place, on one day a year, to people who’ve paid small fortunes to attend a festival in its honour. When a door to a back room swung ajar at one point, it revealed a mountain of Cantillon cases piled as high as me. In short, this place is insane.

Manuel, the owner, doesn’t speak brilliant English - though it’s a damn sight better than my Catalan - but with the help of a waitress, and lots of gesticulation (mainly wiping my brow, bulging my eyes, and shaking my head), I was able to get across how impressed I was. I was rewarded with an invite to him opening a new arrival, a bottle of Solo Protagonist, a 15% imperial stout, one of only 6,000 bottles, crafted in Crete by the founder of legendary Norwegian brewery Nogne, and meant to mimic sweet, Greek coffee. It matches it blow for blow and more. It was one of the more special moments of my beer life, and there was no language needed to show how appreciative I was - we just nodded, and smiled, and went “Mmm”.