Product, memory and a bit of 'morriña': the Galician cuisine that has found its space on the Passeig de Sant Joan

In Galicia there are three things that, when well combined, form an almost unbeatable trident: octopus, coffee liqueur, and bread. Eduardo Pereira was lucky enough to be born in Carballiño, in Ourense, a land where these three things are not just gastronomy, but almost a way of understanding life. After knowing the secrets of Galician cuisine by heart, he decided, about fifteen years ago, to do something that, for a Galician, is almost as risky as leaving an empanada untouched: coming to Catalonia. He arrived in Barcelona eager to learn. He wanted to discover what was being cooked here, what the Mediterranean products were, and what lay beyond what he already knew. After a few years of learning, he decided to open his own restaurant. That is how Bicos was born, on Passeig de Sant Joan. The name is not accidental. "Before, this place was like a small house and, when you enter and leave home, you give a kiss. Bicos means kiss in Galician," explains Eduardo. And so, between an entry kiss and an exit one, a gastronomic adventure began between two lands that know very well what it means to eat well. It hasn't had it easy. It has gone through a pandemic and coexists with tram works that seem to have more lives than a television series. But Eduardo is happy and, above all, grateful for how the neighborhood has welcomed him.At Bicos they champion Galician gastronomy, but without pretending that Barcelona does not exist. Product and memory from there, with small gestures from here. Like some zamburiñas (variegated scallops) finished with allioli, an almost perfect bridge between two lands that have more in common than it might seem. "We want you to know where you are and to give value to the product. This is the motto of our menu," he explains. The octopus 'a feira' arrives, the traditional one, on a wooden board, with oil, salt, paprika, and the inevitable toothpicks. Without potatoes, just as it has always been eaten at Galician fairs. When the product is good, it doesn't need much more. They also make another version with prawns and suquet (stew), making the octopus travel towards the Mediterranean. There are cockles from the estuaries of Noia and Muros, opened with lemon, white wine, and bay leaf, and finished with ajada oil. And cod with allioli and a sweet touch of chestnut honey. As if joining Galicia and Catalonia on the same plate were the most natural thing in the world. And it works. Also extraordinary are the rock mussels and the lacón carpaccio. And, to finish, a spectacular board of Galician cheeses. One of those that makes the coffee able to wait calmly.The 'homesickness'

Eduardo and his partner, Marta Baliña, have achieved what they set out to do: for Galician and Catalan gastronomy to meet under the same roof. At the end of the conversation, inevitably, the word that every Galician carries built-in as standard appears: morriña. "We Galicians are always saying maybe yes, maybe no... But I just bought a flat here," he says while laughing. The land, however, pulls. Always. And Eduardo does not rule out that, one day, this story might make the return journey. It would be another bico. Perhaps the most difficult one of all.But, for the moment, it seems there is no need to worry. Between the octopus, the cockles, the cheeses and this particular encounter between Galicia and Catalonia, there is still a lot of history to tell. At least for the moment, we will continue kissing each other in Barcelona.