Drinking Traditions of Barcelona: 6 Local Beverages That Define the City

Barcelona drinks are shaped by sea breezes, market kitchens, and a Mediterranean rhythm. People favor chilled, aromatic styles for the heat and salty seafood, then turn to digestifs after late, multi-course dinners. Social time forms around the aperitif, when snacks and small glasses anchor conversation.

Vineyards sit less than an hour away, while historic distilleries ring the city. Traditions such as the weekend vermut, harvest festivals, and coastal music gatherings keep old recipes alive. From bottle-fermented sparkling to herbal liqueurs, technique matters—and the glass usually arrives with something to nibble.

Catalonia’s signature sparkling wine is cava, produced mainly in Sant Sadurní d’Anoia in Penedès and poured widely across Barcelona. Made by the traditional method (second fermentation in bottle), it relies on native grapes—xarel·lo for structure, macabeu for floral lift, and parellada for finesse—plus chardonnay or pinot noir in some cuvées. Typical strengths sit around 11.5–12.5% ABV, with styles ranging from bone-dry brut nature (0–3 g/L residual sugar) to richer brut. Expect fine bubbles, citrus and green apple, notes of almond or brioche from lees aging, and a saline finish that suits seafood. Historically, cava emerged in the late 19th century when local producers adopted Champagne techniques; today it anchors celebrations and casual meals alike. In Barcelona, it’s a go-to aperitif in bodegas and modernist bars, paired with anchovies, bomba croquettes, or escalivada. Locals order by style—brut nature for oysters, rosé for charcuterie—and drink it cold on terraces from late morning aperitivo to late-night toasts.

Vermut (vermouth) is the city’s weekend ritual, a bittersweet aromatized wine flavored with botanicals such as wormwood, gentian, citrus peel, clove, and cinnamon. Historic houses around Reus and Tarragona helped define Catalan vermouth from the late 1800s; today Barcelona bars pour it on ice with an orange slice, an olive, and a splash from the sifó (soda syphon). Base wines are often local white varieties (macabeu, parellada), fortified and macerated with a guarded blend of herbs and spices. Alcohol typically falls between 15–18% ABV. The profile hits orange oil, baking spice, quinine-like bitterness, and a caramel-tinged finish. The “hora del vermut” runs roughly 12:00–14:00 on weekends, when families crowd marble counters for conservas—tinned mussels in escabeche, cockles, boquerones—and potato chips dusted with paprika. Many bodegas also serve vermut de la casa from the barrel. The drink’s comeback mirrors Barcelona’s return to slow, social daytime drinking: low(er)-octane, food-friendly, and rooted in neighborhood markets from Gràcia to Poble-sec.

Ratafia Catalana is a traditional liqueur made by macerating green walnuts with Mediterranean herbs and spices—often cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, lemon peel, and rosemary—in neutral spirit or anisette, then sweetening and resting. Producers typically mature it in glass demijohns or barrels through warm months, when sun and heat draw out the walnut’s amber color and resinous aromas. Bottled around 24–30% ABV, it opens with walnut husk, orange peel, and baking spice, finishing bittersweet and slightly tannic. The recipe likely arrived through monastic and farmhouse traditions; today it carries protected status within Catalonia and features at festive tables and as a winter digestif. In Barcelona, you’ll find ratafia in classic bodegas and cocktail bars, sometimes lengthened with soda or used to deepen a Manhattan-style riff. It pairs naturally with blue cheeses, almond turrón, or chocolate desserts. Order it after dinner, neat or over a single cube, especially during cooler months or at gatherings that celebrate Catalan heritage.

Just down the coast from Barcelona, Sitges preserves a rare heritage grape: Malvasia de Sitges. The Hospital de Sant Joan Baptista led its revival, making both dry whites and sweet or lightly fortified dessert styles. Dry versions (around 12–13.5% ABV) are intensely aromatic—white flowers, peach, fennel, and a briny edge—while sweet bottlings (often 15–16% ABV) show orange blossom, apricot, and honeyed spice. Grapes grown near the sea benefit from breezes that retain acidity; careful, cool fermentations in steel or neutral barrels keep perfume without heaviness. Historically exported from Sitges in the 18th and 19th centuries, the wine nearly vanished before local stewardship saved it. Barcelona’s wine bars now pour Malvasia de Sitges as an aperitif with salted almonds and boquerones, or as a dessert wine alongside crema catalana. Ask for it by name—“Malvasia de Sitges”—and you’ll often hear suggestions for producers tied to the Sitges vineyards. It’s a vivid introduction to the coast in a glass.

Anís del Mono, distilled in Badalona since 1870, is Catalonia’s most recognizable anisette. The spirit is flavored with anise seed essential oils rich in anethole, producing a strong licorice aroma and a characteristic louche when diluted. Two versions dominate: seco (dry) and dulce (sweet), typically 36–40% ABV. Expect bright, cooling anise on the nose, a silky palate, and a lingering herbal sweetness. The angular, faceted bottle and the famous “mono” label—linked by legend to the era’s fascination with Darwin—are design icons. In Barcelona, Anís del Mono appears in holiday toasts, as a quick shot after heavy meals, or mixed into a carajillo (coffee with a measure of spirit). Many drink it with a splash of cold water, letting it cloud and soften for slow sipping. Pair with panellets during La Castanyada, or keep it simple beside turrón and citrus after Christmas lunches. Look for it in old-school cafés around Eixample and neighborhood colmados.

Rom cremat (“burnt rum”) is a flaming punch tied to Catalan havaneres—seafaring songs performed at summer festivals along the coast. The drink is built in a terracotta cazuela with dark rum (usually 40–50% ABV), sugar, lemon peel, cinnamon stick, and coffee beans. It’s set alight until the sugar caramelizes and some alcohol burns off, then doused with hot coffee and ladled warm into cups; the final strength is lower but remains robust. Aromas recall molasses, caramel, citrus oil, and toasted spice, with a gently bitter coffee finish. Though especially common in Costa Brava towns, Barcelona’s seaside neighborhoods serve it during music nights and maritime-themed fiestas. Rom cremat functions as a nightcap in cooler sea breezes or a convivial centerpiece at open-air gatherings. Order it when you see a cazuela on the bar and hear a chorus warming up—it’s as much performance as drink, linking the city to its seafaring past.