The Sant Antoni crowd was slightly put off by Bar Canyí when it opened. “A bomba for seven euros?!” they cried. After all, this former grungy old man’s bar still looks like a Manolo bar—if that particular Manolo had the taste level of David Rockwell. But it’s anything but. The tattooed owner, who is equally comfortable deep frying a croqueta as he is chatting to the guests or popping a new vinyl on the record player, already has people traversing the globe to eat at his fine-dining restaurant down the road. At Bar Canyí, that track record shows. The dry-cured mojama melts in your mouth like butter because it’s made with tuna belly, not tuna loin, the croquettes use real jamón Ibérico as opposed to the bechamel-heavy deep-frozen gunk you get elsewhere, and the burger (stuffed with oxtail, pickles, and kimchi) might just be the juiciest thing we’ve ever had.