The smell of clean clothes with a lavender sachet from grandma’s closet; the family farm in nearby Lleida province during summer with apple trees and wild aromatic herbs growing all around; peaches washed in seawater during a beach day; an afternoon snack of popsicles while playing under the pine tree in the garden. These are just some of the memories that neighbors left in the mailbox of Mamá Heladera in Barcelona’s Poblenou, where owner Irene Iborra turns them into gelato flavors – an initiative that was recently awarded by the Barcelona City Council as best new innovative business (XVII Premis Barcelona Comerç). Mamá Heladera sits next to Tío Che, a classic horchateria and ice-cream parlor on Rambla del Poblenou that opened in 1912.

The quick trip to France for indulgences not found in Spain is something of a tradition among the Catalan people. During the Francoist regime, many people used to drive to France to skip the dictator’s censorship and wait in long lines in the Perpignan cinemas to see classics of erotic cinema of the time – like The Last Tango in Paris – or to get books and magazines forbidden in Spain. Nowadays, you’d still be hard-pressed to find a Catalan who travels to southern France for the weekend and returns empty-handed, though now they’re like to bring back wine, an artisan pâté, or one of hundreds of wonderful French cheeses.

During our visit to Mescladís Borrel Restaurant & School, Victoria Gio, coordinator of the Mescladís program, is on the phone for a long time. She smiles and looks around trying to find someone – she has good news for one of the students. It is Ibrahima, a tall, shy student from Senegal who at the moment is concentrated on preparing bissap, a delicious hibiscus flower infusion that is served as cold refreshment in the Mescladís restaurants. Ibrahima has secured a job in a local restaurant, and together with Gio will start the process to help him to arrange all the documents he needs. We congratulate him.

It has been an endless summer in Barcelona. The temperatures are historically high and use of public air-conditioning historically low due to government-imposed energy saving measures. We are learning to live with what looks like a constant heat wave, where the best hours of the day start at night. The city is now recovering its social and cultural activity after the holidays and the urban and green spaces, with its open-air terraces and inner patios, are still the authentic heart of the city where to meet up with friends and indulge yourself with a delicious bite and a cold glass of wine.

Strolling down the streets of El Clot, you’ll encounter all the usual suspects of a typical residential Barcelona neighborhood: a small butcher, a multigenerational deli, a hole-in-the-wall bar and, of course, a couple of bodegas. Bodegas are the social and culinary epicenters of Barcelona – this is especially true for more residential, working-class neighborhoods like Clot, where eating out at a proper restaurant is a rare event kept for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries. So for a casual mid-week get together, locals go to their neighborhood bodega for a small copa of nondescript red or white wine and a tapa of boquerones or some simple cold cuts.

In Spain, conservas, or foods preserved in cans and jars, are not simply a matter of economic survival or a source of basic nutrition for students, hikers, military recruits and the like. Rather, the tradition of conservas more resembles that of keeping one’s most beautiful jewelry locked safe in a strongbox – a prized possession to bring to the table on special occasions, and a unique offering that can be found in both traditional and modern bars and bodegas. It was a Frenchman named Nicolas Appert who invented the technique of canning around the beginning of the 19th century, earning a 12,000-franc prize from Napoleon for having found a way to keep the French army alive and well-fed during its long war campaigns.

Pulpo (octopus) is more than just a staple food in Galicia (the autonomous community in northwest Spain); it is an icon, a national symbol venerated by Galicians as well as Spaniards across the country. In Galicia, this cephalopod is consumed at traditional village fairs, and is sold on weekends at street stalls. These stands are usually run by women called pulpeiras, who boil dozens of octopuses on portable stoves in large pots made of copper. The octopus is then served on wooden dishes with paprika and olive oil, or plopped into plastic bags with some of the cooking water to take home.