Some birthdays are made for big parties. Others? They’re best spent with family, good food, and a table full of dishes that make you forget all about calorie counting. This year, since my actual birthday fell on a workday, I planned a belated post-birthday celebration — a simple Saturday lunch where the only rule was to eat to eat and smile.
And so, we found ourselves at Rambla, a restaurant known for its Spanish-inspired flavors, generous portions, and a wine and beer selection that would have to wait for another time (more on that later).
Now, in my family, there is an unspoken rivalry at every meal — my dad, the lifelong fish lover, and me, the unapologetic carnivore. As soon as we sat down, a battle of wills unfolded. My dad, eyeing the menu with the precision of a seasoned strategist, locked in on the Red Lapu-Lapu Bilbaina. Meanwhile, I, forever loyal to all things meat, had my heart set on the Pork Belly.
For a few minutes, it was a game of which is which. In the end, my love for crispy pork prevailed.
(A victory I accepted with pride, but also with the full intention of returning for that lapu-lapu on another day. Dad, I owe you one.)
With the great debate settled, the real indulgence began. The meal started with complimentary bread, warm and crusty, the kind that makes my 11-year-old nephew gobble it all up like it was cake.
Then came the Pollo Paella. Four whole chicken legs rested on a bed of richly flavored rice, packed with the warmth of vegetable sofrito. Each bite was comforting, familiar, and filled with the kind of deep, slow-cooked flavors that remind you why paella is always a good idea.
But if the paella was the heart of the meal, the Linguine Vongole was its elegant counterpart. The briny clams, swimming in extra virgin olive oil, garlic, and white wine, were perfectly salty — the kind of salty that tastes like ocean water in the best possible way. I was so caught up in enjoying them that by the time I looked down, I had already filled an entire bowl with empty shells. A true sign of a winning dish.
Then came the Pescados y Carnes. The Pollo de Corral arrived, a roasted chicken dish served with an indulgent truffle risotto — rich, creamy, and dangerously addictive.
The Pork Chop, grilled and served with vegetables, was thick and juicy, exactly how a proper pork chop should be.
And finally, the dish I fought for: the Pork Belly. Crisped to perfection, sitting atop sweet potato puree with a chimichurri sauce that cut through the richness just enough to keep every bite interesting. Every forkful was a perfect balance of crunch, tenderness, and deep, smoky flavor.
Now, Rambla boasts an impressive wine and beer selection. But since this was a bright, sunlit Saturday lunch with family, we made the responsible (and admittedly wise) choice to save the drinks for another occasion. Because let’s be real—getting tipsy before noon while families with kids walk by isn’t exactly the vibe.
Instead, I made a mental note: next time, this would be a dinner affair. A proper sit-down, where the wine flows and the conversations stretch into the night. Because Rambla isn’t just about food -- it's about getting drunk too.
By the time we leaned back in our seats, full and satisfied, one thing was clear: this meal was a celebration in every sense of the word. And while my dad may not have gotten his lapu-lapu, I promised him that next time, we’d come back for it.
(And, let’s be honest, I’d probably order the pork belly again too.)
Because a good meal is always worth repeating.