Barcelona for The Food Pilgrims: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

The afternoon market under the wave roof, cured-meat counters and the olive stall; a first bag of things to eat in the hotel.

The vermouth ritual: a glass from the barrel, olives, a sifón of soda, at a bar that bottles its own and sells it by the litre.

The long counter by the Liceu for fried artichokes, oxtail and a chuletón, ordered in rounds, open until two.

At opening the stallholders are the only people here; fruit stacks, the mushroom man, and the counters start frying by nine.

A market shop with the chef, then paella and crema catalana cooked in a Rambla kitchen and eaten at the long table.

Jordi Artal's Catalan tasting menu, Michelin-starred, no substitutions; the serious dinner, booked a month out.

A suís, hot chocolate under cream, and a melindro at the 1870 dairy, where the city learned its sweet tooth.

The city's dish done best: a seafood rice for two in the 1903 Barceloneta room, the cooks' photographs on the wall.

Anchovies and the house sparkling in the 1929 tiled bar, standing, which is the correct way to end a Sunday here.

The 1882 iron market restored in 2018, locals only on a Monday morning, with a counter breakfast under the cupola.

The pastry guild's chocolate museum, a ticket you can eat and a lesson on the Catalan mona, which is why Easter here is sculpted.

Hams over the counter since 1934, a bikini and a plate of whatever is being sliced before the airport train from Passeig de Gràcia.