Well, well, well, it seems we have a charming little escapade through Paris and Barcelona, where gastronomic delights and adorable chaos converge! If you’re not travelling with kids, it’s a bit like throwing a garden party and forgetting the invite: chaotic, unpredictable, and covered in sticky fingerprints. But give it a whirl with the little ones, and suddenly it’s a culinary journey of epic proportions – or as epic as a six-year-old in a pair of Crocs can muster!
Our tale begins with a magical journey aboard the Intercité de Nuit, leaving Paris just after bedtime. Now, if you’ve ever tried to get children to sleep *anywhere* but their own beds, you’ll know that’s like trying to teach a cat to do calculus. But look at this savvy parent! They’ve turned it into a culinary quest, transforming the age-old snack whingeing into a delectable discovery. Bravo! Why not tell your kids that the train is actually a giant moving buffet? Just be prepared for the moment they realize there’s no chocolate fountain in sight.
Our merry band of gastronomes first delves into Montmartre, a place where art meets… well, breakfast. A buffet where kids pay based on their age? Well, sign me up! Forget Michelin stars; this is the Michelin ‘We’re Not Wondering How to Afford This’ approach. Roast pork shoulder, marinated beef ribs, and an ensemble of sea critters for the little ones. I don’t know about you, but I feel like I’m at the world’s poshest kids’ party. Just when you thought you only had to worry about Lego pieces on the floor – now there’s nothing but a five-course meal sprawled across the table!
And who could resist a croissant loaf? It’s like someone decided that bread was too boring, so they just said, “What if we made it flakier and shaped like a baguette?!” Genius! Waiting for night trains is a delightful exercise in patience, and they chose wisely – chilling in PJs and playing Uno instead of turning to the bottle. And when they finally settle into those sleeping berths, like tiny burritos in a wrapping of duvet, a dreamier image you’d be hard-pressed to find.
Fast forward to the Pyrenees, where childhood imaginations go wild! Suddenly, you’re not just on a train; you’re in a moving picture book! There’s nothing like a scene out the window to rival the grandest of nursery rhymes, and kids can have their heads glued to the glass without the usual “Get away from that TV!” admonishments. Cue the shiny excitement when schoolkids pile on, rattling the compartment as if it were a scene from a British sitcom. I mean, what is this? A ‘staged laughter’ sound effect just waiting to happen!
Upon arrival in Barcelona, the family finds itself at the Eric Vökel Sagrada Familia Suites, sounding more like a hipster café than a hotel. This place is a stone’s throw away from Gaudí’s whimsical designs – one of which your kids will undoubtedly find oddly fascinating! Protests against overtourism? Not here, my friends! They’re off chasing the scent of truly local gastronomic experiences, a big win for those not wanting to play the tourist card. Off-season means it’s now a parent’s paradise, where the fewest tourists make managing kids easier than avoiding tofu at a BBQ.
As we meander into La Salut, stepping into a secret garden feels like stepping into the film “Parasite” – only this time, instead of class war, it’s all about giant paellas and capturing the essence of cooking. There’s something undeniably charming hearing about *real* Spanish food made from *real* family recipes, straight from Grandma’s cookbook! Everyone gets an apron, the kids get to fry calamari (don’t let them see this is how calamari is made; childhood shattered), and they learn the strict rules of paella making! Educational and completely essential: never ever stir the rice. Kids really need to know this; we don’t want to raise a generation of starch-releasing maelstroms on our hands, now, do we?
And as the smell of saffron wafts through the patio, with a side of chilled tomato bread – oh, the joys! In no time, the family mushroomed into a culinary whirlwind, devouring every last bit of the paella. I reckon this meal was not just about food; it was a lesson in bonding, dozing into deliciousness with their eyes wide open. And let’s talk market wonders! The colors of fruits and veggies, a true feast for the senses! At La Boqueria, it’s a veritable charcuterie paradise, and I must say, who needs TV when you can watch kids beholding the Technicolor spectacle of fruit? If only they could bottle that excitement and serve it as a mood-lifter for adults!
Finally, a shoutout to Plaça de Vicenç Martorell, where not only do the kids have fun, but parents get to sip on cold beers watching the chaos from a safe distance. Because nothing screams “great parenting” like having your children run amok while you attempt to relax in a sunny square – complete with squawking parrots for added ambiance! Barcelona truly transforms into a utopia when you extract the essence of joy mixed with a hint of pandemonium!
So there you have it. Join the rollicking ride of French delights to Spanish spices with the kids in tow! Adventure awaits – with snacks, paella, and a side dash of beautiful chaos.
Street lights strobed through the window, sending shadows sweeping across our faces as our train followed the River Seine through Choisy-le-Roi. Ten minutes earlier, we had pulled out of Paris’s Gare d’Austerlitz. Departing at 9.40pm, the Intercité de Nuit was due on the Spanish border just after 10am, where we would connect to a Barcelona train.
It’s possible to make the journey from London in a day, but my husband and I had added a stopover to give our two daughters – aged six and four – a whistlestop tour of the French capital, an indulgent lunch and a night on a sleeper train. Travelling with children was once a stop-start nightmare of whingeing for snacks, but instead of fighting them, I’d learned to embrace it by turning each journey into a voyage of gastronomic discovery.
The day before we checked in to 25hours Hotel Paris, opposite Gare du Nord, then set off to Montmartre, where we rode the old Carrousel de Saint-Pierre. With the help of online gastro guide Fooding we found the ideal place to eat just 15 minutes’ walk away. A buffet restaurant where children are charged €1.50 times their age, Boulom served everything from roast pork shoulder and marinated beef rib to pots of salty cockles, clams and prawns. It was like eating in a Michelin-starred school dining hall.
Travelling with children was once a stop-start nightmare of whingeing for snacks, but I’ve learned to turn each journey into a voyage of gastronomic discovery
Picking up croissant loaves for breakfast from Boulom’s bakery, we swung by the foot of the Eiffel Tower for ice-cream as an evening chill set in. Waiting for night trains involves a lot of hanging around bars and cafes, which is often hard with kids but we killed time at the hotel (playing Uno, hopping into pyjamas). Before we’d left Paris they were asleep, eye masks in place, water bottles wobbling in their racks.
Our four-person compartment had wide berths, proper pillows and nifty sleeping-bag duvets and we woke to views of sunkissed farmland. Ascending more than 1,500 metres through the Midi-Pyrénées, the train clattered through sudden snowscapes with stations no bigger than cottages. At Latour-de-Carol we transferred to the R3 train for a three-hour meander that had us glued to the windows and the beauty of the Pyrenees. In the final hour schoolkids piled on board, and the train slowed into the city, depositing us at Plaça de Catalunya.
The writer’s children on the train to Barcelona. Photograph: Monisha Rajesh
Our base was the Eric Vökel Sagrada Familia Suitesa stone’s throw from the liveliness of Avinguda Gaudí. It is contemporary, spotless and nicely located for a stroll down to the trippy magnificence of Gaudí’s unfinished basilica or a half-hour walk to Park Güell. Protests against overtourism have been held on Barcelona’s streets this summer, but we were visiting off-season and planned to seek local and out-of-the-centre experiences.
On the first morning we set off uphill to the quiet neighbourhood of La Salut, stopping at a door in a wall with twirly writing. A woman with softly greying hair answered the bell. “Welcome, would you like to see the secret garden?” she asked the girls, leading us through a kitchen into a patio shaded by a giant ombú tree. Lights hung between the branches, the scent of mimosa was warm on the air and in the centre was a table and two giant paella pans, ready for our class.
In 2012, Sara Casté Obiols, an interior designer, launched La Salsamenta cookery school after hearing visitors pass her family home en route to Park Güell, and thinking she might expand her teaching beyond neighbours and friends. After lockdown, her younger sister Clara joined her to help teach their grandmother’s recipes.
La Salsamenta cooking teacher Clara with the writer’s children. Photograph: Monisha Rajesh
Alongside a family from Florida, we were handed aprons and glasses of peachy white grenache before Clara fired up the pans and passed round ramekins of fresh stir-fry (a blend of garlic, peppers and tomato in oil) to taste. Running bomba rice through their fingers, the girls listened to Clara explain that paella was 15th-century Valencian peasants’ food into which they threw whatever they had: rabbit; snails; garrophone (butter) beans, but never ever chorizo.
We split into two groups – one for the seafood version and one for the rabbit and chicken. The girls got on with frying calamari, tossing in rice and ladling in stock, the aroma of saffron rising with the steam. “Never stir paella,” Clara warned, “this releases starch and we want the rice to be firm, with shocked – Catalan for the crisp, burnt bottom layer.”
Seated at a long table laden with chilled potato omelette and salad, we watched Clara prepare bread with tomato (the original Catalan bread with tomato) rubbing split garlic cloves and grated tomato across No peasants (farmers’ bread). Rich, with a light crunch, the paella was sensational, both pans cleared in minutes and followed with strawberries from the market. “You must take them there,” said Clara, as I picked her brains about where to go next, “they will have a wonderful time tasting everything. But my children? They love the CosmoCaixa science museum.”
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The family enjoyed a trip to CosmoCaixa science museum. Photograph: Siqui Sanchez
That afternoon, a little out of the city, near Mount Tibidabo, we stood in the jungle listening to tropical rains drum on lily leaves, piranhas turning in the pool. Known as the Flooded Forest, this 1,000-sq-metre section of the CosmoCaixa is a recreation of the Amazon’s ecosystem and the highlight of the five-storey museum. At just €8 for adults and under-16s going free, it’s a dreamy venue where parents can relax as kids are encouraged to run around touching everything, experimenting in the maths lab, weather station and Antarctic base. After three hours of staring at hair under microscopes, firing water jets and testing the speed of paper planes, I could see why Clara’s kids came on repeat visits.
A jam-packed day behind us – and in need of peace – we sought out La Terraza, the rooftop restaurant of the Grand Hotel Central. Over plates of the smoothest croquettes and crisp calamari, we took in a panoramic sweep of the city, terracotta tiles shimmering in the heat.
The writer’s daughters in La Boqueria market. Photograph: Monisha Rajesh
Unavoidable for first-timers to the city, La Rambla is both the best and worst of Barcelona, but it’s home to The Boqueria market, where Clara had suggested we take the girls for breakfast. Started in 1217 as a jumble of stalls, the market teemed with local shoppers picking up groceries. Munching on sticks of smoked fuet sausagethe girls watched as haunches of iberian ham were slapped and sliced into slivers and were thrilled by the Technicolor hues of strawberries dipped in chocolate and dragon fruit whizzed into smoothies.
Back in the sunshine, we stumbled upon Plaça de Vicenç Martorell, a leafy square with a playground and parrots squawking in the trees. For this reason alone, Barcelona is pure magic for parents, with playgrounds hidden in many corners. They’re often by bars where adults sip Mahou beers and watch their kids on the swings. We weren’t killing time until departure but savouring every moment as the girls dug in sand. Contemplating the trip as a whole, Barcelona felt utopian to our frazzled London minds.
Accommodation was provided by 25hours hotels in Paris (doubles from €152 room-only), and Eric Vokel Boutique Apartments in Barcelona (two-bedroom apartment from about €255 B&B). The Salsamenta paella class: €62 adults, €30 children (6-11)
