You’ll step into a sunlit kitchen near Barcelona’s port and learn to make seafood paella from scratch with a local chef. Sip homemade sangria as you swap stories on a plant-filled rooftop terrace, then share Catalan cream for dessert as sunset colors drift over the city. Expect laughter, good food, and memories you’ll want to bring home.
The class takes place in Barceloneta, about ten minutes’ walk from the beach and facing the old port.
Yes, after cooking you’ll enjoy dinner on the rooftop terrace with your group.
The class is led by Alfonso, a chef trained at Barcelona’s higher cooking school who has worked at various restaurants in the city.
You’ll prepare seafood paella, sangria, and Catalan cream dessert during the class.
The maximum group size is 12 participants per session.
Yes, all participants receive an email with recipes for everything made during class.
Children can join but must be accompanied by an adult.
Your evening includes a master-led cooking class with Chef Alfonso in Barceloneta, all ingredients for seafood paella plus sangria and Catalan cream dessert, dinner served on a rooftop terrace overlooking Barcelona’s old port (with wine or water), small group setting for up to 12 people—and recipes emailed to you so you can try again at home.
I’ll be honest, I signed up for this rooftop paella cooking class in Barcelona mostly because I wanted to eat paella somewhere that wasn’t just another tourist spot near La Rambla. But walking up those stairs in Barceloneta, hearing the hum of the old port and catching a whiff of something citrusy from all those potted plants on the terrace—I felt like I’d stumbled into someone’s home, not a classroom. Alfonso greeted us with a glass of cava (I almost spilled mine trying to set my bag down), and right away it was less “lesson” and more “let’s cook together.”
Alfonso knows his stuff—he’s studied at some big-name school here, but he talks about food like it’s family gossip. He let us touch and smell each ingredient before we started, explaining why the rice matters more than anything else (I never knew). The seafood was so fresh you could practically taste the sea air already. He had us chopping peppers while telling stories about his abuela’s recipe—Li from our group tried to say “sofrito” in Spanish and everyone laughed, even Alfonso. The whole thing felt relaxed, not rushed. I kept glancing at the view—sun dipping behind cranes and old boats—and thinking, yeah, this is what I wanted.
Making sangria was messier than I expected (my hands still smelled like oranges after), but somehow it tasted better when we sat outside with the breeze coming off the water. Eating what we’d made together—paella straight from the pan, Catalan cream for dessert—it felt like we’d earned every bite. Alfonso sent us home with recipes by email, but honestly? It’s that moment on the terrace I keep replaying in my head—the laughter, the clink of glasses, that salty-sweet air. Not sure my own paella will ever taste quite like that night.

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