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Bar Moro brings authentic Spanish cuisine and atmosphere to Clayton

Ben Poremba presents a wealth of tastes and textures in the former Billie-Jean space.

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The lighting is absolutely perfect. Sit at one of the banquette booths or squeeze on a stool at the inevitably crowded bar, and you have a feel for a tiny, bustling Barcelona bar de tapas. It’s an impressive feat; the interior at Bar Moro captures the atmosphere, only with more seating than the typical tapas place. Flamenco music stutters and crackles. It’s romantically dim; black walls lend a cave-like atmosphere; subtle lighting affords a warm, welcome glow.

Rows of copper cazuela twinkle in racks overhead. A pair of cured pig haunches are mounted on trestles, ready for slicing. Tables are so close that you’re almost literally rubbing elbows with the next table (in our case, a retired Cardinals player whom we didn’t recognize until we peeked while he was signing his receipt). Rarely has a restaurant in St. Louis done such a masterful job of conjuring, so expectations are immediately high for the food.

Read More: Bar Moro opens in the former Billie-Jean space in Clayton

Tapas are more than food—they’re cultural expression, one that can be challenging to translate. Although still relatively new, Bar Moro competently tackles tapas. There is scarcely a menu item here that wouldn’t be at home in Spain. Start a first date with citrus-marinated olives, teardrop hojiblanca, manzanillas, emerald pearls of picuals, slick with olive oil, all exploding with piquant flavor. Along with a slab of rough pa de page bread and one of the fino sherries offered, you’re like to be engaged before the evening’s end. Salt cod croquetas, another tapas classic, receive a masterful treatment. Like miniature eggrolls, the golden crusty exterior is broken into a hot (real hot), creamy smooth béchamel sauce with mashed cod. Trust us: Double the order.

Black crumbles of morcilla (blood sausage) add much to an eggy tortilla, along with potatoes. The texture is puffy and light. A caramelized onion emulsion splashed over the omelet, however, makes it resemble a crème brulée and distracts from the simple joy of an otherwise very good tortilla. The genius of Spanish cuisine is often in its simplicity, so the emulsion seems an unnecessary frill.

Gazpacho is a glass of liquid summer. Tomatoes and bread are blended into a slippery, supple delight, with a tangy, vinegary kick. A thimble of gin alongside can be added, providing another taste; we found it worked better as a quick shot between spoonfuls of the gazpacho.

Spain’s take on the croque-monsieur, a bikini, is layered with ham and a mushroom duxelle. The bread is crusty, warm, and satisfying.

The bar takes daily shipments of live shrimp and turns them out cold, with lemon, salt, and olive oil or—these are what you want—sautéed with garlic and sherry.

If you know Iberico ham, no description is necessary. If you haven’t, try it here. Glistening, gossamer-thin, salty and nutty, it’s one of the world’s greatest meats.

A couple of large raciones are musts at Bar Moro. Arroz negro cremosa is stellar. Rice is reduced to a risotto-like softness, dyed with squid ink, and mixed with chorizo and bites of braised octopus. It arrives steaming and fragrant in a shallow cazuela. The portion should be shared—it’s too rich for one. Man, it’s good.

Coming close behind is the Catalan take on surf and turf, or mar i muntanya (“sea and mountain”). Catalan roast chicken, made famous by Spanish chef/star Ferran Adria, is astounding by itself. Roasted with bay leaves, rosemary, and lemons, it’s juicy and aromatic. In this dish, it’s chopped into boneless chunks and added to a rich, velvety sauce that’s the bright-orange hue of naranja Valencia. Then, instead of the usual shrimp, hunks of lobster claw go into the dish. Hala! That sauce—smoky, peppery, tasting of roasted tomatoes and red peppers—is a take on a Tarragona romesco. You might happily eat it on a shingle. Here, with the poultry and lobster, it’s truly memorable. (Hint: Order a side of fried potatoes, and use them to sop up the sauce.)

An extensive selection of conservas—tinned seafood—are offered. From exquisite angulas (baby eels) to cockles and clams, there isn’t one that doesn’t tempt. These delicacies are as far removed from stuff like canned tuna as Bilbao is from Belleville. Prices here are daunting, though. Try one, and consider exploring the remarkable conserva selection at AO&Co. (also owned by Bar Moro chef-owner Ben Poremba) or nearby Starrs.

Bar Moro's take on Basque cheesecake, a crustless iteration known for its telltale "burnt" top, is a mandatory last indulgence. Airy, creamy, cloudlike...you'll run out descriptors, but "wow" will surely be one of them. Pair it with the recommended Henriques & Henriques 10-year-old Madeira. You will remember that you did so. 

While there aren’t any bargains, Bar Moro’s wine selection is a catalogue of some of Spain’s finest grapes. A Fefenanes Alberino might catch your eye—the winery was the first to make wine from Albarino grapes; it’s excellent with several tapas. It’s a small disappointment: Cava defines Catalan-style dining, but only four are offered, all expensive. And while beer goes enormously well with tapas, only one, an Estrella Damm, is on the menu. On the other hand, it’s served exactly as it should be, in a cana, a small, fluted glass of a size that the beer can be enjoyed while it’s still optimally chill. Reservations are highly recommended, if not mandatory, especially on weekends. Your La Roja fan scarf is optional.

The Bottom Line: Tapas and other Spanish cuisine are served in a happily authentic setting.

Bar Moro

7610 Wydown, St Louis, Missouri 63105

314-296-3000

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Tue-Sat: 4 p.m. - close

Expensive