La Pérgola, more than a sacred bar in the city, is almost a state of mind. Where the alameders ate, where the city sheltered under the placidity of the spring sun. Also where, generation after generation, the healthy custom of having a superbombón (the totemic sandwich of the house) has been preserved along its bar, converted into a metallic orbit.
It is common to see an uninhibited València pay homage to her life on her terrace while brothers Juan, David and Carlos travel at the speed of light from one table to another. At one of those tables, you may be able to see Paco Roca drawing time. Perhaps peek into a talk that fixes urban life.
Perhaps, just, to indulge in his napkins, a magnum opus of bar design. As is the pergola itself made into a kitchenette, almost a satellite next to the main planet.