CYB3R1K | Cafes in Palma de Mallorca

Lluís Pérez isn’t your average pastry chef – he’s a quiet perfectionist with a whisk and a touch of boldness. His shop on Carrer Bonaire feels serene, but every detail hums with intention. Croissants so delicate they crumble at a glance, chocolates that melt like confessions, and cakes crafted with patience, not pretence. It’s elegance without arrogance – proof that mastery doesn’t need noise. Every bite is thoughtful, balanced, and just a little sinful. Call it art, call it obsession – either way, Lluís Pérez turns sweetness into something quietly powerful.

Mistral Coffee House If you find yourself wandering around Plaça de Weyler, step into Mistral Coffee House and stay for the flavour. Their beans are on a globe-trotting mission, roasted right here and poured with precision. From fruit-forward filters to dark, deliberate espresso shots, this is a place that treats your cup like a canvas. The food follows suit: sourdough toasts, cinnamon rolls, vegan options. It’s where I buy my coffee for home too, because once you’ve tasted their roast, supermarket beans just won’t cut it. Mistral makes caffeine feel noble.

La Molienda Bisbe is where Palma’s caffeine crowd goes to feel good without pretending. The smell of freshly roasted beans hits first, followed by that calm hum of people easing into their day. The coffee’s excellent, the food’s honest, and the atmosphere walks the line between casual brunch and quiet ritual. There’s no performance here – just quality served with a smile that doesn’t try too hard. It’s the kind of place that earns loyalty, not hype. A flat white at La Molienda feels like permission to pause – proof that simplicity, when done right, is enough.

La Velo is for beer lovers. They keeps things real – small batches, very big flavours, and zero pretense. It’s where craft beer meets community without the hipster fuss. The tanks are on display, the taps rotate, and the crowd’s a friendly mix of locals and curious nomads. Expect bold brews, solid burgers, and the occasional experimental pint that actually works. It’s not polished, it’s alive – warm lights, laughter, and that steady hum of people who just like good beer done right. No slogans, no show, just honest brewing with character and heart.

El Vinho doesn’t shout to get your attention, really, it does not. Hidden on Carrer Joan Crespí, it’s a slice of Lisbon attitude tucked into Palma’s backstreets. The shelves are lined with Portuguese bottles you’ve probably never heard of. The food’s very simple, the mood unhurried, and the staff pour like they mean it. No glossy menus, no fake smiles – just honest wine served by the owners of the place, good company, and a quiet rebellion against the ordinary. Being unapologetically unpretentious is what makes it so authentic.

Agabar is hitting you with that kind of bar alchemy of smoke, salt, and soul. It is a love letter to agave in all its wild forms. The busy bar glows low and the bottles line the walls like trophies. Tequila, mezcal, lime, heat – every drink feels like a story told under golden neon haze. You might get messy guac on your fingers or lose track of time on the terrace, and that’s exactly the point. Its extensive selection of tequila, agave-based spirits, and inventive cocktails makes it a magnet for anyone chasing bold, unique flavours.

Bar Flexas doesn’t follow Palma’s rules – it drinks them under the table. Born in the 1940s and still kicking on Carrer de la Llotgeta, it’s equal parts dive bar, queer haven, and time warp. The walls sweat history, the crowd’s a glorious mess of artists, locals, dreamers, and night creatures. You’ll find drag shows, mismatched furniture, and drinks poured like nobody’s counting. Nothing about it is curated – it just is. Rough, loud, alive, and beautifully chaotic, Flexas isn’t chasing cool – it invented it, then spilled it all over the floor. Come as you are, stay until you forget.

Mirall Bar, playfully elusive inside Nobis Hotel Palma’s grand, nearly-a-millennium-old palace, the Bar throws a little elegance into the mix without losing its edge. With a soaring nine-meter ceiling, stone walls whispering history and tall lamps casting low light, it’s less “snug lounge” and more “vaulted cathedral of cocktails.”
The menu reads like local produce met high ambition – seasonal ingredients, inventive drinks, and a space that morphs from afternoon aperitif to late-night scene. If you’re after style that doesn’t scream, but smolders, this is the place.

Atomic Garden hums with attitude – part rock bar, part craft-beer temple, all character. On Santa Catalina’s lively backstreets, it glows under dim lights and movie posters that have seen a few stories. The taps pour local and imported brews with punch and personality, best enjoyed to a soundtrack of guitars and late-night laughter. The crowd’s a mash-up of regulars, nerds, nomads and beer geeks who know a good pour when they taste one. It’s gritty, loud, and honest – the kind of place where time blurs, music wins, and every glass feels like a small act of rebellion.