Les Tres Maries in Catalan culture often refers to three women who love to gossip, always whispering about the lives of others. It’s a common phrase used to describe a trio of people who are constantly chatting and spreading news—sometimes true, sometimes exaggerated.
You might hear someone say, “Mira-les, semblen les Tres Maries!” (“Look at them, they’re like the Three Maries!”) when referring to a group of people gossiping. This idea of Les Tres Maries exists in different forms across various cultures, but in Catalonia, it’s often used humorously rather than as an insult.
The name itself likely comes from religious or traditional roots—there are biblical references to three Marys (Mary Magdalene, Mary of Clopas, and Mary Salome) who were present at the crucifixion of Jesus. Over time, in folklore, it seems to have taken on a different, more lighthearted meaning.
Click menu item to select. When you are ready to order, press the “Show Selected” button in the end of the menu and show to the waiter.
Les Tres Maries and the Finally-Found Italian Restaurant
In the lively town of Cambrils, Les Tres Maries—Maria la Ràpida, Maria la Forta, and Maria la Sàvia—had one great mission in life: to know everything about everyone. They could tell you who bought a new sofa, who dyed their hair, and who had a secret stash of chocolate hidden from their grandchildren.
But there was one mystery they hadn’t solved—where to find a truly good Italian restaurant.
“Oh, I dream of real spaghetti!” sighed Maria la Ràpida. “Not that overcooked mess from Can Pep.”
“And a proper pizza,” said Maria la Forta, shaking her head. “The last one I had tasted like cardboard.”
Maria la Sàvia, who prided herself on knowing all the best places, crossed her arms. “I’ve heard rumors… whispers of a small, authentic trattoria, hidden somewhere in town.”
The three women gasped. A secret Italian restaurant? This was the most exciting gossip of the year!
So, they began their investigation.
First, they asked Rosa, who had traveled to Rome once and never stopped talking about it. “Oh, no, darlings,” she said, waving her hand. “Nothing here compares to Italy.”
Then they asked the butcher, Jaume, who loved food almost as much as he loved his meat. “Ah! I heard there’s a place, but they don’t advertise. Only real food lovers find it.”
“Real food lovers? That’s us!” declared Maria la Forta.
Finally, after days of snooping and subtle interrogations (and a little eavesdropping at the hair salon), Les Tres Mariesfound their answer.
On a small, hidden street, behind a flower shop, there was a tiny restaurant with no sign—just the smell of garlic and fresh basil floating through the air.
They stepped inside, eyes wide with anticipation. The owner, a little Italian man with a big mustache, greeted them. “Ah, you found me! Then you must be serious about Italian food.”
That night, Les Tres Maries feasted on the best lasagna, the crispiest pizza, and the creamiest tiramisu they had ever tasted.
And of course, the next morning, they sat on their usual bench in the square, telling everyone (but not everyone) about their great discovery.
Because after all, some secrets are too good to keep—but too precious to share with just anyone.
