With just 30 minutes to go until noon, Plaza Nueva already smells like pintxos de tortilla. Children chase after a ball or trade collectible cards while adults scramble for free tables. Meanwhile, gildas – skewers of olive, pickled guindilla pepper, and anchovy – stand firm at the bars like armies of tiny soldiers.

It’s a typical Sunday in Bilbao, as long as the weather cooperates. If not, all the action moves under the arcades, where crowds gather, raising their marianitos high. This local drink, a mix of vermouth with a splash of Campari, another of gin, a few drops of Angostura bitters, and sometimes orange juice (every place has its own recipe), is practically a religion here. Plates of rabas – golden-fried squid strips of baby squid – pass from hand to hand in that magical corner where bars Sorginzulo and Gure-Toki serve up their unbeatable pintxos. The aperitif is sacred in this city, rain or shine. A true Bilbaino always sticks to their rituals.

There’s a saying that says that for people from Bilbao, even infinity isn’t enough. Their toughness was forged in a city where work once dominated both day and night, ringing with the sounds of metal striking metal. That work ethic, along with their beloved football team, has turned their pride into legend. Once entirely industrial – its skyline marked by chimneys billowing smoke, its streets dark, metallic, and drenched in rain – today, the capital of Bizkaia is a bright, transformed city that has embraced change while holding on to much of its character. Not an easy feat, considering it now attracts close to a million visitors annually and faces the effects of gentrification, much like most major cities around the world.

The arrival of the Guggenheim Museum in 1997 was key to Bilbao’s transformation. Art washed over the city like the sirimiri – its signature light drizzle – clearing the air in more ways than one. Today, culture is a major draw, from the Guggenheim’s exhibitions to the performances at the Arriaga Theatre, Azkuna Zentroa, and major music festivals like BBK Live. But so is Bilbao’s thriving food scene and the hedonistic spirit that animates its streets (and keeps its bars bustling).

Split in two by the estuary – a deep green artery that some dare to sail before it meets the sea just 13 kilometers away – Bilbao offers as many routes as it does neighborhoods. A walk through Abando, the elegant district on the left bank of the river, takes you past stately, restrained buildings, some as solid as a punch, their ground floors home to Bilbao’s thriving food scene. A stroll through the city’s medieval heart, the “Seven Streets” of the Casco Viejo, will revive even the weariest visitor with its lively pintxo bars, small beers known as zuritos, and the chatter of locals who step out for a loaf of bread and inevitably stay for a drink with la cuadrilla (as they call groups of friends here).

This city isn’t as picturesque as its neighbor San Sebastián, with whom it maintains an unspoken rivalry. But it has an undeniable energy, a current running beneath its surface that’s impossible to contain. Philosopher Miguel de Unamuno, a Bilbao native, once called it a “strong and anxious town” filled with “ambitious merchants.” He wrote those words in 1908, and even today, the city exudes that same restless drive, which always seems to end up at its bars and tables.

Bilbao’s cuisine remains deeply traditional. Ask a local, and they’ll tell you they’d choose a plate of alubias (bean stew) or bacalao a la vizcaína (cod in a red pepper sauce) over any experimental dish. Traditional cooking is revered, whether it’s in casual restaurants like Grand Prix, where Mario and Izaskun serve up homestyle stews as part of a hearty menú del día – the traditional fixed-price daily menu; in taverns like Monty, where battered anchovies and txipirones en su tinta (stew of squid in its ink) are mandatory, or in classic restaurants like Los Fueros (known for its excellent quality-to-price ratio), Zarate, and Aitor Laurreaga. Grilled fish (chef Unai Campo works magic with fire at Porrue, though be prepared for the bill) or a well-aged steak (Aitaren is the best bet in the city center) are always favorites.

That’s not to say there aren’t creative outsiders pushing the boundaries. Josean Alija turns Basque cuisine into poetry at Nerua, inside the Guggenheim. His tasting menu is delicate, moving, and deeply respectful of tradition in its own way. Just a few steps away, separated only by Puppy – the world’s largest flower sculpture, created by Jeff Koons – young chef Julen Bergantiños brings forgotten recipes to life with striking beauty at Islares, drawing inspiration from the old coastal road that runs from Galicia to the French border. Meanwhile, in the lower part of the San Francisco neighborhood, Álvaro Garrido channels Bilbao’s boldness into his daring tasting menu at Restaurante Mina.

Bilbainos dislike pretension at the table. In fact, they’ve turned a simple combination of eggs, potatoes, and onions into an icon. Few places hold the Spanish omelet in such high regard. Here, you’ll find them voluptuous, subtle, wobbly, baroque, or firm (thankfully, the latter is rare), and all have their place. They’re eaten at breakfast, at the sacred 11 a.m. snack known locally as hamakeitako (“eleven” in Basque is “hamaika”), at lunch, as an afternoon bite, for dinner, and even as a late-night snack (after all, in Bilbao, infinity isn’t enough). No matter one’s age or status, at any given moment, someone is holding a pintxo de tortilla. Every single day.

Some of the city’s most legendary tortillas can be found at Txintxirri, Mr. Marvelous (with caramelized onion), and La Taberna de Zarate on the west side of the estuary. On the other side, Baster prepares them à la minute and in individual portions, ensuring they are always juicy and warm, while Loren’s version is worth the climb up a hundred steps to get there (it’s located near the Begoña neighborhood, high up in the city).

Despite this strong attachment to their own cuisine, people from Bilbao are also interested in looking beyond their borders. This explains the success of restaurants like Iván Abril’s Kimtxu, where he blends Thai, Vietnamese, Japanese, and Indian flavors with Basque ingredients. His sukalki dumplings (stuffed with a traditional local beef and potato stew) and wok-fried vegetables and mushroom with green bean sauce and cashews are must-tries. Not far away, Dani Lomana has put Bilbao on the map for top-tier Japanese dining with Kuma, where the finest northern ingredients meet the best Japanese techniques. In Deusto, the university district, young Peruvian chef Gabriel Huaman brings Andean recipes to Bilbao at Waman, blending them with Basque ingredients for excellent results. Here, chefs know that cutting ties with Euskadi (the Basque word for the Basque Country) is never a good idea.

Bilbao is a creature of habit – probably a lion, like the mascot of Bilbao Athletic Club, the city’s football team. And it’s always thirsty. Casually leaning against the bar – some as if they’re about to leave, others as if they haven’t fully arrived – there’s always someone sipping a glass of wine. The term riojitis refers to the city’s habit of ordering only wines from the Rioja region, as if that guarantees quality. Some establishments, like Cork, are breaking that mold, offering an impressive selection of wines (also by the glass) from around the world. If you’re in search of sherry or sparkling wine, this is the place. The heirs of Jon Ocaña do the same at Basaras, nestled in one of the intricate alleyways of the Old Town, where salt-cured anchovies take center stage. For cocktails, Residence is the best choice. The charismatic Manu Iturregi is a benchmark in the scene, and his small venue is a must-visit destination.

If Bilbao has a bar on every corner, it also has a bakery. The city has a serious sweet tooth. This is the birthplace of the bollo de mantequilla, a soft brioche filled with sweet buttercream – Bilbao’s answer to San Sebastián’s famous cheesecake. The best are found at Arrese or Martina de Zuricalday, where long lines form at the door. Just as we wouldn’t encourage you to follow certain other queues (no, El Globo isn’t really worth it), here you should get in line and watch life go by.

Before the Guggenheim, Bilbao was a possibility. After the Guggenheim, it became a certainty. The museum’s name carries weight, but the city has grown beyond it – just as it did beyond its darkest industrial days. It’s part of Bilbao’s nature: a city that knows itself. And knows its food.

Old School vs. New School

Old and new come together in bakeries like Gure Ogia, run by the Elgezabal brothers, where they revive ancient grains like txakinarto (a native corn variety) to craft long-fermented artisanal loaves. One could say there is a new wave of bakers in Euskadi obsessed with making bread that is higher in quality, healthier, and longer-lasting. Their pastries rival those of the city’s most traditional brands, as do other bakeries, like Charamel. In Bilbao, there is never a shortage of crumbs and sugar.

Watering Hole

Here are three must-visit spots to try a marianito preparado: At Baster, Jon Abad and Lluís Auguet prepare it to perfection – so smooth, you could drink it like candy (but be careful, don’t have more than two). At Basque, an art déco bar in the heart of Abando, they’ve been following the same recipe since they first opened in 1976: Martini, Punt e Mes, gin, Campari, and a few drops of Angostura bitters. In the Old Town, Ander Etxea is one of the city’s classic spots. Nearby, you’ll find Taska Beltz, one of the few places in Bilbao with a menu dedicated exclusively to natural wines.

To Market

Overlooking the waters of the estuary, Mercado de la Ribera is more intriguing for its past than its present. Little remains of the space that opened in 1929 as a hub for trade and a social gathering place. Fully renovated in 2012, its top floor was converted into a dining area, aligning it with more gourmet-focused models. It’s far more interesting to stroll through the market stalls, browsing fresh meat, fish, and seasonal vegetables.

Neighborhood Watch

Climbing Mount Artxanda is a must, as it offers a panoramic view of Bilbao that is hard to match from any other point. Once at the top, there is much to explore: you can enjoy some rabas at Txakoli Ballano – txakoli being the name once given to establishments that served their own wine to travelers stopping by – or savor a perfectly grilled steak at Txakoli Simón. It’s an easy walk up there that dozens of families take every weekend, but if your legs aren’t up for it, you can always take the funicular.

Beyond pintxos

When the cold sets in, it’s common to see signs reading salda dago in Bilbao’s bars. It means there’s broth available – usually a simple consommé, served hot and meant to warm the stomach for whatever comes next. Then there’s soup, and here, the queen of them all is fish soup, a dish as old as Basque (and maritime) cuisine itself. The one at Zapirain, made with monkfish tail, red bell pepper, green pepper, pimiento choricero, and a touch of chili, is a must-try. And El Arandia de Julen isn’t far behind.