The numbers don’t lie: the Portuguese drink the most wine per capita of any nationality. Not surprisingly, you don’t have to look far to find the drink in Lisbon, a city where a glass of wine is sometimes cheaper than a bottle of water. But if you’re looking for a unique wine – perhaps something made by a small producer, a long-lost grape, or a bottle from an obscure region – in a comfortable or perhaps even stylish atmosphere, poured by someone who can tell you a bit about what you’re drinking, things get a little more complicated.

The original idea was simple enough. “The plan was to make really good ham and cheese sandwiches,” explains Bruno Ribeiro of O Primo do Queijo, the Lisbon restaurant he owns with Francisco Nuno Silveira Bernardo. But rarely are things so easy.

“This restaurant is different,” says Belmiro de Jesus. He’s describing his own establishment, Belmiro, which he opened in 2020. And, we have to admit, it’s true. From the menu, with its emphasis on game dishes, to the unique wines – quirky labels that won’t break the bank – the chef has created a restaurant that stands out. If there’s anything we’d add to his descriptor, it would be that Belmiro is also very delicious and very Portuguese.

Start with stale, leftover bread. Add to this some of Portugal’s most decadent, richest ingredients, and you have açorda de gambas, a dish that manages to bridge the gap between poverty and indulgence. The Portuguese are masters at transforming leftover or stale bread into new dishes. In the north, leftover slices of bread are dipped in eggs, fried in oil and sprinkled with sugar in the dessert known as rabanadas. In the south, açorda is a soup made from slices of day-old bread topped with hot water, garlic, herbs, and a poached egg. The south is also home to migas, bits of stale bread and fat that are cooked into an almost omelet-like form.

It’s an epic love story between the Menéres family and the land of Romeu, a remote village in the region of northeast Portugal called Trás-os-Montes, whose name literally means “beyond the mountains.” Over 150 years ago Clemente Menéres began the family farm, and today the Menéres estate continues to produce certified organic olive oil and wine, as well as cork, with absolute respect for the land and the people living and working in the hilly fields. On our arrival we’re received by João Menéres, the fifth generation to lead the family business, whose infectious enthusiasm resists the high temperatures of the scorching summer months and the unusually harsh cold of winter. João leads the way as we explore Romeu, sharing a bit of the family’s story along the way.

“This is the best time for bivalves,” says Portuguese chef João Rodrigues. It’s late February, and we’re speaking in the dining room of Canalha, his award-winning Lisbon restaurant. “Usually you think of bivalves as something you eat in summer, but you shouldn’t. During the months with no letter R, you shouldn't eat them.” We had asked the chef to share a seasonal dish, but since proper spring produce hadn’t yet quite arrived, he suggested razor clam rice served with deep-fried hake – a fish related to cod, although with a more delicate flavor – creating a dish that takes advantage of those plump, non-summer bivalves.

The story goes that in the early 19th century, an Italian immigrant, António Marrare, arrived in Lisbon and opened four eateries, essentially introducing the concept of the contemporary restaurant to the city. These venues – all of which bore his name – would have an impact on Lisbon’s culinary scene that exists until today, as would the steak dish he invented, which was also – perhaps unsurprisingly – named after himself. Marrare’s last restaurant closed in 1866, but a century later Lisbon restaurateurs, nostalgic for that era of dining, opened restaurants that paid homage to Marrare. Those that exist today include Snob Bar, opened in 1964, Café de São Bento, in 1982, and Café do Paço, in 2009.

Lisbon’s steep hills and cobbled streets are home to a rich pantheon of delicious dishes – visitors would be remiss to fill up exclusively on the famous pastel de nata before exploring all the flavors the Portuguese capital has to offer. Anchored by excellent seafood, comforting stews, and cod prepared every which way, traditional cuisine is still possible to track down all around town. But what makes Lisbon unique is that its food doesn’t stop there – culinary influences have filtered in from different corners of Portugal and the former colonies, making this a perfect place to try acarajé from Bahia, Angolan peito alto, or modern takes on regional dishes from the many young chefs stepping up in the city’s food scene.

It’s that quiet time between lunch and dinner, and we’re sitting with chef Leonor Godinho in a tasca, or rustic, casual, Portuguese restaurant. The furniture is sturdy but unremarkable, and walls are mostly bare except for a couple old photos, a child’s drawing and the ubiquitous vitrine, a built-in refrigerator. “I knew about this place because my best friends had just moved their studio to this building,” Leonor tells us of the space, formerly known as Casa do Alberto. “I would come here all the time to eat with them, and they would joke with me, ‘It would be great if this was yours!’”

At any Portuguese pastelaria, the pastel de nata, Portugal’s famous custard tart, is only the tip of the iceberg. Lisbon, especially, is home to a host of bakeries both traditional and innovative, and a wide selection of sweet treats you can’t leave without trying. From lesser-known convent sweets like the elaborate ovos moles to Brazilian baked goods to chocolate made by master chocolatiers, there’s something for every sweet tooth in this city. Culinary Backstreet has you covered: Our local guides have handpicked the absolute best desserts in town, from pastel de nata and beyond.

For me, some of my favorite dishes when I return to Lisbon are the following: Rissois de camarão – prawn rissoles Grilled Alentejo pork plumas with a tomato salad and piri piri. These are the dishes that make me salivate when I fly back home. Both of them symbolize the food of Lisbon and they always taste better in situ.The pork dish is one you can find with reasonable quality in most good tascas or old school eateries throughout the city. I prefer to sit outside to soak in the sun, perhaps because I now live in London where there’s so little of it.

We’re in Os Papagaios, the restaurant Joaquim Saragga oversees in Lisbon’s Arroios neighborhood, where we’ve asked him to show us how to make one of Lisbon’s more iconic dishes: ervilhas guisadas, peas braised with Portuguese sausages, typically crowned with poached eggs. Come spring, Portugal revels in green-hued produce: fava beans, asparagus, artichoke, spinach and other leaves. Peas feature in this bounty, but the ubiquity of frozen peas means that the dish makes frequent appearances on tasca and restaurant menus during all times of year.

Gambrinus, in operation since 1936, is the type of restaurant with fully-suited wait staff, white tablecloths, signature plates, wood paneling on the walls and a menu that touches on items such as foie gras and crêpes Suzette. If you’ve ever eaten there, it’s likely that you sat in one of the elegant, warm dining rooms designed by Portuguese architect Maurício de Vasconcelos in 1964. But for generations of Lisbon diners, especially chefs and others in the hospitality industry, food writers and photographers, Gambrinus means one thing: its bar.

Lisbon is changing so fast that it’s quite refreshing when a restaurant opens without proclaiming a twist or a “concept.” When Canalha was announced, it stirred great curiosity among local diners – and for good reason. A talented chef, renowned for Michelin-starred restaurant Feitoria, as well as the itinerant project Residência in 2023, was leaving fine dining to open a place with Portuguese fare sprinkled with a bit of Spanish inspiration. Just a few days after opening in November, Canalha became the talk of the town, and now you need to book a table for dinner weeks in advance.

We were somewhat intimidated by doing a profile of Nova Pombalina, a snack bar in Lisbon’s Baixa neighborhood. When we stopped by to arrange an interview and shoot, the staff – when they finally had a spare second to chat – seemed slightly suspicious and generally disinterested. And our first attempt at a shoot and interview was postponed for reasons that weren’t entirely clear to us. It isn’t much different when we ultimately arrive. It’s 11 a.m. on a Saturday, but the place is already buzzing with customers – a slightly rowdy group of Irish bros, a local who had stopped in for breakfast, a couple Spanish families. Eventually, when things slow down, we sit down at a table with co-owner, Manuel Maurício. He tells us that in 1980, he and his brother, Virgílio, took over the space, which had been in operation since 1938.