The diverse bay of the Sado River estuary, with its old port towns, cork oak groves, ancient rice fields, beaches and wildlife, is only around 45 minutes south of Lisbon, but feels a million miles away from the Portuguese capital. The history of this region – which includes the slightly gritty main city of Setúbal – goes back to Roman times, and it has had a strong connection to the ocean ever since. Fish salting has been key to Setúbal’s economy from the first century onwards, with port activities developing in the 15th century and later more industrial development, particularly fish canning, in the 19th century.

Way before brunches, special bowls, latte foam art and white marble counters took the city by storm, restaurants like Petite Folie, Lorde, Saraiva’s, Bacchus and Belcanto were the coolest cats in Lisbon. You wouldn’t walk in not wearing a nice jacket or a dress. You would never go straight to your table – first, you would sit at the bar, greet your favorite waiter, who knew you by name, and order your usual drink, which he would already be preparing. But those days are gone, like most of those restaurants – the ones that aren’t, such as Michelin-starred Belcanto or the newly reopened Saraiva’s, have changed dramatically.

Over the course of June, Lisbon’s neighborhoods are perfumed with the smoke of barbecued sardines. It’s one of the most prominent features of the traditional arraiais, the festivals that pop in each neighborhood at this time of year, offering grilled fish and pork, beer and sangria, and music. While all this eating, drinking and making merry is certainly a fun time, it’s by no means the main event. For many Lisboetas the highlight of the June festivals, which are held in honor of Santo António, Lisbon’s favorite local saint, are the marchas (parades) on the night of June 12, the eve of Saint Anthony’s Day. It’s the moment they have been waiting and preparing for all year.

Fishmongers are getting ready for the Santo António Festival, which the city celebrates by grilling up copious amounts of sardines – large swathes of Lisbon turn into one extended outdoor cookout. We spotted these festive workers in Campo de Ourique market, on our Lisbon Awakens walk.

Considering how much hype has been laden upon it since 2016, when a few galleries moved into some of its former warehouses, you’d think the light-industrial, heavily residential neighborhood of Marvila would already be out of fashion. Yet, step outside the cluster of streets hosting these art spaces, co-working hubs, brewer-bars and the famed cultural center Fabrica Braço de Prata, and Marvila as a whole still feels a long way from being the next big thing. Located between Lisbon’s airport and the river Tejo, this sprawling eastern district is mostly unchanged when you move away from the marginal and towards its heart: the expansive Parque Bela Vista.

Editor’s Note: This photoessay was created by CB’s Lisbon-based photographer Rodrigo Cabrita. The subject is a year in the working life of João Rafael, an agricultural worker living in Portugal’s interior and struggling to maintain his way of life. In the text below, Rodrigo explains how his project got its start. I first met João while on assignment for a Portuguese magazine that covers the agricultural sector. It was the harvest time and he was finishing his day working on the grape harvest. He was splattered with grape juice and tired because of the long day’s work, but agreed to my request to take a picture of him. We ended up talking more, with him telling me about his everyday life, and that’s when I thought his story could make an interesting project.

Let’s go back in time to 1981 – the beginning of a decade of hope in Lisbon. Portugal is about to enter the EEC (European Economic Community, precursor to the European Union), and word on the street is that funds will start flowing into the country and living standards will improve. People really need to believe that word, as the inflation rate is almost at 20 percent and the illiteracy rate even higher. Next to the always busy Santa Apolónia train station, a new snack-bar opens. Green Apple is the chosen name. The owners? A pair of Josés. José Carlos, from Tábua, right in the heart of Portugal, between Viseu and Coimbra, and the minhoto (from Minho, northern Portugal) José Brandão. They are not serving hearty dishes – yet – but rather quick meals, grab-and-go type food: toasts, burgers, sandwiches, etc.

As forty three countries get ready to compete in the 63rd edition of the Eurovision Song Contest, the crowds have descended upon Lisbon. The city has the privilege of hosting this year’s contest because in 2017 the young Portuguese singer Salvador Sobral was crowned the winner of Eurovision with his melancholic love song “Amar Pelos Dois,” which was written by his sister, Luisa. Paying tribute to Portugal’s folk traditions, his stripped-down performance was a far cry from the kitschy bombast normally presented on the Eurovision stage. In spite of (or perhaps because of) the bad hairdos and costumes and the usually uninspired songs that range from camp to downright strange, Eurovision is one of the world’s longest running and most popular music competitions.

A fragrant Goan dish, vindalho is a fusion of the Portuguese vinha d’alhos (meat with wine and garlic) with Indian spices. We got a taste of this dish, with its flavors of cinnamon, cloves and vinegar, at a laid-back neighborhood association, where people of all ages gather to play chess, dance or share a meal.

It’s no easy task handling a 70-kilo longfin tuna or a 20-kilo corvina. But over the past few weeks, we’ve watched our favorite fishmongers in Lisbon’s Mercado da Ribeira do just that – looking more like weightlifters or wrestlers, they endeavor to fillet the big, fat Atlantic fish that usually make their appearance in April. Even more humble specimens, like mackerel, are also at their fattest (and tastiest) come spring. That’s the joy of feasting on spring fish and seafood in Portugal – so much is in season that you can’t go wrong. To get a better sense of this spring’s “gifts from the sea,” we visited some of our favorite chefs to learn about how they are building their menus around seasonal fish and seafood.

Most tascas’ walls are covered with tiles, framed family or hometown pictures and soccer teams’ scarves. But inside A Provinciana, located between the neighborhoods of Restauradores and Rossio, the main decorative objects are dozens of original handmade wall clocks. Some work, some don’t, but all have great meaning for Américo, the owner of this establishment that has been around for 70-plus years. “I built them. All of them. Every Sunday, our day off, I sit at my house building these clocks with what I have: old tiles, bits of wood, pieces of barrel,” he says, glancing proud at his creations.

“It’s good for tourists, not for us.” While this can sadly be said about many things, Anabela, the woman we are speaking to, is referring to the transformation of Mercado da Ribeira, Lisbon’s historic public market, where she co-runs a small grocery store. Originally built as a predominantly wholesale food, fish and flower market in 1771, Ribeira today shares its space with Mercado Time Out, financed by the venture capital firm that controls the publishing franchise in Portugal, which has occupied the central section of the market since 2014. Time Out’s concept: an “editorially” curated gourmet food hall. Selling the best of Portugal – from croquettes and custard tarts to seafood and steak – it is now a top attraction, with 24 restaurants, eight bars, a dozen shops and a high-end music venue.

Lisboetas are serious about their ginja, a liqueur made from a sour cherry of the same name. The fruit might not be so sweet but is fortunately well suited to being turned into this smooth drink, which is enjoyed both as an aperitif and digestif. Our Culinary Crossroads walk in Lisbon wouldn’t be complete without a tipple of the good stuff.

Forty years ago, José was the most popular boys’ name in Portugal. It had been the undisputed leader in that category for several decades. But trends change, and in 2017 José didn't even crack the top 20. So, it's quite possible that the future will bring an influx of restaurants named after Santiago, the top choice for the last two years. But as we write this there are still a lot of Zé(s) – the shortened form of José – around town. Zé da Mouraria is famous for its magnificent roasted codfish. Zé Varunca serves great food from Alentejo, the home region of this particular José. And the list goes on: Zé dos Frangos, Zé Carioca, Tasca do Zé and, of course, Zé dos Cornos.

Scan almost any menu in Lisbon and you’re bound to find bacalhau (salt cod) in some form. That should come as no surprise: Lisboetas have long had a taste for this preserved fish, which can be found in a number of traditional dishes. Yet despite being seemingly everywhere, there are very few spots that focus exclusively on bacalhau. A Casa do Bacalhau, as its name suggests, is one of them, using salt cod in almost everything it serves except dessert. Open since 2000 in the Beato neighborhood, the restaurant is housed inside the old stables of the Duques de Lafões palace, which was built after the 1755 earthquake.