While the splendors of Southern France, Italy, and Spain have been documented ad nauseam, Portugal’s cultural identity hasn’t been marketed or mimicked nearly as much as its Mediterranean neighbors. Despite being one of the oldest established countries in Europe, Portugal remains an understated and enigmatic locale.
The blog Salt of Portugal describes its muse as “the last secret of Europe,” which upon arrival I discovered is a fitting metonym. Lisbon is such an underrated sleeper destination, and honestly might be my new favorite European city—it feels like a chilled-out Mediterranean version of Brooklyn NY, with hip bars, artsy cafes, and unique restaurant concepts to be found on every corner of the 2000+ year-old capital.
I could go on and on extolling the virtues of ‘the California of Europe’, but what we’re really here to discuss is the crazy creativity and innovation of the Lisbon food scene. The bad news is that if you’re looking for a guide to more traditional Portuguese fare, this post won’t hit those marks. But if you’re interested in sampling some imaginative eateries that will electrify your tastebuds, these recommendations will be right up your alley.
So, why Portugal?
When my sister signed on to be my plus one to attend a former roommate’s wedding in Rome last July, she did so under the condition that we make the most out of two weeks’ abroad and squeeze in a few other destinations. We decided on a quick swoop through Barcelona on the front end and initially were hoping to hit Istanbul after the wedding.
Sadly the timing and financials of getting to Istanbul and returning to Denver proved overly complicated and expensive, so we settled on Portugal instead—a country neither of us had ever been to, nor knew toooo much about. Before visiting, images of the golden cliffs and turquoise seascapes of the Algarve and well-framed Instagram shots of the ornately painted azulejos tiles were all I was familiar with. I’d heard friends rave about tasty pastel de nata and the country’s stunning (and cheap!) wines.
Similar to its neighbor Spain, Portuguese diets lean heavily on meat and seafood. Dishes like salted cod (bacalhau), chouriço (chorizo) sausages, and the aforementioned pastel de natas remain popular throughout the country, and Portugal apparently boasts the highest consumption of fish per capita of any European nation. Portuguese explorers helped kick off the Age of Discovery, and thus spices like saffron, cinnamon, and black pepper are mainstays in many classic dishes as well.
We split things ‘family style’ at most places we visited, ensuring we could try a little bit of everything.
1. Trinca — A hidden gem that remains the best meal I’ve had in recent memory
You know those rare, charmed dining experiences where everything is literally perfect and you wouldn’t change a thing? The meals that you fantasize about for years afterward?
Well, that was our experience at Trinca in Lisbon.
I have to lead with this place, as they provided us, unanimously, with one of the most outstanding meals either of us has had in some time.
Trinca just happened to be a stone’s throw from our hostel relatively speaking, and boasted a 4.7/5 rating on Google (with over 400 reviews!). A sucker for an artisanal aesthetic, I was immediately lured in by the equal parts funky and cozy interior reflected in various reviewer’s photos.
It’s a bit of a hole in the wall at first glance. Lit by multicolored hanging paper lanterns, the rustic wooden furniture and checkered tablecloths add to the snug dining room’s warmth, while the library wall displaying various wine vintages and intriguing curios adds visual interest.
Should you choose to venture, I highly recommend making a reservation beforehand. There are about 12 tables total, of varying sizes, including the outside patio. Seating can be a little confusing upon entry; there’s no formal host, and my sister and I stood awkwardly in the middle of the dining area, unintentionally obstructing access to the kitchen while waiting to catch the attention of one of the busy waitstaff.
Despite the petite size of the crowded dining areas, we were lucky enough to score a table inside, one of the servers ushering us to a small two-top close to the door.
There’s no hard copy of the menu—the menu rotates frequently, and daily offerings are written out on a chalkboard displayed in the front window. I took a picture so we could peruse it when we sat down:
We ordered a couple glasses of the house red, as well as the chimi fungi, the ajo blanco, birria tacos, esquites, and a peach, feta, and coriander (cilantro) salad.
The chimi fungi arrived first, a sandwich filled with oyster mushrooms, Ilha cheese, arugula, and chimichurri. I’d picked this one, as I’m a bit of a *slut* for chimichurri and arugula, the latter being my go-to leafy green of choice with its addictive peppery zest and bite.
It was already split in half, making things easier for us. Upon the first bite, my sister’s eyes widened with excitement, reflecting the level of astonishment I myself was experiencing.
“I can’t remember the last really amazing meal I had—the last time I was truly surprised by something,” she said. (She and I both live in Colorado at the moment, a state more well-known for its epic natural beauty than its dazzling culinary scene.) She compared it to the first time you hear a song that really hooks you, inspiring an obsession that stretches into days, weeks, and sometimes longer.
The mushrooms had such a flavorful, meaty texture, and the herby chimichurri, nutty ilha cheese, and bright arugula were the perfect additions.
The peach, feta, and coriander salad arrived shortly after. Topped with slivered almonds, it was another stunner for both of us: the plump, juicy charred peaches and delicate crunch of the almonds were the perfect juxtaposition against the tart cilantro and sharp, buttery feta. At this moment I was happy I’d taken a picture of the menu—this was a flavor combo I wouldn’t want to forget. We were 2/2 thus far, and couldn’t wait to see what would come out next.
“The only downfall for this restaurant is that I wish I ate here sooner… By far the best food that I had in Portugal, better than the Michelin-starred restaurants that I dined at while in the area.” – Erica Commodore, random Google Reviewer (and truth-teller)
I would have happily bathed in the ajo blanco, a creamy white gazpacho made with a garlic and olive oil base and topped with slivered almonds. I have yet to come across an order of esquites that I didn’t care for, but even this plate was surprising: a generous portion of sweet blistered corn topped with homemade mayo, a cotija-like cheese, cilantro and plenty of lime juice in a tall hurricane glass and layered like a parfait. Birria tacos were my sister’s idea, and though they typically don’t catch a second glance from me they were also delicious.
Every course was truly an experience, the ingenious flavor pairings and combination of textures a surprise and delight. It’s pretty rare to have a dining experience when every dish is truly just *chef’s kiss*, revelatory even. One Google review joked that it’s “The kind of place you don’t want to tell too many people about.” (How I feel about Portugal in general, really.)
We were so impressed that we came back the next night to try the other half of the menu, almost unheard of for us when on trips. The tomato burrata was another taste bud-blowing experience, and the mint panna cotta topped with passionfruit purée was unique, refreshing, and not overly sweet.
Every dish was full of fresh ingredients and compelling texture / flavor combinations, brilliant in their simplicity. The prices are exceptionally reasonable to boot—we ate for half of what we would pay for a meal of such caliber in the States.
To be honest, it has become the metric to which I compare all meals. I was fortunate enough to have my first Michelin dining experience in Mendoza, Argentina last month, one for which I was super excited. But as I bit into the agnolotti main course, I had a dour realization.
“Gotta be honest—delicious, but not as good as Trinca,” I texted my sister, grateful to have someone who understood.
[Edit: Apparently Condé Nast Traveler think they’re pretty impressive too.]
2. Food Temple — Bohemian vegan spot with a memorable outdoor patio
Having indulged in a fair bit of jamon ibérico and pan con tomate in Barcelona, and the holy Italian trinity (pizza, pasta, and pastries) in Rome, we were both interested in lighter fare when we got to Lisbon. After a somewhat overwhelming cut of churrasco at dinner the night before, vegan/vegetarian food sounded ideal on our third night out.
The Food Temple was another Google find, and I have to admit that the biggest attraction for me was the outdoor dining area. Nestled in a discreet residential square of the Mouraria district, it has a very hip, earthy vibe, with petite stools and pillows lining the terraced steps outside the restaurant instead of traditional tables and chairs. It was giving very ancient Mesopotamian banquet vibes, and I was completely (t)here for it.
We had vegan “onigiri” filled with watermelon “tuna,” a delicate green gazpacho, and a “halloumi” salad to start. The halloumi was a beautifully seasoned cut of tofu on a bed of figs, cherry tomatoes, and mixed greens, topped with herby homemade croutons that added a satisfying crunchiness.
The real pièce de résistance was the enoki mushrooms main, served with microgreens and roasted root veggies on top of a perfectly balanced cashew cream. I love enoki mushrooms, and I’d never tried them prepared like this. The seasoning on the deep-fried mushrooms was divine, savory, and a bit smoky, and the bouncy meatiness of the crispy enokis was so, so good. This plate was both of our favorites and if the kitchen hadn’t been closing relatively soon we would’ve reordered it.
My only bone to pick with the Food Temple is that the portion sizes were a bit petite—I find especially with veggie dishes that I sometimes need a heartier portion size to feel satisfied. We finished with a chocolate cake with whipped cream, pistachios, and edible flowers, though I couldn’t tell you what the vegan substitutes were.
For me the ambiance is really the most standout thing about this place—even if I forget what I ate there at some point, I’ll never forget that amazing setting. Incorporating a neighborhood architectural feature into their outdoor dining area makes for such a different dining experience, and the openness of the patio really seemed to encourage guest interaction, more so than most restaurants.
Outside of the major metropolitan thoroughfares, it was a serene spot, ideal for people-watching. My sister and I leaned back against the cushioned steps, reading our respective books in the interim between ordering and our food’s arrival, occasionally looking up to observe the nighttime rituals of the local inhabitants—a couple hanging clothes to dry from their Juliet balcony several stories up, an older woman taking her Great Dane for a twilight stroll. Two gentlemen, seated separately a couple stairs down from us, struck up a conversation, though both had initially been dining alone.
A really lovely spot.
3. Liberty: Brunch, Coffee & Wine — life-changing avocado toast and great coffee.
Before our trek out to San Jerónimo, my sister and I were in the mood for a light American-style brunch.
The server (and perhaps owner?) was very charming, waltzing over after we sat to offer a sample of effervescent peach wine. (While we enjoyed the sample, we were still in the caffeinating phase of the day, about to embark to Belém.) The inside is cute and modern, and the back wall features a variety of books for sale in Portuguese, English, and Russian.
I ordered a pistachio raspberry latte and avocado toast, adding a poached egg. The avo toast featured a hearty slice of freshly baked sourdough bread topped with mashed avocado (ofc), homemade pickled cucumbers, slivers of snap pea pods, edamame peas, fresh dill sprigs and cilantro.
Needless to say, it put to shame every other tepid version of avocado toast I’ve ever had. Why have we been making avocado toast without dill and snap peas is what I want to know? The sweet crisp of the snap peas, the grassy herbiness of the dill, the pickles’ acidic brine and crunch on top of creamy avocado—sigh. The jammy, viscous egg yolk was the cherry on top, and the whole thing was nothing to sneeze at visually speaking, either.
4. Estrela da Bica — a well-reputed local favorite
Located in the au courant Bica district—Estrela da Bica literally means “Star of Bica” in Portuguese—USA Today named this restaurant one of the 10 Best Restaurants in Lisbon. We didn’t get a chance to sample their mains, sadly—we were honestly so stuffed after our first stop (RIP Bomau Bistro 😫💔 ) that we just ended up ordering dessert.
This adorable little grotto feels like an intimate Parisian café, sans the pretension. Only one waitress was working the place—the owner, perhaps?—who was warm and accommodating. We saw her sitting down to catch up with different patrons throughout the restaurant, adding to the chill, welcoming energy of the place.
We chose crème brûlée and their take on a peach cobbler. The crème brûlée was obviously fantastic—when is it not?—but the real star to both of us was the cobbler. Braised summer peaches topped with a mascarpone-white chocolate mousse and a fine almond crumble totally stole the show, with a garnish of blueberries and raspberries adding visual contrast and balanced acidity.
It was sublime, our spoons entangled in a jousting match as we fought for the last few bites.
Have you ever been to Lisbon? Where have your most memorable meals taken place?
Let me know in the comments!
blogdungsroman 
Epur in Lisbon, serene and elegant, service was uncomplicated but excellent. Everything about this place was calm, a wonderful place to replenish the soul!
Sounds lovely! I will definitely check it out on my next visit. ☺️