“Bom filho à casa torna,” we like to say in Portuguese, a maxim that translates to “a good son comes home.” Can the saying be applied to a sandwich? In Porto, we would argue, the answer is yes, especially now that A Regaleira, the birthplace of the francesinha – Porto’s signature dish – is open again after being closed for three years. Even former A Regaleira regulars passing by the reopened restaurant might miss the fact that it has moved a few doors down from its original location. We could have sworn that the restaurant was in the same spot since 1934, but the original A Regaleira was forced to close in 2018 when the building housing it was sold.

Porto witnessed a considerable increase in its tourism in 2023 – a new record, with over 1.5 million overnight stays, was registered in the first four months of the year in the city. With the arrival of summer, the flow of visitors increased even more, which had an impact on the local culinary scene. While Porto has not yet reached widespread peaks of gentrification like other European cities (even though some neighborhoods, such as Baixa and Ribeira, are already seeing notable class and ethnoracial changes), we’ve seen an interesting effect of new openings in town. Upscale businesses and renowned chefs (such as the award-winning Nuno Mendes) are coming to Porto to open branches and test new concepts.

Matosinhos, it could be said, has seen better times. In its heyday, the semi-industrial-feeling port city just north of Porto was once home to 54 fish canneries. Today, only two remain. Along the city’s wide, empty-feeling streets, some of the city’s former factories and their graceful Art Nouveau facades have been reappropriated as other businesses – we saw more than one startup – while in many cases, they have simply been abandoned. But at Pinhais, one of those remaining canneries, it feels like little has changed. As it’s done since 1920, having weathered both good and bad times in Matosinhos, the company is producing some of the best tinned seafood in Portugal. Before World War II, there were 152 fish canneries in Portugal. But in the 1960s, advances in refrigeration led to a crash in tinned seafood production (for more on the history of Iberian tinned seafood, see our previous article about conservas in Galicia, Spain).

In Porto, francesinhas are everywhere. The monster-sized sandwich of white bread with steak, ham, cured cold cuts, and melted cheese smothered in a beautiful spicy sauce is a ubiquitous dish that says a lot about the city. When he first visited Porto, Anthony Bourdain asked after eating an entire francesinha with fries: "What is the rate of coronary disease in this country?" He didn't know at the time that, more than clogging the arteries, the beloved local dish warms local hearts. It also generates lively discussions. Every Porto inhabitant has their preferences: some like their francesinha with more sauce or even with a fried egg on top; others prefer different types of bread, from brioche to crusty bread roll. It is impossible, therefore, to reach a consensus on which venue serves the best francesinha in the city.

“It’s not enough,” says the waiter at O Pascoal. We had inquired if one dish would be sufficient for three people, and his reply is immediate, firm and confident. We take his advice, order another, and the two dishes are easily enough for six people (we are three). We are in Fajão, an aldeia do xisto, “schist village,” in inland, central Portugal’s Beira region – about a two-and-a-half hours’ drive from Porto, or around three hours from Lisbon – and this interaction is the perfect introduction to the almost comically hearty cuisine of this area.

Caldo verde, Portugal’s most famous soup, doesn’t sound like much in English – “green broth” is the literal translation. I was thinking about this when reading an article on the 20 best soups in the world, which a friend sent to me, noting that caldo verde (a “homey soup” where “thinly sliced greens meld with potatoes and onions”) had made the cut. The article refers, in general, to the restorative power of soup, a belief that is held in very different cultures across the globe – which sounds about right to me. But then the author references a book that broadly defines soup as “just some stuff cooked in water, with the flavored water becoming a crucial part of the dish.” And I have to disagree there, because caldo verde is so much more than flavored water. How to explain that it is a feeling?

For a city famous for making one of the best-known wines in the world, it took Porto a long time to catch up with viable options for bars offering good glasses. But Portugal's second-biggest city has finally reached an effervescent wine peak that lives up to its worldwide fame – not to mention the country is now the world's leader in wine consumption, at around 58 liters per capita. Today, bars in Porto are wildly different from days past: their wine-by-the-glass lists feature many small producers and venture away from conventional bottles, they have young chefs in the kitchen taking a more international approach to their menus (with influences from the Middle East to Latin America), and offer service that is both professional and welcoming.

It’s a warm summer day, yet inside Stramuntana, a restaurant in Porto devoted to the cooking of Portugal’s northern Trás-os-Montes region, a hearth is blazing. “In the past, people in Trás-os-Montes used wood-burning ovens all year,” says Lídia Brás, Stramuntana’s co-chef and co-owner, when we express our surprise in seeing a fireplace in operation during the hotter months. “There was no electricity or gas. Everything here is thought through to be authentic." It’s a small lesson in the foodways and culture of Portugal’s northernmost region, as well as an illustration of this restaurant’s deep dedication to authenticity.

Those returning to Porto along the Luís I Bridge will notice a set of terraces to their right decorated with colored garlands, flags and string lights, as if someone forgot to take down their decorations after the June 23 São João festival, the city’s largest celebration. The garlands and flags stay up all year, though, and are the easiest way to find one of Porto’s most interesting hidden gems: the Guindalense Futebol Clube, home to some of the city’s best views. The story begins, at least officially, in 1976, when the club was founded as a place for amateur footballers and other athletes in the Guindais neighborhood.

When we arrived, there were one or two customers quietly drinking wine at the bar. Later, a man entered and bought cured ham by the kilo, complaining about how much fat it contained. A food tour stopped by, filling the silence with English-language explanation. A bit later, the mailman stuck his head in; he had no letters to deliver, but it was clear that he was angling for a drink. The clientele that late morning at Casa Louro, a bar and restaurant in Porto, seemed to be a microcosm of the city’s life. Indeed, with hams hanging from the ceiling, soccer paraphernalia on the walls, and crusty old customers, it looks like the quintessential Portuguese bar. And in many ways it is, but Casa Louro is also something of a dying breed.

In the song that became almost an anthem of Porto, the famous songwriter Rui Veloso describes the city where he was born in phrases like “of this beautiful and darkening light” and “seeing you abandoned like that in that brownish timbre.” Certainly, Veloso, one of the best-known artists in Portuguese music, wasn’t thinking about Porto during the springtime. Portugal’s second city is completely transformed when the season of flowers arrives: the weather and the mood gets sunny, lively, and colorful, an invitation for locals and tourists to go outdoors. Flowers bloom in parks, and tables in cafes and bars are crowded with people. It is the prelude of the effervescent life of the city taking shape. The portuenses (as the locals are called) know how to enjoy the city when the temperatures get warmer and the days get longer.

Manuel Azevedo and Francisco Moreira, now both in their 70s, have been friends since childhood. Such a close connection has afforded them the trust and togetherness required to run O Buraco, the restaurant in Porto that the duo have presided over like generals for almost 50 years. In fact, it was right after completing his military service that Manuel, a native of Marco de Canaveses, a city within the greater Porto municipality, came to Porto proper in search of work. “I picked up the newspaper, saw the ad, applied and was hired as a waiter,” he tells us. On February 4, 1971, he entered O Buraco (“The Hole” for the first time; he hasn’t left since.

We weren’t entirely sure if we were in the right place. Upon reaching the summit of a comically steep driveway, Casa de Souto Velho appeared more private home than restaurant. And even if this was indeed our destination, we had not made a reservation. Nonetheless, and despite having a virtually full house, Eufrásia Almeida welcomed us inside, and within seconds our table was loaded with a bottle of wine made from local grapes, a plate of house-made preserved meats, and a basket of house-baked bread. After lunch – more on that later – her son Pedro showed us around the garden, the chicken coop, the pig pen and the smokehouse, and even drove us to see the family vineyard. Regardless of where we had arrived, we were, we felt, at home.

Queijaria da Praça sits in the Praça do Marquês neighborhood, in a cozy space where the temperature does not exceed 15ºC and the pungent aromas of cheese penetrate the nose as soon as one steps in. “When we opened, we wanted the store to be here,” owner Diana Guedes says. Far from the tourist areas of Baixa or Ribeira, crowded with visitors and more mass-market shops, the Praça do Marquês neighborhood is one of the best examples in Porto of bringing together a balanced mix of shops and residential buildings. “As we have many buses and a metro line, it is a crossing point for many people, which is very interesting for us, of course,” she explains. The location also helps to attract a more niche public of connoisseurs.

After a couple of harsh years, Porto's culinary scene is finally coming up for air again, as in many other places in the world. It is undeniable, however, that the pandemic shook things up a bit, influencing the local scenario: we’ve seen more casual venues opening, and some traditional restaurants closing for good. But the overall balance has been good for the city and it’s been fascinating to see its evolution, with new projects taking shape and others that have been given the chance to establish themselves.