Ibiza for The Food Pilgrims: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

The 1873 market hall at the foot of the walls, now ringed with bars; the fruit stalls are gone but the fishmongers' marble is still there.

Pintxos stacked along the bar and a vermouth on tap, the town's standing supper before the real one; pay by the cocktail sticks you leave.

The island's classic dining room since 1934, guisat de peix and greixonera for pudding; the walls are hung with photographs of who has eaten here.

The Saturday farmers' market beside the Can Tixedó bar: island goat cheese, sobrassada, honey, and the pink tomatoes that never leave the island.

A family winery in the island's wine valley, with a walk through the monastrell vines and a tasting of the reds the tavernas pour; book ahead.

Bullit de peix the way the fishermen made it, the fish first and the rice cooked in its broth after; a beach shack with the best version on the island.

The village the island's cooks live in; Sunday vermouth outside Bar Costa, and the deli counters selling sobrassada and flaó to take home.

A farm restaurant that raises its own lamb and makes its own cheese, long tables under the carob trees, and the sofrit pagès in a clay pot.

Boris Buono's supper club in a Dalt Vila house, one long table and a menu of what the island gave him that week; book months ahead.

The town's working market, where the restaurants shop: the fish counters, the salt by the kilo, and the stall selling the island's small dark figs.

The bakery at the foot of the walls since 1986, pastries and a coffee at the tables outside where the market porters take their break.

Ibicenco tapas at a busy old-town table: croquetas, anchovies and whatever is on the board, with a cold glass of wine. Go at one, before the queue.