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

The 1930 tin shop: buy a sardine and a mackerel in olive oil, wrapped in paper and string, and learn why the Portuguese can fish on purpose.

A shot of cherry liqueur at the 1840 hatch, with or without the fruit, which is the city's aperitif and takes ninety seconds.

A tasca taken over by young cooks who kept the tiles and the prices; join the queue for the pica-pau and the house wine.

The real market behind the food court: fishwives from Setúbal, Azeitão cheese and the flower sellers, all done by eleven.

A pastel de nata and bacalhau à Brás class in a bright kitchen, eaten as lunch at the end with a bottle of vinho verde.

Henrique Sá Pessoa's Michelin-starred tasting menu in a Chiado townhouse, Portuguese ingredients taken seriously; the serious dinner, booked early.

The 1837 original: warm custard tarts, cinnamon from the shaker, eaten in the tiled back rooms where the queue is shorter than the takeaway one.

Garlic prawns, percebes and the prego no pão to finish at the counter; the argument over the dish the city does best is settled here.

A vaulted bar under a ceiling of bottles, flights of Setúbal moscatel and Periquita by the glass with petiscos.

The other custard tart, hotter and more caramelised than Belém's, eaten standing at the counter with a bica.

Single-origin São Tomé chocolate and coffee roasted on the premises; a bar for now and a bag for the plane.

A small taberna on Rua das Flores with a short blackboard menu of petiscos and stews. It is tiny, so arrive when it opens and wait at the door.