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

Late afternoon the fish counters are closing but the bars inside are opening; a caña and a pile of camarones at the back counter.

The bar that bottles its own vino de naranja, a glass at the 1904 counter under the Giralda, sweet and bitter like the city.

Hams hung above the bar since 1870, a plate of jamón de bellota and a fino, the first serious thing to eat.

The oldest market in the city, Saturday morning crowds, and La Cantina at the back frying the morning's fish from nine.

Buy the ingredients at the stalls, then cook salmorejo, espinacas con garbanzos and a paella in the market's own kitchen; lunch included.

The serious dinner: the day's fish shown whole at the counter, filleted and grilled before you, a star and no tablecloths.

Churros and thick chocolate at the 1904 bar with the old men from the Salvador; the morning's argument about the city's dish begins here.

The 1670 bar's spinach with chickpeas and its bacalao, the city's dish done best, eaten at the bar with a sherry.

A walk along the Triana bank at dusk to let the afternoon settle, the cathedral lit up across the water.

A Triana dining room from 1880, tiled to the ceiling, with cola de toro and the house's own vermouth.

A pastry shop and café on the corner of Sierpes, a tostada and a coffee at the bar the way Sevillanos do it. The pastries behind the glass are worth the extra euro.

Ring the bell, order through the torno, and a nun you will never see turns the drum with a box of egg-yolk yemas.

A paper cone of fried adobo and boquerones, eaten standing with the market porters before the airport bus.