In a seafood tavern in Penalva de Graca, Lisbon, activity is steadier than the quiet streets outside might suggest. Even on a Friday night, the dining flow feels almost choreographed: orders are taken, staff drift toward the entrance, then reappear on either side of the doorway before delivering goods to the service hatch. Moments later, plates return to tables perfectly cooked and ready to be enjoyed.
The tavern’s owner, Luis Melo, welcomes regulars from behind a broad aquarium that catches the eye of curious visitors strolling through Grace, Lisbon’s central quarter. A handful of spider crabs and a few lobsters are on display, drawing attention from locals and tourists alike. “My father took over the place 39 years ago, though it has been open for 68 years. When my brother and I were little, we would sleep in the warehouse while work went on over our heads”, Melo explains.
Residents still frequent the spot, though a growing number of foreigners have begun to visit in recent years. “With the tourism boom in Lisbon starting in 2015, more travelers discover our tavern. A loyal customer here has been coming for more than three decades. He sits at the bar every visit, and many patrons come alone for a beer because they know they’ll find someone they recognize.” The best days are those when Benfica or Sporting play on the big screen, Melo admits. “Beer and football—that’s the essence here.”
Menus eight euro
The tavern preserves the look of its early days: behind a long metal counter, analog scales stand at the ready, and an old cash register with a heavy lever still marks the rhythm of the place. Simple is the word that best describes the menu here, like many surviving bars in the capital. It offers a handful of variations: grilled fish and meat served with salad, rice, French fries, or boiled vegetables. And the value remains strikingly attractive. Numerous menus hover around eight euros, even as Melo notes the challenge of rising costs. The draw remains strong for budget-conscious diners who want solid, straightforward meals.
“We’ve tried to hold prices, but meat costs have risen around 28 percent, fish about 29 percent, and fat rates have doubled,” Melo says. “Costs are up, yet I’d rather trim profit by a few euros per plate than pass the burden onto customers who return every day and notice the squeeze in purchasing power.” The tavern capacity seats 78 for dinners, split between indoor space and a shaded terrace, and seven workers help keep things running. Still, Melo admits that high costs are pushing the business toward a turning point where maintaining current prices may no longer be feasible.
A couple at the neighboring table samples grilled lamb ribs and swordfish fillets. A waiter delivers a handwritten bill that reveals the final amount. “How much, 3,000 euros?” the woman jokes. On a typical visit, the couple will spend a little over 15 euros per person with drinks, desserts, and a liqueur, though inflation’s marks are becoming clearer on the bill.
Tourism support
The post-pandemic return of tourism has offered some relief. The room remains distinctly divided: a bar area for regulars and a dining space with old wooden tables, paper tablecloths, and glass oil canisters that welcome families and visitors. At a table in view of the counter, three French couples enjoy a Portuguese feast—grilled cod, octopus with boiled potatoes, and a seafood stew—paired with a white table wine. Melo drops by from time to time to keep an eye on the guests, ensuring everyone feels attended to.
After plates are cleared and conversations linger, the dessert course features classic Portuguese sweets such as bolacha cake or a chocolate mousse. The clock ticks toward the night’s end, and a ritual arrives with six shot glasses.
-Ginjinhas are poured—a cherry liqueur native to Portugal—brought to the table with a flourish.
“Ginji, this is number one!” one of the women at the table exclaims with emotion. Some sniff at the aroma, then a fearless guest takes a gulp. The chorus of “Ginji, ginji, ginji” erupts around the table as a chorus, clinking glasses in rhythm and a chorus of applause swells. The bartender refills and raises a toast to the moment, smiling at the lively energy it brings. “That’s strong!” a guest jokes as the night continues.
French guests are among the last to leave, just before midnight. Melo is unsure whether they will return, but the tavern’s familiar warmth helps him persevere through tougher times. “I like that guests feel at home, whether they are locals or visitors. We Portuguese enjoy welcoming people.”