How I Accidentally Fell in Love with Pancakes in Lisbon

Brace yourselves. This is going to be an unnecessarily long, overly dramatic love letter to a stack of raspberry pancakes in Lisbon. They may sound ordinary, they may look like nothing special, but I PROMISE and SOLEMNLY SWEAR that these are the most outrageously amazing pancakes I have eaten in my entire life, to this very day.

Yes, yes, I know – bold statement, considering I’ve brunch-hopped my way through almost all of Europe (okay, maybe not all of Europe… but enough to feel smug about it). Still, I stand by my words.

Until yesterday, I could only speak of these cloud-soft pancakes from memory. And before you assume I impulsively booked a flight to Lisbon just to have them again (don’t tempt me), let me clarify – while prepping my Lisbon article, I opened my Google Photos to remember where exactly I’d been and what exactly I’d seen (and, more importantly, eaten).

Then I stumbled upon a video I had completely forgotten about.

I won’t share it — it’s not exactly suitable for public viewing (I like to pretend this blog is read by the entire world and all of Bulgaria, not just my small but fiercely loyal circle of friends). Let’s just say: the May 2023 version of me looked like someone having a very serious emotional experience with pancakes.

It’s funny, watching a past version of yourself sigh over pancakes as if they’d just proposed marriage. And yes, I know it’s absurd to publish this before sharing my thoughts on Portugal’s capital — but MY GOD, THESE PANCAKES deserve a headline of their own.

By now, you already know that food is a central character in my travels (it shows), and brubch is simply non-negotiable. So when we landed in Portugal on a blindingly sunny May morning, our first mission was obvious: find coffee worth waking up for, and food worth writing a novel about. (shocking, I know). That’s how we found The Folks – a cozy little spot just a short walk from our hotel.

I was not prepared for what was about to happen.

There’s that quote about falling in love — how it happens slowly, and then all at once. Meeting these pancakes felt exactly like that. They weren’t trying to be the diva of the menu, no theatrical liquid nitrogen, no unicorn glitter spectacle. Yes, they looked beautiful -— but nothing, NOTHING, could have prepared me for how good they actually were: a humble, glorious stack layered with mascarpone, raspberry sauce, and finished with a scatter of pistachios.

But SWEET MERCIFUL GOD — the explosion of flavor.

The raspberry sauce — clearly homemade, bursting with real fruit character, not a trace of artificial sweetness. The mascarpone — just sweet enough, perfectly offset by the tang of the berries. The pancakes — soft, delicate, like edible clouds. And the crushed pistachios? The final mic drop.

If you’re suddenly considering booking a flight to Lisbon, I fully support your decision.

Can you see them? Sitting there, smug and irresistible.

Alright, I’ll stop sounding like an unhinged poetic food critic. But honestly — there is not a single force on this planet that could convince me these aren’t the pancakes you’d leave your spouse for.

And now, let’s be serious. (Well. Almost.)

When it comes to brunch in Lisbon, people mean business. Every single place we tried? A solid 10/10. Okay, fine… maybe 9/10.

Augusto’s homemade banana bread? Worth every uphill climb, every burned calorie, and every painfully slow ten-minute queue. I still dream about it. (no. not the queue)

Miolo? Not terrible, but the interior felt a bit too dollhouse-cute for my hipster soul. Also, I managed to baptize my white T-shirt in a Mimosa (in my defense, that was entirely my own lack of coordination). And the pancakes? Please. Not even remotely close to the true star of this story.

And speaking of main characters...

I think it’s long overdue to pay proper, mandatory tribute to the grand, mind-altering, impossible-to-escape sweetness that is Pastéis de Nata. Think of them as the culinary equivalent of the best TV show you’ve ever watched — you tell yourself, just one episode, and suddenly the credits are rolling and all that’s left in front of you are crumbs.

I genuinely don’t know how many different ways I can explain that these traditional Lisbon custard tarts are both completely extraordinary and mildly dangerous. But maybe it’s enough to say this: if Lisbon ever banned them by law, I would officially go on a hunger strike (no one would care, and I absolutely wouldn’t follow through, but you get the point).

Enough sugar. Time for something savory.

I can’t say traditional Portuguese food fully won me over.

Thankfully, my experiments with Lisbon’s cuisine didn’t scar me quite as deeply as the culinary tragedy in Malta — a story I’ve already shared with you. One might reasonably ask, “But how can you not like Portuguese food? Don’t you love seafood?” And that’s true — I do. The fish and seafood in Lisbon were undeniably fresh and beautifully prepared.

It’s just that some of the things we tried were… how do I put this… slightly eccentric.

And while I will happily devour mussels with garlic and white wine anywhere on this planet, the tiny Portuguese berbigão clams did not spark the same emotional response (don’t ask me why — I truly don’t know. They’re just not for me).

That said, I do recommend Da Prata 52 — a very cool concept built around small plates and lots of variety.

But for me, the undisputed star is Baía do Peixe. A restaurant perched right on the edge of the Tagus River — the longest river on the Iberian Peninsula. The view? Postcard perfection. The food? A full sensory celebration. Picture this: shrimp, crab salad, a chilled glass of Pinot Grigio, and the sunset slowly melting into the water. Honestly — what more could you possibly want from a vacation?