One of my favourite ways to spend a slow day in Seville is to eat your way through it! Seville is a place where you can indulge all your senses in Andalusian food culture. Rooted in history and shaped by sun, sea, and centuries of trade, Andalusian cuisine blends simplicity with bold flavour. Perhaps it’s the legacy of the Muslim Andalusians, who introduced almonds, saffron, and citrus fruits to the region. Or the long coastline, which brought anchovies, clams, and salt cod into the spotlight. Or the hot summers, which demanded cool dishes like salmorejo and icy gazpacho. Whatever it is, this is food meant to be shared, savoured slowly. This is a walking food tour for the hungry and the curious. Come with an open heart and an empty stomach. We’re about to feast!
Imagine a little square kissed by morning light, the air sweet with blossom and fruit. That’s where you’ll find Café Santa Marta Bar, a down‑to‑earth local spot that feels almost secret. Maybe it’s the way the empty chairs wait under those leafy branches, or how the man behind the counter greets you like an old friend.
Here, the star isn’t just the coffee, it’s that freshly squeezed orange juice. It’s vivid, bright, impossible to bottle up anywhere else. Order one of each: a glass of juice so pure it practically sparkles, and a rich café con leche brewed strong and smooth. Sip slowly. Watch sunlight dance on the square’s cobblestones. Honestly, you couldn’t ask for a gentler way to ease into a day of tasting your way through Andalusia.
Our second stop brings us back to the storied stretch of Calle Sierpes, the same shaded lane Sevillanos have wandered for centuries. Imagine this narrow street as a ribbon of history, once lined with bookshops and haberdasheries, where locals came to see and be seen. It still carries that gentle, elegant buzz. Round the corner to Cafetería Catunambú. Catunambú is one of Andalusia’s oldest coffee brands, and there’s something oddly poetic about sipping it on the same street where merchants once sold silks and spices.
At this stop, skip the coffee this time, go straight for their hot chocolate a la taza. It’s thick, velvety, almost luxurious and perfect to pair with a Sevillian churro. These aren’t the sugar-rolled versions you might know. Seville’s are light, crisp, and made for dunking into thick, velvety chocolate a la taza. Sit outside on one of the tables along the street, and watch delivery carts navigate the stone blocks, tourists taking photos and lsitening to the distant chime of church bells.
From the marble counter of Cafe Catunambú, step back onto the soft shadow of Calle Sierpes and head south past Callejón Azofaifo, then weave right onto Pedro Caravaca and Velázquez before swinging left onto O’Donnell. A quick jog through Plaza de la Magdalena and down Murillo brings you to San Pablo, which morphs into Puerta de Triana II, known locally as the Bridge of Triana. Climb its gentle rise and soak in views of pastel façades reflected in the river, boats drifting lazily below the river Guadalquivir, once called the “Great River” by Romans. This waterway has long been the lifeblood of Seville’s trade and exploration. Its muddy waters carried olive oil, silk, and even treasure from the New World, and its banks have seen everything from Phoenician traders to 16th‑century galleons setting sail.
On the far side lies Triana, a district that feels worlds away from the ornate cathedrals and royal plazas. I think it was the Moorish potters who first settled here, drawn by the clay in the river’s floodplain. Over centuries, Trianeros perfected ceramics, made sails for ships, and sang flamenco in its narrow lanes. Maybe it’s that blend of artisan grit and river‑borne romance that gives Triana its magnetic pull. Even today, you can still feel artistry and water woven into every tile and tavern.
Markets are museums of the edible kind, and Mercado de Triana is one of the best. Built on the remains of the old Castillo de San Jorge, once the dark seat of the Spanish Inquisition, this space has transformed over time from a symbol of fear into a celebration of life, colour, and community. In the early 1800s, it became a bustling plaza de abastos, and after years of wear and tear, it was carefully rebuilt and reopened in 2001.
Step inside today and you’re greeted by a warm blur of sound, smell, and colour. The stalls are housed under cast-iron beams and decorated in the signature ceramic tiling that Triana is famous for. It feels both traditional and alive. You’ll pass piles of sun-warmed oranges from the Aljarafe hills, striped watermelons from Huelva, fresh herbs spilling from baskets, and seafood still glistening from the morning haul. Vendors chat across counters and regulars call each other by name.
If you’re turning your stop at Mercado de Triana into a casual lunch, focus on three essential tastes of Andalusia. Start with bacalao en adobo, tender cod marinated in vinegar, garlic, and spices, then fried until golden and crisp. Follow that with a few slices of jamón ibérico de bellota, shaved fresh from the leg and so rich and silky it almost melts on your tongue. Round it all out with a chilled bowl of salmorejo, that thick, creamy tomato purée topped with crumbled egg and cured ham. Together, they make a perfect, no-fuss lunch that captures the heart of Sevillian market culture.
Exiting the market, a walk down Calle Pureza leads you to one of Triana’s true treasures: Dulcería Manu Jara. While there’s a smaller stall inside the Triana market, I really recommend visiting the main shop. Tucked into a beautiful traditional storefront, an elegant mix of old-world detail and artisan flair, inside this delicious bakery is an extra selection of cakes and chocolates elegantly laid out in the glass cases, each one a little work of art.
At Dulcería Manu Jara, you’ll find a refined selection of traditional Spanish and Sevillian treats. Staples like milhojas (layered puff pastry with cream), tartaletas filled with fruit or rich mousses, and tocino de cielo (a silky egg yolk flan) showcase classic Andalusian flavours with an artisanal twist. You might also spot empanadillas dulces filled with pumpkin jam or custard, delicate brazo de gitano sponge rolls, and the occasional polvorón or tarta de Santiago.
After indulging at Dulcería Manu Jara, it’s time to stretch your legs, and make a little room for what’s next. Head south along Calle Pureza, one of Triana’s most charming streets, lined with azulejos, iron balconies, and bursts of bougainvillea. You’ll pass by the iconic Capilla del Carmen, its ornate tower watching over the water, then reach the graceful arc of the Puente de San Telmo. Cross here for a quieter, more contemplative view of the Guadalquivir. Fewer tourists, more sky. The kind of bridge that invites slow steps and long glances.
Once you’re back on the east side of the river, follow the curve down into Parque de María Luisa, or as I like to think of it, Seville’s green heart. Make your way through the park, towards the Plaza de España, vast semicircle of red brick and tile curves around a calm moat, where rowboats drift under ornate ceramic bridges. As you walk, you pass 48 tiled alcoves, one for each province, each with its own colourful story and place to sit. Look up at the painted columns and coffered ceilings, pause on the sweeping staircase, or just wander slowly beneath the arches. Spanish guitar might echo in the background, the sun catches on glazed tiles, and for a moment, the city feels like a living postcard.
If the sun starts to press down a little too heavily, you’ve got an excellent escape just across the road: Premier Garden Cocktail Bar. Tucked beside the park near the river’s edge, it’s quiet, leafy, and beautifully relaxed. Cool drinks, comfy seating, and a garden atmosphere that feels like a secret. Whether you order a crisp tinto de verano or something sparkling with citrus, this is the kind of place that invites you to linger. Sit still for a while and watch the light shift through the trees.
From Premier Garden Cocktail Bar, head north and follow the winding path to Calle San Fernando, then turn right onto Paseo de Catalina de Ribera, a shaded promenade perfect for a slow stroll. Climb the steps at Antonio el Bailarín, veer left onto Calle Lope de Rueda, and continue through the narrow lanes of Santa Cruz. A few turns later, you’ll reach Calle Mateos Gago, where La Fresquita waits quietly on the left, tucked between churches and tiled façades, full of tradition and charm.
Tiny, sacred, and full of character, La Fresquita feels like stepping into a different century. It’s a hole-in-the-wall bar that doubles as a shrine to Holy Week (Semana Santa). Religious prints line the walls. The bar’s barely wide enough for two people. Here, order a glass of manzanilla sherry, and if you’re feeling brave, you need to try one of the local seasonal specialties, caracoles (snails). When they come into season, they’re a revelation, snackable, spicy, and uniquely Sevilliano. If snails aren’t quite your thing, go for something a little more familiar but just as rooted in Sevillian tradition: espinacas con garbanzos. This humble dish of stewed spinach and chickpeas is a staple of Andalusian home cooking, often seasoned with garlic, cumin, paprika, and a splash of sherry vinegar.
From La Fresquita, walk down Calle Mateos Gago and turn left onto Calle Fabiola. Keep going straight as it becomes Federico Rubio, then turn right onto Mármoles. Take a left onto Muñoz y Pabón, follow the curve onto Cabeza del Rey Don Pedro, then turn left onto Candilejo, Bar Alfalfa will be just ahead on your right.
Bar Alfalfa is cozy and intimate, with a vintage soul. The space is cozy and often buzzing, locals packed shoulder to shoulder with in-the-know travelers, sharing tapas, stories, and the occasional laugh with the staff behind the bar. Everything here is homemade, fresh, and full of bold Andalusian flavour. Start with a plate of Manchego cheese. Aged and nutty, this sheep’s milk cheese is a staple across Spain and pairs beautifully with a glass of red or even a drizzle of olive oil. While it’s originally from La Mancha, you’ll find it everywhere in Andalusia. Next, cool things down with a chilled bowl of salmorejo, a thicker, creamier cousin of gazpacho. Made from ripe tomatoes, day-old bread, olive oil, and garlic, and topped with jamón and crumbled boiled egg, it’s refreshing and rich all at once. The perfect balance after the cheese.
And then, finish things off with a bowl of carrillada ibérica. This slow-cooked pork cheek stew is one of Seville’s most soulful dishes. Braised until tender in red wine and spices, it practically falls apart with a fork. Deeply savoury, comforting, and unmistakably Andalusian. Pair it all with a glass of their house vermouth, served straight from the barrel behind the bar. It’s spiced, slightly bitter, a little sweet, and completely perfect alongside the bold flavours of the meal.
As night starts to fall over the city, make your way to our next tapas dinner stop, Los Coloniales. Tucked into the heart of Plaza Cristo de Burgos, Los Coloniales stands where a traditional grocery and wine shop once served Sevillanos in the early 20th century. By the 1930s, the original tienda had become a local fixture, offering everyday essentials and barrels of wine. Decades later, in the 1990s, the space was lovingly restored and transformed into one of Seville’s most beloved tapas taverns. Step inside, and you’ll find an atmosphere that feels refreshingly untouched by time. The walls are painted in warm albero yellow, the tables topped in classic marble, and the wooden bar is the kind you lean on for hours. It’s simple, rustic, and unmistakably Sevillian.
The menu leans into Andalusian tradition with big-hearted dishes, such as their signature solomillo al whisky. Solomillo al whisky is a classic Sevillian dish made with tender pork sirloin seared and served in a rich garlic and whisky sauce. The whisky is cooked down, adding depth without a strong alcohol taste. It’s usually paired with crispy potatoes, perfect for soaking up the sauce. I’d also recommend trying the quail eggs with jamón, perfectly crisp and salty on toasted bread, then move on to the cheese and asparagus buñuelos, golden, gooey, and so good you’ll want a second round (but for now hold off as we have one more spot on the tapas tour).
Our final tapas stop of the evening takes us to a place that feels less like a bar and more like a living piece of Seville’s soul: El Rinconcillo. Founded in 1670, it holds the title of the oldest bar in the city, and stepping inside, you feel every bit of that history. The moment you enter, time seems to fold in on itself. The creaking wooden floorboards, the worn mahogany beams, and the ceramic tile walls whisper stories from centuries past. Behind the bar, bottles of fino and oloroso sherry rest in neat rows, and the staff, dressed in traditional black and white, still chalk your order directly onto the bar, just as they’ve done for generations. Locals stand shoulder-to-shoulder with visitors, sipping sherry and nibbling on classic Andalusian tapas.
Let’s start with the jamón ibérico, sliced fresh from the legs hanging above the bar, this is one of the best places in Seville to try it. The flavour is rich, nutty, and melts on your tongue in the way only truly good jamón can. Next, go for the almejas gallegas, large clams from Galicia. They’re tender, briny, and served simply to let their natural flavour shine. And if you’re still hungry, don’t miss the pulpo a la brasa, grilled octopus, perfectly charred on the outside and buttery-soft inside. A final bold bite to wrap up the night. The most traditional, and arguably best, drink to order at El Rinconcillo is a glass of fino sherry. Fino is a dry, pale sherry that hails from Andalusia, and it’s deeply tied to the culture and history of Seville. Served cold in a small glass (copita), it’s crisp, slightly nutty, and perfect alongside salty tapas.
And finally, we end the night somewhere unforgettable, Bar Garlochí, a place that feels less like a bar and more like stepping into the dreamworld of Semana Santa after one too many glasses of vermouth. The moment you walk in, you’re hit with the scent of incense, thick and heady, like a church at twilight. Candles flicker in every corner. Statues of virgins and saints line the walls, draped in velvet and lace, watching over your drink with solemn eyes. Gold-framed processional photos hang alongside crimson curtains. It’s part shrine, part fever dream, part tongue-in-cheek homage to the city’s most sacred season.
And then there’s the signature drink: Sangre de Cristo (the blood of Christ). Served in a deep goblet with the seriousness of communion, it’s a sweet, potent concoction of uncertain ingredients (they’ll never tell you what’s in it), delivered with a flair that borders on theatrical. It’s rich, red, and dramatic, like sipping a relic.
By the end of the day, it won’t just be your appetite that’s satisfied, it’ll be your sense of belonging. In Seville, food is more than fuel. It’s memory, heritage, celebration, and defiance, served up on chipped ceramic, passed hand to hand, often between people who only just met.
Florence in December feels quieter. Slower. The streets are colder, sure, but no less beautiful.…
When I first wandered through Florence many years ago, the city felt like it was…
Florence has always held a special place for me, wandering through the green gardens tucked…
Florence is one of the oldest and most influential cultural cities in the world, a…
If you're lucky enough to find yourself in Florence during the Italian holiday season, prepare…
The city of Florence is one of the oldest and most influential cultural centers in…
This website uses cookies.