The Best Places to Eat and Drink in Spain

A 15th-century mansion tucked into Cáceres' old quarter, Torre de Sande is the relaxed, regional sibling of the three-Michelin-star Atrio just down the street. The menu leans into Extremadura: Iberian sausage, local cheeses, hearty stews, grilled meats. On a warm evening, the terrace is where you want to be, which means booking ahead is not optional so much as polite.

Named for the local stone woven into its interior, Tosca is a modern Mediterranean restaurant with a terrace that looks out over a canal lined with pleasure boats, which does the atmosphere no harm at all. The kitchen updates classic regional cooking with a light hand, and you can order à la carte or work through one of two tasting menus, the longer of which comes with a wine-pairing option for the whole table.

The name nods to the toy factory that once occupied the building, just off the old walled approach to Dénia's castle. This is a tasting-menu restaurant where an Italian chef folds local Marina Alta produce into contemporary Italian cooking, running three menus of varying length and ambition. The result plays seriously with texture and form while keeping the food recognizably Italian at heart, which is either comforting or a magic trick, depending on your expectations.

The squid sandwich with aioli and salsa brava has a following in this city, and the bone marrow with beef tartare makes a strong case for why. This is the casual side of Benito Gómez, the chef behind a celebrated spot in Ronda, doing straightforward traditional cooking near the Plaza de la Marina. No elaborate tasting menus, just the kind of food Málaga actually wants to eat on a Tuesday.

Benito Gómez runs Bardal, one of the most talked-about fine dining spots in Andalusia, and this is his more relaxed project down the street: a tapas spot built around small plates and sharing. The menu leans traditional with a few fusion detours, and the ingredients are taken just as seriously as at the mothership, even if the bill isn't. A good place to eat well in Ronda without having to think too hard about what to wear.

The room used to be one of the concert venues of Movida Madrileña, and the bones of that history are still visible in the bioconstruction fit-out. Tramo is a contemporary Spanish restaurant with a social mission baked into the model, employing people who face real barriers to the jobs market. The menu runs on ingredients from small Spanish farmers and local producers, which gives the cooking a grounded, unfussy quality that suits the space.

A gastro-bar in Zahara de los Atunes where the décor tells its own story: recycled furniture, fashion-world odds and ends, and surf culture artifacts scattered around a casual room. The kitchen leans into Asian and Latin American flavors built on local Andalusian produce, a combination that sounds unlikely until it lands. The crowd tends to come in sandy and leave happy. À la carte only, and very much a drop-in kind of place.

A small olive tree grows inside the dining room, which tells you something about how seriously Treintaitrés takes its plant-based identity. This Tudela restaurant leans on the region's famous vegetable-growing tradition, running an à la carte alongside tasting menus, with a terrace out front and quieter rooms upstairs for when you need them. The family has been in hospitality forever, and it shows in the unhurried pace of things.

Fish sold by the slice, sourced that day from the Gulf of Cádiz, is the quiet argument this traditional Sevillian restaurant makes before you've even sat down. Named after the Manhattan neighborhood and set near the old Buhaira Gardens, it's been around forever, turning out a market-driven tasting menu that shifts with whatever came off the boat. The crowd tends to know exactly what they're ordering, because they've been here before.

A creative restaurant in the Las Letras district where you can order dishes in halves or thirds, which sounds minor until you realize it changes how an entire meal works. The team behind it built the place around a simple question: where would we actually want to eat? The answer is a casual, minimalist room focused on seasonal ingredients, drawing on Peruvian and Japanese influences alongside straightforwardly Spanish ones. Artisanal cheeses round things out.

Exposed stone walls and black tones set the mood at this modern Catalan restaurant just off Avenida Diagonal, where the cooking leans traditional without the folkloric trappings. The chef behind a more formal project runs this as his looser, sharing-plates side, built around seasonal produce and dishes with genuine roots, beef tongue, sweetbreads, that sort of thing. Order a few and pass them around.

A one-man omakase counter in the heart of Jerez, where the chef runs the entire operation solo and the bar is close enough that you'll watch every cut and fold up close. The meal runs about three hours and changes with the market, so the menu is more of a conversation than a document. Booking is non-negotiable, and small talk while the last guests settle in is apparently part of the deal.

The ceiling swarms with a sculpted school of fish, and the walls are tiled to look like scales, so the room makes its obsession clear before you've ordered anything. This Barcelona restaurant runs two parallel menus: one Western, one built around nigiri, sashimi, and uramaki, with bluefin tuna anchoring both. On certain nights they host a kaitai session, teaching the Japanese art of breaking down the fish whole, which is either dinner theater or a masterclass depending on your mood.

The name comes from the local dialect word for full, which amounts to a promise the kitchen intends to keep. Set on a rural estate southwest of Miajadas, this modern Spanish restaurant runs two tasting menus built around produce the chef hunts, forages, and pulls from the surrounding gardens himself. The cooking stays rooted in Extremaduran tradition while nudging it somewhere new, and the landscape outside is doing a lot of the heavy lifting.

The name is Bilbao slang for a joker, which tells you something about the locals who fill the pintxos bar out front. Push past that and there's a calm, contemporary dining room behind it, serving traditional Basque cooking that follows the season with some seriousness. The kitchen sources everything from within the city, so the menu shifts as the year does, built around fish, rice, and meat done without much fuss.

The name comes from the Swahili word for "fork," which is either charming or a little on the nose depending on your mood. This is a fine-dining restaurant built around a fully open kitchen at the center of the room, so you watch every move. Three tasting menus run simultaneously, every table starting at the same moment, a format that turns dinner into something closer to a shared performance on Eixample's Mallorca.

Cave paintings stare down from high ceilings in this two-floor modern restaurant, which makes for a conversation starter before the food even arrives. The room has a raw, brick-walled, New York loft feel, and the cooking matches that energy: contemporary dishes built on Cantabrian tradition, generous enough to share around the table. The kind of place where nothing feels precious, including the service.

Twelve seats at a single bar, one seating, everyone starts together, no stragglers tolerated. This kaiseki-influenced omakase in La Bonanova has the chef cooking Japanese tasting menus that move between the Mediterranean and Japan, with the robata grill doing a lot of quiet work on the flavors. Classic kaiseki forms like hassun and sashimi share the menu with looser, more inventive ideas. The neighborhood is residential and unhurried, which suits the format.

A contemporary Catalan restaurant tucked under the stone arches of Banyoles's medieval Plaça Major, where the minimalist interior makes a quiet argument with the thousand-year-old surroundings. The name nods to the old unit of weight used for buying food in bulk, which sets the tone: unpretentious, rooted, and a little literary. A short à la carte and a weekday set menu keep the kitchen focused, with a young team and chef Alba Hugas running the show.

The live tank near the entrance says everything about this glass-walled seafood restaurant on the Verdugo estuary: the langoustines are very much alive when you arrive. The kitchen keeps things simple, letting the fish in the display case carry the argument. A few well-chosen meat and rice dishes round out the menu for anyone who wandered in from the wrong region. The river views from every table are a reasonable consolation for being this far from the coast.

A deer farm sits just next door, which sets the tone rather well for a mountain inn that has been feeding travelers through the Ulzama valley for generations. The dining room is all open fireplace and warm wood, and the traditional menu follows the season faithfully, swinging from wild mushrooms to game as the valley dictates. The views from the terrace over the surrounding hills are the kind that make you order another glass.

Stone bridge on one side, natural swimming pools on the other, and a kitchen pushing Extremaduran seasonal cooking somewhere between tradition and restraint. Veratus is a sit-down Spanish restaurant in the Vera valley where the chef builds the menu around whatever the region is actually producing right now. Two tasting menus are available with advance booking, and the wine pairings lean local.

Named for a plant found only in the Canary Islands, this bistro from the chef behind Michelin-starred Tabaiba operates as his more relaxed alter ego, halfway between Plaza del Pilar and Las Canteras beach. The menu is built for sharing, with regional Canarian cooking given the occasional fusion nudge, and half portions at the bar make it easy to graze without commitment. The kind of place where the chef's restraint turns out to be its own kind of ambition.

Eighteenth-century frescoes of Catalan village life cover the walls of this restaurant, which occupies the grand first floor of a historic aristocratic house in the centre of Vic. The cooking is contemporary Catalan, built around local seasonal produce, with rice dishes for two drawing particular attention. The room alone makes a case for booking a table, and the menu gives you several reasons to stay longer than planned.

A chef came back from Japan with one idea: put the counter at the center and cook in front of everyone, sushi-bar style. The result is a 16-seat tasting menu restaurant with gold tones, geometric ceiling panels, and a single menu that changes with the market. Toledo's old city is right outside; inside, everyone starts at the same time, so don't be late. The Michelin Guide has it on their list.

The high ceilings and original bar tell you this place has been around forever, even as the kitchen runs a thoroughly modern line on traditional Catalan cooking. It's a sit-down restaurant on one of Pals's main streets, where the chef, trained across serious kitchens, leans into seasonal ingredients and rice dishes with enough imagination to keep things interesting. The lunch menu is built for sharing, which is either charming or a commitment depending on how you feel about the person across the table.

Ski boots optional, but the name at least sets expectations: Vidocq is a contemporary restaurant in the Pyrenean resort town of Sallent de Gállego, named after France's legendary rogue-turned-detective. A single seasonal tasting menu threads Thai-inflected technique through Aragonese mountain cooking, with most ingredients pulled from small local producers. It's a stranger pairing than it sounds, and somehow the mountains make it make sense.

A courtyard of white-clothed tables, oversized parasols, and trailing greenery sets the scene at this Mediterranean restaurant in a beachside villa on the Costa Brava. The chef apparently traded a DJ booth for a kitchen, and the menu, which runs from prawn tartare to Girona beef cheek, doesn't suggest any lingering indecision. The kind of lunch that makes an afternoon disappear.

A glass-fronted kitchen greets you before you even reach the dining room, which sets the tone: this is a family-run restaurant that wants you watching. The contemporary menu moves between snails and slow-braised Ibérico pork, while the tapas bar on the square does its own thing with small plates and enough foot traffic to keep things noisy. Both rooms are worth knowing about.

A stone manor in vineyard country near Ponte Ulla, Villa Verde is a traditional restaurant where the dining room gathers around a proper lareira fireplace and an old wine cellar still holds a working lagar trough. The cooking is rooted in Galician home tradition, leaning on whatever the season offers, with wild mushrooms and fresh seafood doing most of the talking. Country-house atmosphere without the pretension of needing to perform it.

A thirteenth-century well sits in the dining room floor, glassed over, which sets the tone for this quietly serious restaurant in the old walled town of Morella. The cooking reworks traditional local recipes with modern technique, and the tasting menu leans on nearby producers and whatever the season allows. The room itself, a restored medieval house with a vaulted wine cellar below, does a fair amount of the heavy lifting before the food even arrives.

A terrace overlooking Clos de l'Obac's vineyards and the Priorat mountains sets the tone at this hotel restaurant inside a restored farmhouse deep in wine country. The kitchen works through seasonal Catalan flavors with a contemporary eye and careful plating, offered à la carte or as a tasting menu. The open kitchen is visible through a large window, which means watching the team work is part of the meal whether you signed up for it or not.

Rodrigo de la Calle, the chef who built a reputation around plant-based cooking in Spain, advises this Barcelona restaurant where vegetables grown by small local producers do most of the heavy lifting. A few fish and rice dishes round out the menu, but the point is the plant kingdom, explored across an à la carte and three tasting menus. Dress accordingly: this is the kind of dinner that takes its organic sourcing seriously.

An open kitchen greets you at the door of this gastronomic tavern tucked into a quiet pedestrian street in Reus's old town. The chef cooked in serious kitchens elsewhere before coming home to do his own thing, and the contemporary Catalan menu shows it: sharing plates, a daily menu, and a longer tasting option, all built around local produce handled with a light touch.

Stone walls and Peruvian-Mediterranean cooking in the center of Alacant, where the menu keeps landing somewhere between Valencia and Lima in ways that take a moment to process. The chef trained at Le Cordon Bleu and the Basque Culinary Center before opening this sit-down restaurant, and the rice dishes, finished with South American chiles and aromatics, are where the two kitchens collide most convincingly. The Michelin Guide has it on their list.

A renovated house in the quiet Sarrià neighborhood, with a tree-shaded patio that fills up the moment the weather cooperates. This is a Catalan small-plates restaurant where the cooking leans traditional, built around market ingredients and a rotating set of monthly dishes designed to taste like something your grandmother might have made, had she been more precise about it. The ham croquettes have a reputation that precedes them by several rooms.

Quique Dacosta's casual Valencia spot is built around sharing plates and the idea that the menu is more of a suggestion than a contract. The room is loose and lively, cocktails arrive alongside dishes rather than after them, and the foie gras Cuba Libre has become the kind of thing regulars order without looking up. Contemporary cooking with a roaming frame of reference, priced and paced for a long, unhurried table.

Two brothers with Peruvian roots and Basque pantries are doing something quietly unusual in the Deusto university district: a tasting menu that pitches itself as a journey from the Andes to the Bay of Biscay, and mostly earns the metaphor. The restaurant is sleek and contemporary, the cooking precise. Amazonian ingredients show up alongside local produce, and a dessert shaped after the terraced ruins of Moray is the kind of thing you photograph before you eat it.

A short walk from La Pedrera, this creative restaurant runs on a quiet conviction: vegetables come first, sourced from small local producers, and the kitchen is fully open behind the bar so you can watch the team work. Lunch brings à la carte; tasting menus run five or eight courses in vegan, vegetarian, or omnivore tracks. The room has an industrial polish softened by rough-hewn touches, and the wine list leans heavily toward labels you won't recognize, which is sort of the point.

Rice from the Ebro Delta, a region most Barcelonans couldn't point to on a map, anchors the menu at this creative restaurant inside the Ohla Eixample hotel. The chef, originally from Yucatán, has made himself an unlikely authority on that wetland's oysters, elvers, and mantis shrimp, treating them with a light creative hand. The contemporary dining room looks into the kitchen, so you can watch the focus while you eat.

Three tables, eight diners maximum, a calligraphic scroll on the wall, and an omakase menu built around fish the chef ages in-house for texture. This tiny Japanese counter near the old Elvira Gate runs two omakase courses, both centered on nigiri, maki, and gunkan made mostly from local catch, white prawns, Motril shrimp, and eel that arrives alive. Hokkaido scallops make a guest appearance, but Granada's waters do most of the talking.

The rice dishes here require advance notice, which tells you something about how seriously this Valencian restaurant takes them. The menu follows the market and leans on wild-caught fish, but the kitchen's stated philosophy, cooking the old way with a lighter modern hand, runs through everything. The cod fritters have a following of their own. Comfortable and contemporary, the kind of place locals book ahead for a proper midweek lunch.

A Sardinian chef who fell for Seville hard enough to move there runs this intimate contemporary restaurant near the cathedral. Everything comes through two tasting menus, where the cooking blends Andalucian warmth and French precision into something that feels personal rather than programmatic. The Michelin Guide has it on its radar, which tracks for a room this focused. Wear something nice but not your best suit.

Perched twenty meters up in the tower of the Centro Niemeyer, this creative tasting-menu restaurant takes its name from the Japanese word for "dream," which sets the tone. The chef's organizing idea is a kind of single-ingredient obsession, one vegetable or fish coaxed through every technique and stage of preparation until it becomes something else entirely. The views over Avilés are hard to ignore, but the cooking gives you something to think about between glances.

A glass-fronted wine cellar anchors the dining room at Zalacaín, a classic-international restaurant that has been part of Madrid's furniture long enough to have hosted what sounds like half the 20th century's who's who. The room still carries its old elegance without feeling pickled in it, and the menu keeps the legendary dishes alongside newer additions, which is a polite way of saying you can order the mushroom and foie gras lasagne and nobody will judge you.

The walls here tell their own story: framed photos of the owner alongside celebrated chefs from across Spain and beyond, a quiet way of saying this place has been in the conversation a long time. It's a classic full-service restaurant on one of Vitoria-Gasteiz's main avenues, built around reinterpreted traditional cooking and a grill that takes its fish and meat seriously. A tasting menu runs alongside the carte.

The grilled prawns arrive with no ceremony whatsoever, which is precisely the point. Zapirain is a traditional seafood restaurant, an old-school institution from the Basque coast that relocated to Bilbao after what sounds like a long and happy life in Lekeitio. The kitchen keeps things simple with fish and shellfish, letting the quality carry the weight, though a proper T-bone appears on the menu for anyone who wandered in expecting steak.

Perched on the slopes of Mt Ulía with a panoramic terrace and its own kitchen garden visible from the dining room, this is a traditional Basque restaurant where the hake arrives multiple ways and the bread is baked daily with organic flour. The menu leans hard into Basque classics, spider crab, pil-pil, salsa verde, alongside daily specials that shift with whatever came in fresh. Views included, no upcharge.

A cosy contemporary Spanish restaurant near Parque del Cañillo where the chef pulls from two distinct homelands, Castile-La Mancha and Andalusia, and builds tasting menus around that tension. The cooking moves between mountain venison and tuna tataki without feeling like a contradiction, which is harder than it sounds. A good spot when Talavera's usual options feel predictable.

A 17th-century country house outside Bakio that went from blacksmith's forge to maize mill before anyone thought to put tables in it. The old wood-fired ovens are still here, one repurposed as a counter, one heating the dining room. It's a traditional restaurant with a creative lean, serving home-style Basque cooking that occasionally surprises. The baked octopus on potato parmentier is the one dish regulars tend to mention first.

The gin and tonic arrives in something closer to an aquarium than a glass, garnished with the kind of care usually reserved for fine dining. Bobby Gin is a cocktail bar in the Gràcia neighborhood that has made the G&T its entire personality, stocking a dizzying spread of gins and tonic waters and pairing them with obsessive precision. Sitting at the bar while the bartenders work through the combinations is basically a short course in why Barcelona lost its mind over this drink.

The historic underground cellars beneath this León steakhouse set the tone before the first plate arrives. José Gordón raises oxen for long lives, dry-ages the beef for depth rather than shock, and finishes everything over wood fire. Tongue, morcilla, and house-cured cecina show the whole animal is taken seriously, not just the headline cut. It ranks tenth on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list, and a meal here feels less like dinner than the end of a very long, deliberate argument.

The oak grill sits in plain sight, and that's the whole argument. This Basque parrilla in Tolosa has been doing one thing for a long time: thick bone-in txuletón from mature cows, grilled over oak coals with salt and very little else to hide behind. It ranks sixth on the World's Best Steak Restaurants list, which tracks. Peppers and asparagus arrive with the same seriousness as the beef. The room is plain, the service is calm, and nobody here is trying to impress you with novelty.

The wood-fired oven greets you at the door before you've even found a seat, which is a fair statement of priorities for a pizzeria in a medieval village inside Garrotxa's volcanic park. The kitchen moves between classic Neapolitan, small pan, and double-fried styles, drawing on local ingredients throughout. It landed a spot on 50 Top Pizza Europe, which is a long way to travel for pizza until you're actually here eating it.

Dark wood paneling sets the mood at this quietly serious cocktail bar on Aribau, where the Pernia family, long-running operators of the nearby Tandem bar, took over and kept the formula intact. Classic cocktails, made properly, served to people who know what they ordered and aren't in a hurry. The kind of room where the conversation stays low and nobody's performing for the door.

A Neapolitan pizza shop done up like a 1950s Italian grocery, shelves of imported provisions included, in the middle of Seville's old alleys. The team behind it runs the place as a pizzeria, restaurant, and shop at once, so you can eat a ruota di carro at the counter and leave with a bottle of something Italian under your arm. Fresh pasta and risotto round out the menu for anyone not in a pizza mood.

A suspended fireplace floats over a communal table near the Congress of Deputies, which sets the tone: this is a pizza restaurant that takes the room as seriously as the dough. The style is Nordic, long-fermented and airy, topped with San Marzano tomatoes and cured meats from the Lessinia valley. Italian artisanal ice creams close things out. It holds a spot on the 50 Top Pizza Europe list, which the politicians next door have yet to replicate.

The dining room takes its cues from an early 20th-century salon, all elegance and composure, named after Vesuvius as a straight-faced declaration of Neapolitan intent. This is a sit-down pizza restaurant serving contemporary Neapolitan pies, the kind with a crust that has some presence without turning the whole thing into an obstacle course. The staff is notably warm, and local Cantabrian anchovies make a compelling case for the marinara.

A wood-fired oven dominates the dining room, and the Neapolitan-style pizzas that come out of it, thin-stretched with a light, airy crust, are the obvious reason to be here. The setup blends classic Italian tradition with South American warmth in service, which makes the whole thing feel livelier than your average pizza night. The terrace was made for the Valencian climate, and the vermouth list handles the local tardeo hour without complaint.

A Neapolitan pizza spot in Sabadell where the owner built a following online and then had to make the pizza back it up. The dough is soft and properly leavened, cooked with the kind of precision that shuts down the skeptics. An entire section of the menu is devoted to margherita variations alone, which is either confidence or a dare. Book ahead; the room fills faster than the algorithm.

The pizza dough goes through a long fermentation before it ever sees the oven, and the whole-flour crust that comes out is lighter than it has any right to be. This is an Italian trattoria inside the Royal Hideaway Corales Resort, so fresh pasta and homemade sauces share the menu, and the view over La Caleta is the kind that makes it hard to ask for the check. Named among 50 Top Pizza Europe's Excellent Pizzerias.

A large sign reading "See Naples and then die" greets you at the door, which tells you everything about where this pizzeria's loyalties lie. Graffiti, sacred imagery, and popular icons cover the walls, and the wood-fired oven runs without pause at the center of it all. The menu stays faithful to classic Neapolitan pies, with five variations of Margherita alone, plus Neapolitan street food and desserts to match.

A contemporary pizza restaurant in Lloret de Mar where the dough gets a long, slow fermentation before it sees any heat. The menu moves through classic pies, local Catalan ingredients, Neapolitan-rooted recipes, and seasonal specials, so there's always a reason to revisit. The wine and beer list pulls from both Italian and Spanish producers, and the team talks through each pizza like they mean it. Noted in 50 Top Pizza Europe.

The wood-fired oven is visible from the door, and the pizza makers never stop moving. Maximmus is a Neapolitan-style pizzeria in central Sabadell, a short drive from Barcelona, with a well-leavened dough that holds up under a menu of Italian classics and seasonal additions. The drink list is short but sensible, beers and wines chosen to match rather than impress. It holds a spot on the 50 Top Pizza Europe list.

The wood-fired oven inside a converted garage in Sant Cugat is hard to miss, and it sets the tone for this neighborhood pizzeria with a slow-food sensibility. Long-fermented dough anchors a menu that moves from classic Neapolitan to riffs built around local ingredients like sobrasada and Cantabrian anchovies. Natural Italian wines round things out. It earned a spot on 50 Top Pizza Europe's Excellent Pizzerias list, which the regulars probably knew already.

Roman pinsa dough is the foundation here, lighter and crispier than its Neapolitan cousin, served at a casual pizza spot tucked onto a side street in Chamberí. The kitchen opens directly onto the dining room, cartoon murals cover the walls, and a few sidewalk tables catch the afternoon sun. Toppings lean international rather than purist, and the beer selection is broad enough that choosing one becomes its own small project.

A neighborhood pizzeria in Chamberí run the way a Neapolitan kitchen runs at home: eggplant parmigiana, ragù, and handmade pasta before the pizza even arrives. The dough follows the Neapolitan school, and the salsiccia e friarielli, a pairing you rarely find done right outside Campania, is the thing to order. Prices sit below the Madrid average, which the regulars have clearly figured out.

A Neapolitan pizza spot in Los Cristianos where most of the seating spills outside, which makes obvious sense given that Tenerife's weather is essentially a permanent excuse to eat al fresco. The pizza menu runs long, covering classics and house specials, with a light, airy dough and a thin center. The entrance is split between walk-ins and reservations, so the line moves faster than you'd expect at a place this popular.

You order at the counter, beeper in hand, and wait for a pizza that takes the format more seriously than the format usually deserves. This Chamberí slice spot lands somewhere between Roman crunch and Neapolitan puff, with toppings built for balance rather than spectacle. The non-alcoholic drinks are a cut above the usual soda-and-still-water routine. Named among 50 Top Pizza Europe's Excellent Pizzerias, which is the kind of recognition that mostly just confirms what the lunch queue already knew.

Skate-culture murals and moody lighting in the middle of Chamberí's old-Madrid streetscape sets the tone before you even look at the menu. This is a sit-down pizza spot where the pies rotate with the seasons and the wine list knows when to stop. The GOAT, their mortadella pizza with pistachio and ricotta, does most of the talking. Relaxed but attentive service, and prices that won't require a post-dinner rethink.

Sourdough starter that's been refreshed continuously for years is the quiet engine behind the Neapolitan-style pizzas at this casual Italian restaurant on Fuengirola's seafront. The dough uses organic flour, the tomato-based options outnumber the white pies, and a good stretch of the ingredients arrive daily from the market or straight from Italy. The terrace is the place to be, and the wine list is more considered than the beachy address might suggest.

A Neapolitan pizza spot on the leafy Granados pedestrian strip, designed around the sacred and profane iconography of Naples with lighting that puts each table at the center of the room, which sounds theatrical until you're sitting in it. The dough uses a biga preferment for a lighter, open crumb, and the menu carves cleanly into reds, whites, and a few Margherita variations. There's a year-round terrace, which in Barcelona is not a minor detail.

The wood-fired oven takes up most of the back wall and sets the agenda from the moment you walk in. This is a small, warmly Italian pizzeria in Chamberí, the kind where the dough follows Neapolitan rules and the menu runs from antipasti through dessert in the way a Roman grandmother would approve. The namesake pizza, loaded with San Marzano tomatoes and Parma ham, is the move. Recognized by 50 Top Pizza Europe.

The wood-fired oven near the entrance runs nonstop, sending pies to tables and takeout bags in equal measure, which tells you most of what you need to know. This casual Neapolitan-style pizzeria in a small Sierra Norte town keeps the dough light and properly fermented, the crust puffy at the edges, the toppings unfussy. The staff is young and quick without feeling rushed. Named among 50 Top Pizza Europe's Excellent Pizzerias.

The dough here is soft and pillowy in the Neapolitan style, topped with a mix of Italian staples and whatever local produce is fresh that day. This is a modern pizzeria run by the Campanella family, offering a genuine alternative to the tourist-trap pie shops that crowd the island. The dining room runs young and colorful, with attentive service that handles both locals and visitors without fuss. A slim wine list and Italian beers round things out.

Checkered tablecloths and walls plastered with Italian nostalgia set the scene at this old-school Roman-style trattoria on Fernando VI. The wood-fired oven turns out thin, unfussy pies built on well-sourced ingredients, and the tiramisù has a minor cult following among regulars. It's been around forever, which in Madrid's churning restaurant scene means something. A 50 Top Pizza Europe listing confirms the pizza is not just atmosphere talking.

The menu is organized like a record, twelve tracks plus two bonus sides, which tells you everything about how seriously Trafalgar Pizza Club takes its own atmosphere. It's a pizzeria and cocktail bar in L'Eixample, dressed up in neon and industrial fittings with a cyber noir edge that makes the whole room feel like a DJ booth someone forgot to stock with decks. The pizzas run from straightforward classics to house riffs, and the cheesecake has its own following.

Amara is a small tasting-menu restaurant in Seville, named for the chef's home neighborhood outside San Sebastián, which he has furnished like a very proud family project. His mother's paintings of the Basque coast hang on the walls, and his father drove the wood for the cabinetry down from the north himself. The kitchen has almost no fridge space, so the chef shops the neighborhood market every other day, and the menu sits somewhere between Basque tradition and Andalusian pantry.