seafood

SPAIN

Tamarindos, Es Grau, Menorca

On Menorca’s north-east coast, Es Grau is a low-key village with a crescent of dark sand in a fan-shaped bay, behind which is the s’Albufera des Grau nature reserve. Tamarindos is actually two places: as you reach the Mediterranean, look left to see the bar, with shady tables under the trees; look right for the restaurant, with a terrace on stilts over the duck-egg-blue water.

At the bar, I go for the grilled brioche stuffed with sobrasada sausage, punchy Mahón cheese and local honey with a glass of local merluzo white wine. In the restaurant, my favourite is the paella with Menorcan red prawns, but the artichoke and seaweed version is good, too. Later on, you’ll find me back under the trees with a pomada – Xoriguer gin mixed with lemonade and crushed ice.
Paella from €26 per person
Annie Bennett

La Mar de Fondo, Playa de Frexulfe, Asturias

On one of the least developed stretches of the Spanish coast sits the stunning Playa de Frexulfe. It forms part of a protected landscape of dunes, cliffs and rare coastal flora between the fishing towns of Navia and Puerto de Vega. It’s a rare glimpse of what Spain looked like before tourism; there is virtually no development – except for the best beach bar ever.

La Mar de Fondo is a creaky wooden structure perched on a hill overlooking the near kilometre-long beach. The vibe is as laid-back and wild as the landscape. It serves food and drinks, and though I’ve never stayed for a meal, it holds a special place in my heart as the spot where I spilled out of my first sleepless night of van life. The contrast between a smelly mosquito-filled vehicle and a quiet morning coffee, watching the water sparkle through the eucalyptus trees, goes down as one of my favourite travel moments.
Meal about €30
Alyssa McMurtry

Restaurant La Isleta, La Isleta del Moro, Almería

Teetering on a rocky peninsula on the Cabo de Gata coast, jutting out into the Mediterranean, is a tiny, white-washed fishing village, La Isleta del Moro: population 200. Sleepy and remote, it shot to fame briefly in 2018 when Arnold Schwarzenegger arrived in town to shoot scenes for Terminator: Dark Fate. Its few buildings are clustered on the waterfront, with Restaurant La Isleta in prime position, perched on the rocks by the jetty. Sitting on the terrace under a palm-thatched roof, you can hear the waves lapping beneath you, and watch the fishers haul their boats up the beach.

My arrival was more low-key than Arnie’s, arriving on foot while walking the coast, but the timing was perfect for a sundowner – an ice-cold beer as the sky turned Technicolor over the cliffs. As they say in these parts: I’ll be back.
Average meal €50
Lois Pryce

El Refugio, Zahara de los Atunes, Costa de la Luz

With perfectly framed views of grassy dunes, a sweep of white sand and a sapphire horizon of rippling Atlantic waves, El Refugio is an understated bar-restaurant in the village of Zahara de los Atunes. Wrapped around the simple whitewashed restaurant, a terrace shaded by an immense fig tree offers sun or shadow as well as salty breezes, which sometimes whip up wildly. Later, flamboyant sunsets paint the sky.

Food leans heavily on atun rojo (bluefin tuna), rich and buttery, the much-prized speciality of this coast ever since the Phoenicians introduced the almadraba fishing technique 3,000 years ago. Another local classic is tender, low-fat retinto steak, while salads, gazpacho and affordable Spanish wines help propel the mainly hipster clientele through long, lazy afternoons. No bookings though – El Refugio’s burgeoning popularity has led to a waiting-list system at the door.
Three-course lunch about €35, plus wine
Fiona Dunlop

FRANCE

Le Cabanon, Roquebrune-Cap-Martin, Provence

You can smell the steaming clams and freshly baked focaccia well before you reach the bottom of the 100 steps down to Le Cabanon on the Plage du Buse. The bar-restaurant has had several management changes since I first visited a decade ago, but is always a fabulous place for a summertime drink overlooking the protected bay and headland where designer Eileen Gray built her modernist villa, E-1027, and Le Corbusier his wooden beach hut.

Le Cabanon reopened this April with a new side-hatch serving coffees, sublime gelato and goblets of Aperol spritz to beachgoers. It looks like a beachside conservatory with an open kitchen and a dozen tables upstairs on a shaded terrace. I always sit on its huge trunk of blanched driftwood to watch the cormorants, kayakers and distant super yachts.
Mains €20-30
Jon Bryant

Le Cabanon de Paulette, Marseille

Le Cabanon de Paulette is a seaside watering hole that hooks you in from the first sip. It hugs a stone wall above the Plage de l’Abricotier, a small, sandy cove, and every stool has a front-row view of the Mediterranean and nearby Frioul islands. Though trendy, the bar has a convivial vibe, and the staff exude the warmth of the south.

I recommend the fried squid, octopus salad and famous moules frites de Mamie Paulette (garlic-cream mussels named for the owner’s grandmother). Bottles of rosé mirror the blushing sky at sunset, the golden hour that bathes revellers in a gorgeous glow while being serenaded by guitars. In the distance, ferries head towards Corsica.
Meals €15-20, cash only
Alexis Steinman

Le France, Saint-Marc-sur-Mer, Loire

There’s a beach on France’s Atlantic coast that remains dear to many French people’s hearts thanks to its role in the classic 1953 Jacques Tati film, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot. The film follows Tati’s much-loved character as he leaves chaos at every turn of his summer holiday.

I love that Monsieur Hulot is celebrated at the quiet beach with a bronze statue leaning over the railings in his characteristic hands-on-hips style. Beneath, Le France restaurant opens out on to the golden sand, with sun umbrellas and deckchairs giving it a suitably retro feel. The menu features seafood platters and moules-frites, and the service is laid-back – in keeping with the vibe of Tati’s dreamy film.
Mains from €17
Carolyn Boyd

La Cale, Blainville-sur-Mer, Normandy

France’s northern coast, with its stiff breeze and broad sandy beaches, will feel familiar to a British audience – until lunchtime rolls around. Starchy, white-tableclothed restaurants serving up elegant platters of fruit de mer are lovely things, but sometimes on holiday you just want chips on the beach. Enter La Cale, a seaside shack on Normandy’s Cotentin peninsula, where you can enjoy good French cooking with your feet literally in the sand.

It serves all the classics, including platters of oysters and pots of moules with crispy frites, plus sausages and gigots of lamb cooked on the open fire, out on a ramshackle terrace that’s all but falling into the dunes. Don’t expect formality – the owner is a character, the bathrooms rustic – and don’t miss the local ciders, or tergoule, a sweetly spiced, very Normande, rice pudding.
Average meal €20-30
Felicity Cloake

L’Oasis, Plomodiern, Brittany

I stopped off at L’Oasis by chance, but this brilliant beachside restaurant on Brittany’s wild Finistère coastline immediately went to the top of my list of favourite discoveries. A striking yellow stone manor house looks out over the Plage de Pors Ar Vag (Breton for “boat cove”), the beginning of a 2-mile stretch of sandy beach. Chilling out on a manicured lawn above the lapping waves, diners sip glasses of chilled muscadet wine or artisan cider.

At sunset, the last surfers and family holidaymakers slowly leave the beach, while the restaurant offers memorable local seafood at affordable prices. Oysters and langoustines are a must, but more surprising are the signature juicy palourde clams grilled with garlic and parsley. And the profiteroles topped with hot chocolate sauce and Chantilly cream are to-die-for.
Three-course menu €27 at lunch, €32 for dinner
John Brunton

Le Marinella, L’Île-Rousse, Corsica

There’s something deeply relaxing about sliding your toes into the sand while having a lazy lunch and drinking Corsican rosé by the sea. Le Marinella sprawls across the wide expanse of L’Île-Rousse’s beach on Corsica’s northern Balagne coast, where there’s also a lovely morning food market worth visiting. While you can sit on one of Le Marinella’s covered terraces, it’s more pleasurable to kick off your flip-flops and linger over a moreish Corsican take on tapas under the shade of a parasol.

Fried balls of brocciu cheese, saucisson, anchovy beignets and tapenade remind me that Corsican cuisine historically leans more inland than towards the sea – piracy made living on the coast too dangerous. But then along comes a bowl of mussels in a sea urchin sauce to take me firmly back to the Mediterranean and, eventually, to one of the restaurant’s sunloungers.
Tapas €22, mussels €20
Mary Novakovich

ITALY

Trattoria Da Patrizia, Naples

Trattoria Da Patrizia is easy to miss, tucked between the smarter restaurants on the peninsula of Megaride, on the Naples seafront. The plastic chairs, chequered paper tablecloths and handwritten menu disguise what I believe to be the best (in all its simplicity) seaside lunch spot in the city. One sweltering August, when most Neapolitans had decamped somewhere cooler, I found myself there almost every day seeking refuge: tomato bruschetta to start, a big bowl of spaghetti alle vongole, and a carafe of cold falanghina white wine.

After lunch, the nearby boulders that line the fringes of the promenade make for a perfect sunbed, a lazy doze in the shadow of the majestic Castel dell’Ovo, and then a dip in the sea alongside the raucous scugnizzi – Naples’ beloved street urchins – terrifying anyone who cares to watch as they jump from the footbridge into the warm shallow water of the Borgo Marinari marina.
Meal from €20
Sophia Seymour

Il Pirata, Termoli, Adriatic coast

From Termoli, capital of Italy’s south-eastern Molise region, the sandy beach stretches for miles, lined with a paved cycle track and footpath. About 15 minutes’ walk from town is a “free” beach called Il Fratino, after the plovers that nest there. The September I was there the water was clear and inviting, the sand golden and warm. But the real triumph came at lunchtime. About 100 metres up the beach, looking like an overgrown shepherd’s hut, is restaurant Il Pirata.

Staff settled us on a balcony table and proceeded to wow us with dish after memorable dish. Mussels pepata (with lemon and black pepper), great pasta (fish bolognese and masterful linguine with shrimps, lime and pistachio) and roast octopus on broccoli rabe and burrata all went beautifully with chilled local trebbiano (white wine). The meal became a family benchmark for beachside lunches. Now, “nearly as good as Il Pirata” is praise indeed.
Two courses about €25
Liz Boulter

Bar Piero, Lavagna, Liguria

It’s not Rapallo, seven miles to the north, nor Sestri Levante, five to the south. In short, it’s not chic. In Italian, Lavagna means slate, which they were quarrying in Roman times. The beach is shale, shelving steeply, but the sea is a dazzling summery blue.

Right above the sea wall, on the promenade, is Bar Piero, a kiosk with white tables under white sunshades. It serves delicious fresh brioches that tend to run out after 10am. By 11am, there’s the sound of ice being vigorously shaken for cocktails, the smell of focaccia wafting from the oven. Then all the standard Italian fare at lunch, afternoon beer and spritz, and meat sizzling in the seaside dusk, with the gentle ebb and flow of strollers along the promenade and the sun melting into sea. Hard to beat.
Panini about €6
Tim Parks

GREECE

Bardis, Loutraki Bay, Crete

The best table I know is perched over shifting Greek seas and backed by lush green hillsides. Bardis is a taverna-cum-organic farm in Loutraki Bay, western Crete (population: three families). This is where I take visitors and Greek friends alike, and all invariably leave raving about it. Husband and wife Theo and Vasiliki serve up traditional food, cooked with great technical skill. Their focus is on freshly caught fish and seafood (try the fish soup), homegrown vegetables and meat classics.

It slopes down to a pebble beach on a gulf where turtles and dolphins can be seen. Stare to sea, the source of that seafood; lie in hammocks among shade-giving trees. Go early, have breakfast, stay the day (or night by arrangement). Lounge, lunch, swim, shower. Do not leave before dinner.
Meal €25-€30
Susan Smillie

Aperanto Galazio, Varkiza, Athens

Greeks are spoilt for choice when it comes to beach cafes and tavernas – even in the capital’s seaside suburbs. Aperanto Galazio (The Big Blue – like the Luc Besson film) began as the canteen for the Varkiza Sea Sports Club (which produces Olympic athletes) and morphed into a popular, unpretentious taverna. It is perfect for sunny off-season lunches; on blustery days, the waves surge across the broad sandy bay and windsurfers speed by. It is also a breezy evening refuge in a heatwave, when tables with oil lamps are placed on the shingle and Athenians cool off in the shallows. As you sip cold beer or an iced ouzo and look out to sea, you feel you’re on an island. The food is reliable rather than gourmet, with a traditional seafood menu: filleted sardines, calamari, fresh salads and vegetables, and homemade tzatziki.
Meal with wine around €30
Sofka Zinovieff

PORTUGAL

Camaleão Beach Bar, Ilha da Armona, Algarve

There’s a fork on the boardwalk on the island of Armona, giving you the choice to head to the Atlantic beach, or to the one along the edge of the Ria Formosa. Choose the left path and you will find a bar with low chairs in the sand and views out over the dunes to the sea.

To my mind, Camaleão has one of the best beach bar locations in the world. So much so that I bought a house on this tiny island, just a five-minute walk from this very spot. It’s the place to drink ice-cold Super Bock, a caipirinha or a pick-me-up espresso martini. The music is a bit cheesy lounge-core, but when you can hear the sea and nip down to it to cool off, it’s a small price to pay. Ilha da Armona is a 15-minute ferry ride from the town of Olhão; Camaleão Beach Bar is a 20-minute walk from the ferry.
Audrey Gillan

The best oysters of my life arrive on a polystyrene tray, eaten elbow-to-elbow with strangers at a table littered with empty shells and damp paper napkins. We huddle beneath a tarpaulin, sheltering from the fine spray of rain rattling on the roof, the wind whipping around the hulking CalMac ferry moored metres away, and the beady-eyed scavenging gulls.

“Have you tried this? You have to,” says a woman who has driven from Glasgow just to eat here, pressing a rollmop herring into my hand. I take a bite, the thick skin giving way to sweet and salty flesh, juices running down my chin. Elegant dining this is not, but all the better for it. This is Oban Seafood Hut, tucked beside the ferry terminal for boats heading into the Sound of Mull. Diners shuffle around a shared table, listening for order numbers, with plates piled high with langoustines, crab and oysters. It’s cash only. In the back room, a team of women butter thick slices of soft white bread for crab sandwiches, wrapping them in clingfilm without ceremony, to be sold within minutes.

Often on Scotland’s west coast, it’s the least assuming places that are worth seeking out. The hotel down the road may have a wholesaler on speed-dial, while a shack in a car park is serving seafood brought ashore just hours before. Though west coast seafood is rightly lauded across the world, it’s here, eaten metres from the water, that it tastes the best. For years Scotland’s best seafood went directly to top restaurants in major cities, but now more of it stays local. Whether enjoyed in a shack, a windswept croft or cosy dining room, there’s a commitment to getting the freshest fish and shellfish to the most people, in a way that honours the produce, people and landscape.

And a new generation of cooks is making the most of local produce, cooking it simply and letting the quality speak for itself. In a small car park in Scourie, a village strung along the road between Lochinver and Durness, is Crofter’s Kitchen. Grant Mercer was previously head chef at the nearby Kylesku hotel, but became convinced local seafood shouldn’t be reserved for fine dining. With his wife, Heather, he opened the modest shack on their working croft by the beautiful sandy beach, and started cooking it for everyone. The ethos is a 30-mile menu, built entirely around what is landed locally, so it changes constantly, “sometimes daily, sometimes mid-afternoon if the catch dictates it”, Heather says. The house special is hand-dived scallops from around Handa Island, about a mile from the kitchen, served with chorizo risotto and chilli black pudding. No white tablecloths required.

In Ullapool, Kirsty Scobie and Fenella Renwick started The Seafood Shack trailer above the harbour, determined to keep more of the local catch in the town. Both from fishing families, their close-knit supplier connections guarantee the best of the day’s catch, and the menus are built around it. Think lobster macaroni cheese, crab claw salad and haddock tacos. After years of cooking through Highland weather, they are finally building a permanent restaurant on the same site. Whether this means the season (usually April-October) will be extended, we’ll have to wait and see.

I also love the Creel Seafood Bar in Fionnphort, on Mull, beside the Iona ferry. I confess I skipped touring Iona Abbey to make sure I didn’t miss last orders, but the langoustine and chips were worth it.

Same name, different island, The Creel in Elgol on Skye sells freshly cooked cold seafood from their horsebox near Elgol beach, ideal if you’ve booked a wildlife tour nearby. The “Elgolian” squat lobster rolls are the best seller, for very good reason. It’s a wild spot, making opening hours very weather dependent, so check their social media first. The Oyster Shed at Carbost, also on Skye, is another gem. Run by an oyster farmer, it’s a simple setup with picnic table seating and the quality is sky-high.

On the mainland, Blas na Mara Seafood Shack in Fort William is a brilliant addition to the town, and the “lunchbox” with Loch Linnhe langoustines, mackerel paté, salad and oatcakes makes a very special picnic.

Growing up in the Lochaber region, to me Crannog was the definition of fancy. When it opened in Fort William in 1989, it stood as a rare beacon of fine dining in the Highlands. Lochaber should always have been a gastronomic haven, its west coast and sea lochs producing Europe’s finest seafood. It wasn’t. Instead, refrigerated lorries thundered through the villages, carrying Mallaig’s catch south without stopping. Fisher Finlay Finlayson helped change that, transforming a bait shed on Fort William pier into a distinctive red-roofed restaurant. The ethos was simple: serve the freshest seafood possible. It’s where I had my first oyster, saw lobster served and discovered the quiet magic of restaurants – setting a standard for the Highlands, and for me.

Today the original lochside restaurant is storm-battered and awaiting repairs to the town pier, so it has relocated to the safe haven of Garrison West on the High Street. Here, chef Philip Carnegie runs a tight ship, with beloved staples like mussels, oysters and Cullen skink still in place. Portions are hearty, and they need to be: often diners arrive after a day on the hill or celebrating the end of the West Highland Way. Try the Mallaig cod with mussels, and always check the specials board.

Another favourite is The Pierhouse hotel by the Lismore ferry in Port Appin, which offers a welcome refuge, with cosy fireplaces and warm service. The menu tells you who caught your supper and from which nearby loch. The best tables overlook the pier, where you may see the catch arriving. Order fresh Loch Leven rope-grown mussels cooked in cider, Loch Creran oysters, or push the boat out and share The Pierhouse platter.

Loch Leven Seafood Cafe (on the north shore) is a perfect casual pit-stop if you’re heading west, or after a day in Glencoe. Freshly cooked and simply served, there’s often more unusual seafood here, such as fresh razor clams and surf clams with garlic butter. The shellfish soup with aioli is superb.

Some meals require more of a trek. Until last year, Gareth Cole ran Café Canna, raising the profile of food on the eponymous pint-sized island, and giving it a forager’s twist with dishes such as dulse seaweed croquettes and kelp miso ramen.

He has now moved on to a new culinary adventure on the Isle of Coll (a 2hr 40min ferry ride from Oban) that promises to be worth the journey. The Urchin is named after one of Cole’s favourite ingredients. “There is an unbeatable larder on this island,” he says. He has recently started a brewery too. The Boathouse on Ulva is also worth travelling for – it requires a ferry to Mull then a tiny passenger boat to Ulva, but the seafood, welcome and views make up for the journey.

As a food and travel writer I’m lucky to have eaten all over the world, but it’s here, where I grew up, I’ve had my best meals. After years eating my way around the Highlands and Islands, it’s a delight to have discovered so many more places – and to see more creative chefs succeeding.

Back at Oban Seafood Hut, I watch a creel of live langoustines being hauled out of a small boat and sent straight to the kitchen. Perhaps I’ll stay just a little longer …