Choosing to dine at Gambrinus is choosing to go back in time to experience the hospitality of a bygone age. When we visit, the table is pulled out so we can sit easily; coats slip from our shoulders and into the hands of a waiter; water is poured into the glass as soon as we settle into the heavy, dark chairs unchanged since the space was refurbished in 1964 by famed Portuguese architect Maurício de Vasconcelos; the day’s specials are announced, which include lobster pie and pork knuckle with sauerkraut.
The attentive maître d’ not only takes care of the general running of the room, but is on hand to offer suggestions when we are unsure what to order, listing specialities both on and off the menu and cautioning us against ordering the foie gras as it may be a little rich given the amount of dishes we’ve ordered. When it arrives, the lobster pie is a little cold, but that doesn’t diminish its merits: juicy pieces of lobster wrapped in a perfect pastry, a thickened bisque properly enclosed in crispy puff pastry. In short, classic Gambrinus.
Gambrinus is known for its crêpes suzette, which is prepared tableside with a real sense of occasion, as is the coffee, which is brewed at your table using what looks like an old-fashioned chemistry set. The quirks don’t end there: rather than speaking to each other, waiters blow kisses to let each other know they are passing between tables, a quieter (if more theatrical) option that is intended to make the dining experience more peaceful.
This type of restaurant, with this service, this soul, is disappearing. The only alternative of this kind is Pabe, and the food may even be slightly better there. But that doesn’t change the fact that we need Gambrinus, a steadfast fixture even as tourism continues to change the face of the city’s food scene. So, before it’s gone, go and pay it a visit, even if it’s just once in a lifetime.
This review was fact-checked and updated in 2024.