Our wanders yielded such a wealth of alluring bars – such as Base, on the roof of the Passeio dos Clérigos shopping centre – and hidden diners that there were not enough mealtimes to try them all. We didn’t eat at any of Porto’s new wave of fine-dining restaurants, such as the feted Pedro Lemos. A bowl of octopus in olive oil with onion and herbs was so delicious – and generous – that we just ordered more beers and settled in. We set off for the beach, but never made it, getting waylaid at the fishing village of São Pedro da Afurada, on the south bank of the Douro, where low-key fish restaurants shared pavements with families barbecuing their own Sunday lunches.

Our wanders yielded such a wealth of alluring bars and diners that there were not enough mealtimes to try them all We didn’t take in a concert at Rem Koolhaas’s distinctive white concrete Casa da Música, but we enjoyed some great Brazilian buskers and stumbled on a Sunday afternoon fado session in a cellar bar near São João National Theatre, where a blowsy waitress brought us ice-cold Super Bock beers and locals took turns to stand up and sing to virtuoso guitar and mandolin accompaniment. But we enjoyed striking street art on many an ancient wall, and a fascinating contemporary craft emporium, Arte e Alma, in a street behind the Sé cathedral. So we didn’t make it to the Serralves art museum – the most-visited gallery in Portugal. This always led us to something worth seeing: atmospherically crumbling tiled houses and churches, a brushmaker’s workshop, a corner bar seemingly unchanged since the 1950s … We developed a simple strategy: just make for the narrowest, darkest-looking alleyway. This bright, breezy, hilly city certainly rewards the aimless wanderer. Instead, we embraced spontaneity, staying away from travel websites, online reviews, even the Guardian’s own city guide to Porto. Porto has more than its share of must-see attractions, but this unusual formula seemed to free us of any obligation to tick them off. It was weirdly disconcerting to be heading off armed not even with an outdated Lonely Planet guide, but hey, we had a place to stay, the forecast was sunny: how bad could it be? A bowl of octopus in olive oil with onion and herbs was so delicious that we just ordered more beers and settled in Off the beaten track … fine food without the fine-dining prices.

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