Fismuler in Lisbon feels less like a restaurant you visit and more like one you stumble into and then quietly hope no one else finds out about. It sits there with an almost stubborn understatement, as if daring you to overlook it, and then rewards you handsomely for not doing so. The moment you step inside, the city’s noise seems to soften, trading tram bells and tiled façades for a hum of conversation, clinki...

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