Why you should eat at the semi-illegal Chinese restaurant in Lisbon
About ten years ago, an artist in Lisbon took me to a Chinês clandestino for the first time – an illegal Chinese restaurant. What should you imagine? A small apartment in a block of flats in the immigrant neighbourhood of Mouraria, a few simple tables and chairs in what would normally be the living room, and a Chinese family in both the kitchen and the front of house. For a few euros, you could eat like an emperor until your belly was full. The big question: can you still find a good semi-illegal hidden Chinese restaurant in Lisbon in 2025?
Hidden Chinese restaurant
The answer is yes. Thank god. Look, during a city trip to Lisbon there is naturally plenty to enjoy on the culinary front, and it’s not strange if you decide to stay away from a grimy living room with walls yellowed by wok fumes. But if you’re staying a little longer or simply fancy some adventure, don’t hesitate. Really, the hidden Chinese restaurant is highly recommended.
It starts with the search. Where on earth do you find a Chinese restaurant hidden on, say, the fourth floor of an apartment block? The easiest thing is to ask the locals. Every self-respecting Lisboeta has eaten at a Chinês clandestino at some point. And if they haven’t, you really ought to ask yourself why you still hang out with them. If you don’t have any local contacts, though, all is not lost.
Look up
Of course, there’s the internet. With a bit of good Googling, you’ll get there. But that’s rather boring. The true adventurer goes looking! The search begins at Praça Martim Moriz, one of Lisbon’s many squares with a statue in the middle. From this square – there’s also a metro stop here, if you’re coming from further away – walk into the Mouraria neighbourhood via the steps on the eastern side.
After that, the motto is: look up. If you spot those typical Chinese lanterns on the ceiling from the street, you’ve hit the jackpot. The door downstairs is often already open, and it’s simply a matter of finding the right apartment. In our case, two wonderfully kitschy cardboard rabbits are hanging on the door. Miss Wong, who runs this clandestino with her husband, takes us to our table in one of the many little rooms in the apartment. The chairs and tablecloth feel a little greasy, the roller blind has been cobbled together with Christmas wrapping paper and is held in place with clothespins. This feels exactly the same as it did ten years ago.
Ice-cold Tsing Tsao beers
On a notepad, we write down the numbers corresponding to the dishes we’re craving. Miss Wong is incredibly sharp, and before we know it she brings us a few ice-cold Tsing Tsao beers, a steaming plate of aubergines in oyster sauce, a plate of wood ear mushrooms (squashy fungus-like mushrooms in black bean sauce), and enough fried rice to feed a small village; as she walked past, she had already noticed that we had written down precisely these numbers. From then on, Mister Wong keeps up a lovely pace in the kitchen, and the dishes just keep coming.
Home-cooked food
And that’s basically how the entire evening goes. No nonsense, just good home-cooked food. A large plate of vegetables or meat – enough to easily feed three or four people – costs six and a half euros here. Besides the aforementioned aubergine, the roast duck is a highlight, and the silky-soft tofu is also delicious. We are also accidentally served a plate of grilled pork that we hadn’t ordered, but that too is empty in no time. Naturally, the menu here is endless, and you can make it as adventurous as you like. Is the clandestino the very best Chinese restaurant you’ll ever eat at? Probably not. But anyone who wants a super-authentic meal for little money, plus a great story to take home, should definitely go looking. You just have to keep looking up.
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