Portuguese food projects you should know and follow
One of the first things anyone visiting Portugal would notice is that we take food very seriously. Not in a pretentious or fancy kind of way (even though there are plenty of fine dining restaurants worth exploring in Lisbon and beyond the capital), but in the sense that, here, food is tied to everything. Food in Portugal is connected with family, memories, work, migrations, climate and so much more. Food has a lot to do with tradition but, these days, tradition certainly doesn’t encapsulate it all.
Beyond traditional settings, the contemporary history of Portuguese food is also being written in places most visitors never hear about. We’re talking about rural cooperatives trying to undo decades of soil degradation, or city kitchens where chefs are rethinking what a zero-waste menu actually looks like. Also in classrooms, rooftops, and community gardens where food becomes a tool for education and activism. Some of these projects are getting media coverage, while most of them are still fairly unknown, even amongst locals.
We have curated a list of food related projects we think more people should hear about, because they are contributing to shaping the world of food in our country and, most of all, our perceptions of where our food comes from, or what the food we shall consume in the future may come to look like. Their work focuses on understanding how culture and food intersect with real life and, if you care about food, we believe these projects matter whether you live here or you’re just passing through.
Feat photo by Projeto Matéria
Projeto Matéria
Photo by Projeto Matéria
Projeto Matéria was launched by chef João Rodrigues who was at the time the executive chef at Lisbon’s Michelin-starred restaurant Feitoria, and who is today responsible for restaurants Canalha also in the capital, and Canalha in Comporta. The inspiration behind this project was a simple question that had started to haunt the chef: where was his food actually coming from? Not in the generic, distributor to kitchen sense, but in a more real and organic, sometimes even literally flesh and blood, kind of way. Cooking fancy meals everyday, he couldn’t help but wonder about who had planted the legumes he was using, who raised the animals for the meat, or even who smoked the chouriço arriving at his kitchen. The more he cooked at a high level, the more disconnected he felt from the ingredients that were supposed to be at the very core of his work. So he got in the car, alongside his partner Vânia Rodrigues, who is also a key figure in the project even though often behind the scenes. And this is when chef João started driving all over Portugal, to meet the people behind the ingredients he was using.
They started meeting some people who were still working the land the old way. Not because it was fashionable again (or even sustainable), but because they never stopped doing it that way. They were the fishers, shepherds, cheesemakers, honey producers, millers, growers and fermenters, often working alone, sometimes barely making ends meet, and very rarely in the spotlight. These weren’t producers you’d stumble across at a farmers’ market in the city or follow on Instagram, as many had no online presence at all. João and Vânia knocked on doors, talking with locals in the know, and gradually began to piece together something that felt like a living archive. That archive eventually became Projeto Matéria, which was officially launched in 2017.
Projeto Matéria is an independent, non-profit platform dedicated to mapping Portugal’s responsible and more sustainable food producers. Each producer featured on the site is someone João and Vânia met in person and, because of this close connection, they haven’t put together just a simple list, but instead they offer a lot of context and human depth too. They estimate they visited more than 170 producers in the early years, just to find the 80 or so that met their criteria, not just in terms of quality, but also integrity. The result is a highly curated database that focuses on care over quantity, and real relationships much more than marketing.
One of the most tangible ways Matéria put its values into practice was by changing how Feitoria sourced its ingredients back in the day. João started working directly with the same producers featured in the project and brought them into the restaurant’s supply chain. Over time, the restaurant shifted towards sourcing nearly 90% of its ingredients from within Portugal, most of it directly from Matéria producers. For the chef, and his team, this was a form of activism. Ingredients were no longer anonymous and guests could be told not just what they were eating, but who made it, how, and why. Projeto Matéria also went on to influence other high end chefs across Portugal, who also started to trace their own supply chains and to give credit to small producers. In many ways, this was the opening of a new chapter in the conversation around Portuguese food identity, which became more inclusive of rural voices.
Project Matéria was truly never just about feeding Michelin starred diners. The long-term goal was to reconnect the general public with the people who make food possible, particularly in an increasingly industrialized and therefore distant system. During the pandemic, when restaurants were barely operating, João and Vânia felt the need to change the direction of the project. They launched open-air events and gatherings where producers could come to Lisbon and meet the public, share their stories, and sell their products directly. These events were part market and part event, more like mini food festivals that would spark up conversations over shared meals. To keep things as raw as possible, these gatherings had no sponsors or big formalities, and they were mostly about producers finally having a space to talk directly to the people who eat their food.
That sense of access is what makes Projeto Matéria stand out. It’s not an academic project, but more of an evolving network that genuinely tries to break down the barriers between those who produce food and those who consume it. And, let’s face it, this is a big labor of love by the chef and his partner, as the trips are usually self funded and the work is not paid. The couple has spoken candidly about the emotional weight of the project and some of the things they’ve witnessed, including rural isolation, the exhaustion in the eyes of aging producers who don’t know if their kids will carry on the work, the fragility of certain foodways that might disappear without anyone noticing. One elderly breadmaker in the interior of the Beiras region, for instance, only agreed to be documented if João promised to take home a loaf and eat it with his family. She’d stopped selling commercially years ago, but still baked every day out of habit. Her oven, her dough, her timing… they were all about to vanish soon.
These moments don’t always make it onto the site, but they shape the project’s foundations. Projeto Matéria is currently exploring ways to work more directly in education, particularly with young students. The aim is to use the knowledge they’ve collected to plant seeds of awareness early on, focusing on food systems, sustainability and, generally speaking, the value of knowing where things come from. But there’s still a long way to go, as funding is a true challenge. But no matter the challenges, there’s no denying that the project’s foundations are strong. So strong that, in fact, chef João eventually left Feitoria to dedicate himself fully to Projeto Matéria for a while, before he went on to open Canalha.
If you are curious to explore how the platform continues to grow slowly but steadily, you’d be happy to know that the stories are bilingual, published in both Portuguese and English. Their texts are also written with the sensitivity that comes with not only wanting to preserve the facts, and also the nuanced voices of the people the platform puts the spotlight on. Experiencing Projeto Matéria firsthand may be more challenging, as their in person events are sporadic and often pop up a little unexpectedly. But if you’re interested in truly local food from Portugal, we’d recommend starting with getting acquainted with the people who actually make it all possible.
Rota das Algas
Photo by Rota das Algas via Instagram
Rota das Algas, which literally translates as “the seaweed route”, is a project launched by chef Joana Duarte in September 2023. It combines marine biology and cooking, with the goal of teaching people how to identify, harvest, and use seaweed safely and sustainably. This isn’t just about curious foraging or gastronomic pleasure. It’s about understanding how seaweed could play a real role in what we eat in the years to come.
Before becoming a chef, Joana Duarte trained and worked as a marine biologist. She holds a Master’s in Oceanography and spent years conducting research on sardines and anchovies with IPMA, which is the Portuguese Institute for Sea and Atmosphere. Over time, her focus shifted from small fish to the overlooked potential of edible macroalgae, a group of organisms that are neither vegetables nor animals, but belong to their own separate kingdom of life. They don’t grow in soil, don’t need freshwater, and can regenerate quickly, which makes them one of the most sustainable food sources on the planet.
Rota das Algas takes place out in the real world, on rocky coastlines at low tide, where Joana leads small groups of up to five people on three-hour walks that function like mobile classrooms. Participants learn to identify common species like ulva (sea lettuce), codium (known locally as chorão-do-mar), palmaria palmata, and laminaria ochroleuca. On a single walk, it’s not unusual to spot a dozen different edible seaweeds, each with its own flavor profile, texture, and culinary use. Joana explains how to harvest responsibly (that means always cutting and never ripping), and talks through the less glamorous but necessary topics too, including food safety, local laws, tidal cycles, and how climate change is already impacting intertidal zones along the Portuguese coast.
There’s also a Rota das Algas Kids edition designed for children aged 6 to 12, where Joana adapts her scientific explanations into something playful and engaging. She’s been involved in school visits and environmental education activities as well, believing that food literacy should start young, and at the source.
One of the key aspects of the project is the Kitchen Sessions, where participants take the seaweed they’ve gathered and learn to clean, preserve, and cook with it. The dishes prepared are usually quite simple, and could include things like scrambled eggs with seaweed, broths full of umami, or preparations like seaweed infused butter.
Beyond the workshops, Joana also works with chefs across Portugal, helping them incorporate seaweed into their menus, not as a decorative touch, but as actual core ingredients. She speaks regularly at food conferences and sustainability panels, advocating for algae as a practical part of the food system.
In Portuguese food culture, seaweed has actually been present for centuries, particularly used in broths, animal feed, and even as fertilizer, but it never fully made the leap into mainstream cuisine, perhaps with some exceptions in the repertoire of typical food from the Azores islands, where fritters with seaweed (tortas de erva patinha), are still prepared when Atlantic nori is in season. But things are beginning to change. Seaweed is rich in iodine, calcium, and antioxidants, high in fiber and umami, and compatible with everything from seafood to legumes. And Joana’s work is certainly contributing to bringing it back not just to fine dining, but to everyday cooking.
Joana’s restaurant CV certainly gives her the culinary credibility to back up her work with Rota das Algas. She trained at Barcelona’s Hoffmann School, has worked in Michelin-starred kitchens, ran Tapisco under chef Henrique Sá Pessoa until 2021, and today consults for Pão de Canela. She’s also involved as a culinary instructor in Lisbon, Estoril, and Setúbal’s hospitality schools and even we have previously highlighted her as one of the chefs who have made a mark on Lisbon’s culinary scene.
If you want to get involved, keep an eye on Rota das Alga’s Instagram. The walks are small, welcoming five people maximum, and they are usually announced depending on tide and location. If you are visiting Lisbon, the walks in Ericeira are perhaps your best bet.
Kitchen Dates
Photo by Kitchen Dates via Instagram
Kitchen Dates started in the most unlikely of places: the living room of a rented apartment in Amsterdam. Back in early 2017, before the term zero-waste had found its way into mainstream restaurant vocabulary, Rui Catalão and Maria Antunes were hosting intimate dinners at home. A handful of strangers would sit around their table, eating meals that produced no trash. Any “scraps” not being used would become compost but, before that, most components of the ingredients used were repurposed to be consumed. As their pop-up dinners happened, they were coming up with practical answers to the question behind it all: “Can a kitchen work without creating trash?” Since the beginning, Kitchen Dates showed that indeed modern kitchens could really operate without contributing to the tremendous amount of waste that defines the global food system.
When they brought the concept back to Lisbon, it became even bolder. That’s when Kitchen Dates opened as Portugal’s first fully zero-waste restaurant. It could be comparable with the super popular Silo London, but things here were even more sustainable, as they fully focused on plant-based ingredients which, as we all know, are more sustainable. At the restaurant, there was literally no trash bin. Every plate, napkin, and kitchen scrap was either eaten, reused, or composted via a conversion system on the restaurant itself, that turned waste into soil. Every ingredient had to be seasonal, local, plant-based, and according to them, ethically sourced. Doing all of this, they redefined how diners and restaurants in Lisbon could think about creating regenerative meals in a thoughtful way.
Then, unfortunately, the pandemic struck. As dining rooms closed and delivery boxes took over, Rui and Maria realized that the delivery model wasn’t compatible with their zero-waste values. Sending out food in compostable containers might look green, but it didn’t practice the system change they believed in, even if they used bicycles for delivery. Instead of forcing the restaurant to continue in a mode that contradicted their principles, they chose to close it, and eventually transformed Kitchen Dates into a food literacy platform much broader and more enduring than a single address could ever be.
Today, Kitchen Dates thrives as a multi dimensional project dedicated to amplifying food literacy. A large part of their work translates into events and consulting, cooking demos and talks tailored to different audiences, from families to schools, businesses, and institutions. We love their lectures because they are filled with real world solutions and practical examples, more than just theory. Imagine a room filled with reusable containers, interactive activities, and actual solutions that regular people and families can implement at home. They teach you how to shop smart, store food safely, think creatively about preservation, and, most importantly, understand the entire supply chain in a way that feels urgent but very doable.
Their podcast, “Próprio para Consumo”, literally means “Fit for Consumption”. They certainly do not tend to gloss over the climate food crisis, going in depth with stories that help break down big topics in a way that regular consumers can understand and, hopefully, makes them feel inclined to implement change in their own lives. But they do not preach and, more positively, stick to a documentary style of storytelling that is indeed compelling. They talk about themes like global supply chains or food justice. One of their first episodes, for example, took the humble staple that is bread, and treated it as a medium to explore the entire food system, from farm to loaf, showing how soil degradation and global commodity markets impact what’s on your plate. Another episode examines industrial bread production and how hyper processed foods shape dietary habits and health outcomes. On their most recent second season of the podcast, themes like baby food or what we serve to our children at school canteens have also been explored. João and Maria use sound design with care, layering interviews and ambient noises to emerge listeners in a way that feels like you are truly there with them, at source, exploring these topics. Even though Próprio para Consumo is in Portuguese, the ideas explored are relevant in a global context. We’re talking about questions revolving around overproduction, food equity, the climate cost of widely consumed foods, and how culture is embedded in our everyday meals.
Completing their suite of tools, their newsletter moves between practical tips and wider reflections, tackling hidden costs of our shopping habits, missed opportunities in domestic cooking, and case studies that show how small shifts can create big impact. Each edition travels between the macro (policy, global systems) and the micro (how you use leftover carrot greens), with enough clarity and care to feel like a conversation.
And despite closing the restaurant, the duo never stopped cooking. Kitchen Dates continues to show up at pop-up dinners, low-waste festivals, and sustainability gatherings like Cidade do Zero. These are intentional events, not just random catering gigs, which you can come to know about following Kitchen Dates on Instagram.
Beyond food for the body, Rui and Maria see themselves as activists and educators. We feel profound respect for what they do as the topics they talk about are often discussed in academic settings and with the kind of language regular people won’t necessarily feel identified with. They efficiently hold a mirror to the inefficiencies and injustices in the food system, arguing that Portugal’s challenges are global at scale, and insist that solutions begin in everyday choice patterns, focusing on what to buy, how to store, how to cook, and how to reuse.
UpFarming
Photo by UpFarming via Instagram
In the Lisbon neighborhood of Alvalade, a vertical garden made of four rotating towers produces around 400 kilos of fresh food every month. Rows of lettuces, kale, basil, mint, parsley, coriander, strawberries, and even edible flowers grow without soil, nourished by a fine mist of water and nutrients. Most of this harvest ends up in local kitchens, shared through community meals and workshops. It’s a beautiful example of what UpFarming does best, that is, turning unlikely spaces into places of production, while connecting people directly to the food they eat.
The nonprofit was co-founded by architect Tiago Sá Gomes and sustainability consultant Bruno Lacey, and its first project was launched in 2021 in partnership with the Museum of Lisbon in Campo Grande. From there, it expanded into schools, hospitals, neighborhoods, and prisons, proving that vertical farming could be more than a futuristic concept. Done right, it could even be a social tool.
The prison project is one of the clearest illustrations of this impact. Inside the facility, forty vertical towers now produce nearly 1800 plants every month. The system yields lettuce and herbs that go straight into the prison’s own kitchen, improving the quality of meals. Strawberries and chard often provide variety that wouldn’t otherwise appear on the menu in this type of context, while surplus produce is donated to local families in need. The project is managed by both inmates and guards, creating a routine that is productive but, even more importantly, also rehabilitative. While learning to grow food, inmates gain practical skills that may serve them beyond prison walls, while also contributing something tangible to their community.
In schools, the focus is on education and food literacy. Towers installed in playgrounds and courtyards are planted with herbs like mint, basil, and parsley, as well as other greens which are easy to grow such as kale and arugula. Teachers use them as living blackboards, and so science lessons can take place among the plants, while students are encouraged to harvest and taste what they’ve grown. In some schools, the lettuce goes straight to the cafeteria, giving kids the satisfaction of seeing their own produce turned into salad on their trays. Beyond nutrition, the gardens make clear that food doesn’t begin wrapped in plastic, but in a seedling that needs care.
Hospitals have adopted the model for different reasons. Here, the gardens are used as therapeutic spaces, providing sensory relief in environments that can otherwise feel sterile. Patients help tend herbs such as rosemary or thyme, and staff use small harvests in the kitchen for soups and teas. The act of cultivating becomes part of the healing process, while the fresh produce helps reduce dependency on industrial suppliers.
Neighborhood gardens, like the one in Alvalade, have a lot to do with the sense of community. Residents are invited to take part in planting, harvesting, and cooking sessions. Workshops often use kale or spinach from the towers to prepare simple, nutritious dishes, while strawberries are especially popular with children, turning the garden into a natural gathering point for families. The produce circulates within the community, reinforcing the idea that food grown in public space belongs to everyone.
The technology used by UpFarming is vertical aeroponics. Plants grow without soil, with their roots exposed to air and fed by a water mist enriched with nutrients. The towers rotate slowly, ensuring each plant gets even light and hydration. The system uses up to 90% less water than traditional farming, avoids chemical pesticides, and is compact enough to fit in spaces where a traditional garden would be impossible. A single tower can host dozens of plants at once, yielding high volumes of produce with minimal inputs.
What makes UpFarming stand out is that they don’t just deliver the towers and leave. They immerse themselves in the social fabric of each place, training people to manage the gardens and creating networks that keep the food in circulation. In a prison, that means rehabilitation. In schools, it’s food education. In hospitals, therapy. In neighborhoods, participation. Across all these contexts, the outcome is fresher, healthier and more accessible food, as well as a stronger sense of connection between people and what they eat.
ProVeg Portugal
Photo by ProVeg Portugal
ProVeg Portugal grew out of AVP, the Portuguese Vegetarian Association. They are behind one of the most consequential pushes in food policy in recent Portuguese memory. Back in 2017, they pushed for a law that made a fully plant-based option mandatory in all public canteens, including schools, hospitals, prisons, universities and other state facilities. AVP gathered more than 15000 signatures, testified in parliament, and helped drive the law that eventually entered into force in June 2017. While implementation has been imperfect in some places, the framework is there, making Portugal frequently referenced abroad as a case study when other countries explore similar measures.
Since 2024 the team has operated under the ProVeg umbrella while keeping AVP’s DNA: research, education, and policy work aimed at shifting institutions and consumers toward plant-forward meals, for environmental, economic and nutritional reasons. The organization describes itself as a nonprofit using advocacy, partnerships, and practical tools to reduce reliance on animal protein and expand access to balanced plant-based food.
Their flagship is Prato Sustentável (literally “sustainable dish”), a program built to help collective kitchens, from municipalities to universities and hospitals, serve more and better plant-based meals. Beyond mere guidelines, the team runs e-learning programs, but also trains kitchen staff, does cooking workshops, provides standard recipes (over 100 nutritionally balanced dishes), and uses monitoring tools to measure real impact. In 2024 alone, partner schools served more than 150.000 plant-based meals across more than 60 schools in seven municipalities, while hospital partnership expanded and improved daily options. Where institutions adopted a weekly plant-based default, independent analysis shows that the carbon footprint of each meal dropped massively, while there was no increase in food wasted on the plate, debunking the idea that vegetarian meals in these contexts, particularly with children, would often “come back untouched”.
ProVeg Portugal also runs public workshops and cooking courses in their own space in Porto and other kitchens, like those in supermarkets or community venues, around the country. These are aimed at regular households and food workers who want practical skills such as how to cook legumes well, plan affordable plant-based meals, store food to reduce waste, and adapt Portuguese staples without losing flavor.
On the advocacy and policy front, ProVeg Portugal coordinates Proteína Verde (translating as “green protein”), a policy platform with 15 proposals urging the state to back legumes and other plant-based proteins, from farm support and procurement standards to education and R&D. The program has built coalitions with environmental groups and participated in energy and climate conversations at a national level. Their stance is quite simple, defending that if Portugal wants climate resilience and healthier public budgets, it needs a protein strategy that leans on beans, chickpeas, fava, lupin, and lentils. Which, when we come to think about, are completely aligned with traditional Portuguese recipes anyway.
They also keep producing resources for the general consumer. AVP’s long-running portal offers 200+ easy recipes and starter guidance, under the name VeggieKit. Their blog helps explain and demystify plant-based patterns, nutrition, and practical substitutions in down to earth language, and their social media channels break down topics like legumes in Portuguese agriculture or quick four-ingredient recipes. It’s content designed to make daily change feel doable. If you feel like looking for vegan versions of typical Portuguese foods, you can certainly explore their website.
ProVeg Portugal is all about better food, smaller footprint and fewer barriers for people who want a plant-based plate. If you’d like to learn more about what they do while in Portugal, check their Instagram for events, or at least visit some of their recommended vegan restaurants in Lisbon and across Portugal.
If this topic sparks your curiosity, you might also enjoy our piece on other food related social projects in Lisbon. And if you’d like to keep following stories like this one, subscribe to the Taste of Lisboa newsletter for more about Portuguese food culture.
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