This guide has been extensively overhauled and updated as the result of another very happy and enjoyable visit to Málaga in March 2026, in which I revisited many of my old favourites but managed to find new candidates for you to eat and drink at. In most cases the text is either new or updated, but where it dates from my 2023 visit I have tried to make that clear. I hope you enjoy the guide.

Of all the city guides I’ve written since I put together a guide to Ghent back in 2018, the most popular have been the ones I’ve written on Málaga. The second edition of my Málaga guide, published in 2021, has had more page hits by far than any of my other city guides and is surprisingly evergreen, with more people reading it last year than the year before, or the year before that. I’ve had far more messages about it than I could ever have expected, often from readers on holiday literally working their way through it. It’s even been cited by other bloggers putting together their own highlights of the city.

By way of illustration, even on my trip to Málaga at the start of December 2023 one of my Instagram followers was in the city at the same time as me; I sent her some recommendations, and she had a fantastic dinner at Uvedoble. A couple of weeks before that, a regular reader sent me a picture of his first caña at Meson Iberico, having already told me that he’d checked out three more venues from my city guide. “The omnivore can’t go far wrong in a country where dried ham is used as a seasoning” read another message, accompanied by a picture of a plate of artichokes strewn with matchsticks of jamon. He has a point.

So why am I updating the guide now? A few reasons, really. One is that my latest visit managed to check in on most of my old favourites to establish that they are still standout options, but also gave me a chance to explore new discoveries which merit a mention. In addition, Málaga’s coffee scene seems to have expanded further in the last two years – with some venues expanding or relocating.

The other reason is a firmly-held belief that Málaga is, as a destination, growing and growing in popularity and feels, to me at least, like a city whose time has come. I have been visiting it for seven years and in that time I’ve perceived a real shift – the days when people would get off the plane and immediately catch a train west down the coast without ever troubling the city seem to be coming to an end. Increasingly I am aware of people selecting it as a destination and falling under its spell.

And it really isn’t hard to see why. It is Europe’s sunniest city, it’s temperate to visit even in the winter months, it has Moorish architecture, an incredible food market, art gallery after art gallery – what other city can boast the twin artistic patrons of Picasso and Antonio Banderas – a bustling port, a gorgeous and eccentric cathedral and, of course, a beach. And that’s before we get to the food: Málaga may not have the free tapas on offer in Granada, further north, but it makes up for that with many great and imaginative restaurants. Tapas is easy to find, and invariably good, but there’s more to Málaga than tapas. Hopefully this guide goes some way to showcasing that, but even so it still scratches the surface of one of my very favourite places.

Where to eat

1. Mesón Ibérico

Mesón Ibérico is my single favourite spot in Málaga to eat and if you could teleport me to any restaurant in the world tonight for dinner, there’s a better than evens chance that I’d pick it. Not just any place though: you go through the front door and on the left are all the conventional tables, with table service, for bigger groups. But no – the place to be, the reason I queue outside ahead of its 8.30pm opening time (with many other people) is for prized seats at the bar. There, with crowds behind you and all the cheffing and action ahead, you have one of the best spots in the world.

It’s such an immersive, brilliant experience that it would be worth doing even if the food was just okay. But it’s a million times better than that. The very best ham, thinly sliced, the fat liquefying on the tongue. A bed of grilled mushrooms scattered with more ham – that ham as a seasoning again – and thick, pink prawns, the perfect dish to forage from. Skewers of tender, spiced lamb with unimprovable skinny chips. Rich, buttery tuna belly fresh off the plancha dressed with lemon and a salad studded with sweet slices of fried garlic. I’m not sure Mesón Ibérico knows how to serve a bad dish: if they do, it’s not one I’ve ever ordered.

Towards the end of one meal there, I saw one of the men behind the bar, with great solemnity and ceremony, preparing a dish I wish I’d ordered. First he expertly chopped an enormous, bulbous tomato into chunks. Then he opened a jar of high grade Ortiz tuna, easing out the pieces and resting them on the tomato. He anointed the whole lot with good quality extra virgin olive oil, for about a full minute after the point where I thought surely he’ll stop now. Then he sprinkled salt, again for longer than I expected. When the dish was served up to some lucky diners I was tempted to applaud. Naturally, the next time I went I ate it.

I have introduced a lot of people, I think, to the magnificent spectacle and experience of Mesón Ibérico, and nobody has ever been disappointed. On my 2026 visit to Málaga one of my readers, a lovely chap called Alun who loved it so much he went three times in two days, messaged me to warn me that the queues were starting earlier and getting longer, and he was worried that I might miss out as he had, once. I took my place outside at 8pm – Zoë and I were third and fourth in the queue, behind a devotee from Austria and his friend – and I sent Alun a picture to reassure him.

It was every bit as brilliant as I remembered and hurtling through the greatest hits, superb bottle of red on the go, chatting with our outstanding server, shaved of head and resplendent of beard like a Spanish reboot of Spirited Away’s Kamaji, I decided there was nowhere better to eat in the whole world. Or not that I’d been to, anyway. So Zoë and I resolved to sack off our plans for the following evening and go to Meson Iberico two nights running.

On the second day we were at the front of the queue, took the same seats as before and there was one rule: we couldn’t order any of the same dishes as the previous night. So our first meal there was meat-heavy, with migas, breadcrumbs rich with pork fat, thin and lacy tortillitas de camarones, fat slices of mushroom from the plancha, topped with a fried egg. And our second was more from the sea with salt cod and cuttlefish croquetas, gambas pil-pil, cubes of fried salt cod, fatty tuna belly, a belting bottle of albariño.

I rarely eat in the same place twice on a holiday, and never on two successive nights, but the magic of Mesón Ibérico is that I was tempted to make my way there on a third, and a fourth. Of course, if I’d done that this might not be much of a guide, but I would have had a wonderful time.

The week after my trip to Málaga, a reader of mine was in the city for work, with one evening free to eat wherever she liked. I recommended standing outside Mesón Ibérico around 8pm, and although she sailed close to the wind and turned up just after a crowd descended on the queue she secured a fabled spot. “It’s amazing here!” was her verdict.”I don’t think I’ve eaten anywhere that had the same buzz and atmosphere.” Reading her excited messages – and gawping at photos of her food – brought me almost as much enjoyment as eating there had.

Mesón Ibérico
Calle San Lorenzo, 27
https://www.mesoniberico.net

2. Gastroteca Can Emma

If Meson Iberico is my favourite place in Málaga, just about, I suspect that Gastroteca Can Emma, a little restaurant close to Malagueta beach, might be Zoë’s. It looks nondescript from outside, on a little side street off the main drag, but it happens to do properly unbeatable food. On previous visits I’ve been quite transfixed by their miniature croquetas, like the best Wotsits in the world, made out of real cheese. I have nearly always ordered one of the three – yes, three – mini hamburgers on the menu. And I always make a beeline for the arroz mare y monte – not quite a paella, per se, but a pan full of salty, savoury rice with prawns, squid, pork and a big pot of aioli on the side. I’ve almost never gone and not ordered it: it really is amazing.

However when I made a lunchtime visit there in 2023 I discovered that the kitchen’s talents extended far beyond that. Bao with cochinita pibil were a beautiful surprise and, better still, they served some of the best gyoza I’ve ever eaten – packed with prawns and glazed in a positively compelling, sticky sauce. I still had the arroz though, because if I hadn’t I would have regretted it. But, unusually for me, I went to Can Emma twice on my that visit to Málaga. The second trip, an evening visit, was with my dear friend Jerry and five of his closest friends to celebrate his seventieth birthday.

It was a happy accident – his first night in the city was our last night there and so I took it upon myself to find the perfect spot for the occasion. And Can Emma didn’t let me down, catering effortlessly for the vegetarian in our midst, keeping the wine flowing and even taking some photos of the group of us. On that visit I added sweetbreads to the list of things Gastroteca Can Emma did well and I opted for a different main course, secreta iberica with mango chutney. It was gorgeous, but I’m glad I’d already had the arroz that week. Jerry ordered the legendary arroz, though, and loved it. Happy birthday to him.

Although I loved having dinner there, there’s something about having a long lunch there with a crisp bottle of white which makes a random Wednesday into the best day of the week, so in 2026 I returned to do exactly that, sitting in their little gazebo out front and overjoyed to be reunited with one of my very favourite restaurants.

I’d like to say that we struck out into the undiscovered outer reaches of the menu, but we had the croquetas, we had the gyoza and, although I did branch out by trying crispy swirls of torreznos – the world’s best Frazzles made out of actual bacon – and a beautiful plate of confit leeks topped with tuna belly I did still finish on that arroz. Can you blame me? I only get to eat there every few years, after all.

Gastroteca Can Emma
Calle Ruiz Blaser, 2

3. Mi Niña Lola

Back in 2019 I took a solo trip to Málaga and had a wonderful lunch on a hillside, on the route up to the Gibralfaro, Malaga’s fourteenth century fortress. It was a gorgeous restaurant called El Ambigu de la Coracha, and I always planned to return, so I was very sad to discover that it had closed. I was far happier, planning my return in 2026, to discover that a new restaurant, Mi Niña Lola, had taken over the space, so I made a lunch reservation. And I was happier still when I had lunch there with Zoë and discovered that, if anything, it was an even better restaurant than its predecessor.

The room is stylish and airy, the views beautiful – especially if you eat al fresco – and the service charming, warm and perfectly bilingual. But the food is what really impressed me. The menu takes a sort of modular approach, inviting you to build your own tasting menu through a combination of snacks, smaller and bigger plates and desserts and I would say everything is on the neater, more pristine side but that doesn’t stop it putting together some gorgeous and surprising combinations.

For me that meant a dogfish buñuelo – an ethereally light savoury doughnut – crowned with a miso mayo and bonito flakes which was deeply impressive, followed by cured bream served with an arresting green tomato gazpacho. It also meant some extraordinarily good beef with a sticky moscatel reduction, truffle and a complex purée of celery and plum. And it meant a gorgeous mango, mint and yuzu confection for dessert.

And what all that means is that I hope it’s still there next time I return to Málaga, so I can go there for dinner, watch the sunset and order even more courses.

Mi Niña Lola
Calle Campos Eliseos
https://www.restaurantemnl.com

4. Casa Lola

I first visited Casa Lola in 2016 on my first trip to Málaga and since then it has grown like Topsy with multiple branches, including two on opposite sides of Plaza de Uncibay, and another set of restaurants called Pez Lola. But my heart belongs to the original branch on Calle Granada, a brilliantly buzzy taberna which is often full at lunchtime very shortly after opening.

It has become a tradition for me to go there on every trip, usually at the start of my first day in the city, and invariably I order some beautiful ham and a cold vermouth (they do one, chispazo, with Coke which I like even though I probably shouldn’t) and a selection of pintxos topped with prawns, salt cod or morcilla. But I also make sure I order the chicharrones fritos, cubes of deep fried pork belly which are simply a plate of salty heaven. They also do, to my surprise, some of the best croquetas I’ve had on any trip.

On my 2026 visit, nearly 10 years after I first ate there, I finally did something I’ve never done before at Casa Lola – I ate outside. It was quite educational: when you eat inside you’re insulated from the sheer size and persistence of the queue to get a table. And yet I know that when I go back, probably on my first afternoon, I will be in that queue again, the anticipation of the chispazo and chicharrones so strong that I can already almost taste them.

Casa Lola
Calle Granada, 46
https://tabernacasalola.com

5. Vertical

I visited Vertical, a natural wine bar in the old city, back in 2023 and I really liked it. I drank some lovely wine by the glass, I ate beef croquetas, tomato tartare and a pinsa Romana with gorgonzola and guanciale and I bought a couple of bottles of sticky ambrosia to take home, which I packed in my suitcase with particular care.

In the run up to my 2026 visit I heard various things to the effect that Vertical had opened a second branch, or possibly moved, it wasn’t entirely clear which at first. It seems in fact that they’ve relocated to a site closer to the historic centre and the Plaza de la Constituciòn. But, having had a brilliant evening there on my most recent visit, it seems more has changed than just the location.

The previous site had more inside space and less outside space, the new one focuses more, it seemed to me, on a little dining room where everyone sits communally at an extremely striking red-tiled horseshoe-shaped bar. And the experience feels considerably more bespoke and high end than it did in their old home. There’s still a menu of smaller and larger plates, but everything is expertly curated by the man behind the bar – you tell him what kind of wine you’d like with each thing you eat and, glass by glass, he gives you brilliant options and takes you further and further down the rabbit hole.

We ate superbly, feasting on knockout cured salmon and tuna tartare, shatter-crusted mollejas packed with cheese and sobrasada, the most delectable roasted leeks in a sweet but savoury almond sauce. It is, frustratingly, the Málaga restaurant where I seem to have the least photographs of my food, because I was so enamoured with the experience that, for an evening, I forgot that I would eventually be writing it up.

The problem with a meal like that, where you’re not picking from a wine list, is that you don’t really know how much your bill is going to wind up being. But the two of us were there for two and a half hours, eating and drinking, all that food and seven glasses of wine apiece, and it set us back about £170. When we went there in 2023 it cost about the same, and I’m sure we had less to drink. Would that everything in life was as inflation-proof as Vertical.

But the communal spirit at Vertical was just as lovely. Everybody around that bar felt like they were joined in some happy coincidence, ordering dishes because we saw them turn up somewhere on the horseshoe, enjoying superb wine recommendations that were never the same as our neighbours’, even when we were eating the same dishes. That was virtuoso service and no mistake. The Dutch couple along from us ordered croquetas, boasting that there was no way they could beat their beloved bitterballen. First they ate the croquetas. Then they ate their words.

Vertical
Calle Moreno Monroy, 3
https://www.instagram.com/verticalmalaga/

6. Palodu

Since this entry was written in 2023, Palodu has won a Michelin star – quite right, too.

Most of my meals, on my 2023 trip, were emphatically casual dining. That’s not to say that the flavours weren’t great or the presentation, in places, beautiful, but it does mark out Palodu, a recommendation from one of my Spanish followers on Instagram, as a very different proposition. Make no mistake, Palodu is aiming for a Michelin star and everything about it points to that. The room is hushed and stylish, the tables big and beautifully spaced. The service is attentive, the ratio of staff to diners close to one to one. From our table, Zoë could see the open kitchen and watch the ceremony of dishes being painstakingly prepared and plated: Palodu is a plates with tweezers kind of a restaurant.

That’s not normally my cup of tea – I like a meal like that a couple of times a year – but Palodu was brilliant at it and I’m so glad I picked it. Across fifteen courses, including snacks to start and petits fours to finish, we were treated to an array of techniques and combinations from a kitchen absolutely at the top of its game. I took photos but not notes, and for once I suspended my critical faculties and just immersed myself in the experience. It was a wonderful fever dream of food – of fish precisely and perfectly cooked, of tiny lamb meatballs in a terrific sauce, of squid cooked simply and presented with a rich slick of sauce and translucent slices of mushroom.

And the wine pairings (yes, it was a splurge) were phenomenal including, for one course, a 1981 Riesling extracted by Coravin which was one of those wines you only encounter a couple of times in your life. Almost as good as the local Moscatel that accompanied our two desserts – I loved it so much that I was delighted to find it on sale, a few days later, at Vertical, the previous entry on the list. We bought two bottles for the journey home, and packed them even more carefully than usual.

Palodu
Calle Sebastiàn Souviròn, 7-9
https://www.palodurestaurante.es

7. Uvedoble

I think you would struggle to find a guide to Málaga anywhere on line that doesn’t tell you to eat at Uvedoble.

Mine have historically been no exception, and prior to this edition it was always number 1 on the list, the first name on the team sheet. I’ve been going for 10 years during which time its popularity has grown, it’s moved round the corner to bigger premises and embraced online booking. In 2021 I said it was the single best place to eat I’ve found in Málaga, in 2023 I said it might be the city’s cleverest tapas joint.

And yet on this visit I didn’t love it anywhere near so much, cementing some nagging doubts I had back in 2023. The experience was more brisk, a feeling of being processed rather than served. Some of the dishes are still stone cold crowd pleasers, like the little brioches packed with suckling pig with their caramelised brûlée top or the mini burgers laced with foie. You can’t go wrong ordering either of those, I maintain that.

But the rest of the meal didn’t live up to that. The octopus roll felt messy and perfunctory, the nest of squid ink fideua padded out, stingy on both the squid and the aioli. How had one of my favourite things to eat, ever, become a slog? And the boneless suckling lamb, always a beautiful cylinder of shredded heaven, was almost a flabby parody of itself, served on a drab gravel of couscous that could have come out of a packet.

Everyone has an off night, and god knows I’ve had enough in my time. If you’d never been to Uvedoble before, and you booked it while on a holiday to Málaga, you might come away as excited as I was in 2016. I hope that my response to it this year was just feeling jaded, but I fear not: I think a combination of stasis and believing its own hype might be at play now. I came away wishing I’d gone for the treble at Mesón Ibérico.

Taberna Uvedoble
Calle Alcazabilla, 1
https://www.uvedobletaberna.com/en

8. La Cosmo

La Cosmo used to be the more accessible sibling restaurant to La Cosmopolita, which I loved but which closed in October 2025. I’m not sure why La Cosmopolita shut its doors after 15 years while La Cosmo remains as chef Dani Carnero’s non-starred outpost in the city (he also has Kaleja, which I am yet to visit). Perhaps its Bib Gourmand from Michelin holds the answer to that question.

It is smaller and more casual than La Cosmopolita was, the furniture more modern and more clinical. But all that said it is a really lovely place to eat, even if I maybe liked its departed relative slightly better. The menu is structured as starters/mains/desserts but it turns out that they expect you to share everything you order unless you tell them differently, which can make things tricky if one of you – hypothetically speaking, of course – is set on enjoying a dish all to themselves.

That’s especially challenging if you have a partner – hypothetically speaking still, of course – who has a tendency to order far better than you. Never mind. So I can tell you that Zoë’s leeks carbonara with cured egg yolk were a dizzyingly good piece of work, and so was her sirloin, super-tender cubes of beef dotted with baked potato in a surprisingly arty plate of food. I had to settle for an only slightly less excellent take on ensaladilla rusa with hake and stellar extra virgin olive oil and duck breast with a deep, if incongruous, barbecue sauce.

We both, however, ordered La Cosmo’s gilda, widely thought to be a must-order, which adds tuna belly and confit tomatoes to a tried and tested formula. It is indeed a standout – a 7 Euro standout, but a standout nonetheless.

La Cosmo
Calle Cister, 11
https://www.lacosmo.es/en

9. Base9

Base9 is in a more residential part of Málaga, not far from the train station or, more importantly, its enormous and very appealing branch of department store El Corte Inglés (the top floor is a huge deli and food hall – I picked up some terrific dessert wine there, along with some melatonin from the pharmacy in the basement). Base9 has been going about three years and already has a Bib Gourmand, and based on my visit that’s no surprise.

It’s actually quite a small restaurant with bare brick walls and a semi-exposed kitchen, and its menu is priced and designed to be shared. But perhaps more unusually, in many cases they make that easy for you: so, for instance, if you order albondigas in an almond sauce, as we did, they will charge you for one portion but bring you two bowls, each with your own personal helping. If you’re dining with someone, still hypothetically speaking, who is a stickler for fairness, that could be a positive boon.

The dishes we had were, by and large, really excellent. The albondigas were great, as was presa ibérica with a green peppercorn sauce and little cubes of fried potato. My favourite was the rolled shoulder of lamb, positively glazed in a sauce so shiny you could almost see your face in it, the whole thing looking more like a dessert than a savoury course, more sticky toffee than caulfilower houmous.

Only Base9’s signature tortilla was a misstep for me – designed to be their take on the Japanese omurice, where a paper-thin layer of cooked egg is draped over the contents beneath, I thought it slightly prioritised technical excellence over the eating experience. It was the outlier though, the one piece of evidence that Base9 might not consider the Bib Gourmand recognition enough. It wouldn’t stop me returning to check in on their continuing evolution.

Base9
Calle Salitre, 9
https://www.base9restaurante.com

10. Freskitto

When it comes to ice cream, traditionalists go for Casa Mira, still going strong on Calle Marqués de Larios after more than a century. I’ve heard good things about the chain Bico de Xaedo, which had a branch literally a minute from my apartment in 2023. But my loyalties are with Freskitto which has two spots on Calle Granada – one a kiosk, the other with a handful of seats inside.

Service is superb, and Freskitto’s stuff really is top notch – closer in texture to gelato than ice cream and sheer joy to eat. I’ve pretty much narrowed my order down to a chocolate/dulce de leche combo, though I occasionally dabble with something else. Grabbing my paper cup and sitting just opposite, round the corner from El Pimpi, eating Freskitto’s beautiful ice cream and gazing up at the cloudless blue sky is one of my favourite Málaga memories.

On my 2026 visit I managed to go there nearly every day, but I did fit in one visit to Casa Mira to see if the above does it an injustice. Casa Mira, in any other city, would be the go-to spot for ice cream, but having tried it again I still say it can’t hold a candle to Freskitto.

Heladeria Freskitto
Calle Granada, 55

11. Mercado Atarazanas

Not content with being a mini Barcelona, Málaga also boasts a mini Boqueria in the shape of the handsome and hugely likeable Mercado Atarazanas. You can buy pretty much anything there – from just-landed fish to pig’s trotters, from freshly sliced jamon to salted almonds shining with oil. 

The real draw, for me, has always been Bar El Central in the corner of the market. You can stand up at the bar, drink your vermouth or your caña and get stuck into the incredible array of fresh fish and seafood under the counter, or have charcuterie, cheese and all the other main Spanish food groups. When I visited it last, four of us dined like kings for less than 100 Euros on tuna steaks, cooked simply, scattered with salt and served up with sensational tomatoes, on padron peppers and chicharrones de Cadiz, which were like a high definition porchetta.

But in 2026, inexplicably, El Central’s shutters were down all week. So instead we stood at the counter of its neighbour, Marisqueria El Yerno, with a cold beer and a procession of beautiful dishes – calamari, gambas pil-pil, tomatoes bathed in verdant olive oil and finished with buttery avocado, tuna perfected on the plancha and served with an intense band of rare red through the centre of every slice.

On my final morning in Málaga I went back to the market to buy some supplies and gifts to take back home, and I was relieved to find El Central was trading again, the owners having either returned from their holiday or recovered from their illness. It was excellent news, but it set me up for the mother of all dilemmas next time I visited Málaga: which of the two spots in the market do I lunch at now?

Mercado Central de Atarazanas
Calle Atarazanas, 10

12. La Cheesequeria

La Cheesequeria, a cheesecake cafe on Calle Carreteria, was another recommendation from the Instagram follower that tipped me off about Palodu. And given how much I’d loved Palodu, I made a point of stopping off there in 2023 to pick up a slice of cheesecake to enjoy in the comfort of my apartment. It was a payoyo cheesecake and, at the time, I’d enjoyed one I had from now-closed Málaga restaurant La Cosmopolita slightly better: these days it might have no rival in the city.

La Cheesequeria does both sweet and savoury cheesecakes. I imagine the latter, some of them looking on the sweet side even for me, do very well locally but I was drawn to the savoury ones. Next time I’ll eschew the payoyo and go for a something with blue cheese – don’t knock it til you’ve tried it, blue cheesecake is out of this world – or the thing that nearly swayed me on this visit, a cheesecake made with 24 month aged Parmesan. That I can’t even imagine what that would taste like is, to me, reason enough to try it.

La Cheesequeria
Calle Carreteria, 44
https://www.lacheesequeria.com

Where to drink

1. La Tranca

La Tranca remains one of my favourite bars in the whole wide world, a scruffy and vibrant place which welcomes anyone who wants to drink vermouth or beer, eat good food and enjoy people-watching amid a crowd who all have the same laudable priorities. The music is Spanish, and the LPs behind the bar are a retro anorak’s dream. I can honestly say that this is a happy place at the epicentre of a happy place: I’ve never spent any time there that was less than sublime.

Sadly, its fame, and the growing popularity of Málaga in general, mean that it’s harder and harder to find a space there unless you’re an early bird or have very sharp elbows: I managed to fit in a pre-lunch drink on my most recent visit to the city, but the time before a drink at La Tranca eluded me. That’s probably why they’ve opened a second bar just round the corner, and why people drink at Colmado 93, the bar across the road in the site that La Tranca outgrew.

Although you can drink beer or vermouth here my preferred drink is the aliñao, a mixture of vermouth, gin and soda which slips down dangerously easily. After a couple of them, you find your life goals slowly shifting from whatever they were before to “how can I buy an apartment within stumbling distance of La Tranca?”

And that’s without talking about the food – wonderful four cheese empanadas with a tang of blue cheese or some of the best jamon I had on my holiday, sliced there and then and presented glistening on a board, waiting to be pinched between fingers and devoured. And fried olives – did you know fried olives were a thing? Me neither, and now I feel quite devoutly that they should be a thing everywhere.

On a previous visit, we’d bumped into an Italian singer-songwriter who had a long and fascinating story of jet setting from one European city to the next, la dolce vita in action. A tad randomly, we all follow one another on Instagram now, so one time, when we returned to La Tranca, Zoë took a goofy selfie of the four of us and sent it to him. “That’s really sweet of you!” came the reply from elsewhere on the continent in next to no time. “Enjoy the journey in beautiful Málaga. I miss it.” It has that effect on you. So does La Tranca.

La Tranca
Calle Carreteria, 92
http://www.latranca.es

2. Antigua Casa de Guardia

Antigua Casa de Guardia, like La Tranca, makes every single list of Málaga recommendations and has the crowd to match: when I visited the city in 2023 I tried several times to make it there for a drink to find the crowd just too huge, too impenetrable.

So again, the early bird pre-lunch snifter came to my aid and in 2026 I again found myself standing at that bar, next to Zoë, and I realised that you could hardly blame all those tourists for coming here. It remains, for me, the other place in Málaga to stop for a drink – a long thin room with a long thin bar where you pick from the sweet wines, sherries and vermouths in the barrels behind. They keep a running tab on your bar in chalk and as barely anything you can drink tops three Euros you do feel it’s rude not to stay for another, and another.

It’s standing room only, with only a few high tables, so settling in for a prolonged session is probably beyond most people, but to stand there sipping from your copa and watching the bar staff, all of whom seem like they’ve been doing this for years, is a quintessential Málaga experience. Every time someone tips – which happens with a frequency I found touching, given that cash is dying – one of the staff rings a ball and, presumably, an angel gets their wings. Worth visiting an ATM for, if you ask me.

Antigua Casa de Guardia
Alameda Principal, 18
https://antiguacasadeguardia.com

3. El Pimpi

El Pimpi is also a Málaga institution, to the extent where including it in this guide sets off the QI klaxons. A huge, sprawling bar with lots of little rooms and corridors, and a lot of outside space looking out on the Alcazaba, I surprised by how much I liked it. It was touristy, but not to its detriment, and it had all the things Antigua Casa de la Guardia was lacking, like seats, and toilets you could actually bring yourself to use.

My glass of Pedro Ximenez had that sticky, syrupy quality and the richness of thoroughly coddled sultanas and I would happily have stayed for more. There’s always next time, as I increasingly told myself as my holiday drew to a close. Antonio Banderas, a native of Málaga, is a big fan (he allegedly owns an apartment overlooking the bar), so there are a lot of pictures of him on display. A lot. Many of the barrels are signed by celebrities – including, after he stopped by on his recent Channel 5 series about Andalusia, Michael Portillo of all people.

El Pimpi
Calle Granada, 62
https://elpimpi.com/en/

4. Birras Deluxe

Every time I’ve come to Málaga I’ve visited Birras Deluxe, the craft beer spot on Plaza Merced, and each time I’ve liked it more and more. It came under new management before my 2021 visit and they’ve spent the intervening years making it better and better. It’s no longer the scruffy little spot it used to be, and its range of beers gets the balance bang on between Belgian classics, which used to dominate their list on keg, and up and coming Spanish breweries, both local ones like Attik Brewing and ones like Basqueland or Garage with a more international reputation.

In the past my choice of beer venue was an out and out choice between Birras Deluxe and La Madriguera, just around the corner. But La Madriguera didn’t impress me when I went there in 2023 and closed the following year, and one of the craft beer places they recommended in their farewell Instagram post, La Botica de la Cerveza, didn’t quite do it for me when I tried it in 2026.

Fortunately, the craft beer scene is pretty healthy and between Birras Deluxe and the next two spots on my list you’re pretty well served in Málaga if that’s what you’re into. My favourite thing about my most recent trip to Birras Deluxe, apart from quite uncharacteristically blowing something crazy like 40 Euros on an ultra-rare barrel-aged imperial stout, was the table of British boomers in the corner drinking spirits and insisting on splitting the bill using a calculator. Were they lost?

Birras Deluxe 
Plaza de la Merced, 5
https://www.birrasdeluxe.com 

5. El Rincón del Cervecero

My favourite part of Málaga is Soho, the triangular neighbourhood south of the Alameda Principal, the other side of it from the old city. It is full of street art, it has a very cool modern art gallery which is meant to reopen in 2026 and a much less fancy but far more endearing museum of optical illusions called the Museo de la Imaginación of which I am very fond. It is home to some of the venues in this guide, principally Mesón Ibérico and Santa Coffee. But until my visit in 2026 I’d never found anywhere decent to drink there.

It has a big and lavish-looking Cruzcampo taproom called La Fabrica, and I’ve tried it numerous times without ever having a decent beer there, including on my most recent visit to Málaga. But I won’t be back there again now, because I’ve finally discovered El Rincon del Cervecero. Where has it been all my life?

It’s a brilliant, unfussy, and very friendly craft beer spot which combines an excellent list of beers on keg – most by local brewery La Reina del Soho on my visit – with an outstanding beer fridge full of goodies from breweries across Spain including old favourites Caleya (who I discovered on my visit to Oviedo) and Madrid’s Oso Brew Co, who were new to me. In fact, and not just because of the presence of Caleya’s beers, it reminded me of Oviedo’s outstanding Cerveceria Cimmeria, with the same enthusiastic service and, perhaps more tangentially, retro heavy metal soundtrack.

All that and El Rincon del Cervecero also gets the food right – free nibbles, Granada-style, with each round of drinks and a small menu of bar snacks to stop you wandering elsewhere in search of sustenance. I loved my mojama, lavished in olive oil and carpet-bombed with almonds and I also really enjoyed a plate of sheep’s cheese. When I go back I can see some jamon or a bocadillo in my future.

It was absolutely my single favourite discovery of my 2026 visit to Málaga, and feels like it could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The good news is that I now have somewhere to drink while I’m waiting to queue outside Mesón Ibérico. The bad news is that it will be far, far harder to tear myself away in time.

El Rincón del Cervecero
Calle Casas de Campos, 5
https://elrincondelcervecero.com

6. Central Beers

I’d always overlooked Central Beers on visits to Málaga, thinking it was too big, too Belgian-focused, not quite authentic enough. That was my loss because I dropped in there twice in 2023 and both times it was excellent. It’s spacious, with plenty of big, sturdy tables. The table service is excellent and efficient. It’s a lovely place to while away an evening and the beer list is superb, featuring lots of breweries I’ve never heard of like Ireland’s Hopfully Brewing or the Basque country’s Laugar. If that isn’t enough, the fridge had a lot of strength in depth, including an imperial stout by French brewery Prizm, based not far from Montpellier, that might have been my beer of the holiday.

The other thing I loved about Central Beers was its surprisingly good and very broad menu featuring perfect beer food and bar snacks. Much of it is international in nature – more gyoza, again pretty impressive, or gnarled karaage chicken with a thick teriyaki-style sauce and slivers of apple. But the battered salt cod, served simply with aioli, brought it all back home. They also, and this is quite rare for Malaga, have a half-decent vegetarian offering which comes in handy if you’re out for dinner with someone who wants a little bit more than another portion of patatas bravas.

Central Beers
Calle Cárcer, 6
https://centralbeers.com

7. Casa Aranda

In the old days there were two places for churros in Málaga, Cafe Central and Casa Aranda. And then, tragically, at the start of 2022 Cafe Central closed because of a dispute with the landlord: how very Reading. It’s now a purgatorial looking “English-style pub” called “John Scott’s” owned by the Swedish company behind Kopparberg, which in my book makes it inauthentic in about half a dozen ways: if you’re tempted to visit it while you’re in Málaga, seek professional help.

Anyway, that just leaves Casa Aranda which fortunately is excellent. It’s grown and grown to the extent where it takes up a whole street and is beginning to spread round the corner: the waiters hang around at one end, managing an orderly queue to find you a table. Even though it looks rammed the process is impressively brisk, so you’re normally seated in no time. If you’re lucky, you’re outside with some sunshine, a view and some people watching opportunities. If you’re less fortunate you’re ushered into a slightly unlovely room.

Either way, the churros are champion. I go without fail on every visit to Málaga, usually multiple times.

Casa Aranda
Calle Herrería del Rey, 3
http://www.casa-aranda.net

8. Santa Coffee Soho

Coffee chain Santa has grown, to the extent that it now has three branches – a big one near Atarazanas, a smaller one near the cathedral and my favourite, in Soho. There are usually seats outside, the people watching potential is exceptional and their coffee is solidly, reliably excellent. They also sell beans to take home and, at the time of writing this in 2026, I have a bag in my kitchen cupboard waiting its turn.

Although I’ve never eaten a full meal at Santa – because of all the places in this guide – the brunches look decent. More to the point I have a soft spot for their alfajores, a hefty, delicious biscuit with a middle layer of dulce de leche enrobed, as marketeers are wont to say, in chocolate. It shows a Wagon Wheel up for the piece of shit it sadly is.

Santa Coffee Soho
Calle Tomás Heredia, 5
https://santacoffee.es

9. Next Level Coffee

Part of the continuing explosion in Málaga’s coffee scene, Next Level was new to me in 2023. Back then it had two branches, though it has since added a third on Calle Duende where El Ultimo Mono, one of my favourite coffee shops of previous visits, used to live.

The original branch on Calle Panaderos near the market, is more rough and ready whereas the second, which is a little more upmarket and has some excellent outside space, is on Calle San Juan and is all round a little nicer. Both, and this is the important bit, serve really impressive coffee: two top-drawer lattes cost a little over five pound back in 2023.

They also sell beans to take away, and the ones we bought, from Rotterdam’s Manhattan coffee roasters, might well have been the best coffee I had at home all year. Spain is very lucky that this thing called the Common Market allows them to buy the best coffee from anywhere in Europe without worrying about taxes and delays and paperwork. I can’t see it catching on here, more’s the pity.

Next Level Coffee
Calle Panaderos 14/Calle San Juan, 27/Calle Duende, 6
https://nextlevelspecialtycoffee.com/en

10. Kima Coffee

Kima, which is not far from La Cheesequeria, was the underdog coffee house that I really grew to love on my 2023 trip to Málaga. Back then it was small, little more than a kiosk, with stools for three people inside. In reality the clientele often stand up at the counter and chat away to their barista until the next lot of customers come in, which I found really likeable.

It reminded me a lot of Mia Café, the next entry on this list, which I loved in their first, tiny home but took a while to like when they outgrew it and moved somewhere bigger. On my 2026 visit I discovered that history had repeated itself and Kima had moved a few doors down Calle Carreteria to a much bigger site with dusky-coloured, Instagram-friendly chairs. That’s success for you, and although I would have stopped to check it out it was absolutely packed, which rather vindicates their decision. All power to them: I will be back.

Kima Coffee
Calle Carreteria, 67
https://kimacoffee.com

11. Mia Coffee

Mia used to be my favourite coffee spot in Málaga back in 2021, its pretty yellow awning bringing a flash of sunlight into the square it shared with the Church Of The Holy Martyrs Ciriaco and Paula. It had a little seating outside, and if you nabbed that you felt like you’d won the lottery: if not you just perched on the steps with one of Málaga’s finest lattes. When I went back in 2023 I was really sad to find that it had moved into a new spot in Soho, and when I went there I didn’t quite get it. Maybe without the magic of that location it wasn’t quite the total package, or maybe it was change resistant me not being able to get with the program: the latter is more than plausible.

Anyway, I returned in 2026 for a morning coffee and I think with the benefit of distance I could see Mia’s new home for what it was – a likeable, scruffy spot, filled with excellent coffee and friendly staff. Much like the old one, truth be told: come to think of it, whenever I drank indoors at Mia’s old place I had to concede that it was a little rough and ready. By those standards, taken out of its picturesque home and moved to Málaga’s finest barrio, it made a lot more sense. So it is restored to this guide, and well worth a visit if you don’t fancy al fresco people-watching at Santa.

Mia Coffee
Calle Vendeja, 9
https://www.instagram.com/miacoffeeshop/

12. Mala Leche

Mala Leche is just round the corner from one of Málaga’s three branches of Santa, but on a morning wander round the city its corner spot and outside space was so inviting that I decided to grab a latte there in the interests of research. They also sold alfajores, as Santa Coffee does, so I decided to try one – also, I should add, with investigative journalism as my sole motivation.

My latte was spot on, although I didn’t realise until my alfajor had turned up that they did two sizes, normal and extra large and I had inadvertently ordered the latter. So big you could only eat it with a fork I made a decent stab at it, aware the whole time that I must have looked like a right pig. At the end I was full of calories and the plate was full of crumbs, and I decided that on balance it had probably, just about, been worth the shame.

It turns out there are two branches, by the way: what is it with Málaga and these hugely successful micro-chains?

Mala Leche
Calle Castillo de Sohail, 1/Calle Zapateros, 3
https://malalechecoffee.com

13. Cafe Central Malagueta

Speaking of micro chains, remember I told you that Málaga used to have an amazing churros place called Cafe Central, right in the middle of the city, now sadly departed? Well, it is survived by a sibling out towards Malagueta Beach, just around the corner from Gastroteca Can Emma, and it makes a wonderful spot for a pre-lunch caña, café con leche or both.

Although it might not be a café con leche. Cafe Central, back in its more central days, had a wonderful sliding scale depicted in tiles on its wall showing nine different types of coffee, from solo with no milk to nube, hot milk with a splash of coffee (a traditional cafe con leche would be a mitad). It was invented in the Fifties by owner José Prado, and is still commemorated on the wall of Cafe Central’s remaining branch. You can even buy framed prints of it to take home: I now have one in the kitchen.

Central’s coffee is better than I remember, and they now sell their own blend for consumption off the premises, proof that they continue to reinvent themselves, over a century after they began trading.

Cafe Central Malagueta
Calle Cervantes, 13
https://cafecentral.es/en/pages/bienvenidos-al-central-malagueta

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