I’ve written about the Azores many times before. My mother is from the island of São Miguel, and we’re incredibly lucky to have a family home there, a place that has anchored countless summers throughout my life. As I’ve gotten older, and work priorities inevitably get in the way, the trips have grown shorter, but I always try to return at least once a year.
In September 2024, Victor and I did just that. Not quite summer, but close enough. The weather was still warm, the light a little softer, and the island noticeably calmer once August had passed. Because we’ve been there so many times, there was no pressure to do anything in particular. Life there becomes instinctively slower, and we let the days unfold without much planning.
Coffee, Queijadas, and Unrushed Mornings
Most mornings began with coffee somewhere familiar, usually paired with something sweet. We often stopped in Vila Franca do Campo, where queijadas are non-negotiable.
Queijadas are small Portuguese pastries traditionally made with fresh cheese, eggs, sugar, and flour. They sit somewhere between a cheesecake and a custard tart, softly set, lightly sweet, and best eaten fresh. Across Portugal and the islands, they vary from place to place, changing subtly in texture and richness depending on local traditions.
The queijadas from Vila Franca are especially distinctive. Known as As Queijadas da Vila, they are Azorean convent sweets that originated at the Convent of Santo André on São Miguel. Made with fresh curd cheese, egg yolks, sugar, and flour, they have a unique texture that is both dense and delicate, with a gentle dairy flavour that sets them apart from other versions. They are now one of the island’s most recognisable gastronomic icons, easily found in cafés and pastelarias. One of the best-known producers, Queijadas da Vila do Morgado, even offers visits to see how they are made. Still, my favourite way to enjoy them remains the simplest, eaten slowly with strong coffee and no particular plans for the day.
Evenings In, Evenings Out
Some evenings were spent out, often at Hotel Caloura, where cocktails at sunset have become a familiar ritual. Sitting there with the ocean stretching out in front of you, watching the light fade, encourages you to slow down and stay present.
Other nights were quieter and closer to home. One evening, while my mum was out at an event with friends, Victor and I stayed in and cooked. We bought fresh whole fish earlier that day and grilled it on the barbecue outside. It was simply seasoned and cooked, relying entirely on the quality of the ingredients. We ate outside in the warm evening air, adding grilled pineapple to the table, sweet and caramelised, and lingered long after the plates were cleared.
We also spent time wandering around Ponta Delgada, enjoying the familiarity of the streets and the way life still feels unhurried even downtown.
Sete Cidades, Octopus, and Atlantic Pools
One day, we drove out to Sete Cidades. The lakes were partly hidden by cloud, but even so, the landscape never fails to impress. It feels expansive and slightly dramatic, even when the views are muted.
From there, we continued to Mosteiros for lunch at my favourite octopus restaurant. Octopus appears often on Azorean menus, and it is treated with a respect that reflects how closely island cooking follows the sea.
One of the most traditional preparations is polvo guisado, a rich and comforting octopus stew. It begins with onions and garlic softened slowly in olive oil, followed by tomatoes or tomato paste, bay leaves, and a generous splash of red wine. The octopus is added and left to simmer gently, releasing its own juices as it cooks. Often, a spoonful of local pimenta da terra is added for warmth rather than heat. Potatoes cook directly in the sauce, absorbing its flavour, and the dish is finished with fresh herbs like parsley or coriander. The result is tender octopus, deeply savoury sauce, and a dish that feels both hearty and balanced.
After lunch, we spent the afternoon at the natural pools of Mosteiros, still my favourite pools on the island. The contrast between the dark volcanic rock and the clear Atlantic water never gets old.
We also walked along the nearby beach, waves breaking steadily against the shore.
Furnas, Cozido, and Family Memories
Another day took us to Furnas, where the island’s volcanic energy feels closest to the surface. We began with a soak at Poças da Dona Beija, easing into the warm, iron-rich water surrounded by greenery and rising steam. It is one of those places where time slows almost immediately, conversation softens, and the outside world feels very far away.
Afterwards, we wandered through the town itself, quiet and unassuming, with small cafés, gardens, and a sense of daily life unfolding at its own pace. Furnas feels lived in rather than curated, which makes walking through it especially grounding.
We then visited the hot springs and caldeiras, where steam escapes from the earth, and the smell of sulphur hangs in the air. It is a vivid reminder that São Miguel is a volcanic island first and foremost, shaped as much by what lies beneath the surface as by what you see above ground.
Lunch was followed at a traditional restaurant in town. While cozido is the classic choice here, I do not eat meat, so I opted for grilled fish instead, simply prepared and perfectly cooked. It felt entirely in keeping with the day, unfussy, generous, and focused on good ingredients rather than embellishment.
Lunch was followed at a traditional restaurant in town. Cozido is perhaps the most emblematic dish of São Miguel. It is a hearty stew made with a variety of meats, usually beef, pork, chicken, and sausages, layered with potatoes, carrots, cabbage, and other vegetables. What makes Furnas special is how the dish is cooked. The pot is lowered into the volcanic ground near the lake and buried, where it slowly cooks for several hours using the earth’s natural heat.
After lunch, we walked around Lagoa das Furnas, one of my favourite walks on the island. Along the path, you pass the spots where large pots of cozido are buried in the ground to cook slowly.
I have vivid memories of my aunt preparing her own pot of cozido, my uncle driving it to Furnas, and having it buried alongside dozens of others. The dish is slow by nature, communal, and deeply tied to the landscape that produces it. Everyone eventually gets tired of cozido, but that familiarity is part of its charm and its tradition. Seeing the pots tucked into the soil beside the lake always brings those memories back.
Beaches, Hikes, and Coastal Evenings
Later that day, we headed back toward the coast, ending in Ribeira Grande. We sat at a bar by the sea, cocktails in hand, watching the waves roll in. It was one of those evenings where conversation comes easily and time stretches without notice.
Another morning was dedicated to a hike between Ribeira Grande and Lagoa do Fogo, surrounded by mist, steep green hills, and a quiet that only appears once you leave the road behind.
After resting back at home, we returned to Caloura for dinner at Bar Caloura, my favourite restaurant on the island. We shared lapas and grilled fish, both simple and perfectly cooked, with the ocean just a few steps away.
Sete Cidades Again, Cataplanas, and the Northern Coast
We returned to Sete Cidades on a clearer day to walk around the lakes properly, taking in the scale of the landscape at a slower pace.
Later, we stopped at Sensi Azores Nature & Spa for cocktails, a cheese board, and sunset views, eventually staying on for dinner as the light faded.
On another day, we went back to Ribeira Grande for lunch at Cataplana. A cataplana refers both to the dish and the copper, clam-shaped pan in which it is cooked. Inside the sealed pan, fish or seafood is gently steamed with onions, garlic, tomatoes, olive oil, wine, and herbs. The result is fragrant, comforting, and best enjoyed slowly over a long lunch.
From there, we continued along the northern coast, stopping at the pools in Capelas, and later at the pools of Santo António, further west. These pools feel distinctly local, unpolished, and quietly perfect.
Leaving, Slowly
This trip was never about discovery or ticking things off a list. It was about returning to familiar places, eating the same beloved dishes, and letting days unfold without urgency. September suited São Miguel beautifully, with fewer crowds, warm water, and a calm that feels earned rather than imposed.
Some places are meant to be explored once. Others are meant to be returned to, again and again. São Miguel has always been the latter for me.
Some places ask you to explore them. Others simply ask you to be present. São Miguel has always been the latter for me.
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