AS Luiz Filipe explained his pairing of chicken broth with eel tartlets, he spoke like a classically trained French chef fresh from a three-Michelin-star kitchen in northern Spain.
In fact, the owner of São Paulo’s leading restaurant Evvai is entirely self-taught, rebelling against his engineer father and teacher mother to master the stove instead.
After a stint with his mentor at destination restaurant Reale in Italy, he knew it: he would be a culinary star back home.
The food at Evvai, tipped for Michelin glory, is certainly worthy of the accolade.
His story mirrors a clutch of chefs turning this unfairly maligned city into one of 2026’s hottest food destinations. With a third star tipped for Evvai – and possibly for equally brilliant Tuju – when the seventh Michelin Brazil guide lands in May, go now before prices rocket.
“It’s in the five best global cities to eat,” insists Tuju boss Ivan Ralston, who spent seven formative years at Spain’s El Celler de Can Roca and Mugaritz, once at the vanguard of global dining.
He arrived during a golden era, when Spain was redefining what a restaurant could be: part laboratory, part theatre, part philosophy seminar. “It was an extraordinary time,” he tells me after service, the embers of an amazing 9-course tasting menu still glowing in the open kitchen.
Originally, however, he had different ambitions. Ralston studied music at Berklee College of Music in the United States, intent on becoming a professional musician.
READ MORE: Spain’s best kept culinary secret is hidden among history and flavour in this valley in Cordoba
Olive Press Editor, Jon Clarke, with Tuju’s Head Chef Ivan Ralston.
So what does a double bass teach a chef?
“Music is structure, mathematics, rhythm,” he explains. “It trains you to think in patterns. That helps creativity enormously.” He pauses. “Business is another matter.”
Tuju’s early years were brutal. São Paulo rents are unforgiving, diners demanding and investors impatient. For a time, survival seemed more urgent than stardom.
Yet perseverance paid off. Today, Ralston has bought out his partner and presides over a striking three-storey space where diners are guided through a whimsical, almost narrative-driven journey inspired loosely by Alice in Wonderland but with the flavours unmistakably Brazilian.
Ralston talks diners through his unmistakenly Brazilian cuisine at Tuju.
When Michelin first arrived in Brazil in 2017, launching simultaneously in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, many wondered whether the inspectors would truly grasp the country’s culinary complexity.
Nearly a decade later, the numbers tell their own story.
São Paulo has surged ahead, now boasting 17 starred restaurants and more than 30 Bib Gourmands.
Rio trails, while Buenos Aires and Mexico City remain competitive but distinctly behind.
As for Lima, long hailed as South America’s gastronomic capital, Michelin has yet to formally arrive.
Politics, too, has played its part in shaping the mood. Since the jailing of former president Jair Bolsonaro, optimism has crept back into certain sectors of Brazilian society.
Whether directly linked or not, there is a renewed sense of confidence among chefs: a belief that Brazilian identity, ingredients and technique can finally step out from Europe’s shadow.
Over a week-long culinary tour, a pattern becomes clear. Many of the city’s brightest talents are prodigal sons and daughters who left to train abroad – many in Spain – before returning home.
The parallels with Spain’s own revolution in the 1990s and early 2000s are striking. Then, too, ambitious young cooks ventured to France, the US and the UK, only to come back and reinterpret their own terroir.
“We learned so much from Spain,” says Viviane Gonçalves, the dynamic force behind the restaurant at the Hotel Emiliano.
Gonçalves spent four years cooking in China and two in Bristol before returning to São Paulo with sharpened technique and broadened horizons.
READ MORE: Revealed: The four Spanish coffee shops ranked among the best in the world
The food at Hotel Emiliano showcases the best of Brazilian produce.
“I love Granada,” she tells me. “The way chefs there work with local produce is inspiring. Spain’s regional diversity is incredible – though Brazil might rival it.”
She has a point. Brazil possesses more biodiversity than any country on Earth. From Amazonian river fish to unusual fruits and coastal shellfish, the pantry is staggeringly rich.
For decades, however, much of it was underutilised in fine dining, overshadowed by European imports and techniques.
Now, that is changing.
Like New York, London or Barcelona, São Paulo offers virtually every global cuisine imaginable.
Italian and Japanese influences are particularly strong, reflecting waves of immigration that have shaped the city’s identity. But what distinguishes São Paulo is how confidently these traditions are being fused with Brazilian produce.
Why such diversity? Gonçalves laughs. “We are a city of 22 million people. We work constantly. We don’t have beaches or mountains here. Our escape is food. Restaurants are our living rooms.”
Another noticeable trait is the intellectual calibre of the chefs. Many have previous degrees or entirely different careers behind them.
At Cais, Italian-born Adriano de Laurentiis and Brazilian co-chef Catarina Ferraz left advertising and architecture respectively in search of something more tangible.
READ MORE: Is Spain’s caña dying? Changing beer habits could spell last orders for the iconic glass size
Cais’ Adriano de Laurentiis.
“I was bored and frustrated,” admits de Laurentiis. “Cooking gave me purpose.”
After staging at Tuju, he travelled further afield, including a formative spell at Maaemo in Oslo, absorbing Nordic precision before returning to Brazil.
The result at Cais is thoughtful, produce-driven cooking that feels both worldly and rooted.
The menu at Cais is rooted in local produce and is some of the city’s finest cuisine.
A similar story unfolds at Metzi, where Eduardo Nava and Luana Sabino met in New York after studying music and medicine.
Inspired by time spent in Mexican kitchens, they returned home to craft a Brazilian-Mexican dialogue that is vibrant, generous and unpretentious. It is, quite simply, joyous food.
The team at Metzi deliver a wonderful fusion of Brazilian and Mexican cuisines.
Then there is Kotori, a Japanese-leaning spot run by 25-year-old Guillerme Braganholi. After training locally, he spent a year in Napa Valley absorbing Californian polish before returning to São Paulo.
“Brazil is still catching up with Europe in some ways,” he says. “But we are learning fast. More importantly, we support each other.”
That camaraderie may be São Paulo’s secret ingredient. Unlike older, more hierarchical dining cultures, there is little sense of guarded rivalry here.
Chefs dine in each other’s restaurants, share suppliers, trade techniques. The rising tide, it seems, really is lifting all boats.
Above all, there is warmth. In France, fine dining can still feel ceremonial, even austere. In São Paulo, even at the highest level, there is an unmistakable informality. You are not merely a customer; you are a guest in each chef’s ‘home’.
As my week ends, it is tempting to reduce the city’s ascent to Michelin mathematics or political mood swings. But that would miss the point. What is happening in São Paulo is deeper: a generation reclaiming its ingredients, its confidence and its voice.
And if the rest of the world has not quite caught up yet, it will soon. Book that table now. The three Michelin stars are beckoning in May.
Click here to read more Spain News from The Olive Press.