Romantic hotel. Bargain plane tickets. Early escape from the office... The last-minute Euro weekend is so easy to put together these days. It’s also so easy to ruin, if you haven’t earmarked somewhere agreeable to settle in when you hit town on Friday night. Let’s face it, we’ve all been there: the where-actually-to-go dilemma. The fruitless circuits of the cathedral in search of something lively and authentic; the maddening pocket-map origami; finally, the tragic “omlet & cips” ordered off a laminated menu in 10 languages and eaten with a coach party from Cologne, because you’re too damn famished to look any further.
It doesn’t have to be that way. You just need to know, before you go, a boozy, foody Friday-night classic, patronised by clued-up citizens who welcome visitors. Here are the places to book before you fly.
Stockholm: Operabaren
Wild flourishes of art nouveau ripple around the grandiose interior of this bar inside the Royal Opera House. There’s no finer way to oil your first Friday night in Stockholm — since 1905, it’s been an elegant, 40%-proof whirlpool of intellectuals and gossipmongers. You’ll get the best meatballs in town and a view of Kungstradgarden park, where the cherry trees bloom in spring.
The drink to clink: a dry martini (£12.50) to fire up your chilled veins.
The details: Karl XIIs Torg; 00 46 8 676 5800; mains from £17.
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Florence: Il Santo Bevitore
You could practically bottle the effervescence of Friday-night Florence as you perch on one of the wooden stools at this big-windowed haunt, formerly a carriage shed, in Oltrarno. History seeps from the vaulted ceilings, but modernity stakes a claim, too, in dark-wood tables dressed with linen. Amid the ordered chaos and a soundtrack of vintage Italian warbling, dinner is Med with a mod spin. Make yours rabbit loin stuffed with cardoons.
The drink to clink: rosé spumante from the Colle Bereto winery, in Chianti (£5).
The details: Via di Santo Spirito 64r; 00 39 055 211264; mains from £8.
Budapest: Gerloczy Kavehaz
So Parisian is this Pest-side drinking establishment-cum-boutique hotel, Spielberg used it to evoke the French capital in his 2005 movie Munich. And sitting on the diminutive square, beneath the grand elm festooned with coloured bulbs, indeed feels like being in a film: waiters glide by bearing oysters, a harpist plinks and couples sink into wicker-style chairs. As night falls, you can waltz into the glowing interior for crispy roast goose leg and aromatic Hungarian white.
The drink to clink: the house palinka (Hungarian brandy) — a £3.50 shot of fire that seems to give you 20/20 vision.
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The details: Gerloczy Utca 1; 00 36 1 501 4000; two courses from £4.
Lisbon: Pap’Acorda
In cobbled, bar-lined Bairro Alto, Pap’Acorda cuts glam-dram with Portuguesey-sleazy. Filling an old tavern, the look is baroque’n’roll (Murano chandeliers, velvet drapes), while the food focuses on acorda, a bread-laden seafood casserole. Room must be left for the OTT chocolate mousse. It’s a little VIP-hip for some, but for others it’s reassuringly snooty (those waiters!). Whatever, it’s always chocker.
The drink to clink: a glass — and another glass — of dry Esporão white, from the Alentejo region (£5).
The details: Rua da Atalaia 57; 00 351 21 346 4811; mains from £11.
Berlin: Grill Royal
At Grill Royal, overlooking the idle River Spree in the central Mitte district, they get the Berlin louche/luxe balance just right. Jagged-haired creatives and power dressers line the bar. White tablecloths and wry artwork flesh out the scene beyond. As you’re being seated, illuminated fridges give the gastro-game away — meat, meat and more meat. The 250g fillet of Argentine beef will put iron in your soul for the long, clubby hours ahead.
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The drink to clink: Grill Royal does a staggering — in more ways than one — Moscow mule (£10).
The details: Friedrichstrasse 105b; 00 49 30 2887 9288; steaks from £16.
Istanbul: Karakoy Lokantasi
It’s tempting to stick to sunset beers on touristy Galata Bridge, but you won’t regret the five-minute amble to waterfront Karakoy for this trad yet trendy meyhane (tavern), with summer-night tables scattered in an adjacent alley. Inside, all is trademark Ottoman turquoise and white. As the calamari and grilled octopus mingle with the wine, the soundtrack of Turkish laments gets into your system and you’re suddenly utterly at home.
The drink to clink: raki, the national aniseed-flavoured mule kick, milky when mixed with water (£3.50).
The details: Kemankes Caddesi 35a; 00 90 212 292 4455; mains from £5.
Barcelona: Bar Mut
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Head to the upper reaches of Eixample, the grid of streets where Gaudi and the modernistas built their fairy-tale apartment buildings. Locate the spot where Pau Claris crosses Avinguda Diagonal and look for the low-lit Bar Mut — tiny, intimate, high-stooled and barrelled, but also groomed and modern. Devouring crusty bread dabbed in envy-green olive oil, you can pick from 30 or more “half portions” scribbled on the blackboard above. Huevos fritos is essential eating: the yolk is almost creamy, the fries as delicate as vermicelli.
The drink to clink: chill-beaded Mahou beers by the glass (£2).
The details: Carrer Pau Claris 192; 00 34 93 217 4338; mains from £12.50.
Prague: U Male Velryby
Getting the real Czech drinking/dining experience spot-on is less easy than you might think — there are plenty of great Italians and Indians, but for indigenous? Try U Male Velryby (the Little Whale), a stamp-sized nook in the historic heart, Mala Strana, with seating for a dozen. A couple of corners have stools for barflies — or take a dining table for seafood nibbles and full-on gamey dishes, mopped up with home-baked breads. Warm evenings call for a terrace table, viewing the cobbles and gingerbread facades.
The drink to clink: half litres of Budweiser, topped with froth (£1.70).
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The details: Maltezske Namesti 15; 00 420 257 214703; mains from £10.
Paris: Le Bistrot Paul Bert
The location (backstreet Bastille) is perfect. The look (nicotine walls, blackboard menu, lots of maroon) is just right. What this tiny, 1940s-informed place lacks in efficiency (and English), it compensates for with every French element required to kick off your weekend. By night, the place buzzes, and you clutch apéritifs squeezed in upright at the zinc counter. Once seated, order doorstops of crazy-paving pâté or braised lamb shoulder. Later, let serendipity lead you down nearby Rue de Charonne, into the Paris night.
The drink to clink: a roll-it-round-your-tongue red such as the Chiroubles 2009 Beaujolais (£29 a bottle).
The details: 18 Rue Paul Bert; 00 33 1 43 72 24 01; mains from £19.50.