Acapulco eats like a port town with a Guerrero heart: green pozole on Thursdays, snapper butterflied over coals, octopus ceviche at the fishermen's market. Three days of fondas, ostionerías and 1950s bars, all rebuilt since Otis.
The municipal market off Avenida Constituyentes opens around 06:00: aisles of chile costeño and guajillo, tubs of jamaica and tamarindo, and interior fondas plating relleno de puerco, tamales nejos and hand-pressed blue-corn tortillas.
Acapulco's fish market sits right where the pangas land at Playa Manzanillo. Huachinango, sierra, pulpo and camarón are gutted on the spot; the stalls behind will shuck oysters and mix a vaso of ceviche while you wait.
A palapa restaurant on Caleta beach trading since the 1940s, when Sinatra, Elvis and Dolores del Río drank here. Order camarones al mojo de ajo, filete empapelado or the Guerrero-style shrimp broth with feet in the sand.
The pedestrian alley behind the old town fills with ostionería stands at dusk: raw oysters with limón and salsa bandera, vuelve a la vida cocktails, and tostadas de pata served on plastic stools under strings of bulbs.
Open 24 hours on the Costera since the 1970s, this is where taxi drivers and clubbers converge for pozole verde guerrerense — pumpkin-seed broth, pork, sardine-and-avocado garnishes — plus pancita and tacos de cecina.
A first-floor terrace restaurant on the Zócalo running since 1936, looking down onto the laurel trees. Classic port cooking: sopa de mariscos, filete a la veracruzana, café de olla and horchata poured from glass jars.
Barra Vieja, 40 minutes east past the airport, is the birthplace of pescado a la talla — a whole snapper butterflied, painted half with chile guajillo adobo and half with mayonnaise, then grilled over coals on the open beach.
On the Escénica cliff road above Puerto Marqués, Zibu crosses Guerrero ingredients with Thai technique: tamarind-glazed shrimp, coconut curry with local snapper, and mezcal cocktails served as the bay lights come on below.
An open-air café under the plaza's shade trees where old Acapulco takes breakfast: café de olla with piloncillo and cinnamon, conchas and orejas from the neighbouring panaderías, and shoe-shiners working the tables.
A Costera institution built around a vertical trompo of al pastor pork. Tacos arrive with grilled pineapple, charred spring onions and three salsas; the alambres and volcanes come on thick handmade tortillas.
Past Pie de la Cuesta, palapa kitchens on the Coyuca lagoon cook what comes out of the brackish water: langostinos in garlic butter, fried mojarra, and pescado a la plancha eaten at tables standing in the shallows.
The pink cliff-top hotel John Wayne and Johnny Weissmuller once co-owned still mixes the Coco Loco its barman claims to have invented — young coconut hollowed out, filled with tequila, gin, rum and its own water.