Such is Spain’s culinary muscle-flexing on the world stage that it sometimes leaves its Iberian brethren in the shade.

It wasn’t always so, Portugal’s global empire the first and longest lived of all modern European colonial giants, the seafaring nation’s huge territories spreading as far as South America, Africa, Japan and China.

Its vast reach made for an early example of cross-cultural food pollination, its back and forth trade routes helping change the face of food around the world.

The vindaloo would never have happened without the Portuguese pairing of vinegar and garlic with pork, and its introduction of the chilli to India.

Tea become fashionable in 1660s Britain after Charles II married Portuguese princess and tea-lover Catherine of Braganza, who brought it from the outpost of Macau.

And Madeira wine played a key role in the American Revolution, the British seizure of John Hancock’s cask-laden sloop causing riots in Boston, while Madeira was later used to toast the Declaration of Independence.

Yet understanding of Portuguese food seems to have gone the way of its once great empire, often stopping at Nando’s and peri peri sauce.

But there's always space for rediscovery, something the owner of the eponymous Dina’s Kitchen would have little to complain about.

A traditional Portuguese restaurant serving classics from the Iberian Peninsula, Dina’s is all too easy to miss in York Place.

But what it lacks exterior presentation it more than makes up for with its superb home-cooked food.

Dina’s Mozambican heritage tells its own story about Portuguese history, though her menu sticks to the food of her Portuguese father.

A former stall-holder at Street Diner, she opened the restaurant around a year ago.

We come on a quiet Tuesday, which is a tough night for any restaurant, but it makes for an exclusive dining experience when the staff-customer ratio is equal.

Sadly on our visit there were no bolinhos de bacalhau - salted cod fish cakes – though there were plenty of other sumptuous dishes worth trying.

Rissol de Leitao, helpfully described in a say-it-as-you-see-it translation as suckling pig turnovers, were triangular deep-fired pastries which did indeed look like an apple turnover from a high street bakery.

But rather than sweet apple, there is braised pork, which has an imitable mature flavour peculiar to this part of Europe, unctuous, rich and delicious.

The salada do polvo (octopus salad) is beguilingly simple – chunks of marinated octopus, with parsley, red onion, tomato with a lemon and olive oil dressing.

It's a cookery lesson that the simplest, most straightforward and even blindingly obvious dishes are often the most pleasurable to eat. Only a chef with too much ego and not enough self-control would tinker with something this good.

Another wonderfully uncomplicated classic is the amêijoas à Bulhão Pato. Named after the 19th-century Lisbon poet and fellow gourmand, a light broth is just white wine, garlic and parsley, which truly let the molluscs sing.

More adventurous and not for everyone is the moela – a stew made of chicken gizzards, a muscular part of the digestive system, and a bit of offal that has yet to become fashionable over here. It’s not hard to see why, gizzards being pretty tough and brawny and definitely an acquired taste. But the spiced sauce is delicious, like the start of an offal-based chicken gravy.

More familiar is the feijoada à transmontana, a Northern stew of pork, sausage, cabbage and beans which is soft, lightly spiced and fragrant.

If there’s one pastry most people will know, it’s the Portuguese tart, pastel de nata, and Dina’s home-made version is the best The Gourmand has had in Brighton and Hove. The pastry is flaky and buttery, the egg custard soft and laced with nutmeg.

Dina is a cordial presence throughout the evening to talk through the dishes, and her mother is known to joins her in the kitchen.

The place does great home-cooking at a relaxed pace and is not a super-streamlined fine-dining machine, with everything cooked fresh and with love. And with a bowl of briny olives, sweet potato bread and a pint of Super Brock, a punchy premium lager served on draught, there's no reason to be impatient.