An eating expedition in Portugal

‘We walked up and down tree-lined avenues, sampled faultless coffee, and ate lots of fresh grilled fish’

February 18, 2017 04:10 pm | Updated 04:10 pm IST

Cruising view from the River Douro.

Cruising view from the River Douro.

A mirador is a window, turret or tower attached to a building, a vantage point for an extensive view. In Portugal, there are designated ‘miradouros’, which give a bird’s eye view of a city, and before we set forth, a Portuguese friend, Raquel, told me to go to São Pedro de Alcântara, in Lisboa. There’s a garden with a panoramic view across to St. George’s Castle and central Lisbon. The lower garden has busts of heroes and gods from Greek and Roman myth and when you look up and out, the city is laid out as if for your pleasure. The sky is blue, bright and clear, the river Tagus another blue, the tiled roofs red, the air, the light, clear as crystal.

The city is as beautiful as one would expect of a European capital, with a broad, tree-lined central avenue going on down to the Tagus, and a grid of smaller streets criss-crossing on either side. Buildings are tiled on the outside and almost all sidewalks, and some bigger streets, are paved with mosaic of local stone laid out in pretty geometric patterns. Lisboa is built on hills, so each street and alley is on a slope, with a complicated one-way system for cars. We had set out with the intention of hiring a car to drive ourselves, but the very day we arrived we were deterred by the steep incline and the one-way system and persuaded by the convenience of radio taxis to just use public transport.

Every morning in Lisbon, the local pastelaria close to our B&B was good enough to satisfy all my curiosity. The Portuguese’ famous pastel de Nata, an egg custard tart, is the main attraction. And they have what we call patties, and the English, curry puffs; filled with ham, pork, mushrooms, chicken or eggs. Golden brown and flaky, layered with fat and filled with mildly flavoured goodies, these should have been good enough for any normal person’s breakfast. But I saw that eggs were a biggie, served with chorizo or bacon or ham. So I had them. Beautifully fluffy, golden scrambled eggs, with pink ham on the side. Followed by freshly squeezed orange juice and fine coffee. This we found everywhere in Portugal: excellent coffee, strong, hot, aromatic — in the smallest corner shop or poshest restaurant, the coffee was faultless. I abandoned caution and took to having several cups.

A charcuterie in Porto.

A charcuterie in Porto.

Then one day we hired a car for the day to take us to Sintra, used as a weekend party place by Lisboners, with the Pena Palace, an ancient castle atop a hill. The castle was tiled indoors and out, walls and floors, and looked out at a valley and some beautiful estates. We drove to via Cabo da Roca, a cape that forms the westernmost extent of mainland Portugal and continental Europe. Windy and cool under the bright noon sun, we could see the Atlantic thrashing against rocks way down below us.

Fish has been one of Portugal’s staples and its people are among the highest consumers of fish in the world. Fishing has always been a major economic activity in Portugal. Roman ruins along the Portuguese coast show the remains of processing plants, and, in ancient Rome, garum, a fermented fish sauce from Lusitania — as Portugal was then known — was highly prized. Although the fishing sector on the whole has declined, exports have declined and imports risen, artisanalfishing is still big in Portugal.

On Estrada do Cabo da Roca, the Restaurante Refúgio da Roca gave us probably the best meal we had in Portugal. I had been fixated on sardinhas and September is the time they are the fattest. We asked for several kinds of fish: sardines, salmon, swordfish, all grilled; and prawns in olive oil and garlic.

This trip taught me one thing. I’m a landlubber, but others who live near the sea or rivers with access to fresh fish probably know this: fish is best eaten fresh, with little or no adornment. In Portugal I discovered that fish grilled with oil, a bit of salt, perhaps a half lemon on the side, and nothing else, was the best way to enjoy the plenitude of the water. If you’re lucky enough to have access to such freshness.

Something fishy

I walked back to the kitchen, on the way saw and picked up some cheese, queijo de Azeitão, from the counter, and chatted up the smiling, portly cook, the picture of a grill chef, and watched him doing a variety of fish. He had a wire ‘toaster’ in which he sandwiched the steaks or even whole fish, and grilled them over red coals. The smoke made it hard to see, but the colours of the fish still stood out. Each of the fish we ate, though it had a distinct taste and flavour, was flaky, perfect textured, even, for want of a better word, sweet. Nothing was charred, underdone or overcooked. We found most fish dishes in Portugal accompanied by potatoes and a ring of onion or tomato, but there were few vegetable dishes on menus. I’m told the locals eat a vegetable soup, caldo verde, made of potatoes, kale, or collard greens, olive oil and maybe garlic or onions. I tried it. Once. Thick and starchy. I saw no reason to try again.

From Lisbon we took a three-hour train to Porto, which turned out to be totally charming. Built on a slope down to the river Douro, there are old buildings, warm, sweet people and port wine. On the street we saw a woman selling fish, and passers-by just stopping and picking up a little something for dinner. Vila Nova de Gaia, or simply Gaia, is a city and a municipality on the south of the city of Porto on the other side of the Douro, which is spanned by six bridges connecting the two, and there are boats to cruise the vineyards. Vineyards and handlers have museums and tasting bars on the south bank where multitudes of people walk through craft bazars, chestnut sellers and open-air cafés to settle down to wine tasting. Porto has the ubiquitous Pingo Doce department store at every corner, but some women pointed me to a specialised charcuterie from where I picked up some chorizo sausage. One night we walked through the rain to the Café Luso, where we had rice stewed with fish. Not really to my taste, but I loved the chorizo grilled and served with mushrooms, which I’ve successfully made at home after getting back. I returned and grilled trout, newly available in Delhi, inspired by all the fish I ate in Portugal, and this is how it went:

CRISP GRILLED TROUT

(Serves 4)

One 1 kg+ whole trout,

scaled, cleaned and gutted

2 tbsp olive oil

Salt

Pepper

2 lemons, sliced (optional)

1 lemon, halved

2 tbsp butter

Preheat grill to its highest setting. Make deep gashes on either side of the fish, about 10 on each side. Rub the trout with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Stuff the cavities with lemon slices, if using. Place the lemon halves and the fish on a baking rack over a roasting tray. Dot the trout with the butter and place it 6 inches from the grill. Cook for around 6 minutes on each side until crisp and golden. Squeeze roasted lemon and serve hot.

From the once-forbidden joy of eating eggs to the pleasure of other people’s packed “tiffin” for journeys to the ingratitude of dinner guests, the writer reflects about every association with food.

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