Storyline: Portugal by trains
This rye bread was out of the world! It was very hearty and lasted us the entire week in Porto. One slice each was enough with the breakfast. Pity we discovered it on our last day in Lisbon. Café Copenhagen was around the corner from our accommodation, but as everywhere else we have our breakfast with coffee and tea before the day’s activities begin.
I am a bit slow waking up and it takes a few espressos to get me going. It is usually Alex who’d make his signature breakfast. Vegetables and eggs. Last day in Lisbon we didn’t have enough supplies left for a breakfast and decided to try Café Copenhagen because if its proximity. That’s when we discovered that it wasn’t just a café. They had a bakery and were selling delicious breads. A cylindrical rye loaf grabbed our attention. We’d take it to Porto for dinner.
It was late when we finally got to the dinner table. We were too tired to look for a restaurant, although literally every door on the street level was a restaurant of one sort or another. We had to find a grocery store and get our supplies for a few days anyway. So, we bought half a grilled chicken and Russian salad as a side, accompanied by a bottle of red. And we discovered what we missed in Lisbon, after we tried this well-travelled rye bread.
But this is about the food scene in Porto. We’ve heard that one goes to Porto just for this. And the port wine around every corner of course. And no, we did not go to a 10-course dinner by a renowned chef or a Michelin-starred restaurant.
We had a long list of recommendations from our local host and even some from our Lisbon host. We didn’t have enough days to try a fraction of them. So as in Lisbon, most of our dining encounters were random. At places we were when we were hungry. Except a few.
The first full day in Porto we’d try two of the recommended places, just because they were near us. “Leitaria da Quinta do Paco” recommended to us by Lucia, our Lisbon host, was a pastry shop selling éclairs, among others. We were told these were the best eclairs in the country.
And as we observed, most of the people were ordering them. Many were taking dozens away. The North American “take out” is “take away” in Portugal. After our first try it would become a habit (or addiction) to have an éclair and espresso before continuing elsewhere. It was on our way after all.
We had a slow start that day as mentioned elsewhere. Still, around the corner some 500m away was a restaurant, Casa Costa, recommended to us for the local experience. It could not have gotten more authentic.
Entering the door of this barely-marked old row house on a narrow, cobbled street, we were directed upstairs. Gesture-directed that is, since we didn’t understand the words. A waiter, probably as old as us, showed us a table and also gestured to Alex to leave his backpack and hat on the toddler’s chair behind.
It was a few minutes after noon and the first room was full of locals. We for a while were the only ones in the second room. Almost at the end of our lunch another English-speaking group arrived.
As we were leaving, we had a brief chat with them. Surprisingly, they were Canadians too, hosted by a guy who lived in Porto but originated from South Africa. So, they had a translator.
We had a workers’ lunch experience with the locals in Casa Costa, where no one spoke English and our Portuguese was limited to vinho tinto. After we were seated the waiter quickly brought a basket of bread and asked “vihno tinto or vihno branco?”
“Vinho tinto” was our answer and that probably was the only communication we’d have until the very end of the lunch. Or sooner the waiter would say something and we’d nod. The old house showed its age. The restaurant had been with the same owner, Fernandinha, for over 30 years.
They served us the menu of the day (there was no other choice) and we had no idea what it was until it came to the table. (It was jotted on a board in front of the entrance, but even if we had tried to read it, we wouldn’t have been be any wiser.) Started with a bean, pork (lots of it) and pasta dish. One plate would have been good for the two of us.
Then came the soup. Hmmm, I love soups even when I am full.
Then an apple each. Then the dessert. A bowl of custard with 2 spoons to share. This is when we were asked if we wanted coffee. (Coffee here as in most of Europe is espresso). That much we understood. Two cups of espressos came.
And when we went to pay. €14 euros for the two of us. Remember no taxes and tips! We gave the guy who took the cash €1 tip anyway.
He came out, ensured mostly via sign language that we were satisfied, and shook our hands. Very friendly people.
We’d been told by many locals that we must try the Porto special sandwich – francesinha, which some restaurants, and I have to agree with them, don’t include on their sandwich list because you can’t eat it with your hands. In Portuguese, Francesinha means “little French woman”. The dish was created by Portuguese emigrants to France who on returning apparently created a Portugese-style croque- monsieur. It usually is made with layers of thick bread, cured ham, steak or roast beef, sausage and covered with melted cheese and a special tomato or beer sauce. It is served with French fries to dip the sauce with. Often comes with an egg on the top.
Crossing the Ponte Luís 1 over the Douro River to Vila Nova de Gaia and walking towards the port lodges on the main street, I wanted coffee. At that point we had no idea what a francesinha was, but knew we had to try it as one of Porto’s specialties. It was on the board outside a small restaurant with a nice view of the river. Mirone – Cachorrinhos do Morro (literally translated as “Look at – puppies from the hill”).
Forget about coffee, it’s lunch time anyway. We sat by the big picture windows and I ordered a glass of white sangria. Hmm, wasn’t I headed to a port-tasting experience? Alex had a glass of port though. We inquired about the size and content of the famous francesinha. It was big enough to share they told us. Good that we ordered one and no egg on top please, because even half was way too big for me. It had a lot of meat and cheese in (sirloin steak, 2 types of sausage, ham). They served it with a tomato sauce that tasted more like ketchup (thus vinegar) to me. Steak was chewy, sausages tough, cheese gooey. Didn’t like it at all. Needless to say, Alex loved it and finished mine. I had most of the French fries as a meze to my sangria, much to Alex’s dismay.
I gave it a second chance another day at a snack and tapas place that had a sunny patio. Don’t have photos of it since we were not happy with the service, but when it came, their francesinha was much more to my taste. The meat was tender, the bread not too thick and it was in beer sauce.
At that place we also tried one of Portugal’s famous Chouriço a Bombeiro, a sausage grilled oven an open flame in a traditional clay sausage roaster. One of the latter later ended up with us to take home. Pity the service was so bad, because their food wasn’t.
And yes, we laughed at their translation of one menu item: does anyone have a clue what a “cod handjob” could be?
Another Porto special was the so called “Bifana”, a pulled pork sandwich that is found in many eateries around Porto. Our host had recommended one called “O Astro Cervejaria Petisqueira” by the Campanhã train station as the best place in town for bifanas.
Its name translates to “brewery and snacks”, but it was really a brasserie, for the lack of English word. One sunny day we walked to the train station and checked it out. The sidewalk patio was full so we went inside. The only table available was squeezed under the stairs. We took it. Shortly after though, a nice server cleaned up a table that people had just left and moved us there. It was a table that could sit 6 people, but she assured us it was OK. After all we were not local and I guess they cared about our experience. As a drink of course I had my never disappointing in Portugal white sangria. Alex decided on wine.
The lady brought him 2 small bottles of different house wine to chose from. Then we ordered the bifanas. One simple, no cheese for me and the soup of the day of course. Alex had his with cheese and French fries, ketchup on the side. This too was checked off our list.
The rest of the eateries we visited were random discoveries. One day after strolling in the Jardim da Cordoaria, across from the hospital, on a small street I noticed a sign for restaurant “Zé Bota” pointing up an alley.
It was lunch time and I dragged Alex there (he had missed the sign and tracking on his Google maps, for some reasons thought I was taking him for a fast-food place). It was a tiny place on a tiny alley, all walls covered with port-wine posters and port-crate wooden slats on which photos and signatures of happy patrons were stapled. Just a few tables.
The servers were really nice. And the food was great too. Alex made the right choice with his salmon, potatoes and veggies. I wanted to try something local. On the menu was something that our English menu translated as tripe casserole with beans and rice. It was not far off, but the Portugese word actually meant all parts of the pork guts. And there was none of the assumed beef tripe in it. Note that this trip we rarely shared a meal. I guess after not being able to eat at the end of 2021 Alex discovered food again, and is always hungry. Never the less the portion I got was enough to share with 4 people. So much so that we packed it for home and had dinners for the rest of our trip.
The highlight for me though was my white sangria with a twist. It had a chili pepper in it and just a touch of heat that made it so very different and delicious.
On the last day we walked by the river all the way to the ocean to search for Casa Vasco, a restaurant known for its port sangria.
We stopped by a place on the river for late lunch. It was just after the last bridge, where Douro River meets the Atlantic Ocean.
We shared a minestrone soup and a sea bass platter. No drinks. We were close to our sangria destination, although it took us another hour – taking photos and observing life.
It was after 4pm when we finally arrived at Casa Vasco. So much about the idea that we’d walk to a famous tavern afterwards.
We had our port sangria and shared white fish ceviche and some deep-fried shrimps as a meze. The port sangria was a disappointment though. After walking over six km by the river in the outskirts of Porto we expected more from the place.
In the end, the first one we tried in the non-assuming Burgers & Bowls place in Faro would stay with us as the best port sangria.
There were other places we stopped by. Worth mentioning was the port tasting at a restaurant in Vila Nova de Gaia, the Porto riviera with many restaurants,
where we stopped by the Fish Fish restaurant for an afternoon drink and to enjoy the sun while watching life going by,
and the fancy experience geared towards tourists next to the canned sardines store and recommended by one of the sardine sales people. This last one was interesting.
They serve many things, but it was recommended for the pastel de bacalhau and port experience. Thus, the name “Casa Portuguesa do Pastel de Bacalhau – Clérigos”. Served in cup together with a glass of port, placed in a specially designed wood tray shaped like an artist’s palette that one holds with their right hand.
The port glass was to take with you after. We were told we could walk upstairs to the small library and sit there to consume our treats. The two-storey library was really nice. The port too. I actually liked it a lot and thought we would be able to buy a bottle from our favourite port store on our last day. Alas they didn’t have it.
Apparently, that port was made specifically for restaurants. The port seller explained that some restaurants have special orders that do not sell elsewhere. So, we ended up with two nice port glasses and had I thought about it perhaps they’d have sold us a bottle of their port.
A note to Alex: If my food today smells burned, it is because writing this I was transferred back to the lovely food scene in Porto and forgot about my lentils pot.
(Darn! I’m going back to Porto. Didn’t have anything burned there…other than the Chouriço a Bombeiro, that is – A).
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