Lisbon is unspeakably picturesque. I had been told this many times before, but I kept my hopes and expectations tightly muzzled and was, naturally, totally enamoured when I finally visited it recently.
I arrived on a Wednesday afternoon, and stayed with a family friend Pheck Yin who lives in the suburb of Paco De Arcos with her husband Yves Cadilhon. The village is a lovely place, with rows of terrace houses and bungalows, all seemingly painted from a pastel palette, accompanied by gardens heaving with blossoms and fruits. A trip to the supermarket was a riveting experience with sights never seen in our local supermarkets: hares and turkeys in the meat section, and huge tiles of flattened octopus in the freezer section.
I love mornings largely because I love breakfast, which at Chez Cadilhon means slabs of toast daubed with goat butter, homemade apricot and fig jams washed down with a huge cup of Earl Grey. The jams were wonderful, teeming with chunks of fruit and not too sweet. Pheck Yin told me her recipe, and I took mental note.
I devoted my first day entirely to sightseeing at Belem, the historic port of Lisbon which is home to two Unesco World Heritage Sites - the Torre de Belem and the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos (right), a 15th century monastery. They are all intricately designed and bone-white, and look like buildings straight from Minas Tirith.
However, there is more to Belem than historic buildings. Within walking distance from the monastry is the Antiga Confeitaria de Bele, an institution for pastries (pasteis), cakes (bolo), and the pasteis de Belem in particular. These are the Portuguese egg tarts which were all the rage in Singapore a few years ago. I ordered one dusted with cinnamon sugar to accompany my hot chocolate. It was dreamy: the curd-like filling didn't feel too sweet or yolk-rich. I also ordered bolo de arroz, a sweetened cake made with short grain rice, but found it dull and uninteresting.
Two prominent food aromas hit you full in the face as you navigate the undulating streets. The first is of oily sardines, earning their stripes on the grill, to be served later on a bank of hand-cut potato chips and a cool, sharp salad of lettuce leaves and tomatoes. The other aroma comes from bacalhau, or salt cod, which hang like fossils outside grocers' doors. While the smell hastens me away, there are those who seem to love the pickled fish.
Delicatessens are armouries of cured porky delights (left), like morcilla (blood sausage), linguica and various types of chourico. I was told that Portuguese sausages are richer than their Spanish counterparts, being more thickly rippled with fat. They feel, funnily enough, tougher as well and are a nightmare to slice. Apart from a chain of morcela, I bagged several curiously black chourico doce, a chorizo of almonds and honey. And how marvellous they were too: dense, smoky and chocolatey.
I walked past several restaurants, perusing through their menus, hoping to get a rough idea of the nation's cooking. From the menu of a cosy, derelict eatery located at the base of a building covered in graffiti, I vividly remember caldo verde (green broth), ameijoas (clams) cooked with pork, escabeche (sweet and sour fried-then-pickled sardines) and arroz de polvo (octopus rice). It sounded so terrific, and so I entered.
All recipes serve 4, except for the Beilhoses, which can probably feed up to 12.
I devoted my first day entirely to sightseeing at Belem, the historic port of Lisbon which is home to two Unesco World Heritage Sites - the Torre de Belem and the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos (right), a 15th century monastery. They are all intricately designed and bone-white, and look like buildings straight from Minas Tirith.
Delicatessens are armouries of cured porky delights (left), like morcilla (blood sausage), linguica and various types of chourico. I was told that Portuguese sausages are richer than their Spanish counterparts, being more thickly rippled with fat. They feel, funnily enough, tougher as well and are a nightmare to slice. Apart from a chain of morcela, I bagged several curiously black chourico doce, a chorizo of almonds and honey. And how marvellous they were too: dense, smoky and chocolatey.
