PORTUGAL PARIS DAY 5 - LOCAL IN LAGOS

 

Our morning at the Lagos Avenida starts slowly.  The town’s big market, Mercado de Levante de Lagos is right outside our window but won’t be open today so there’s no need to rush.  We take a leisurely wander to the lobby restaurant and are greeted with excellent coffee, a fine buffet and lovely al la carte menu, all of which we indulge in generously.

Today is a relaxed day to explore Lagos.  Walking out the front door, we turn right and head to the historic center of town.  The Centro Historico is the original settlement here, nestled into the steep mountainside overlooking the Oceano Atlantico.  Today it’s the hub of shops, bars and restaurants showcasing both the tradition and modern evolution of Portuguese crafts, art, fashion and cuisine.  We wile away a few happy hours navigating the narrow streets.

(click on the picture to view the fill size image)

We continue south to explore the town’s famous beaches, starting at Praia de Batata which confoundingly translates to Potato Beach.  The terrain here is the attraction, the rock formations, cliffs, natural bridges and golden sand conspiring to form plenty of secluded little places for you to find quiet respite next to the calm water.

Always in search of the local-most spots to eat, when we parked, we both noticed a tiny, basic café with absolutely no views tucked into a nondescript building near the beach.  Mandy mentioned the place first when we got hungry, and I respond by telling her that every single day she reminds me why I love her.  It’s a bit cool so we pick a seat inside where the dozen or so tiny two-tops are placed less then a foot apart.  Mandy, no surprise, picks the fresh sardines and I go off script for a big fat fried fish sandwich.  The food is legit delish and the selections are perfect for a beach lunch as is a full carafe of local white wine.  But there, a few tables over, we see a big clamshell shaped copper pot being served with great fanfare.  Steam billows as the lid is lifted and the room is filled with the scents of fish, seafood and spices which will become my obsession for the next 36 hours.

After lunch we continue south down the beach road to Praia do Pinhao.  We park at a lot and wind our way down the long flights of wooden stairs to the sand.  There we explore the dramatic rock formations that define this part of the shoreline.  At the northern end, we climb onto a natural jetty where we sit, take in the colored bands in the rocks, the cool water, the people and generally just watch the world go by.  There are dozens of rock monoliths jutting out of the ocean, 10 to 50 feet high, lined up like soldiers protecting their castle if you see them from just the right angle.  At the southern end we scale a 15 foot wall to look down into a massive natural pool.

We’ve gotten plenty of steps and flights in today, so we reward ourselves with a long soak in the warm rooftop pool at our hotel.  From our skyperch, we watch the comings and goings of the Lagos Marina just across the beach road.  The party cruises, dive boats and sailboats crisscross under the pedestrian drawbridge as they enter the marina from the manmade access inlet.  They all look like fun, but today we’re more than content to be spectating from our cheap seats.

Back in the room, I start my quest to score us some Capaplana, that fragrant fish stew we saw at lunch.  It’s the shoulder season so I figure it shouldn’t be that hard to find a good place for the region’s signature dish.  Like most of my thermodynamics exams in college, I have figured wrong.  The best Capaplana restaurants book out far in advance all year long, but I do manage to score a reservation on a last minute cancellation… but it’s not until tomorrow night.  I switch my Google to “best local seafood dinner” and we book Restaurante A Barrigada for 7:30. 

When we pull off the road into the dirt parking lot, Mandy asks me, with no small measure of distrust, if we are in the right place.  From the outside, the building looks like an abandoned hardware store, and we are the only car in the dusty lot.  I halfheartedly reassure her, trying to sound convincing while simultaneously trying to convince myself.  We park and walk to the door passing an inexplicable YMCA looking swimming pool surrounded by very unwelcoming steel fence.  Between the first and second door we see the space, more high school cafeteria vibes then fine dining, and there is literally nobody seated.  We hem and haw a bit before reluctantly venturing in, but only after I promise her that we can leave after 5 minutes if it gets any weirder.  Weirder it does not get.  In fact, just the opposite.  As we are seated we realize that one father and son couple are already there and a few other tables are full in the back dining room.  Our very friendly waiter sat us and brought the traditional cheese and bread starters.  Seemingly within minutes the cavernous space filled with large groups of locals and we realized that we were the only non-Portuguese speaking people here.  (See, I told you this was gonna be good!)  We’re ushered to the fish case where we pick stout 3kg red snapper.  The volume and energy steadily increases, in no small measure from the entire adult men’s futbol team sitting at the table behind us gulping tall beers and gallons of red wine.  We go with the local white – we just can’t get enough – and, once again, it’s the best 5€ we’ve ever spent.  We split a bowl of of scrumptious fish soup, served piping hot, tinted red by a bit of tomatoes and paprika.  It’s the size of the pool out our window, but much more inviting.  Next course is a large platter of tomato and goat cheese salad with EVOO, so simple in it’s construction but so delicious due to the quality and freshness of the three components.  We are trying to save room for the fish but can’t stop munching.  Our snapper is roasted with some potatoes and veggies and is clearly the star of the show, no small feat considering the meal so far.  The meal is a testament to the methods of the best restaurants in the world… take fine ingredients, don’t over complicate it, and practice, practice, practice until your method is perfected.

PORTUGAL PARIS DAY 4 - Pasteis Powered Down The Coast

We’re out of Lisbon early, but still have one important Lisbon thing to do.  Just outside of town is the little village of Belem, pronounced be-LING for some reason.  Belem is known for exactly two things.  The second is the massive Monument of the Discoveries, towering 170’ over the banks of the Tagus River.  The shape suggests a sailing ship with Henry the Navigator at the bow accompanied by 32 of his historical fellow Portuguese explorers.  The courtyard floor depicts the sailing adventures that resulted in Portugal’s global influence.  As far as monuments go, it’s very well done and very well presented.

The first most important thing about Belem, especially to a man of my appetites, is the legendary pasteis, that 3” cup of flaky pastry filled with a just-right-sweet custard that’s caramelized to perfection.  Yes, we had them at least twice a day while in Lisbon, but this town is supposed to be the mecca of pasteis, with Pasteis de Belem being the high holy place.  We walk into the tiny storefront, see a few tables behind the counter area and ask if there is seating available.  The host says there is no wait and we follow through not fewer than five rooms of full tables.  This maze just keeps going and going.  We come out into the biggest space of all, a dining room with at least 40 more tables, almost all full, and we are seated.  Besides their namesake treat, Pasteis de Belem is thankfully a full-service bakery and restaurant, because we can only do so much sugar at breakfast.  We pick tuna-and-hard-egg and ham-and-cheese sandwiches, plus a few pastries back.  The sambos are comically large so we only finish half of them before we get to the main event.  They are right.  It’s the little differences that make de Belem king.  The crunch of the pastry is pleasantly audible from the table behind us.  The custard is just a little more flowing.  The caramelized top just a bit more… carameley. 

Between the carb loading and the sugar crash, this is going to be a challenging drive.  We head out on the highway for the 90-minute blast to our first beach stop of the day.  The highways are well designed and well maintained, and our little Renault is up to the task, even if I have to shift down to 4^th in the steeper slopes.  My fellow drivers are a good reflection of Portuguese values.  Orderly, respecting the rules and each other, always sliding right for the faster car.  By 10:45 we arrive in Sines, a quaint, quiet beachside village in the center of Portugal’s west coast.  At least that’s what we think until we get there.  The bitty little berg is just dominated by the battle scars of the oil industry.  Our first stop is beautiful swatch of beach whose ocean is dotted with oil tankers.  We drive the half mile to the lighthouse only to find it’s in the middle of a huge tank field and captive behind high fence topped with concertina wire.  The last mile or two into the center of town shows us a few beaches that would be nice except for the fact that they’re surrounded by oil docks, massive pipelines and more tank fields.  The middle of the town is quaint, but smells like raw crude.  Among the industrial, we do find the cutest, most feminine little café to caffeine up, but after that, straight to the car.

Back on the coast road, south for another hour to Obeceixe (pronounced we-DON’T-know).  This is way more what we are expecting… a tiny coastal village with a vibrant arts scene… but definitely with its own personality.  We stop in a few of the local artist gallery shops before parking near the old original village.  Mandy picked this town mostly because of Bar de Praia, the 6-table surfside café overlooking the beach and their legendary Portuguese clams.  We open with a fresh tomato and goat cheese salad and a bottle of the cool, refreshing house white.  The tide is out so the beach is nothing more than wide banks on either side of a shallow tidal pool, perfect for the families with young children splashing around.  One such British family, or at least the mom and dad, pull up into the table behind us.  10 minutes later, their slightly panicky kids find them asking “where were youuuuuu?”  and received the parent of the year reply “mummy needed a little drink”.  Our clams definitely lived up to their reputation, tiny, tender and bursting with flavor, and are adorned simply with a toast heart.  We linger a little longer enjoying the fine weather and last drops of wine. 

Walking down, we realize there is a lot more to this beach.  It’s wide and beautiful, surrounded by rock cliffs.

Continuing south, We make a brief stop at Bordeira, a popular surf beach.  The parking lot is filled with ubiquitous surfer vans, a cross section of cargo vans, camper vans and RVs, all in various states of decay from too many months of being lived in.  It’s a good sign that this place is legit.  The long boardwalk lands us on a outcrop where we spend a bit of time watching the surfers ride the consistent supply of 10’ breakers.

The coast drive is everything we had hoped for, sometimes right along the water, other times a bit inland through everyday rural Portugal.  We pull into Sagres, the southwest tip of Portugal (and continental Europe for that matter) around 4pm.  We park at the town’s famous fortress and make our way inside.  We pass the modern lighthouse and make our way to the point itself, the place where Peter the Navigator launched his expeditions.  The emotions of the explorer’s families who stood here waiting for their loved ones return – hope, fear, anticipation, excitement – still hang heavy in this place.  Their spirits wash over us as the sun gets close to the ocean’s surface and the salty afternoon breezes blow through our hair. 

Dinner tonight is in Portimao.  Near the marina, on the other side of the beach road, just off Rue de Barca is a tiny little enclave of half a dozen restaurants all featuring the traditional coastal fare of the country.  The place we had originally planned seemed a bit dark and serious inside, so, at the encouragement of a helpful barker, we end up across the way at Restaurante Peixarada.  The outside walls are all sliding glass panels so we can sit inside and still feel like we’re outside on this cool, misty night.  We’re at the very end of the tourist season and there is just one other table seated in the big space.  Like all restaurants here, as soon as you sit down the bus person comes over and asks if you want bread, cheese, and olives.  You learn pretty quickly that these accoutrements are not included “free” like in ‘Merica, but they are inexpensive and indispensable.  Portuguese bread is among the finest in the world, and the cheese they serve (like we would expect butter) is absolutely fantastic.  Our mixed fish platter, selected from the fresh fish case, of course, included bass, sea bream, tuna steaks and, of course, sardines, and was simply and expertly prepared.  Like most restaurants we have encountered, there are only Portuguese wines on the menu and you really don’t want anything else.  Tonight we are offered a bottle called Silk and Spice, a white blend of the 2023 vintage with a whopping 14€ price tag.  The more we drink Portuguese wine, the more we like Portuguese wine.  And Portuguese people.  And people in general.

(ahhh, the romance of working boats...)

It's been a very full day of exploring and we finally make our way to the Lagos Avenida Hotel in Lagos for our final resting place.  It’s a swank place in a hip town.  We’re greeted very warmly by a friendly desk clerk and we’re asleep before our heads hit the pillows.