Lisbon, Lisboa to the locals, is the capital city of Portugal, a city that folklore tells was founded by Ulysses some three thousand years ago, before even Rome was established. The hilly city and surrounding area houses roughly two million people, with the city itself spanning over thirty square miles. Lisbon stands on an inlet off the Atlantic Ocean and River Tagus, and sweeps back into the hilly mainland with winding narrow roads and cobbled sidewalks, seemingly cut through an endless sea of red roofs exposing the white arcades of the tightly packed buildings. It quickly becomes confusing, and a bit dizzying, traveling streets that look so similar. I didn’t know whether to be amazed by the artistic uniformity and indelible cast that history has impressed upon the truly aged city, or to feel pissed off and a little cheated by the pallid facets and Pizza Hut roof tops.
Walking through the streets of Lisbon gives one the feel of walking in history. The city feels well-tread. The narrow streets and alleyways seem carved by the doubtless millions of people who have walked these streets before you, like water cutting through solid rock over millions of years. Having been born and raised in the massive city of Chicago, the age of Lisbon is the most impressive stat, but the city certainly shares in common that familiar spirit of duty to work.
In the week I spent in Lisbon, and two weeks in Portugal, I came to feel that the culture seemed almost generic, like a fabricated amalgam or facsimile of European or even American culture, but a tad drabber. This isn’t to say I didn’t enjoy Portugal immensely, but rather that there seemed to be a weight or presence that permeates through the people and architecture, something I would liken to hypothyroidism. I would hazard to guess, and hope dearly that this stems only from the weight of near financial disaster. Despite this seeming pall over the country, the people are very kind, but seem primarily concerned with work and the tight routines of daily life, lacking a distinct lust for the night. People are about at night, though they appear casual or even listless.
Lisbon has been occupied by many civilizations and peoples throughout the centuries, from the founding Iberians to the Romans, and Moors to the Celts and Germanic tribes. This variety of distinct sitting populations has imprinted some diversity to the city and its neighborhoods. I would recommend walking through the streets and alleys of Alfama—the oldest district in Portugal—Barrio Alto, Baixa—the city center— Belém and Chiado.
Alfama contains some of the most densely packed streets and alleyways in Lisbon. This is also where you will find the Moorish castle, Castelo de São Jorge, an overlook from which you can gain a good understanding of the architectural uniformity in the city. Barrio Alto is a neighborhood that blends more of the fringe younger culture, because of the smattering offer of nightclubs. Baixa was built following the earthquake of 1755, the largest in European record, which devastated much of Lisbon. Biaxa was constructed during Portugal’s enlightenment era with the intent of being the center of the city in thought and culture. Of particular interest here are the views of the ocean, the River Tagus and the outlying towns across the bay, the yawning plazas and the wonderful sight of the city of Lisbon as it climbs back from the water.
Belem contains the Praça do Império (Empire Square), which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Jerónimos Monastery and Santa Maria de Belém are other beautiful sites here that have been well maintained through the years. The Archeological Museum also finds its home in this building, and the current Egyptian and Aegean exhibits are well worth the price of admission. Another site to see is the Torre do Belém(Tower of Belém), built in the 1500s. Chiado is a center of shopping, which admittedly, held little interest for me.
One of the most crucial facets of any culture is food, and Portugal proves that great food equals any other form of artistic expression. Being in the European Union, the Euro is the currency of the land, which is unfortunate for American travelers as the Euro still kicks the dollar around a bit. However, Portugal’s economy, unlike some of the European powerhouses, is presently making every effort, along with Greece, to flush the Euro down the toilet. This offers some great deals for travelers on the three most important cultural signifiers: food, wine, and beer.
Food here begins with schedules – know the routine. In general, the food, beer, and wine prices are excellent. You can escape breakfast for about five Euros, and lunch for less than ten. Dinner will run you as much as you like, however. On the average, for bread, an entrée, and wine I spent about twenty Euros, but one night, without an ounce of regret, I spent eighty. I must say, in my defense, the dinner was worth every bit of that. Beer and wine are very cheap, and the wine in particular is excellent. Beer is beer in Portugal, but wine is a new experience with every glass and every restaurant.
Breakfast seems casual and light, a roll or croissant and an espresso. This meal can be taken anytime until lunch, as Lisbon is full of corner cafés carrying fresh assorted bakery goods. The bread rolls tend to be very good, fresh, soft, and flaky with a savory sweet buttery finish. But all of this goodness is tempered by the thin, old bitter bite of terrible espresso, short of a café here or there. The espresso, almost universally, was over-extracted and finished with an experience reminiscent of licking a nine volt battery. Merely two brands of beans fill the vast majority of grinder hoppers, and working in the coffee industry for a few years now, I can’t believe that every barista in Lisbon is incapable of pulling a decent shot of espresso.
In situations like this, I default to a cup of coffee…No! There is no cup of coffee, no coffee makers in sight anywhere in any damn café. In fact, the only cups of coffee I had the entire trip were either on the plane or from rigged pour-overs in various hotel rooms with ground coffee I brought from home. After awhile I began to feel a bit like a vacation alchemist. The closest comparable drink to a cup of coffee is the Americano, which if you have ever had this cup of over-extracted watered down espresso and enjoyed it, I have very little to say to you short of, “Seek help now.”
Lunch is a sacred meal in Portugal and Spain, and is taken from noon to three. Buildings empty as the commotion and chaos of the work day is vented into the streets, taking up residence in restaurant windows everywhere. Keep in mind that these establishments close at three and do not reopen until seven-thirty or later in most cases. If you play games here, you’ll end up eating nothing but pastries, which is not conducive to walking up and down hills all day long. From everything I have read and experienced, lunch lasts several hours to divide the work day and allow people to rest, run errands, and the like. The locals seem to embrace this with every atom of their being, so be mindful of the time to ensure that you eat too.
Typical lunch fare tends to be smaller portions of dinner fare, which is to say you can get seafood, meat, or vegetarian entrées. My lunches consisted of sub-par sushi, a fast food beef sandwich (particularly popular at lunch), but also an excellent four ounce steak with lightly buttered broccoli, cauliflower, and carrots. The point is if you want it, you can find it at lunch. Espresso is very popular after the meal, but wine is also available and exceptional.
Dinner doesn’t last very late either. From what I saw, many of these places close at midnight or earlier—this is not America, England, Germany or Brazil—pay attention to the people and neighborhood, and ask the fine employees at your hotel for information. Bread and butter are a staple of dinner, one that I recommend highly. Nearly every restaurant will place bread at the table or ask you if you would like some, while waving the fresh buns under your nose. Fair warning, you don’t have to eat any, but if you eat one you pay for the lot.
There were two dinners I ate in Lisbon that I should hope to be shot dead if I didn’t discuss. The first was at a restaurant called The Cave. This was a Portuguese Brazilian restaurant, and I ate here my first night in Lisbon in an attempt to test the supposed Portugal/Brazil cultural connections in the most significant way possible. The menu was vague, which tended to be the case throughout my trip in Portugal. They typically state only the entrées, so I ordered medium-rare sliced beef. A simple menu is a fun convention at great restaurants, offering an element of mystery about your meal, but I strongly suggest asking the service staff, particularly in foreign countries, for details if you are a vegetarian or have other dietary restrictions.
The beef came sizzling on a cast iron pan presented on a platform. Blackened shallots dotted the slices of beef and a ring of potatoes outlined the sheer glowing majesty of the main course. The smell of shallots and deep red wine hints struck my nose like a finger of steam from a pie on a windowsill in an old Looney Toons cartoon. The meat was perfectly cooked as ordered; something I would learn quickly was not common. The flavors of the tender beef were bold and well-balanced. The meat was lightly salted and peppered with a medium-hand. The burn on the sparse shallots gave a sharp, smoky quality with a breathy-warmth from the shallow wine and beef juice bath in which the meat carelessly soaked. I pared this entrée, as many would, with a red wine, though a house red as recommended to me by a friend. The quality of the average house wine in Portugal are beyond what you will get in many other countries, certainly in America. Don’t pay a lot for wine in Portugal, white or red, it’s all excellent. The red wine at this restaurant was thin, but deep, with an initial light fruity note, warm mouth-feel, and acidic finish. Though the meal didn’t taste significantly Brazilian, it didn’t need to as it was exceptional being Portuguese.
The second meal in Lisbon of particular note was from an “Italian” restaurant. It was Italian so-to-speak, but heavily Portuguese in flavor. Fortunately, I traveled to Portugal with my wife, for what we found at this restaurant was well beyond my enormous appetite. We ordered the special fish dish for two, as recommended by our waiter. When our waiter returned with the meal, he set down one large plate that took up half the table. Our eyes damn-near fell out of our heads.
On the plate were filets of three kinds of fish: tuna, salmon, and I believe black scabbard. Large calamari rings and prawns lay in a ring around the edge of the plate, the stark contrast of their colors demanding attention. Steamed potatoes, carrots, and green beans laid within the ring, squarely in the cooked carnage accompanied by a colorful acidic accompaniment of sliced lemons.
This meal was my first lesson on Portuguese cooking: every waiter or waitress will ask you how you would like the meal cooked, but the chefs will consistently send out the meat or fish medium. While all was very delicious, the medium-everything left the buttery calamari a bit rubbery and the prawns a little dry. The fish filets were grilled quickly on high heat to give that wonderful pattern of grill marks and flavorful carbon depth, but were still juicy enough. The vegetables were steamed perfectly, and the potatoes gave a superb earthy balance to the rich seafood. I would warn any traveler to beware the bones and shells, though, as they are left in and on by most restaurants. Also, try not to pay too much attention to the shiny black eyes of the prawns that stare back at you as you rip their buddies’ heads off and bite off and savor the goodies. The wonderful flavor will propel you beyond any guilt you may feel. Adding in wine and dessert, this meal only ran us about sixty Euros.
These two dinners were exceptional amongst the average fare in Lisbon. From the experiences I had eating around Lisbon, I would have to say that despite being on the ocean, the seafood wasn’t as fresh-tasting as one might expect. The meat, however, seemed to be consistently good. Throughout the duration of my trip in Portugal, I found that regardless of where you are in Portugal, there are food axioms that do not change: never spend a lot on wine, the coffee is almost always bad, and a heartfelt longing for medium-rare soon pervades your dreams.
Photos by: Nicholas Tate
