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MiguelCardoso

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Everything posted by MiguelCardoso

  1. Mecca is right, Bux. What scares me, though, is the wild exponential price growth. Vserna: truth is I haven't had angulas for two years - now I know why. How much does a little "cazuela" cost in a restaurant? Are they easy to find? Gambrinus here in Lisbon - probably the most expensive restaurant we have - has actually stopped serving them, not because of the price (that never stops them) but because they can't get their hands on a decent supply. There are a lot of inferior elvers - like the Portuguese "meixão" and worse - but they are not a patch on the real thing. To continue Bux's theme and open up the discussion, here is a list of current prices for the best live shellfish in Lisbon, per kilo, with the price five years ago in brackets: "Bruxas" or "borboletas", called "santiaguinhos" in Galicia (small slipper lobsters): 75 to 100 euros (40 in 1999). "Camarão especial de Espinho", plump red tiny shrimp from the North and Galicia, probably the most delectable shellfish of all: 100 to 150 euros (75 in 1999). Brittany imports: 75 euros. Big "Lagostins" (Dublin Bay Prawns), at least 400 grammes each: 100 to 125 euros (75-100 in 1999). "Cavacos" (big slipper lobsters from the Azores, "cigales"): 75 to 100 euros (same price in 1999). "Gamba" from the Algarve or Cascais (big prawns): 60 to 75 euros (50-60 in 1999) "Lavagante" (European lobster): 70 to 80 euros (same in 1999, probably more) N.B. African, Carribean and American or Canadian lobsters are 50 to 60 euros. "Lagosta" (European spiny lobster): 75 to 90 euros (same in 1999) "Santola" (Spider Crab): 30 to 40 euros (same in 1999) "Navalheiras" ("Nécoras" in Spanish; Iberian small crab): 40 to 60 euros (25 to 40 in 1999). Percebes have registered the biggest increase, as have "canilhas", "burriés", "búzios" and all other conch molluscs (whelks, winkles, conch). The only shellfish which has actually gone down a lot are oysters and mussels - but they're cultivated, so they don't count. I wonder whether the Iberian passion for shellfish has lumbered us with the highest prices in the world as imports from Brittany (and France is a richer country) are about half-price and from elsewhere even less... Depressing, no?
  2. This morning, while placing my regular order at the Lisbon El Corte Inglés (which expertly deliver live shellfish as well as everything else) I was told a shipment of "percebes" ( goose barnacles) from Galicia had just arrived, so I naturally ordered a kilo, which usually costs between 50 and 60 euros. My friend at the fish counter, probably when her supervisor wasn't watching, warned me that these, though they were no fresher or better than usual, would cost me a whopping 125 euros a kilo - more than double. Only 20 years ago, percebes were almost free. In fact, on the coast, you got a free small plate with a dozen of them whenever you ordered a beer. As the appetite for them has grown (specially in inland Spain and Portugal) and their harvest (quite dangerous when the weather's bad) has become more difficult - not to mention the ravages of oil spills and pollution in general - their price has escalated beyond anyone's most pessimistic predictions. There are a lot of cheap live percebes on the market (from Morocco, Peru, practically everywhere in South America) but they're enormous, chewy, dry and entirely devoid of that particular sea-tangy delicate flavour of Galician and Portuguese percebes. Frozen percebes, about 15 euros a kilo, are a waste of money. There really is no substitute. In Summer, when their harvest is easy, the prices tumble - but consumers have become used to the high prices and they never descend below 40 to 50 euros a kilo, unless you travel to the little fishing villages where they're caught. 125 euros is a nightmare and probably a freak occurrence. But already 3 kilos had been sold... The same price spiral has affected "angulas" - the delicious baby elvers we Iberians so treasure quickly fried in olive oil, garlic and two "malagueta" peppers. Not only are they prohibitively expensive (the best ones) but they're also becoming rarer, so that the few restaurants who can get their hands on prime, just-caught percebes and angullas will keep them for their best customers only, via a well-established phonecall system. How difficult it is to pay such prices for delicacies we once took for granted! I need some help here: what should a gourmet's correct attitude be? (For the record, I refused the percebes and rose hell, ordering two very angry lobsters instead. Two one-and-a-half pounders, caught yesterday off Peniche, cost me 120 euros. That's a kilo and a half of wild "lavagante" for the price of a kilo of goose barnacles.) My, how times have changed...
  3. pmetz: just a whisper in your ear, if I may. If you like fish, shellfish and food in general, cross the border and come to Portugal!
  4. Oh yes, v_wang, it's true. In 2001 or 2002 I published an 8-page spread about bísaro piglets, with lots of photographs of the happy, little creatures in "Preguiça", a weekly food magazine which was my pride and joy at the newspaper I then edited ("O Independente"). The reporter was Dulce Mendes. I'm sure the "marnotos" or salt-farmers of the Algarve will make you most welcome. Rui Simeão - actually called Rui Neves Dias - in Tavira is a friend of mine and harvests lovely "flor do sal". Pay him a visit! He's won lots of awards as he's such a passionate advocate of nature. His address is available if you click on his name on the above link - a boring promotional press release, but the only one I could find. Here it is if you can't be bothered! Salt harvesting in Portugal is thriving and is by no means confined to the Algarve. Even if you can't read Portuguese, the pictures in this article will give you an idea.
  5. Wow! This could be earth-shattering! Adrià is truly a great man and his tastebuds - and attitude - should be cloned. I'd read about this dream of his but I never thought he would follow through - and so rapidly. This is the opposite of selling out, imo. There's none of that Rick Bayliss/Burger King ambiguity. It's like sharing. Humility is truly the sign of greatness. Besides, only genuinely creative and original chefs can imagine and rustle something wonderful from commonly available and cheap ingredients. Antoine Westermann told me this once and now I understand the import of what he said. Thanks, Pedro, once again. :)
  6. You're on! Eric - I remember reading this great post you wrote where you listed all the typical dishes of Portugal and thinking "Wow - this guy didn't miss a beat!", as I so agreed with you. For the record, you were already living in Lisbon when I first went to Trafaria - it's a very recent discovery. The "Cabrita", on the other hand, well.... :) P.S. Two years ago, in the Hell's Kitchen area of Manhattan, I went into this wonderfully old-fashioned fishmongers because the shop window was full of fresh-looking Portuguese sardines, at a very attractive price. There was this very well-dressed old-timer sittingin a chair and an equally dapper guy behind the counter. I asked them where I could eat them and he suggested a Greek place called Costa's (?). Anyway, we went there and it was marvellous. So, whether I come to New York or you come here, I thinik we can safely say we're assured of a good meal, no? :)
  7. v_wang: Give me some time so I can work out some suggestions! I think your philosophy - not knowing where you'll be headed - is highly intelligent, as Portugal is ideal for wandering about aimlessly. Definitely buy Cadogan's Portugal guide - it might not be up-to-date, publication-wise, but things don't change much here and its advice is spot-on: we Portuguese use it. If food is to be your focus, try to remain up North as much as you can. Dammit, I'm born and bred in Lisbon (my father was born in Alfama, which is at the very heart) but since I joined eGullet honesty has regularly driven me to outrageous treachery. Let me just say that, apart from the fish and shellfish, there are are number of dishes that just can't be missed. There's a restaurant called Casa do Victor in Vila do Rei, hidden near Vieira do Minho and the Gerês, which serves the best bacalhau ever - gigantic guitars of salt cod perfectly cured (he has the last remaining Aveiro supplier who sun-dries the cod here in Portugal in the old way - it is unobtainable anywhere else), grilled beyond perfection, almost sinful in being so close to God. It's served with the best potatoes and the best olive oil. Apart from veal chops the size of tennis rackets, grilled on the same open fire, that's all he's been serving for 50 years. Another reason the bacalhau is so exceptional is because it's soaked in a pure, icy Gerês mountain stream that runs just by the restaurant. The Gerês is a beautiful, pristine national park where anyone unfortunate enough, in a moment of distraction caused by the breath-taking views, to let out the slightest fart will soon be staring at a six-month jail sentence. ;) You know how much we Portuguese love bacalhau - well this makes you never again really, really enjoy bacalhau. Victor should serve a forgetfulness pill with the coffee so that the wonderful taste and texture could be wiped out from our memory, never to haunt all our subsequent bacalhau dishes which, however satisfying and eye-opening, will inevitably sour the lingering mouth-happiness with those three damning words: "Yes, but Victor..." What I usually do is stay in the lovely Pousada de São Bento, in Caniçada, then take a taxi there - because of his delicious "vinho verde". By the way, don't let him convince you to try one of the well-known green wines. Ask for his unlabelled bottles - he's ashamed of it because it seems too humble and is actually illegal nowadays - but you'll try the real, fresh, zingy "vinho verde" (very, very low alcohol) which Minho peasants keep for themselves. It's impossible to stop drinking it! Vitor is around 8 miles away from the Pousada and will take you into the 15th Century - misty, curling roads, bright green even at night, vine trellises everywhere and granite houses - the real Minho, unspoilt and enchanting, primeval even. Another must is our "leitão" (suckling pig) which is very different from the Spanish type. Its skin is impossibly crackly and thin, not unlike the best Peking duck, and the flesh is moist, watery and, again, sinful. You know how, when Peking Duck is properly served, they bring the strips of crunchy, delectable skin first and the meat itself is second-thought? Well really good Mealhada leitão, for the scarce 15 minutes when it's just-emerged from the oven, shining and bright, manages to reunite the best of both these worlds. Even "luscious" would be an insult. When you bite down into one of the small pieces, the succession of textures and tastes is like a lightning trip around the world of all your most memorable meals, summarizing essences of bacon and eggs; perfectly roast chicken; moist barbecue pork; crispness; the wet, giving humidity of rare roast beef and an astounding freshness more associated with lettuce or freshly-fried turbot skin than anything so boring and dead as meat. This is because they're "bísaro" piglets, brought up like little princes, in individual chalet-like cottages with classical music playing. However, 99% of the suckling pig served in Portugal is not bísaro and, although good, not divine. For the bísaro you have to go to Mealhada, near Coimbra, which is a long Vegas Strip of leitão restaurants. But even here, most of them use the black Iberian piglet. Two you can trust absolutely - always very full; go early - are Meta dos Leitões and Pedro dos Leitões, practically next door. I usually stay at the romantic Bussaco Palace Hotel and pig out for three or four days. Don't have leitão anywhere else, no matter what you're told (Negrais leitão in Lisbon, for instance) as it's not much better than the suckling pig you get in Spain or Italy, where they're far too big, not crispy enough and their meat is just like a tenderer version of good pork. And make sure you wait for a leitão to come out from the oven and cut while it's red hot - even in Pedro or Meta. After ten minutes, it starts waning. A good trick is to offer to pay double just for the "costela" (the ribs). If they refuse, just leave the leg bits and neck bits and order another "dose". The "costelas" are the best of the best. They're served with round ultra-thin potato crisps and a lovely salad. Make sure to order the "molho" (sauce) which is made from the piglet's liver and kidneys, just slightly peppery, nothing else. For some reason in Mealhada everyone drinks a really atrocious local sparkling wine, white and red. They also eat slices of orange with their "leitão" - beats me why! I'd recommend a very young dry white wine. The best local one is "Quinta do Valdoeiro", made nearby, but make sure it's a very recent vintage. 2002 is acceptable; 2003 is best. 2001 is beyond the pale. If you're feeling generous, go for one of the lip-smacking Luís Pato whites - or another local Bairrada white or rosé. With these, 2001 is the limit-year, as they're so well made. The prices at Pedro and Meta are higher than elsewhere but still outrageously low: for 50 dollars two people can have their fill of "leitão" and good wine and still have change after two single malts. And that's counting with the increase in the price of the euro. As you see, it's very difficult and time-consuming to give even a brief description of a dish, because of all the caveats and particularities. And there are hundreds! :)
  8. Yup, Eric - there will still be fresh sardines in October but they'll be dwindling. Every year the exact month when they're at their fattest and moistest, but not too fat or moist, varies tremendously according to the streams of warm water in the Atlantic. Last year it was late July before they really peaked and they mantained their form until the end of August/early September. Of course we start eating them in mid-May, small and thin, because we've been walking about in a daze, foaming at the mouth for the taste of them since...about now! Last night we had our first fresh sardines, only about 4 inches long but quite plump - they were too small to be grilled, so they were fried in the best tradition - so the skin is crispy and you can eat the heads and everything - but the flesh is very dry. Properly fried, even the cartilage is delicious. This is a new trend from this year - it's barely a week old! - which is the "meia-sardinha", the "half-sardine". I don't know whether it will catch on. Having them yesterday involved contacting a trusted fish supplier who then, curious about them, convinced a small fishing boat to land some. Then we took two kilos to our favourite restaurant, where every whim of ours is indulged, and they fried them up with an "arroz de grelos", a crunchy salad and a plate of very thin, match-stick potato chips. Meias-sardinhas are probably not a very good idea because they're well on their way to become big, juicy full-size sardines. But boy oh boy! "Petingas" - baby sardines - are another matter. They're always available and although delicious and crunchy, they don't hit that aching sardine hole in our hearts. Only the fat Summer sardines, grilled outdoors and served with (or on top of) crusty bread; roasted pepper salad with onion, lettuce and tomato and new peel-them-yourselves boiled, waxy potatoes will do. So you see, Eric, the Great Sardine Wait has already started and we're all getting frisky! Your great Cacilhas suggestion makes me recommend another lovely ferry-trip on the Tagus. In Belém, hop on the ferry to Trafaria, about 20 minutes, very relaxing and appetizing, beautiful views, and choose one of the small riverfront restaurants serving Caldeirada à Fragateira, the Lisbon version of the famous Portuguese fish stew, our so-called "bouillabaisse". My favourite is Marítima. Saturday is the traditional day and, again, you have to go very early as they're small, very popular and good value so they fill up soon and Portuguese diners are notorious for taking their time at table. Back in Belém, walk to the Antiga Confeitaria de Belém for some hot "pastéis de nata" and another coffee or a glass of Tawny port. Hungry Traveler: sardines are always ridiculously cheap, as are scrumptious "carapaus" and "jaquinzinhos" (tiny and even-tinier horse mackerel). But you have to get to the restaurant early as everyone wants them. I'm a great believer in arriving very early (11.45 to noon is best) and watching the kitchen put the finishing touches to the daily specials (or the suckling pick or kid goat emerge from the wood-fired oven) so I can have my choice just-made. To pass the time, I have a gin and tonic (a real sacrifice!) and chat with the waiters, trying to slyly discover what's freshest and best that day. The Portuguese, even the hard-liners, are incapable of arriving before half-past noon, so this is an important advantage! I'm sorry I can't go in to all the Portuguese etiquette thing - it would take ages. The best guides, in my opinion, are Cadogan and Time Out. They'll have all you need to know - not that you need to know anything! :) .
  9. It seems my function here is to support and agree with Marc, whom I suspect is called Marco and lives next door, such is his expertise. There are many types of clams in Portugal. The very best are "ameijoa boa", the bigger the more expensive (some are gigantic: 10 to a kilo for around 60 euros!) but the flavour is the same. The ones you bought, Hungry Traveler, are about 10 euros cheaper than I can buy here in Lisbon, since you're so close to the source. These are simply outstanding, the nec plus ultra of clams and the juiciest and most delicate come from The Ria Formosa estuary in the Algarve. If you're anywhere near Silves please, whatever you do, make the pilgrimage to the Cervejaria Rui, which is one of the best places in Portugal for ameijoas à Bulhão Pato, some say the best. Others will argue that a similarly simple outdoor café in Cacela-A-Velha is better (it was mentioned elsewhere here on eGullet). The price is as cheap as you can find and the quality is absolute. I hate to say so, but it's very difficult to find restaurants that entirely respect ameijoas - out of about 500, I'd say only about 10 are tuned in. You then have 5 or 6 different types of ameijoas, all delicious but a wholly different kettle of clams: ameijoa macha, ameijoa cão and ameijoa branca (in descending order of goodness) are the most easily found. These are all much cheaper but they can't really be compared. Cheaper still, are conquilhas (a sweet small orange clam which is very tasty and much loved), lambujinhas (a grey clam which has a lot of devotees although I think they're almost tasteless) and berbigão (cockles), which are very cheap (3 euros for a kilo) but mouth-wateringly good. We eat our clams in 3 ways, basically, by order of popularity: 1) "À Bulhão Pato" - opened in olive oil, garlic and lots of fresh coriander. We're talking 30 seconds in a very hot frying pan, generally covered to help the steaming. Fancy restaurants idiotically add white wine, lemon, butter and even piri-piri, but this is akin to assassination, specially with the good "ameijoas". The all-important taste-factor is the tangy sea-redolent clam juice they release and which should NEVER be asfixiated and overcome by the olive oil or garlic. You want a grey liquor, 90% clam juice at least. The clams should be removed the moment they die (open) as even an extra 5 seconds will make them rubbery. 2) "Ao natural": opened in a little water or (very) briefly steamed, with lemon wedges to add a squirt. This is the best way for berbigão (cockles), which are probably the only true bargain of Portuguese seafood - they really are delicious. Buy them on a Saturday - that's the day after they're gathered. 3) "À espanhola": steamed in onions, tomatoes, garlic and white wine. It's used when you're using inferior clams (or mussels). Japanese restaurants and fishermen apart, "ameijoas boas" are unfortunately seldom eaten raw, due (I think) to no-longer-relevant worries about shellfish. I say this with not a little hypocrisy because I prefer them "Á Bulhão Pato" or "ao natural" if they're really good. In France and elsewhere I'm glad to eat them raw but (forgive my nationalism) their "palourdes" are nowhere near as good - just because I adore the whole concept of their "plateaux de fruits de mer", drooping with seaweed and dripping in life-saving iodine, so startlingly led by their numerous insurpassable oysters! Or "unsurpassable" even! I think we should all send Marco Polo a generous gift for his having out-Portuguesed the Portuguese by making an Algarve-hating Lisboan (me) - though I do *cough* spend two fortnights there a year - and, much more difficult, an Algarve-indifferent northerner (Chloe who lives in Ponte de Lima which is Paradise) feel "saudades" for (miss) the Algarve! Next time you're here, please give me the chance to show you my life-long gastronomic secrets, too rare and too easily spoilt to share on the Internet! :)
  10. Great thread - thanks! I'm just chiming in to say I wish other food cultures were as conscious of the seasons as the Japanese. Here in Portugal, the first fruits and vegetables of the year are highly prized and rushed to the greengrocers (at exorbitant prices) but, unfortunately, the ubiquity of imports and the growing dominance of greenhouse-grown produce is blinding the younger generations to the natural cycles of the year. I'm ashamed to say I deeply rely on my faithful itamae, Master Yoshitake at the superb Aya 2 restaurant in Lisbon, to tell me what's appropriate for every week, although he shuns novelty-for-novelty's-sake. "Too expensive is just as bad as rotten" he says (making a samurai gesture of violent rejection) and indeed what's best is always cheapest and most plentiful in the markets. Spring is very exciting, especially after the cold, cold Winter we had. Only last week I gave in and bought a kilo of brand-new garden peas and (after eating a significant portion raw, while shelling them) boiled them very briefly and had them with butter, "fleur du sel", pepper and two sprigs of mint. Yet I still believe the Japanese have, of all people, the right attitude. Everyone else is more or less lost and, even in the short-term, doomed to be "out of time", as in the old Chris Farley song. Thanks again, torakris (and all contributors) for this most inspiring and appetite-provoking thread. *cue Rodgers and Hart's "Spring is Here"*
  11. Great lists - thank you! This will seem a really stupid question, but what is "Sweet and Sour"? I've often enjoyed whiskey sours made with Sour Mix (thanks to a great bartender at the Oak Room (Bar?) at the Plaza, NYC, who faced with my snooty European freshly-squeezed-lemon-juice demands, said "Just try it - you'll like it". And I did. Very much in fact! However, most bars I went to in Manhattan (Bemelsmans at the Carlyle, 58/58 at the Four Seasons for example) made their own sour mixes. And the range of commercial sour mixes is far too daunting for a foreigner. How would one go about mixing one's own? Is it lime juice, lemon juice and sugar or sugar syrup? Will it keep? Lemon juice oxidizes so quickly. What's the secret? :)
  12. Damn you, Marco! Such is your way with words you've now got ME pining for the bloody Algarve! Vila Lisa is in Mexilhoeira Grande, near Alvor, just 200 metres off the main Algarve road. Here'sa Portuguese review with all the details. I hope you both have a great meal! Miguel
  13. Wow! Talk about a proper answer...! Thanks ever so much, Gary! Cheers for the link, Comfort Me! What more could I ask for? I hope I can return the favours someday! :)
  14. May is a great month for Lisbon (well, anywhere) but it all depends (taking excellent food as a given) whether you'd like to concentrate on: Modern/Fashionable Lisbon: Bica do Sapato; Old 18th Century Lisbon: Tavares Rico (Chef is (modern) Joaquim Figueiredo, one of our best; Fashionable with traditional food: Pap'Açorda (same owners as Bica do Sapato); Really good Grilled fish, "al fresco": Pedro dos Leitões; Shellfish only, bourgeois, expensive, old-fashioned: Porto de Santa Maria (in Guincho, 20 miles away) or Gambrinus; Best fish and shellfish, ugly but food-obsessed and cheap: Tertúlia do Paço; New Cuisine: Clube de Golfe da Bela Vista (Vítor Sobral); Rustic, peasant cooking, welcoming: Tasca da Adelaide; Superb, outstanding traditional Japanese sashimi and sushi: Aya 2 Oh, I give up. You must give me a few pointers so I can try to suggest somewhere. One night in Lisbon is tragically not enough. My most honest suggestion would be to go to a very cheap, typically Lisboan restaurant, where everyone goes, and eat "bacalhau assado" (delicious grilled salt cod, as nowhere else in the world, our staple): the best place for this is the "Marítima de Xabregas" where the prices are really, really cheap. If you could work in an afternoon pre-dinner shellfish extravanganza go to the equally cheap (but expensive, as all fresh shellfish is) Ramiro.
  15. While Gary and Mardee don't come back (funny how quickly one gets used to such good, expert company, isn't it?) I thought I might chip in as your problem is so widespread it would justify a fat book. Faced with these situations, I first go and check their shelves, to see what they stock, and then ask for a cocktail that's just stirred, rather than shaken, and that involves only bottles. Forget anything with fruit juice or even the seemingly-simple gin and tonic. They'll mess up. The best apéritif in these war zones is a Negroni - 1/3 gin, 1/3 Campari and 1/3 red vermouth, with an extra jolt of gin. When ordering I play the simpleton and say "I wonder whether you could make it according to my mother's recipe - just one proportion of each?" If they can drop a slice of orange into it, all the better. Lemon will also do. In my experience, all across Europe, it's impossible to get wrong and, if it's unbalanced, you can easily call for more gin, Campari or vermouth and just have it poured in. I also like pastis - you pour in the water - and ready-bottled apéritifs like Suze, etc. For after-dinner, a Rusty Nail - half Drambuie, half Scotch (choose the best on the shelf - it's better with a good single malt, forget the waste!) in an old-fashioned glass, just stirred and served with two cubes of ice - can't be fouled up either. I've also ordered a split of Champagne and a glass of creme de cassis and made up Kir Royals at the table. The same applies to white Burgundy for regular Kirs and, if you ask nicely for sugar cubes, Angostura bitters and freshly cut lemon peel, you can make champagne cocktails. If the joint is very dire, ask for a cognac, a split of champagne and lemon peel and you can make another classic champagne cocktail. Champagne works with everything - Cointreau, Port, Calvados, nothing at all if the place is really, really incompetent. In sum, Negronis and Rusty Nails apart, the trick is to assemble at table. This is the Portuguese way, though I look forward to reading Gary's and Mardee's professional opinions. "Cocktails You Couldn't Screw Up If You Tried" would make a great thread, btw! :)
  16. A Dodge City Saloon alternative to DrinkBoy's thought-provoking suggestion, which has the added advantage of allowing guests to calculate how much they've had to drink - and cheaper in terms of glassware - would be to serve everyone's "additional alcohol deficit" in a shot glass, according to the cocktail's main spirit. This way, you'd have those who drank Cosmopolitans, say, holding an extra chaser of vodka. Boilermakers all round!
  17. Thanks, Gary, Drinkboy and trillium. It was only when I saw it written in Italian I figured it might be related to the Spanish horchata, made from tiger nuts. I've never tried it but I will now. *wonders what a Mai Tai made with the original centuries-old tiger nut horchata tastes like.*
  18. Well, it's God's work, Gary - and we are but the instruments. Do not deny your Creator and go ahead! :)
  19. So it was you, Gary! The North Star, indeed! I feel guilty now, because as an ardent reader of your excellent Ardent Spirits web site, I shoulda known. I remember staying up all night to buy fish at the Fulton fish market, then spending the whole morning catching books in a wonderful discount book shop just back of the pub, buying fascinating maritime stuff in a weird shop right next to you and finally repairing, about midday, to the North Star. Thanks for being so kind to me - and others you treated equally well. How lucky I was to catch you! Monin is indeed the main supplier in Portugal - though frowned upon because they make sugary non-alcoholic drinks for outrageous prices (a 7 decilitre bottle of simple sugar syrup which costs 10 cents to make at home retails for 10 euros/dollars). But I guess I'll pony up for the almond syrup. Herbsaint is unavailable but I'll have a friend ship it in exchange for Port. Thanks for being honest about Peychaud's. Please don't go to any trouble on my account. I'm a great fan of the magnificent Sazerac 18-year-old rye whiskey: the only bottle I actually hide from my friends, as it's so difficult to come by. The Rip Van Winkle, on the other hand, is freely available to the maids. (Just kiddin'!) A friend of mine bought a bottle in London a few years back. Like Angostura, I imagine so little is used that it's not really a commercial proposition. My late father used to say that the depressing thing about Angostura was that you knew that the little bottle would outlive you... Might I also thank Jason Perlow and eGullet for allowing people from all over the world to actually communicate with those writers and gastronomes who have so bettered and influenced our lives? :)
  20. You're a gentleman and a scholar, Fresco! I pretend to be a down-to-earth, gritty sort of person, Fresco - but, like you, I hate sand. It interferes with the texture and, I suspect, absorbs not a little flavour. Also, there's a natural salivary/spitting reaction to grit which severely detracts from the enjoyment. About it being cheap, though, I must protest. However cheap a place may be, you can be sure it's making a handsome profit. Be like the Portuguese and, even if you feel like a thief, protest no matter how ridiculous the prices. This is how we keep prices down. A typical Portuguese reaction to your meal would be to say that, although you quite liked the meal (emphasis on "quite", with your six guests frowning) you felt they overcharged on the grit. You might add that it was difficult enough getting it out of your bathing costumes and toes after a day on the beach, despite being free. And yet, STILL too expensive! :)
  21. Wow, Gary! I just tried your modified, custom-made Margarita (one of the advantages of working at home, what?) and it's tremendous. Thanks ever so much! And this is a strict orthodox Margarita-drinker speaking (Cointreau, new 100% agave tequila, unwaxed, untreated, freshly squeezed lemon and lime juice, half and half; "fleur du sel" on the rim) so I take of my hat to you. Not eating it yet, but just about! :)
  22. Dearest Ann: You're absolutely right that's about the best itinerary, food-wise, scenery-wise, people-wise and, well, just wise. Give me a little time to work out a set of responsible suggestions though, as I said, up North you can't go wrong. I'm sorry for the delay but, being a Southerner, I have to consult my impeccable Northern sources before committing! :)
  23. I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Fresco. Sorry about the grit. I'm afraid it's quite a feature here in Portugal. Fancier places will put their clams to "pasture" in clean salted water (some add a little cornflour for them to eat and allegedly grow fatter) but the truth is that the flavour is affected as the clams (whether they're ameijoas, conquilhas, lambujinhas or mussels) release their juice (the best part) into the surrounding water. Hence the grit - a sign of authenticity. As all "viveiro" suppliers (who raise their clams and oysters in controlled sea-beds are required to "depurar" them (rid them of grit and sand), serving them with grit is the only way to announce that they were caught wild. Only yesterday I procured 2 quilos of delicious "percebes" (goose barnacles) which were also gritty. That John Wayne film, "True Grit", was actually about tough, no-nonsense Portuguese clams in a Western environment. ;) Also (though this is quite recent), because of aquaculture, a lot of very expensive restaurants, to prove their fish and shellfish are hand-caught from the sea, will leave it as is, with the algae and that slime which all fresh fish have. Also, they just might have a bucket of sand in the kitchen...! You're quite right about the potatoes and your sage advice to continue as they are! All the best! Miguel
  24. If possible, given that this is the Internet, could it include ingredients that could also be found in Europe? Dale DeGroff is justifiably revered here in Portugal and, so far as I know, his superb recipes are always admirably universal. Still, I'm sure I'm not the only European e Gulleteer frustrated by trying to find the Velvet Falernum Syrup he did so much to enhance and make available. By the way, I know from experience, from colleagues' trials and the sobering example of all the IBA competitions, how very difficult (read: impossible) it is to come up with a "new" cocktail, unless you're a genius. As an addition to Jason's enciting provocation, could I suggest another equally welcome invitation, in case an invention is too much grief? Do you know of any small, simple ways to improve (or make more interesting) the usual, classic cocktails we serve? Over the years, these have been my greatest inspirations. For instance: the lemon/lime/Meyer lemon choice and percentages in Margaritas. Or, from a great bartender at the old Oak Bar at the Algonquin in the early Eighties, the addition of a small drop of Pernod (via a "pipette" using a simple straw) to Dry Martinis - gin, of course. :)
  25. Thank you so much, Gary and Mardee, for taking questions! I've recently become a Sazerac fan - I make both the old-style cognac-based ones as well as American-rye-based. I've tried several full-proof European absinthes to coat the glass, as well as several French pastis. Yet I'd like to know exactly what brand would be used in a good New Orleans Bar. My main problem, however, is Peychaud's Bitters, unobtainable here. I've tried Angostura, other orange bitters - even tried making my own almond and cherrystone bitters - but, as I don't know what Peychaud's tastes like, I'm at a loss. My intention is not to make a good Sazerac but an authentic one. Any suggestions? If you're still feeling generous, do you have any European substitution ideas for the orgeat syrup used in Mai Tais? We use bitter almond liqueur here but the extra alcohol gets in the way. Many thanks for any advice (though your Bartenders' Bible is near at hand, of course)! All the very best, Miguel P.S. There was this wonderful pub in Seaport where I always went when I was in Manhattan, many years ago - I can't remember the name but it had great Irish and British beers and an astounding collection of whiskies. The food - fish and chips; steak and kidney pie - was superb, as it was quite difficult to find back then. The main bartender there was an affable chap who looked a lot like you and knew a hell of a lot about cocktails and Irish whiskey. I remember he served particularly generous measures of the Midleton, too. Was it you by any chance? Excuse the silly question if he was just a dead ringer or my mind's playing tricks. :)
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