MiguelCardoso

Oops. Talk about being a newbie - I just noticed that there's already a very lively thread on vodka infusions on eGullet. Can someone please delete this embarrassing attempt at a first post? Thank you ever so much! EDIT by Jason Perlow: Threads merged, thanks!

This winter I've made surprisingly fresh and tangy infusions with the peel from the new oranges and lemons, tangerines, "tângeras" (a cross between a a tangerine, a lemon and a bitter orange) and "clementinas" (a sweeter, pulpier tangerine). It's important to remove the pithy, white cellulose from the peel - unless you want the extra bitterness. Grapefruit and lime were a failure (musty-tasting and acid), as were the several ambitious combinations of lemons and other citrus fruits, resulting in confusing flavours. Next week, encouraged by the results, I'll be trying raspberries and blackberries (these take longer to infuse and need to be filtered) as well as some basic kitchen herbs (fresh basil, coriander and oregano) to use in cooking You also can't go wrong with a whole vanilla pod or freshly plucked "malaguetas" or other small chili peppers. Although most experts recommend that one remove the peel, fruit, pod or whatever after a few days, I've found that leaving them in for up to three weeks (in a cool, dark place, supposedly - but sunshine works too!) deepens the flavour. I boringly use the tangerine vodka with fresh tangerine juice and so on but I'm sure there are more exciting ways of serving - and perhaps even mixing - one's infusions.

Why go on buying decidedly inferior flavoured vodkas when you can make your own cheaply and easily in minutes? Fresh fruit, citrus and apple peels or herbs; vanilla, cinnamon or other spices: just drop them into a bottle of decent vodka and, a few days later, you're away. Here's a helpful website: The Danish Schnapps Page.

Thanks, tryska! A martini shaker is fine. Even a Nescafé jar. I was just adding some local colour. ;)

Great thread! Caipirinhas are so delicious you have to be careful not to have too many. They also produce the foulest-smelling breath imaginable. There are two versions - the Carioca caipirinha, hailing from Rio de Janeiro which, typically, requires no effort and the Baiana caipirinha, from Salvador da Bahia, which does. As you get wonderful limes in the US and the UK (but not wonderful lemons - these have to be freshly plucked, unwaxed, unfrozen, etc) I'd say caipirinhas were bound to catch on. Here are my recipes. I should add that I was allowed to work for a week in the Academia de Cachaça in Rio - though they only let me cut the limes... Carioca Caipirinha 1) Roll a lime under the palm of your hand, really leaning into it. You want to separate the juice from the bitter pith. Lop of the top and bottom, discard. Now cut half the lime into eight pieces or, if you're really Carioca, into four. 2) Put into an old-fashioned glass. This is the only one that will do. Add at least a tablespoon of fine sugar. The Brazilians use very fine ("União" being the standard), but the coarser grain will do. 3) With a wooden pestle (the end of a broomstick is ideal if you haven't the real thing) muddle the limes with the sugar, until it's all mushy. Don't puncture the skin or it'll be bitter. 4) Top up with ice cubes, the smaller the better. Fill with cachaça. If you don't have cachaça, Colombian aguardiente is fine. Don't use rum - if you don't have cachaça, vodka is the best spirit, making it a "caipiroshka". With tequila, it's a "caipirila". 5) Mix it round with a spoon and...drink. Baiana Caipirinha This is the best, the real thing, but requires a little more work. 1) Cut a whole lime into about sixteen pieces, discarding the ends. 2) Add the sugar and muddle, same as above. 3) Pack the old-fashioned glass with pulverized ice (at least cracked: wrap ice cubes in clean tea towel and bash like all hell). 4) Pour cachaça (or vodka) until the glass is full. 5) Now find something that will allow you to shake it. It should fit over the old-fashioned glass perfectly and form a seal. I use (as does the Academia da Cachaça in Rio, where they allowed me to work for a few days) a sawed-off plastic flowerpot! 6) Shake the living daylights out of it. 7) Serve immediately while the sugar, the lime bits and everything are in a cloudy, icy suspension. A final note regarding cachaças: the cheapest are sweetest but by no means the worst for caipirinhas. There are thousands of cachaças and the best should be drunk like old tequilas. So cheapest is best: Tatú, Pitu, Velho Barreiro, 51. The more expensive cachaças make lousy caipirinhas. It's with these last "Baiana" caipirinhas you have to watch it, They're that delectable. The secret is to drink them slowly - they're great even when they're no longer ice cold - and accompanied by alcohol-soaking food. The ideal is, of course, the feijoada - the Brazilian black bean stew. One every half-hour allows you to have six or seven, easy. The temptation to suck one down, though, is irresistible. Avoid it like the plague, though. The right cachaça for caipirinha is low-grade cane sugar spirit, heavily reinforced with sugar. "Caipira" means someone very poor and destitute. Hence the necessity of using a cheap cachaça. Yummy!

I forgot to add that "foreign friends" includes everyone who lives, oh, at least 30 miles away from where we do.

Well said - and true, mongo jones. However, I don't think there's any turf-delineation (good term, that!) involved. I'd say it was the other way round. Spaniards and Portuguese are very loving hosts and our main preoccupation is that our foreign friends enjoy the same meals we do. It's much more like showing off; I assure you. We want you to notice us and love us - this is a very Latin thing; probably universal. That said, you have no idea how much being an interested tourist can help you secure a wonderful meal. Foreigners are warmly welcomed and staff will go out of their way to impress, if they detect genuine interest and (this is very important) humility and open-mindedness. The best strategy, imho, is surrendering all choice. You don't even have to speak the language - just helplessly open your hands and say "Quero provar tudo!" And go back the next day! That is the minimum sign of commitment; without which (at least in Portugal) nothing truly extraordinary can be achieved. Nothing is as depressing to a proud restaurant as putting on a good show (though the real treasures lie in wait) and then having to say: "Well, they never came back..." :)

Bux, I deeply respect and depend on adventurous attitudes like yours - people like you are the discoverers, testers and communicators in the best sense. Thanks so much for your thoughts and the valuable insight into your - this will sound pretentious but it's probably the right word - methodology. Only the police, however, will drag me away from a restaurant, once I've found it. When travelling, I want to get to know it as well as possible, as you would someone you'd just met and liked. My theory - brilliant, very individualistic chefs apart - is that one gets to know more about a particular gastronomic culture by fully exploring one kitchen than by hopping about. One shares in the daily selection of supplies; observes its relationship to the markets (something I'd say was essential) and, by chatting to the staff and showing real interest in them and their work, learns a lot about the constraints and possibilities that preside over what they offer and how they serve it. The problem with new restaurants is that, once you've finally assembled a wide range of establishments where you're well known and well received (which is crucial in Portugal, as preferential treatment is finely but unmistakably graded and meted out), you lose these privileges if you're away too long. Owners and employees will assume you're taking your custom elsewhere or found a new favourite and, when you do return, yearning for some perfect dish you know you can't get anywhere else, they'll probably go out of their way to ruin it for you, signalling their displeasure at being scorned. Despite a wealth of excuses (being ill, on a diet, abroad), people here in Lisbon know where're you've been dining. Only yesterday I got ticked off in an old-fashioned restaurant I've been going to since I was a child and was scolded for what was seen as my excessive visits to my favourite sushi house. One waiter instantly said to another as I sat down at the "barra": "Oh, look - Dr.Cardoso must have some stomach complaint from all that raw fish he's been having and now he probably expects us to put it right with our "canja" (chicken broth)" This was said in acid tones and I wearily realized it would take a few more regular visits to square my custom and build back some of the good will they'd so dramatically withdrawn. If you're serious and fussy about eating out here, you really have to maintain your lunching and dining network - this often means going to places you don't really feel like visiting, just because it's been a long time. Regular visits are fundamental for keeping up and keeping in with the staff. Whenever a good new restaurant is found (I only try one a week), it's almost inevitable that one of the older ones will be sacrificed, as breaking in a new place - we privately and arrogantly call it "grooming"! - takes a lot of effort, as you get to know them and, more importantly, get them to know you. Some older friends of mine will even keep going to a well-loved restaurant when it's going through hard times and serving well below its best, to reap the (enormous) loyalty rewards that accrue when it gets back on its feet. They eat in the almost empty room, haunted by the ghosts of remembered glory, and lie through their teeth about the non-excellence of the food. It's a funny thing - but related to the conservative culture - that it's quite rare for a restaurant to close here, no matter how awful it gets. That's why, when travelling, I no longer try to fit in all the restaurants that interest me. As soon as I find one that "fills my measures" ("que me enche as medidas"), I stay put. If I do go elsewhere, it will be with the recommendation (or at least reluctant consent) of the head waiter, cook or knowledgeable member of staff. After a third visit, wherever you might be - if only to show openness and good taste - they'll gladly offer suggestions among the competition. As long as you come back and say "Yeah...not bad...!" I'm sorry I took so long to explain my position but I didn't want you to misjudge what I said. Perhaps it's related to my being far more interested in local, regional and national gastronomic cultures and their everyday production, enactment and ritual, than in the culinary masterpieces that are the result of personal vision and talent and that, apart from the obvious context, are more properly seen as international. In any case, one or two visits do provide very interesting accounts - and these experiences have their own form of "truth" and integrity. But it gets more interesting (to me) the better and longer you know an establishment; following the months, the seasons and the years! Why does reading eGullet always make me so damn hungry? :)

I have to agree with vserna. Food is food. There's no way one can judge it without sitting down to it, several times, and consciously learning its ways and "caprices". Although we live in a gastro-porn environment, fuelled by lavishly illustrated magazines and unusually detailed resumées of what is served (and why) the basic rules still apply. I'm more conservative a critic than vserna - I refuse to write about a cook (or restaurant - not always the same thing) until I've got to leisurely know him or her; under pressure and, on mercifully slow days, entirely left to their own devices. One problem I see, as a conservative, with eGullet, is that there's a simple "one or two visits" requirement. With good restaurants (the bad are easily dismissed at first gulp), one should spend a whole day there, from the moment it opens till the time it closes; day after day; until one has got the full measure of its personality and versatility. I'm an extremist, however. I think cooking is related to friendship - love, even - and that tourism, however expert, is always a doomed experience. In reality, one has to live in the same place; know what's served all around; be familiar with all the possibilities and impossibilities. This is why I always recommend that visitors go to interesting restaurants with "habituées", so that they can experience what someone local, jaded and even bored can feel. And even then it's difficult! Gastronomy is all about a startling but comforting synthesis of familiarity; surprise; intimacy; contextual invention; cultural refreshment and, above all, unexpected enjoyment of what was erroneously taken for granted. The one proviso is that you actually sit down and eat the food; several times (if you're appetite is whetted the first time). I truly think it's beyond the Pale to judge a restaurant or even a style of cooking before you've actually submitted yourself to it. My basic strategy is to find a hotel near the restaurant I want to investigate and go there twice a day (alone is almost as good as going with local habituées) until I've got a handle on it. I find it tragic than one-time eating experiences count for experience among over-enthusiastic Americans. This is a question of life - not just food. :)

Wow! What a delectable feast this seems! Thanks for the heads-up vsierna - I'm definitely going to try and pull some strings to see if I can get in via my newspaper, the Diário de Notícias. It will be a good opportunity of chipping away at some of my ignorance of contemporary Spanish cuisine - well, that's the best excuse I could come up with... ;) Btw, the site seems to be down today. Here's the Google cache: http://66.102.11.104/search?q=cache:ISSx4Q...&hl=en&ie=UTF-8.

Eric: está marcado, meu caro! While you take your time getting here, discussing where we'll go for lunch will help us pass the time. :)

Well said, Bux - and universal. Thanks for the tip. I often find that most things we think are local are, in reality, human nature. :)

If I might be allowed another comment, it has to do with Fredbram's wise strategy of going to Fidalgo three times. Unfortunately, all Portuguese restaurants are extremely nepotistic, a terrible vice. This means that they'll always keep whatever's best for their oldest and most regular customers. Even in top-notch restaurants like Gambrinus in Lisbon, the off-the-menu list is always far better than the printed fare. For the best customers there's even the secret "sopa do pessoal" (the staff soup) which is infallibly better, fresher and cheaper than all the rest. When the waiter shouts his instructions to the cooks he'll have a secret code to tell them how hard they should try. One favourite word is "caprichado", meaning "taken to extremes" but it's far more complex than that. Everywhere you see the same dish served on adjacent tables and, pace Orwell, some pork is always more equal than others. Visitors are at a great disadvantage here as there are very stereotypical views about what "turistas" like (i.e. will put up with), no matter how knowledgeable they seem. Although, thankfully, there are very few cases of overpricing or downright fraud, the truth is that the general attitude is condescending and even slightly paternalistic. I hate to confess this, of course, but people here are so honest I'd hate myself even more if I didn't. Good restaurants in the great gastronomic capitals of the world rightly pride themselves on their consistency and equality of treatment. Unfortunately, this is not the case in Lisbon. In the Algarve it's even worse. Only the North and the Alentejo escape this awful discrimination entirely. So what is the solution for the one-time visitor, whose presence indicates he'll probably never be seen again? The solution, as Fred discovered, is to plan meals in sequences. Dine at a place and, if it's not as good as you'd expected, go there for lunch the next day. The improvement will be noticeable. But, by going there a third time, guilt will weigh in and pride will raise its head and you'll find you're treated as if you've been going there all your life. We Portuguese are singularly suspicious and insecure but the upside is that we're easily reassured and charmed. The worst strategy is to eat once at every place you think might be interesting. That's an enormous mistake. What you want to do is establish a regularity, a pattern of preference, as if you've clearly "chosen" that restaurant above all the others. Flattery and remembering people's names, as well as pretending (if you have no scruples) that you're now living in Portugal, rather than just visiting, will get you everywhere. If you're an incurable igualitarian (as most Americans notably and admirably are) there's another strategy that works: act helpless and place yourself entirely in the hands of your waiter. Tell him or her: just bring me what "everybody else is having". This places waiters on their honour, which is a very strong thing in Portugal. Pity is a powerful factor here - no one will cheat someone who seems to absolutely depend on their kindness. We natives know it too - nothing is more guaranteed to produce an awful meal than the arrogance of actually opening the menu and choosing. Here it's all about the relationships and the conversation. Act really sad and disillusioned if you don't like something. Be sincere but charming and faithful - that's the ticket. And, above all, behave as if you're trying to establish a life-long relationship. Sending postcards and telephoning before you travel is also guaranteed to impress. Latching on to fellow diners, before they enter, asking them to intercede, is always worthwhile too, if you have the cheek. Embrace the favour-ridden culture, even if it sickens you, and all will be well!

vserna: no oneupmanship was involved, I assure you. I said PSM was "probably" the best in the world, much as Carlsberg beer claims to be "probably the best lager in the world". It's certainly where I've enjoyed the best fish and shellfish I've ever had - and I've been going there ever since it opened, at least once or twice a week. I often stay at the nearby Hotel Fortaleza do Guincho (so much so that they use a wedding photograph of my wife and I to advertise their honeymoon package!), where the restaurant is supervised by Antoine Westerman who once made me the best Alsatianchoucroute I've ever tasted. Here's the website: http://www.guinchotel.pt/english/index.htm. My father was director-general of fisheries of Portugal for a long time and then secetary-general of NAFO, the North Atlantic Fisheries Organization - so it's understandable that fish is my passion. My brothers and sisters and I spent our childhoods eating fish just about everywhere in Portugal and pretty much all over the world, thanks to all the fishing negotiations. The best I've ever had, btw. was a "caldeirada" (fish stew) on board a Sesimbra fishing boat. So please don't think I'm minimizing Spanish cooking - just allow me my opinion that, where fish and shellfish are concerned we and the Galicians do it best. We have the Atlantic coast before us and, after 900 years, surely it's only to be expected that we're a little obsessed with - and thoroughly used to - our daily fish. By best I mean, obviously, my own preference for very fresh, very simply boiled, grilled or fried fish. Let me add a restaurant I'd forgotten to mention which, imo, serves the best grilled fish in Lisbon: it's called Pedro dos Leitões (though there's not a suckling pig in sight) and it's in the out-of-the-way Calhariz de Benfica/Buraca zone. The "garoupa" (grooper) is particularly luscious. Isn't it quite indicative that the two restaurants you named are Galician and Basque - two fishing cultures with much in common with the Portuguese? I shall definitely try them extensively when I'm next in Madrid or on the Basque coast. In Madrid and Seville I always go to La Dorada. Though they've come down a bit (something to do with the owner's complicated love life, the waiters say) I think they're magnificent. Last May I visited Sanlucar de Barrameda and much enjoyed the fresh Manzanilla, langoustines and gambas - but, once again, they're not as good (imo!) as the ones you get here. It has all to do with the quality of the sea water. Even in the Algarve, which has a little Atlantic benefit, the fish and shellfish suffer from the warmer, stiller waters. Their flesh is softer and sweeter. It's in the cold, choppy ocean up North (and in Galicia) that the best shellfish is to be had. P.S. Btw, "queijinhos" are to be had in practically all Portuguese restaurants - they're everywhere. They're not at all like Ricotta or cottage cheese because they're firmer and more consistent and have more flavour. Nowadays they're mostly pasteurized and contain cows' milk (still delicious, though, with sea salt, black pepper and bread and butter) but "under the counter" you can still get the real thing, made from ewes' or goats' milk and unpasteurised. An element of danger is involved (something called "Malta Fever") but I've never heard of anyone actually falling prey to it. I agree that the "arroz de mariscos" in PSM is no good. Even when you splash out for live shellfish to be used in it they always make it too salty and peppery - I think they lack the proper stock. The best place in Guincho is The Faroleiro - that's where everyone goes when they simply must have it. Personally, I abhor it. As I said, I like my shellfish boiled alive, freshly brought in from the ocean (rather than kept in tanks). For me nothing is purer or more delicious than live Atlantic shrimps, "navalheiras" (small crabs, "nécoras" in Spanish), "santolas" (spider crabs), "lavagantes" (lobsters) or "lagosta" (spiny, i.e. clawless lobsters) boiled for a very short time in the very sea water they lived in - with nothing added. No salt, no pepper, no lemon, no mayonnaise, no seasoning at all. It's like eating an orange straight from the tree - the opposite of cooking and, in my opinion, the essence of the Portuguese appreciation of seafood. Apologies for the length, once again! :)

Hiya fresco! The only online guide which is minimally trustworthy (though it's written in Portuguese), because the guy who compiles it is one of our best critics, although often over-generous and (understandably - in fact quite rightly) more favourable to restaurants in the North is José Silva's NetMenu: http://www.netmenu.pt. In Lisbon, the best neighbourhood restaurants for fish are quite expensive (though still cheap by European standards). I love Alcobaça in the Chiado, near the Carmo ruins - it's been serving great fish for over 40 years, is very cheap and is truly a local secret. Another secret is the little place in the Lumiar market - lovely fish every day, perfectly cooked, served in a noisy, no-frills atmosphere - even cheaper than Alcobaça. We're talking around 7 dollars/euros for a full meal, with wine, coffee and brandy. Every neighbourhood will have at least one market-driven restaurant. What you want to look for are very short menus and "pratos do dia" (specials) and arrive really early before they sell out - which means before 1 p.m. Good restaurants, like everywhere, are always full, quite rude and no-nonsense. Otherwise, for the best, freshly caught fish, you really have to splash out. The best fish to be had is not in Lisbon - but in Cascais, Guincho, Setúbal and Sesimbra. In Cascais, the best is Beira-Mar. In Guincho, Porto de Santa Maria is probably the best fish and shellfish restaurant in the world - though expensive - about $75/euros for a full meal. If shellfish is included, reckon on $120/euros. João Padeiro, also in Guincho, has the best fried Dover sole and french fries. O Túnel, in Praia das Maçãs, is probably the best all-rounder and slightly cheaper - but it's a bit of a drive. In Setúbal, all restaurants are excellent - but the best is Bataréu. It's only open for lunch, the owner's father is the fisherman, it's remarkably cheap for the pristine quality of the catch - but you have to arrive at midday if you want a table. In Sesimbra - the capital of red mullets ("salmonetes") Ribamar and Tony are very good. And that's enough secrets for today! :)

I love Spanish food, vserna - even though Spain is so big and varied and I really only know Castilian, Estremadurian, Andalusian, Basque, Galician and Catalonian food. But, hey, come to think of it, isn't that enough? :) But I was actually referring to Porftuguese food from the Alentejo and the Algarve, which is "border food" and heavy on the garlic, oil and "malagueta" - like the food from your Estremadura. Although the jámon ibérico from the region around Badajoz is sublime and second to none in the world (Yum!). Portuguese salted "presunto" - even the acorn-fed "porco preto" from the border town of Barrancos - is decidedly inferior. I have to say, though, I stick by my claim that Portuguese food is Atlantic, fishy, simple, obsessed with boiling, grilling and frying (though I'll concede, reluctantly, that the Andalusians are also masters of frying, specially of those microscopic little fishes (not to mention the absolutely scrumptious "puntillitas"), whereas Spain, Galicia excepted, is really a continental or Mediterranean gastronomic culture. Spanish cooking is more North African/Arab, Mediterranean and continental . Portuguese cooking is mainly Atlantic. This is absolutely true. Our fish and shellfish are much better and we cook them as they should be. Let's not start a war about this! :)

Oops - I forgot the rice mania. In Lisbon, we eat more rice than any other European country and, again, it's generally white rice with no seasoning apart from a boiled onion, removed before serving. "Arroz de manteiga" (rice cooked in butter with the all-important boiled onion) and "arroz de sustância" (rice cooked in stock) are the exception rather than the rule. Most visitors are amazed by the way we will have french fries AND rice with all our meat, fried fish and bean dishes (like the "feijoada"). Other than that, there is "arroz de...." anything you can name. Although "açorda" and "migas" - from the Alentejo originally - are more well-known (white bread soaked and cooked with olive oil, garlic and coriander), the truth is that rice is more ubiquitous and well-loved. Still, our most popular dish (like the French) is "bife com batatas fritas" (steak and frites) or its cheaper, but tastier version - the bitoque, often pork. A fried egg on top of the steak is usually standard. But you also get rice - rice is free here. Since I'm on the subject of visitors, one thing that is often misunderstood is that restaurants only serve vegetables if you ask for them, at a little extra cost. This is because we eat so many vegetables at home (greengrocers and markets are a joy here) but mainly because we eat most of our vegetables in the form of soup (always freshly made, daily, from whatever's in season) without which no meal is complete.

That was a very good report. The restaurants you chose, unlike most of those featured in the usual guides, will have given you an accurate idea of how most of us lisboetas eat. They're the kind of reliable, cheap standbys where we go when we happen to be in the neighborhood. They may be unexciting - but that's also to be commended. Good value and consistency/predictability are highly prized in our gastronomic culture. However, I must point out that Lisbon (though Porto is even better) has several hundred great restaurants (most with 5 unique specialities, one for every weekday). Our overriding passion is not really bacalhau - that's more a Northern thing - though we have it at least once a week. Most visitors, no matter how well informed, miss the fact that Lisbon's real passion is for utterly fresh fish and shellfish. Fish(like our favourite bacalhau, with chickpeas) is served simply boiled in water with boiled potatoes, greens ("grelos", green beans, brocolli and, often, a boiled egg. It's drenched in olive oil and very little vinegar. Boiling is very much the favourite method for the fishes (hake, grooper, "cherne" (a gigantic bream: wreckfish?, "corvina" or red bream). Or simply fried, with a tomato or red or green pepper or coriander rice and a leafy lettuce, onion and tomato salad. Or simply grilled. The key word is "simply" - we don't much go for "cooking" as such. It's all about the shopping and preparation here. Otherwise, it's boiling, grilling and frying - no sauces, no messing about. Shellfish are almost always served simply boiled in seawater or salted water - rarely grilled - with only an occasional (and untypical) addition of mayonnaise or lemon juice. I'd say Lisboan food is mostly very fresh fish boiled, grilled or fried with no additions whatsoever and, when fish is unavailable (as on Mondays) or too expensive or too much of a good thing, fried or grilled pork or steak with lots of french fries. Of course, there are exceptions - like the delicious "iscas com elas" (thin strips of calf or pork liver marinated and fried up with onions and white wine, served with boiled potatoes). Portugal is an Atlantic country, rather than a Mediterranean one. Spanish cooking is nothing like ours. Though parts of the Alentejo have the same taste for spicy, heavily seasoned, garlicky and oily food and the Minho has a few echoes of Galician cuisine, Portuguese food (apart from the sweets and pastries) is really simple, primeval stuff. It's nearest equivalent - I'm not kidding - is Japanese cuisine. Both countries consume more fish than any other and are obsessive about freshness, simplicity and delicate tastes.

This is just to thank the fellow member who was kind enough to point out in a private message to me that Mix's 11:30am to 12:00am bar hours do not mean 30 minutes, as I had thought, but rather 750 minutes. I freely concede this is more than enough for any drinking one might like to do before or after lunch or dinner. :)

I wish Grimes's restaurant reviews were as complete, sincere, balanced and finely expressed as this. It passes the ultimate test: the reader feels he's as-near-as been there. Thanks! As a Portuguese Manhattanophile who was recently shocked to find the 58/58 bar at the Four Seasons Hotel didn't open before lunch (though, give them credit, they did set up specially in the days I was there and served very well-made drinks) the only thing that I considered vaguely (i.e. extremely) upsetting were the pre-lunch bar hours: "Bar: Monday to Friday 11:30am to 12am" But then I suppose half an hour is better than nothing. The question, for us incorrigible Southern Europeans, is who can be ready for lunch before, say ,2:00pm, after one of those fabulous, over-generous New York breakfasts?

Maria de Lourdes Modesto, whom I much enjoy working with, prefers her own "Receitas Escolhidas" to "Cozinha Tradicional". For a highly cultural approach, her "Festas e Comeres do Povo Português", written with Afonso Praça, is invaluable. Alfredo Saramago's series of outsize books, stunningly photographed by Inês Gonçalves - "A Cozinha do Alentejo", "A Cozinha do Minho", etc - are useful but the recipes are jusat the merest of outlines. This is also the fault of Pantagruel - it's really written for accomplished cooks - but it is indeed the "bible" pf Portuguese cooking. My favourite book is the recently republished "Culinária Portuguesa" by António Oliveira Bello, a.k.a "Olleboma."

I forgot to add, though no doubt anyone who has visited Belém will know, that two other delicious pastéis are baked on the very same street: the "pastéis de feijão" (which sound disgusting in translation, "bean tarts", but are dry and marzipan-like, ideal for drinking with a good Port or Setúbal Moscatel) and the "pastéis de laranja" (orange-flavoured bean tarts). Amusingly, these "pastéis" are older than the "nata" ones - we're talking 18th Century here - and so bill themselves as the "verdadeiros pastéis de Belém" (the true Belém pastries). But when you go into their shop (right in front of where the President lives) the employees have this dour, rancorous expression, as they well know that the "pastéis de Belém", i.e. "nata", only forty yards away are a raging success, while theirs are merely a local institution. But they're equally sumptuous - rather like the best Sintra "queijadas". I eagerly await for the world to discover the fascinating world of Portuguese pastries and sweets - the "doces de ovos" still made in convents are probably the most elaborate and sophisticated of all desserts, outshining even the French. Their cathedral is a legendary "pastelaria" called "Zé da Calçada" up in the North, in dreamy Amarante. Oops, sorry for rambling on.

Yes, David - it is. That's what we lisboetas call it - no one has time for the full, official name. A typical Belém afternoon for me is: call in at the Centro Cultural de Belém for an exhibition; amble across to the Casa Do Vinho, a splendid wine shop (with excellent estate-bottled olive oils and home-made chutneys and spreads) on the premises; walk past the Jerónimos monastery to the newspaper kiosk (fully stocked with the foreign press) and then cross the street to the Pastéis, for a couple of pastéis and a "galão com café de máquina duplo", two espressos poured into hot milk. If it's sunny and I'm not feeling too lazy, I'll grab a six-pack (they have the most wonderful take-out packets, as you know) and wander around the beautiful, slightly wild Botanical Gardens, just behind. You obviously chose the right place for your research, that's for sure! May I take this opportunity to warmly thank and congratulate you for your generous website, valiantly sticking up for our culinary traditions and brilliantly passing them on to other cultures? I specially relish the Azorean recipes/memories - although I often go to São Miguel, I'm ashamed to say the first "sopa de couve" I ever tried was yours - straight from the Internet... And it was delicious! Though the reverse translations weren't easy ("swiss kale"?) so I cheated and phoned a friend of mine in Ponta Delgada. :)

Fred: Although there are a lot of recipes online and in the standard cookery books, nobody in Portugal makes pastéis de nata - they're too much work and are never as good as the ones you buy from the <i>pastelarias</i>. I live very near Belém so my wife and I often drop by to pick up a warm six-pack. Not without consuming a hot one on the premises - which annoyingly always taste even better. A bitter truth is that, although thousands of <i>pastelarias</i> make pastéis de nata several times a day - and do their best to get it right, will all the right ingredients and the local savoir-faire, only those of the Casa dos Pastéis de Belém are sublime. So beware of trying to make them yourself, I'd say. ;) Anyway, I was looking around for a recipe in English to tide you over until David reveals all - to no avail, I'm afraid. I did find a website for a Portuguese <i>pastelaria</i> in Canada which I've heard good things about: http://www.pasteis-de-nata.com. Perhaps you can convince them to FedEx a few? They are easily revived, slowly, in a warm oven. Sprinkle with cinnamon powder (as freshly grated as possible) and icing sugar and they're as good as new.

I love the way you write about food but I fear the introduction here and the echo of the Slow Food movement, of which I'm a proud member, may lead some to believe that it takes a long time to cook in the Southern European style. In fact, ie. in practice, it's lazy cooking, rather than time-consuming. Here in Portugal, for instance, the best cooks use pressure cookers to save time and concentrate flavours in a variety of dishes, including all soups. Mediterranean cooking is all about shopping - buying only the freshest and cheapest ingredients (they always coincide, as we buy seasonally) and, most importantly, shopping every single day, early in the morning. I'm Portuguese and our shopping baskets, when we go to the market, are probably the tiniest in Europe. We buy only what's just arrived - spending hours interrogating the stall-holders - and in the strictest, smallest quantities - only what's necessary to make lunch. Great discussion, btw!