Sorry for the blogging delay. Ever since last weekend, I have been struggling to get back on a normal sleep cycle. The Super Bowl and middle of the night Duke-Carolina game (and ensuing depression) have thwarted this endeavor. But now I can more or less piece together a sentence, so here it goes!
I have decided to list the lessons I have learned from this past weekend in Portugal, similar to those essays you would write in elementary school after your summer vacation. Let's get started with number one:
1. There is a reason why there is not a Portuguese restaurant on every corner.
Saturday night, we decided to splurge on a nice dinner for an authentic Portuguese meal at the oldest Fado restaurant in Lisbon. At lunch, we tried the secret little bistro around the corner, at the recommendation of our hotel manager. However, it was pretty generic food that you could get at any brasserie on the continent. (Except for the lamb's cheese, which was bangin'.) But we wanted a more legit experience for dinner. We all got gussied up, and headed to our 8:15 reservations (the earliest I could acquire, as Portugal tends to follow a similar eating pattern to that of Spain and its afternoon siesta). There we selected the set menu, which was supposed to be the traditional Portuguese dishes.
Flash forward to what happened. The main course was "cozido," essentially every meat on the planet thrown onto a plate. Octopus, blood sausage, pork (I think?), chicken, and many more unidentifiable objects, with a vinegar-based (?) sauce to sprinkle on top. There we were, barely able to see our plates (our dimly lit candle did not help), routing around and trying to determine what animals we were chewing. And guessing whether it came from the sea or the land.
A valiant effort.
It become somewhat of a joke, and suddenly we were twelve and daring each other to bravely take your fork and eat whatever it came up with. I would like to think that I am a relatively brave eater, but when you are not expecting a tentacle, sometimes your gag reflexes just kick in!
Dessert was better, being plum jelly (ie, cinnamon-flavored jello jigglers) and a puff pastry of "Sericaia" (ie, sub-par tiramisu made with pancake-like pastries). Honestly, I think I would have been much happier with the simple chocolate cake, had I not been so determined to eat and enjoy authentic Portuguese cuisine. But after all, I didn't go halfway around the world to eat McDonald's.
The Portuguese diners around us seemed to be enjoying their food, and I know I should not base all of my conclusions on one meal. But it was a pretty horrible dining experience. The upside was that the port was spectacular, and the starters were not bad (as seen below). But I now know why I have never been to a Portuguese restaurant, though there are Italian and French ones in nearly every city.
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