The cherry on top

Excellent seafood and divine pastries make Lisbon a gourmet’s dream, writes Neil Geraghty

Tinned sardines have never looked so good. I’m browsing the shelves of Loja das Conservas, a shop in central Lisbon that showcases the best of the Portuguese tinned fish industry. Once a staple of post war European cuisine, the humble tin of sardines has long been relegated to the supermarket bottom shelf but in Portugal it is enjoying a new lease of life. The secret is in the packaging. Many of the older firms have resurrected colourful vintage labels featuring old salts on the high seas, while others have opted for a more contemporary look commissioning artists to draw abstract fish in intricate designs. The results are miniature works of art which have become popular presents amongst locals and tourists alike.

Seafood permeates Lisbon’s culinary traditions and a few doors along from Loja das Conservas an acrid aroma of bacalhau, salted dried cod wafts out of a traditional delicatessen. A popular delicacy dating back centuries, bacalhau tastes a lot better than it smells. In the arcades surrounding Lisbon’s palatial riverside square, the Praça de Commércio I stop for a late lunch at Café Martinho da Arcada, one of Lisbon’s oldest restaurants. The plain white interior decorated with brass chandeliers is typical of Lisbon’s traditional restaurants where the ambience is enlivened by lightening quick friendly waiters and vast portions of delicious, simple cuisine. Within seconds of being seated a waiter scurries up and places a big basket of white bread and a plate of creamy sheep’s cheese on my table, essential accompaniments to any Portuguese meal. Bacalhau is always on the menu in traditional restaurants and for a main course I order the ultimate in Portuguese comfort food, bacalhau a bras. A hearty mixture of shredded potato, caramelised onion, scrambled egg and bacalhau, the balance between the saltiness of the cod and sweet earthiness of the egg and potatoes is exquisite. It’s a meal that fills you up for the rest of the day and later in the evening, having skipped dinner I stop at a ginjinha bar for a night cap.

Ginjinha, a sweet liquor made from soaking morello cherries in cinnamon infused aguardiente is one of Lisbon’s favourite digestifs and tiny stand-up bars were once a common feature on Lisbon’s streets. The few that remain are perennially popular with locals and at A Ginjinha, on Central Lisbon’s beautiful São Dominigos Square I

join a queue of theatre goers from the nearby National Theatre. It’s a chilly winter’s night and the fruity liquor sends cascades of warmth through my body. When I’ve finished, two cherries remain in the glass which I surreptitiously pop into my mouth.

In the morning I stroll down to the riverside to visit Mercado de Ribeira, Lisbon’s premier fresh produce market. Following years of decline, Lisbon’s food markets are enjoying a surge of popularity thanks to the addition of new food courts which are attracting a younger generation of diners. At Manteigaria I stop to watch some hipster chefs roll out wafer thin filo pastry layers to make Lisbon’s world famous pastéis de nata (custard tarts). No matter how well intentioned you might be, fresh pastéis de nata are irresistible and without hesitating I buy a couple, grab a galão (cafe latte) and wander over to the promenade to enjoy the sublime warm winter sunshine sparkling on the Tagus Estuary.

The weather is so good that I hop onto a suburban train to Sintra, the historic summer retreat of the Portuguese nobility. It’s a magical

Clockwise from main: a view of Lisbon cathedral; a plate of pastéis de nata; Mercado de Ribeira

town of fairytale palaces and ornate villas. Fresh pine scented air drifts down from the nearby mountain slopes but is replaced in the centre of town by an intoxicating sweet buttery aroma. The smell emanates from Café Piriquita, a small cafe that specialises in travesseiro da Sintra (Sintra pillows), a cake that is arguably even more moreish than the world famous pastel de nata. I take a seat and a waiter brings one over. Served warm, the travesseiro resembles a sugar coated sausage roll and as I bite into it flakes of filo pastry cascade down onto the table top and a warm almond paste oozes out of the centre. When I leave the cafe a horse and carriage pass by and when the horse gets wind of the sweet aroma he turns his head to sniff the air, a sure sign of a darned good cake. ■

The fruity liquor sends cascades of warmth through my body