Sometimes these blog posts don’t work out as planned. I had planned, for example, to do a post on string hoppers, the rice noodle “nests” popular in Sri Lanka for breakfast and dinner. Problem is, I wanted to buck tradition, or conditioning, or whatever you want to call it, and have string hoppers for lunch. Not such a big deal, you might think, but try finding string hoppers at lunch time in Colombo. My cousin Cane and I set off for Bambalapitiya with high hopes, but kade after kade, we struck out. In a land where rice reigns supreme, and lunch is the main meal, it seems as though it’s a serious breach of dining etiquette here to expect string hoppers for lunch.
string hoppers with fish ambul thiyal, kiri hodhi, pol sambol, and onion sambol
So we ducked inside Hotel De New Pilawoos, a member of Colombo’s popular Pilawoos franchise (but neither a hotel or French or new), and settled instead for some biriyani. Sri Lankan biriyani is slightly different to what you’ve come to expect from this dish. For one, there’s no yogurt involved. The meat and rice are also cooked separately–and in this case the chicken is actually roasted while short-grain samba rice replaces the traditional long-grain, fragrant basmathi. You also get a whole hard-boiled egg, a side of minchi (mint) sambol, gravy for the chicken, and a piece of pineapple for good measure. We supplemented our biriyani with a side of beef curry because it looked so good!
the main event
with a side of gravy
and, of course, some beef curry
I must say that even though I did not get my string hoppers for lunch, I was not mad at this meal. The rice was bursting with flavors, prominent among them the essence of rose, which Muslims love to use in their cooking (and biriyani, of course, originally being a Moghul dish). The roasted chicken, though juicy, was much aided by the addition of the curry gravy. The minchi sambol added a cooling component to the whole meal (as did the sliver of pineapple), and the beef curry, though a little tough, tasted fine.
Of course, I couldn’t wash down a Muslim meal without a traditional Muslim dessert, so we chose to have some faluda. Faluda is a sweetened drink made with milk, ice cream and rose syrup, which is super sweet, and gives the drink it’s signature pinkish hue. There are also sometimes bits of tapioca floating in the drink for texture. You essentially stir up the whole thing and enjoy it like a milk shake. I hadn’t had faluda in a while, and this one was perfect because it was not overly sweet for my tastes. Though I had been to Pilawoos many times before, I can understand why it is the goto place for such foods as biriyani or Kothu roti in the evening–consistency is the key!
Mmmmmm!!...Faluda
Hotel De Pilawoos
417, Galle Road, Colombo 3. (btw 6th Ln & Alfred Pl), Colombo, Sri Lanka
Colombo has no shortage of Chinese restaurants, most of which serve food with its own particular character, shaped, of course, by local tastes (meaning, it’s much spicier than the run of the mill storefront Chinese in New York or any western city for that matter). It’s also probably nothing like the ‘authentic’ Chinese food you get in China. That’s why Juchunyuan is such a find: It’s a Chinese restaurant in the heart of Colombo that obviously caters to a largely Chinese clientele looking for a true taste of home.
You could call this well-worn establishment a hole-in-the-wall because it’s off the eaten path, but a clean one at that exuding an odd charm. Though not heavy on ambience, the downstairs dining room, with its 4 semi-private booths, is at least spotless and cooled by AC. While upstairs offers additional seating, both times I have been there it was empty (which might have something to do with the waitresses not wanting to carry the large chafing dishes of hot soup up the stairs).
the upstairs dining room
Besides the paucity of décor, the first thing you notice upon sitting down is the gas burner built right into the center of your table, definitely an omen of good things to come. Also of interest is the single-page, double-sided menu that flashes Chinese characters at you (another good sign), but fret not as closer examination reveals tiny English subtitles written beneath. And anyway, didn’t you always want to know how to write “pig’s heart” or “sheep’s stomach” in Mandarin?
Once again, don’t be intimidated by the menu, because at least one of the waitresses speaks passable English and she will help you out with ordering.
“So how do we do this?” I shamelessly blurted. I might be a gastronaut, but never professed to being a know-it-all.
Our helpful waitress, Lena, directed our attention to the other side of the menu, which lists the different kinds of soup available. They’ve got fish, chicken, “pig bone” and even duck with beer among the offerings. You can order it spicy or not. We settled on the “three sort sea food with short rib soup,” extra spicy, of course.
Soup's On!
Soup is not only the starter here, but the star, as well as the medium in which you will cook your meal. That’s right; if you thought the chef was going to do all the work, guess again. This is, after all, not just any restaurant, but a “Resraurant” as the sign proclaims.
Sign by Scooby Doo
The flip side of the menu features a dizzying array of ingredients. In addition to the afore-mentioned offal, they also have more normal stuff like prawns, cuttlefish, beef, mutton, and vegetables such as mushrooms, kelp, cabbage and kan kun.
“What’s good, today?” I asked Lena. She recommended the prawn wonton.
“We’ll have an order of those.”
I also got up to peek at the table next door, filled with a group of Japanese men happily swilling cold beers with their hot soup, and decided on getting some prawns, white cabbage, kan kun, and noodles.
“That should be enough for now.” I said, thinking about the “three sort seafood and short rib” that came with the soup.
Lena disappeared and reemerged with our utensils, an array of tools fit for us budding soup chefs, which included a tiny soup bowl and porcelain soup spoon, two metal serving spoons, one with holes; a fork; and a set of chopsticks. She flitted back and forth behind the scenes, returning with a delectable assortment of condiments—fresh chopped garlic and cilantro, peanut sauce, soy sauce, and a thick chili oil.
condiments and raw ingredients for the soup
“Wow! This is getting more interesting by the minute,” I said to my cousin Cane, who had turned me onto this place, though he had only eaten some fried rice on his initial visit. Cane was visibly excited because like most Sri Lankans, this was an entirely new dining experience for him.
Lena appeared next with a large stainless steel bowl of soup, whose broth was practically bright red from the preponderance of chilies. It’s good to see that extra spicy meant exactly that. She rested it on the gas burner in the center of the table, and turned on the flame. Then the stuff we ordered started appearing on the table in quick succession, raw, of course. Our mouths sufficiently watering by now, we wasted no time, sliding a couple jumbo prawns (with head and tail intact) into the mix along with whole leaves of white cabbage, some freshly made prawn wontons, and kan kun (stems and all).
Cousin Cane ready to get into some soup
While this stuff quickly cooked in the bubbling cauldron, it was time to assemble our bowls of soup. First in went the pre-cooked rice noodles, over which I ladled several spoonfuls of the spicy broth. Next I added a bit of all of the condiments, and finally some of the now cooked vegetables, wontons and a rosy red prawn. I gave it a little stir and sipped a spoonful of the broth.
“Wow! Flavor” I said as both mine and Cane’s eyes seemed to light up at the same time.
YUM!!!
The broth alone was something worth writing home about with its three kinds of seafood and pork ribs. We found out after the meal that the seafood in question was actually dried squid, oysters, and mussels, which had been imported from China, according to Lena. As far as I knew, you couldn’t get this kind of stuff in Colombo.
The "three sort seafood" flavoring the broth -- dried oysters, squid, and mussels
More raw ingredients went into the broth and fished out cooked into our bowls. After much slurping and chewing it seemed like we actually made a small dent in the huge chafing dish of soup. But this was clearly a meal fit for a minimum of four people.
So we went away happy and satisfied with our taste buds thoroughly titillated, and resolved to bring the rest of Cane’s family to help us conquer the next bowl of soup (and next time we did go for the pig’s heart and cow’s stomach). Juchunyuan proved itself a marvelous and surprising find in the middle of Colombo, and if you ever find yourself with curry-fatigue, it’s got just the tonic for you.
One of the new Sri Lankan food trucks selling lunch packets
Lunch being the main meal in Lanka, I noticed that there’s a ton of places to get a quick, midday rice and curry—from street side stands and trucks that sell 100 rupee rice packets to the informal, sit-down restaurants that cater to the office crowd. While most rice packets are perfectly fine, they have usually been sitting around since morning and because they are already boxed, you really don’t know what you’re getting until you open it up. That’s why I prefer to go to a place like Gamay Kade. Though you pay a little more (240 for the basic rice and curry meal with 4 vegetables and a meat dish), you get a load of different dishes to choose from, all piping hot and fresh in the traditional clay chattys in which they were cooked. This is Sri Lanka’s version of fast food, served in a clean setting, under spinning ceiling fans, and on real plates.
My plate at Gamay Kade: fish, prawns, dahl, mallun, beets & mango curry
I checked out the Gamay Kade (which roughly translates to ‘village diner’) on Union Street in Colombo with my friend Arjuna, a Sri Lankan filmmaker, and went away quite satisfied. Not only were there about 15 different curries from which to choose, but they also served Chinese food, buriyani, and Malay specialties such as Nasi Goreng. After taking a peek at the sumptuous offerings before us, we told the cashier what we wanted, paid, and got a ticket, which we presented at the buffet line. Here, a lady served up a heaping mound of rice (red rice for me), as well as red fish curry, prawn curry, dahl with spinach, beetroot curry, mango curry, and mallun (sautéed greens). Arjuna got some jackfruit curry instead of the beets, and we also got a side order of fried fish. After washing up at the washing station, we dug in with our hands (the traditional way of eating rice and curry) thoroughly enjoying the feast before us. The total food bill—a whopping 680 rupees (US $6.18 or $3.09 per person). It tasted as good as home made, and we did not go away hungry.
Although I did a much earlier post about the “Battle of Lampreis” in Sri Lanka, I realized today after lunch that there really is no competition: The lampreis at The Dutch Burgher Union is hands down THE BEST and only lampreis worth eating. For all you novices out there, here’s a little refresher course: Lampreis is a complete rice & curry meal wrapped and steamed in a banana leaf. Authentic, traditional lampreis is comprised of the following individual dishes–samba rice cooked in marrow bone stock; tempered brinjal (eggplant) curry; a fish cutlet or frikadel; a mixed meat curry of pork, beef, and mutton; seeni sambol; fried ash plantain curry, and blachan (a tasty condiment paste made of dried prawns, onions, lime, salt and spices).
Though she appeared a little creepy on the No Reservations: Sri Lanka episode, a little Burgher lady by the name of Lorraine Bartholomewsz, is still the one who makes the lampreis sold at DBU, and she certainly gets massive kudos for her cooking. The delicate samba rice was perfectly cooked and amazingly flavorful due to the rich stock it was cooked in, yet not greasy at all. The tempered eggplant was melt-in-your mouth delicious, while the fried ash plantain had body to it and was not mushy in the least. The mixed meat curry featured tiny cubes of pork fat to enhance its taste, and both the seeni sambol and blachan were bursting with flavor. Instead of only one cutlet or frikadel, there were two. The fact that each individual dish would have been amazing on its own explains why this little package of rice and curry was the equivalent of a multiple foodgasm. If the lunch crowd in Manhattan could get a hold of this, FUHGETABOUT IT!
So, thanks, Lorraine, for your skills, and thanks to the DBU for making this available to the general public. I would recommend calling ahead and reserving yours in the morning as the lampreis becomes available at 11 am and is usually sold out by noon. While normal rice packets sell for about 120 rupees, the DBU lampreis is certainly no steal at 390 rupees, but certainly worth every finger-licking mouthful. Enter around the back of the DBU where there is a little counter where you can pick up your order, and they even steam it for you, so it’s ready to eat!
Dutch Burgher Union of Ceylon
114, Reid Avenue
Colombo 4
Sri Lanka
According to my Aunty Dora, who’s old enough to know, the legendary Colombo eatery, Green Cabin (453, Galle Road, Colombo 3 — Phone: 588811 or 591841), and its sister restaurant The Pagoda Tea Room (105 Chatham St., Fort, Colombo 1 –011 232 5252)have been feeding hungry Colombo residents for a long time. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, I saw a sign saying that the Cabin is celebrating 127 years, which means it was founded in 1884, making it arguably one of the cities oldest dining establishments.
the dining room, which overlooks a nice garden
the bakery and take-away section
I, for one, remember coming here as a mere tot for short eats, cake, and their famous chocolate eclairs. Later on, when I was old enough to appreciate iced-coffee, this was the place of choice. It was only rather recently that I ate a full rice and curry mal in their garden, a small oasis of calm in bustling Bambalapitya. I also used to come here for lampreis for lunch, though I think the quality of their lampreis is slipping. But whatever you say about Green Cabin, they are an original, and while plenty of new chains have cropped up to provide competition—including The Fab and Caravan Fresh—I still prefer the short eats and iced coffee at Green Cabin (with Perara & Sons as a close second). Not only do they have such a wide selection, but according to my cousin they are all made fresh in house. The same Rodrigo family also runs both spots as they always have, according to my aunt. In this age of big chains, you’ve just got to love a mom & pop shop where you can still get good food and good service as well as a little piece of history to boot. I managed to get a shot of most of the savory short eats on sale that day, but the stock changes daily. Also, they had a lot more whole cakes and sweet items, but unfortunately, no eclairs!
While Sri Lankan food is known for its heat, the regional cuisine of northern Jaffna is reputed to be even more fiery. Last time I visited the island, I had the good fortune of going to Jaffna to see for myself as I went in search of the real deal Jaffna cuisine (http://bit.ly/vsYV4X). But alas, many locals told me that to get real Jaffna food I would have to go to Colombo, to the predominantly Tamil enclave of Wellawatte. So when my nephew mentioned that he wanted to check out a new place called Yaal (the Tamil name for Jaffna), he didn’t have to say it twice. We hopped in the van and driving down Marine Drive overlooking the beautiful Indian Ocean, we soon found it.
Located at 56 Vaverset Place, Yaal is a very clean, spare establishment that distinguishes itself from the typical dark, dingy kades in the area. The menu, too, is extensive, but we soon discovered that many offerings such as pittu and idiyappam (the popular string hoppers), are only available for dinner, and crabs, a personal favorite, including the spicy seafood soup known as odiyal cool, is only available on Sundays. Still there was enough going on the keep our interest piqued, and we settled on a typical Jaffna lunch of chicken pooriyal, prawn curry, kanawa (cuttlefish or squid) curry, mutton curry and egg fried rice. Of course, we had to get a couple orders of rasam, the spicy soup one drinks before the meal as a digestive. With flecks of red pepper, and chock full of spices, it was definitely the hottest thing we ordered.
rasam, a pre-meal digestive soup
prawn curry
kanawa (squid) curry
mutton curry
The prawns, which came shell-on, were crunchy on the outside and tender inside–perfectly cooked, as many times Sri Lankans tend to overcook their prawns. I, of course, downed them shell and all for that added textural counterpoint. The
a side of gravy
mutton, too, in a rich spicy gravy, was moist and meaty–not bony, gristly or gamey as you are often apt to get with mutton. But my favorite dish had to be the cuttlefish–spicy, tangy, and perfectly cooked. On the strength of these dishes I was able to overlook the not-s0-decent chicken pooriyal. I had expected a dry-fried chicken dish as I had eaten before on occasion, but what we got was one whole chicken leg that was deep-fried into oblivion. The egg-fried rice was very flavorful as well, and as an added bonus, we each received a cup of gravy to pour over the rice. The heat factor was good as well. I could tell because my nephew was sweating. But I have come to realize that no one can really make food as hot as I like except me!
the meal: served, of course, on a banana leaf
As I have eaten enough Jaffna food by now to know–this is the real deal–and it’s really delicious as well. I’ll have to stop by on a Sunday to try to the odiyal cool and some crab curry. And, of course, being a sweet tooth, I had to try dessert: one of my Indian favorites, gulab jamun, which are dough balls soaked in a sweet, rose-essence syrup. What a perfect capper to a great lunch!
ped muan, roasted duck, fresh herbs & vegetables wrapped in rice paper with Sriracha sauce
In case you didn’t know, ASEAN stands for the “Association of South East Asian Nations,” and true to its name, Cafe ASEAN in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, a restaurant I literally stumbled upon, is a place where you can savor dishes from Malaysian, Singapore, Indonesia, Thailand, Vietnam–all under one cozy roof. But unlike the popular “hawker centers” in Singapore, whose food ASEAN loosely seeks to replicate, the scene here is a little more rustic, and more in line with New York prices, though definitely reasonable. ASEAN and it’s owner Simpson Wong got a good mention in a food memoir I’m currently reading called, A Tiger In The Kitchen, by Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan, a Singaporean-Chinese expat, so I invited my brother and his wife along to give it a try.
With so many interesting things on the menu, but a finite appetite, we started out with a couple of appetizers: Sotong, salt & pepper calamari with a spicy mango salsa, and ped muan, which is a fresh Vietnamese-style summer roll of roasted duck, lettuce leaves, mint, and cucumber stuffed into a rice paper roll. My brother, expecting grilled instead of battered, fried calamari, was a little disappointed, but I thought the duck in the ped muan was perfectly cooked and the freshness of the roll itself was like biting into a tubular salad. Of course, the dipping sauce of roasted garlic and chili sauce, similar to Sriracha, added the perfect kick.
Sotong, salt & pepper calamari with spicy mango salsa
For our main courses, my brother had the Kari kapitan, a Malaysian coconut curry chicken with potatoes; my sister-in-law, a vegetarian, had the Sayur campur, another coconut-milk based curry; and I had the Ayam pangang, grilled Balinese spiced chicken with steamed eggplant and Chinese spinach.
kari kapitan, Malaysian coconut curry chicken with potatoes
sayur campur, vegetables & tofu in a cocont curry
ayam pangang, grilled Balinese spiced chicken
Both coconut-milk based curries were too sweet with not enough of a balance of heat for our liking (my brother and I grew up on seriously spicy food, and to this day we can down chilies like candy). His Kari Kapitan verged on being bland even, with a predominant taste of coconut milk, and not much else going on. My Balinese chicken, on the other hand, while not spicy, had been marinated in lemon grass and then grilled to a nice char giving it a great smoky flavor. It was still juicy as well, and I ditched the fork and knife to enjoy every last bit of it.
coconut flan with mango
With not much going on for dessert besides a sweet sticky rice or a coconut flan, I went for the latter, which was served with slices of slightly under-ripe mango. The flan itself tasted fine, but I could not really detect the coconut. We have a version of coconut flan in Sri Lanka called wattalapam, and I have not found any other Asian nation to match a dessert like this since we use a highly concentrated palm sugar called ‘jaggery’ to make it (along with, of course, loads of fresh coconut milk).
My brother gave ASEAN the thumbs down, but I’m willing to give it another try since their menu is so diverse and not limited to one Asian cuisine. Apparently, Simpson Wong also owns another place simply called Wong, which might be worth a try as well.
The view inside Yod Abyssina, one of Addis Ababa's 'cultural' restaurants
Having been to Ethiopia several times now, while working on a documentary, I’ve had a chance to see a bit of the country as well as sample a lot of its food, which has led me to to the following conclusions:
1.) Ethiopian food is as unique as its culture and history. No other country in Africa (or the world, for that matter) has the same style of eating as the Ethiopians, who enjoy the spongy, sour-dough injera bread (made of teff, a gluten-free grass) with practically every meal. They use a myriad of spices as well, including chilies, which gives their food a lot of flavor and a bit of a bite.
injera
A typical Ethiopian communal plate with various dishes
2.) Ethiopian’s do not really eat dessert: A fact I discovered when staying at several small hotels outside the capital of Addis Ababa.
3.) As the birthplace of the coffee bean (from the southwestern province of Kaffa), Ethiopia produces some of the best joe in the world. But everytime they enjoy a cup, they like to roast the the raw greenish beans before grinding them and brewing them—a time-consuming process that would leave those looking for a quick caffeine fix grinding their teeth in anticipation. Also, everyone in Ethiopia loves macchiato, expresso with a touch of milk.
coffee beans on the tree in Bahir Dar, Ethiopia
the traditional coffee ceremony set up
4.) Finally, when I first I heard the term ‘cultural restaurant’ I was thinking along the lines of ‘Medieval Times,’ but the cultural restaurants (in Addis, at least) seem to be the place to go for top local dining. Not only is the food excellent, but so is the entertainment, which involves a revolving cast of Ethiopian singers and dancers. Tourist flock to these places, but then again, so do the locals. I ate at such establishments as Yod Abyssinia, Habesha, Fasika, Shangri-La and Dashen, which all provide the traditional dining experience, but the food and atmosphere at Yod had me coming back for more.
You can have a serious carnivore experience here, or opt for the all-vegan ‘fasting food’ which is equally delicious while grooving to the sounds of traditional Ethiopian song and dance. This was also the only place in town where I was brave enough to try the tere sega or raw meat. We had raw goat meat, which turned out to really have no taste (gamey or otherwise), which was why you had to dip it into one of several spice mixtures—either awazi, a wet, chili mix; mitmita, a dry chili mix; or mustard.
tere sega or raw goat meat at Yod
And the condiments (clockwise L to R): awazi, salt, mitmita, mustard
While Manhattan’s eastside has long held the hegemony on South Asian Cuisine–with clusters of restaurants around Murray Hill and further south in the Village’s well-known East 6th Street–I stumbled across a lone outpost of Sri Lankan food all the way on West 28th Street (between 7th & 8th Aves.) The Banana Leaf comes as a welcome surprise off the beaten path. One peek through the glass storefront at the sumptutous feast laid out before you (otherwise known as the daily buffet) and you’re quickly in the door. Don’t expect anything fancy inside–just clean, intimate and comfortable, if not cool and slightly dark as well.
Today’s buffet consists of two kinds of rice, yellow and white; chicken curry; pappadom; carrot curry; mallung; dahl; radish curry; fish mustard curry, and an excellent and very authentic touch–some quick fried, dried red chilies. The Chinese use these as well to add a crunchy, smoky, spicy finishing touch to stir frys. But I can eat ‘em like French fries–especially since the Sri Lankan kind are slightly salty.
lunch: string hoppers with black pork curry, shrimp curry, dahl, sambol, and lunu miris, and coconut sambol
I decide to order off the menu, since I’m in the mood for string hoppers. Made from rice flour pressed into thin noodles and steamed, Iddiyappam or string hoppers originated in South India, but have become a Sri Lankan institution by now. Usually eaten with a coconut milk gravy called kiri hodi ( pronounced KI-ri Ho-thee) and some meat or fish curry, this food has got to be eaten with your hands so you can mash up all the elements together and fashion a little ball of deliciousness to pop in your mouth. I ate my strings with a shrimp curry, bathing in kiri hodi and fairly mild, and a black pork curry, a specialty in the south of Sri Lanka, flavored with the slightly tart taste of goraka (gamboge), a sour fruit that provides the acidity in some Sri Lankan dishes. All of it was well-spiced, and with that authentic Sri Lankan flavor that makes you feel like you’re eating at someone’s home. Sri Lankan food, after all, is folk (as opposed to haute) cuisine and owner Raj Perera and his wife handle all the cooking duties, making different dishes for the buffet everyday. But if you order from the menu, you have the full range of Sri Lankan specialties. From rice & curry to hoppers, pittu, string hoppers, and lampreis, a special dish in which an entire meal is wrapped in a banana leaf and steamed, there is plenty to please any pallete.
for dessert: wattalapam, a flan made with coconut milk and palm sugar or jaggery
And for dessert, I had to try their wattalapam. Simiar to flan or creme caramel, wattalapam is made with eggs and coconut milk; sweetened with palm sugar (called jaggery in Sri Lanka); and spiced up with nutmeg, cardamom, and cloves to create a very rich and satisfying sweet counterpoint to the substantial meal I just downed. The soft, pudding-like texture was perfect and the flavor of the burnt jaggery predominant. I knew I had eaten a very fresh one since it was still a little warm in the center. My only gripe is that it had none of the caramel syrup for which this dessert if usually known. Still good, though, as was the entire meal, and I would definitely eat at Banana Leaf again.
And, Good News! They also deliver.
the front side of the take out menu. Check their website for the whole menu.
I have more than a casual interest in Portugal. First of all my name, Fernando, as common a surname in Sri Lanka as Smith is in America, is a legacy of the colonial era when the Portuguese became the first Europeans to set foot on the island back in the 16th century (1505-1658 to be exact). Secondly, as a sea-faring nation, Portugal is renowned for its seafood, to which I am especially partial. Last but not least, I was enchanted by the city after spending a day there while on tour, so when a friend invited me to explore Lisbon, which I knew next to nothing about, I jumped at the opportunity.
An architecturally beautiful capital full of winding cobblestone streets, red-tile rooftops, picturesque parks and squares, and amazing vistas, afforded from the many hills, Lisbon encourages you to walk. Of course, all that walking makes you hungry, and I was equally eager to discover what the food scene offered here. Even though the Portuguese are responsible for bringing the chili pepper from South America to Asia, their own food is a study in simplicity, using fresh ingredients and basic preparations to create clean, hearty meals. But after three weeks in Sri Lanka scarfing up every kind of hot curry I could shove down my gullet, the food I found in Lisbon was just the tonic.
The typical Portuguese eatery displays their menu out front in a refrigerated window box. If you see something you like, you can go in and order it. Nine times out of ten, you are going to be eyeing some of the most amazing seafood—I’m talking gigantic crabs, langostinas, shrimp, lobster, fish, and all manner of mollusks. Sausages and meats are hanging there, too, but they take a backseat to the fruits of the sea.
Of course you’ve heard of bacalão, the salted codfish that sustained early Portuguese explorers like Vasco de Gama on their worldwide conquests, but sardines are just as popular in Portugal. We’re not talking about the tiny headless ones that come drenched in oil or mustard in those little flat tins either. The fresh sardines they serve at Zapata, a tiny eatery in medieval Bairro Alto are about 7-8 inches long, grilled with a little salt, and they go down beautifully with a salad, some potatoes, and a nice bottle of vinho verde (green wine), the slightly sparkling, local libation of choice. We also had a popular peasant dish of seafood mixed with stale bread and laced with fresh cilantro called açorda, which tastes much better than it sounds.
acorda -- like stuffing with bread, seafood, and cilantro
vinho verde, of course
Of course, later on, I OD’ed on sardines at the Festas de Lisboa, a weekend celebrating Santo Antonio, their patron saint (and the saint of love and marriage), which is a huge street party in mid June. The smell of sardines, sausages, kebabs, and fatback bacon fills the air, from grills at every street corner, but the sardines are by far the most popular, simply served on a slice of bread.
Yes, that is bacon on the grill
Festas de Lisboa, an all night street party like Mardi Gras or Carnaval
Lunch in Lisbon can be a sit down affair or you can go to one of the many stand-up counters and order whatever is on display. Usually sweet and savory empadas or pastels–stuffed pastries, which I also found in Brasil—fill the glass counters. Sri Lanka is also big on these little pastries, which we call “short-eats.” Now I see where they come from. My favorite of these stand-up lunch counters lies in the center of the city (I forget the name now!) where they served these amazing pork sandwiches called Lombinho, balacão, done several ways; and also a hearty soup with cabbage and beans. All this and a beer were only 4 euros to boot!
window shopping
Lombinho, a nice, juicy pork sandwich
Bolinho de Bacalao
soup du jour with kale, cabbage and white beans
While the Spanish have tapas, little bar snacks to be eaten with a drink, a Portuguese pub fave seems to be snails or caracóis, which I saw at more than a few bars. These small snails are cooked in their shells in a broth laced with olive oil and garlic, and arrive at your table in a bowl like cocktail peanuts. You can either suck them out or use a toothpick. The perfect match for a cold beer! (Just try not to look to closely at their little heads with the antennae sticking out).
As far as desserts go, it’s obvious from walking by any bakery or pastelaria that the Portuguese love their sweets and cakes. Of course, I had to try bolo de coco, basically a coconut macaroon, which we also have in Sri Lanka. I also tried a variety of other flour-based treats which went well with a coffee, and whose names I now forget. But there is one in particular that stuck in my mind because: 1) I’ve never had anything quite like it and 2) I had the forethought to take a picture before ravaging these goodies. I’m talking about Pasteis de Belem, basically baked egg custard in a little flaky pie shell, which have been made by a little bakery outside of Lisbon for several hundred years. While found all over town, they are done best at this particular bakery. Though the line stretching down the block on a Sunday confirmed that this is a spot well-known to tourists, I’ll give you a little tip: bypass the line and go inside, get yourself a table, and enjoy these things the civilzed way. The line is only for take-out orders.
Mmmm, baked egg custard in a flaky pastry shell
Another dessert that I discovered in Lisbon is actually an import. I’m not sure where Carte D’Or Ice cream comes from (the carton said Spain, but I’m sure this is a multi-national), but if you ever come across the chili pepper chocolate ice cream, you must try it. Imagine a frosty spoonful of dark chocolate richness that gives way to a creeping chili burn when it melts in your mouth. Icy Hot! Chop up a few almonds for texture and you’re in business.
I generally try to stick to the local food of a country—especially when it is my first time visiting—but when in Portugal’s capital I had to, of course, try some food from the former colonies of Angola as well as Goa (on the west coast of India).
The Angolan food was prepared by a friend at her home (lucky me!). The first dish was a fish stew laced with okra and dende (palm) oil. It was eaten with fufu, which is basically manioc flour and water whipped to a cream of wheat consistency; and feijão, which are beans. Utterly delicious but also a real gut buster due to the rich dende oil and manioc, which seemed to expand in my stomach, the meal put me in a pleasant food coma.
fufu
my coma-inducing lunch
We ate Goan food at a remarkable restaurant called Tentações de Goa, located in a back alley in Lisbon. I would have never found it on my own—that’s why it pays to have friends in other countries. While I was expecting something close to Sri Lankan food, Goan food has a flavor all its own, influenced equally by the regions local ingredients (coconuts and seafood) as well as the Portuguese. Pork vindaloo, a regional specialty, for example, originated when the Portuguese introduced a way of cooking with wine (vin) and garlic (alho or ‘aloo’). We tried that as well as the Prawn masala, a mixed vegetable dish and lamb curry—all of which were amazing. Though not spicy enough for me, it was a treat to try food from a region in India from which I’ve never eaten before, and I would glady eat Goan any day.
prawn masala
pork vindaloo
mixed bhaji (a vegetarian dish)
lamb curry
and for dessert...mango ice cream
To wash it all down, since I’m not a fan of Port, Portugal’s most popular export, I had to try the cherry brandy, called Ginjinha. I actually didn’t like the first glass, which reminded me of cough syrup, but after several more I think it was the liquor soaked cherries that eventually won me over.
my last supper in Lisbon
...and polvo (octopus) salad
Tentacoes de Goa
Rua Sao Pedro Martir 23
Lisboa
(351) 218 875 824
(351) 914 814 043
(reservations recommended)
Special thanks to Ana for showing me a great time in her town.
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Paneer
