Sunday 20 October 2013

Portugal: 48 hours in Lisbon

When I first came to London, work was hectic for about 6 months and going away beyond a train ride to Edinburgh or Brighton on a weekend, was about as mini-break as it got. The concept of these 'quick weekends in Europe' that Facebook told me were what I was meant to be doing while on my 'OE', was completely alien to me. I had other amazing things on, and Edinburgh and Brighton were great anyway, but it was only recently that I first experienced the run to the airport on a Friday evening, to check out of the country for a whirlwind 2 days.
 
A few months ago when the job hunt was looking especially dire, I started to consider the idea of moving on from London earlier than anticipated, and with that came a slight panic that I hadn't done as much travelling as I thought I should have, whatever that should mean. My friend Jacque was keeping her summer holiday til the end of summer and doing a Switzerland/Portugal combo, appealing to a bunch of us to join, and after a fair number of emails this became a girls weekend in Lisbon for 8 at the end of her holiday. I have to credit any organisation and research to others, I did nothing except book into the same flights that the London contingent had already chosen, whacking it on the kiwi credit card as the pound bank balance continued to plummet into the red. To be honest, I was almost anxious to go away for such a tiny stint and feared that if I researched, I would find too many things that might be on an agenda more suited to weeks, not days. This proved to be an excellent move, as I blissfully enjoyed everything everyone else had on their lists, without ever having to make a decision (decision-making not a strong point).
 
I was more than ready to get the he11 off the plane when it landed, having endured a couple next to me who were pushing the boundaries of couple behaviour in a public place. These budget airline short haul planes are not spacious, so without wanting to sound like a prude, it was a bit tight for 3,  with the elbows and squirming happening next to me.
 
Once on the runway, it was cooler than expected, though certainly pleasant and not cold. A bit of Spanish came out when I tried to negotiate the taxi, which was delightfully cheap to get to the apartment. Due to aforementioned lack of research, I can tell you nothing about the area we stayed in. The apartment was huge though, and 8 of us easily fit! What's more it was a steal, at something like £15/night each. Someone had recommended a place for dinner so we got in taxis again and headed there. Delicious real fruit cocktails, croquetas and olives were enjoyed alongside fabulously fresh bread, which reminded me of the delicious traditional bread we ate in ex-colony Mozambique, when I was there in 2006. Salads to follow had to be the healthiest thing we enjoyed the whole weekend, so at least it started off with 5-a-day in mind!
 
On Saturday morning we caught the train to the hill top village of Sintra, about an hour out of the city. Our first stop for coffee and pastries was actually second-breakfast, but some of the girls had made a Portugese friend on the train who had recommended a specific coffee shop. As it turns out, it was his family's gig, but it was cheap and delicious so no complaints there.
Second breakfast
Don't usually favour appley things, but that pastry was delicious
It was pouring with rain, but the hop on-and-off bus driver virtually forced us off at the Pena Palace, convincing 4/8 that it was the most beautiful palace in the whole of Portugal, and we must go there. I also think it was the same place that one of our Portuguese chalet guests from Morzine was a director of, but I didn't see her. If you Google the palace, it looks rather magical, in the rain however, and the mist, we couldn't see much at all.
Wikipedia of the Palace and view

Our actual experience - misty
King Neptune seemed a bit redundant, given that we couldn't see the sea
Looking for the view
The beauty was still evident and the interior of the palace had a really personal non-museum feel to it, which is not really the norm in castles and museums, I wouldn't say. A staff member heard our accents and stopped us to see where we were from. He was thrilled when we told him the news, as he had spent some time in New Zealand and had a lot to say about rally driving in NZ, especially in the 80s and 90s. If it hadn't been for a Scottish colleague I used to work with in NZ (semi-pro driver), I would have thought he was getting his countries wrong, but it was pretty nice to be recognised for something so original!
Getting up close to see that the colours through the mist

Interior courtyard with ferns (aren't they from New Zealand?)

Coat of arms in the ceiling detail


I kept wondering where the kitchen was, and it was worth the wait to finally find it.
Enormous!
The rain continued when we got back down to the town, so in bursts of sunshine we went exploring. We sampled a local specialty of Lisbon called Ginjinha, which is cherry liqueur served as a shot in a dark chocolate cup that you eat when you have sipped. Absolutely delightful and quite devastating to be unable to pop in hand luggage.

The rest of the afternoon was spent back in Lisbon, in a plaza sampling jamon, fresh local cheese, and a 15% pinot. Between four of us, we thought we would put 5euro in each and have a little snack session, but it was all so cheap that we ended up with olives, more cheese, fig jam and wine, to have with our plate of meats and bread.
 
An excellent snack haul in the plaza in Lisbon
One of my favourite things about my experience of Mediterranean countries, is the culture of evenings starting late, the relaxed get-ready, aperitif, dining late, and seeing where the night goes. I think this is probably also influenced by all those years waitressing, where I always wanted to be in the shoes of the folks who had to wait at the bar for an hour, a proposition they didn't always relish at first but which meant dinner would be much more relaxed without the gaze of other hungry onlookers, or the rush for the next course so they could get to the theatre or home to the babysitter. Not to mention on this particular evening in Lisbon, that taking on all those tapas at 5pm meant hunger was miles away.
 
Eventually we wandered back out of the apartment around 10pm to a restaurant that had been recommended by several people, and did not disappoint. Having been lucky enough to do a fair amount of my travelling by living in other places or at least visiting locals, I love being able to experience what the locals are up to - where they eat and drink, rather than getting trapped in tourist spots in front of a clearly unauthentic menu. 'Guilty' was off the main road and not exactly in a dining district. When 8 of us showed up around 10.30pm, without a booking, it was humming. Guilty was full of beautiful people and all the stuff were good looking and happy, music was pumping, and it was clear that what we had read about the restaurant turning into a dance floor while you ate, was highly likely to be true. Initially the waitress/door-gal who greeted us turned us away, however a second glance at the host/waiter man and we were able to sit down after a 5 minute wait at a table on the porch.
I don't really mean to 'review' this place, but it was fun, clearly 'cool', with some very yummy sangria. A loitering man by our table turned out to be a bouncer looking over a neighbouring table, little did we know we were sat next to a pop-star, who Megan later confirmed to be Tony Carreira.
Dinner at Guilty

Leather jacket = Portuguese singer
As promised, a dance floor was cleared and we were informed after dinner that at that point you had to buy pre-pay drinks cards, and could only order bottles of vodka or champagne (not highly unusual in European 'clubs' in my limited experience). We took that as a cue to get out of there and headed to a 'superclub' down by the water, with a friend living there, who Sarah had met at Glastonbury. We happened to have a number of mutual Auckland pals. As I have said before, you can take the kiwis out of NZ, but they don't get far without bumping into each other..
 
Luxe was awesome. Huge and fun and impressive, but totally unpretentious (general Lisbon vibe). We sampled some Amarguinha over ice (maybe a Portuguese version of amaretto, sort of, delicious), among other things, then all of a sudden it was 4am. The evening was well and truly still young however we opted for going home so that we could try and enjoy our only other weekend day. Sunday was spent on struggle street, if I am honest, although Megan's Portuguese colleague had pointed us in the direction of a nearby park with a cute little coffee kiosk that was the perfect distance for a fresh air walk and a caffeine and pastry buffer to start the day. Another local gem, I would probably never leave this leafy haven of a Sunday, if I lived there.
 

 
 
I realise it sounds like we did a lot of eating in Lisbon, and on Sunday, with half the crew having been out of the apartment and off to the airport before the remaining 4 were awake, we had one main objective: tarts. Not much was open but it was a pretty bus ride to the seaside area called Belem, with one important landmark, an enormous patisserie called Pastéis de Belem, home of the custard tart. In London these are not that uncommon, and back in 2010 Lucy and I sampled them in Macau (another ex-colony) and were not at all convinced of their cult status. We should never have bothered outside Belem, where they truly tasted amazing! Not what I would normally go for when feeling very morning-after-the-night-before, they were fresh, delicately crisp, sweet and not too eggy. We all went back for at least seconds.
View from the queue

Sprinkled with a little sachet of cinnamon and icing sugar

Releasing the tarts
For the afternoon, we wandered along the waterfront, admiring the Torre de Belem - a monument tribute to Portugal's former maritime successes and its Golden-Gate-Bridge lookalike.
Limestone tower of Portuguese explorers

I later regretted not standing in this queue for a take-home round of those tarts
After a rather stressful sardine-can tram experience, we whiled away the remainder of the afternoon back in the centre of Lisbon, in the rain.
Cute (creepy?) note in a street in central Lisbon


New tram, old tram
It is a really pretty city and as I said, has the nicest chilled feel to it, yet the people all seemed really cheerful and helpful. Will certainly be going back there! Thanks to the girls for a wonderful time xx

Saturday 19 October 2013

Spain: Castelldefels, Barcelona, Cadaques

This time last week I was drinking San Miguel from a glass in a hotel in Barcelona, while getting ready to go out for dinner with Carine. This week, Tash and I are on the couch in London, watching a quality piece of television, namely 'Hen's Behaving Badly'. Not quite the same.
 
Carine had called from Spain the week before to explain that this would the only weekend free in her busy tv-producing schedule out working near Barcelona, on a Quebec dating/Big Brother reality show being filmed there.
Tuesday: booked annual leave
Wednesday: booked flight
Thursday: re-hola Spain!
 
I have a thing about airport emotions (love them). It was therefore an absolute treat for once to be met at the arrivals by someone I knew, to be able to partake in that classic throw-the-bags-down-excitedly-and-run-for-the-hug thing (as opposed to looking above and beyond all the name plaques trying to locate taxi/bus/train). I can't figure out how to describe the feeling of the air in coastal areas, you don't realise how different the air can feel in places until you change environs, and I am not referring to temperature. Whatever, the Mediterranean physically and emotionally smacks me in the face every time I return, and this was no exception. With the windows down and the amazingly bright moon lighting up the sky, we hootled home in the rented Huyandai to Castelldefels (via the 'big brother' houses of the show Carine works on) for a tasting session of chocolate and red wine before heading to have a drink around the corner with a bunch of workmates.
 
On Friday, I explored Castelldefels in the rain, but quite simply did not care about getting wet, such was the joy of feet in sand, sea spray on face! The Mini Cooper European Kite Surfing tour happened to be on around the block, so lapped that up for a while and eventually caught the bus in to Barcelona for the evening (about 25km north).

Kite surfing on the beach at Castelldefels

Beach-front property in the offseason
In the spirit of spontaneity, we decided to spend the night in the city to bypass taxi negotiations in the small hours, and avoid backtracking on our roadtrip up the coast to Cadaques for the rest of the weekend. Ended up at Sensi Bistro upon a recommendation, and devoured a range of tapas and a delicious bottle of cava. Can't be bothered listing the tapas but the best was absolutely the fillet steak bleu. I was in my multi-lingual element, as we conversed with a waiter from Normandy in French, the blue-eyed one from Seattle (or Alaska?) in English and Spanish and each other in a weird combo of all 3. Without a doubt, the highlight of the whole evening was when blue-eyes brought our coffees over and Carine decided she would smile at him and say thanks through teeth painted artfully with a dark mouthful of chocolate fondant. Absolutely priceless!
 
The funny thing about Barcelona is that down all the winding streets, and in the squares on the way to bars, people stand about selling stubbies of beer and empanadas out of containers to passers by on their way in between A and B.
Token Friday night double-selfie
Dog hanging with the empanada merchants
We hopped on the freeway up to Cadaques, via a much-needed lunch stop in a recommended seaside town called Palafrugell.

Barcelona landmark - must be new, no idea what it is

Nothing bizarre about the soundtrack

Palafrugell on the Costa Brava for lunch

More puppy-stalking
Soggy but somehow heavenly, patatas bravas by the sea
Lunching


Pudding for the road
Cadaques was a delight. We ate, drank, wandered the cobbled, bougainvillea'd streets and I took a silly amount of photos that didn't come out, of street cats.
Cadaques in the last of Saturday's sun
A 'half' serve of meats and Catalan tomato bread on our home-made 'bar crawl'


Awesome presentation of French onion soup
served at the table with a crouton basket filled with cheese and a quail egg
One of the best things I have eaten this year! @ Maitanqui.
Fried green tomatoes with guacamole, feta, pico de gallo, etc
On Sunday we were met with another cloudless day in which to explore the town further in daylight, before heading to Salvador Dali's house for a must-pre-book tour.
Morning coffee
Kitty on a balcony
'Xuxu' - basically the original cronut
A croissant, fried, filled with custard, covered in sugar. YES.
(so good, we might have been back 3 times in the day)

Waiting for our entry time into Dali's house around the corner at Portlligat
If you go to Cadaques, you need to book online to go to Salvador Dali's house as they limit the number of people who can enter at a time. It is well worth it though (about 11euro entry) and had a really personal feel to it. Apparently, in a very romantic gesture, upon his wife Gala's death, he left the house as he couldn't bear to live there anymore. To book click here

Salvador Dali's house in Port Lligat
Inside the second floor, so creative and interesting


Token pic in Dali's garden, taken by a Spanish Johnny Bravo museum security man
Haha - someone else's family being funny by the pool in Dali's garden
For the rest of the day, instead of stopping for a drink at this amazingly located restaurant with guy playing some live music at the top of Cap de Creus, we winded back down the road to the beach and went swimming before heading for the airport.
Beautiful views for the Mediterranean-most point of Spain, Cap de Creus
Mediterranean swim = the best!


Saturday 5 October 2013

Ottolenghi Mania

The word 'mania' is derived from the Greek word meaning 'madness, frenzy'. Surely a fitting description for the popularity of Israeli-born London chef/writer/restaurateur, Yotam Ottolenghi's 'brand' at the moment.

Some very efficient unemployed browsing took place on Regent Street a few months ago, where I spotted two remaining copies of the most recent Ottolenghi book 'Jerusalem', reduced by 50% to a mere £13.90 each. While unemployment meant funds going down without coming back up, a quick consultation of the XE currency app calculated that I could buy both books for less than the price one would cost in New Zealand. It would have been rude not to.


Pretty fabric cover, absorbs spills
For George's return from a stint at home in NZ back in July, we decided 48 hours of plane and transit food would deserve a fresh and delicious welcome-back-to-London dinner. Joan had made a pretty epic Sunday night debut of 4 recipes the previous week, so we set to planning for the mid-week welcome.

The great thing about Ottolenghi recipes is that they basically force you to dive right in and try new ingredients and flavour combos - I think I went to about 4 supermarkets in W6 before I had to call in Canary Wharf backup for fresh fish and harissa paste. Totally worth using as many of the recipe ingredients as suggested, although I reckon you can get away with making some omissions. 
 
Everyone in Hammersmith was having fish for dinner that night
 On our menu for the welcome-home-to-London evening were
  • Pan fried sea bream with harissa and rose (minus the rose) - page 219
  • Na'ama's Fattoush - page 29
  • Roasted sweet potatoes and fresh figs (with the optional goat's cheese) - page 26

Dinner for 3 - fish in the pan, fattoush with tiki salad spoons, sweet potatoes on plate
blurry close up of sweet potatoes
As I was a lady of job hunting leisure (not leisurely/fun after 8+ weeks), I did a load of the prep for Joan to masterfully throw together when she returned from work, but my main contribution was the sweet potatoes, so I will recopy the recipe below.

4 small sweet potatoes (1kg in total)
5 T olive oil
40ml balsamic vinegar
20g caster sugar
12 spring onions, halved lengthways and cut into 4cm segments
1 red chilli thinly sliced
6 fresh ripe figs, 240g total, quartered (thanks Europe/Turkey for making these crazily available a lot of the year..)
150g soft goat cheese
sea salt and pepper

1. Cut the unpeeled sweet potatoes into wedges, mix with 3 tablespoons of the olive oil and lots of salt and pepper. Roast for about 25 minutes at 220c until soft but not mushy. Leave to cool.
2. Make a balsamic reduction by placing the vinegar and sugar in a pan and bringing to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 2-4 minutes until it thickens, although remove from the heat while the balsamic is still runnier than honey.
3. Arrange the potatoes on a serving platter.
4. Fry the spring onions and chilli in the remaining oil for 4-5 minutes then pour over the sweet potatoes. Dot the figs around and drizzle over the balsamic reduction.
5. Serve at room temperature with the goat cheese scattered over the top.

Bon appetit!