Chef Dispatches: Portugal

Ramiro’s the place for killer shellfish: They source the best, then treat them simply. For the ultimate delicacy of percebes (gooseneck barnacles), they buy from divers who go dangerously deep to pluck the juiciest ones. Back in the kitchen, they steam them with seawater to retain their briny flavor. I like to twist the crinkly brown neck to slip if off, then suck the pink meat straight off the shell. Percebes taste like the essence of the ocean—sweeter than lobster with a more substantial chew than razor clams. cervejariaramiro.pt

I was totally blown away by this version of Arroz de Marisco (seafood rice). The broth combined the intensity of a great shellfish stock with a light creaminess from the rice, not from butter or fat. Instead of using a starchy short-grain rice, the chef opted for long grains, which she kept al dente. Fresh cilantro brought a floral note and I tasted a hint of citrus, too. To complement the brothy rice, the chef also cooked each generous helping of seafood in the pot—clams, lobster, shrimp, scallops—to perfection. cervejariadaesquina.com

When I was a kid, I would polish off a dozen Pastéis de Nata at a time. I’m still tempted to when I’m at this landmark bakery. There’s always a line out the door because these are easily the best egg custard tarts. They bake our national dessert until the sweet shells are as crackly as chips and the tops are blistered with dark caramelized spots. Plus, they serve them warm. I sprinkle cinnamon on mine before taking a bite: I love how the crunchy pastry gives way to the creamy, rich, sweet egg custard. pasteisdebelem.pt

Octopus is a specialty of this northern city and I can’t imagine a better version than the one at this homey mom-and-pop taberna. (It’s tucked away on a tiny side street off the waterfront near a nursery school. Just follow the sound of kids playing.) For their house specialty Polvo Assado no Forno, the women in the kitchen simmer the tentacles with wine and aromatics, then roast them with baby potatoes and onions in a terra-cotta casserole. They serve the tender, succulent octopus with a side of saffron-scented basmati rice that’s fragrant, light and fluffy. It’s fresh, rustic cooking at its best. Rua de S. Nicolau, 9, Porto

You can find good roast suckling pig (Leitão Assado da Bairrada) prettily easily in Beira Litoral, the central region known for its wines, but it’s worth the trek to the tiny, middle-of-nowhere village Aquada de Cima for Casa Vidal’s version. Their platter features all parts of the piglet, so beneath each bite of smoky, crackling skin, you get a variety of fatty, meaty textures. There’s a definitive freshness to their version, too. You can taste it—and see it if you ask for a behind-the-scenes tour of the facilities. The piglets start by rooting around in a pen at the far end of the building. From there, they’re humanely slaughtered, then covered in a garlicky, peppery marinade and spit-roasted in wood-burning ovens. Getting the meat meltingly moist is an art and Vidal’s assadores have nailed it. restaurantevidal.pt

Chef Faia of Casa do Povo in my family’s village in the central Beira Alta region makes my favorite version of this classic dish, Bacalhau á Narcisa. He fries salt cod just until it’s crunchy around the edges but still juicy in the center, then smothers it with a tangy tomato-onion sauce and serves it with slabs of fried potatoes. I’ve been eating his iconic version all my life because he was the same chef who cooked at the Portuguese-American Club in my Connecticut hometown. No joke. He moved back to the village to retire and couldn’t stop cooking. On Friday and Saturday nights, he sets up shop in my village’s social hall and cooks off the cuff. He always has his signature bacalhau á narcisa and then makes dishes based on whatever’s fresh at the market. When I ate there on this trip, he also threw a ton of perfectly grilled seafood on my platter: dorade, perca, cuttlefish, octopus. He’d do the same for you. Rua Direita 60, Ferreiros do Dão

Chico’s the nickname of chef Francisco at this southern-central wine region hole-in-the-wall. He’s been behind the stove at his traditional eatery for more than 25 years, championing the hearty country cooking of the Alentejo. Among my favorite dishes is his Migas com Carne de Porco. He starts with local pork and his homemade leftover wheat bread, which he crumbles and cooks in the rendered pig fat. For good measure, he tosses in crisp pork chunks. What makes the dish, though, is his combination of fresh and dried coriander to accent the earthy, meat-soaked bread. Rua Sol 44-C, São Manços, 7005-739

As soon as you sit down at one of the communal picnic tables, you get small plates of local specialties to start your tasting menu of southern Algarve cuisine. I couldn’t get enough of this cold tuna and tomato salad, spiked with sweet raw onions and fragrant dried oregano. Chef José Vila (also the artist of the restaurant’s paintings) captures what I love most about Portuguese cuisine: big, honest flavor. He douses this simple salad with fruity olive oil and that’s it. Its simplicity is what makes it so good. Rua Francisco Bivar | 8500-132 Mexilhoeira Grande, Portimao, Portugal

No, Razor Clams with Lemongrass and Curry isn’t a traditional Portuguese dish, but I ate it in the most stunning setting in the whole country. The “dining room” is a stone patio overlooking their private beach and the sea beyond. Plus, this amuse-bouche captures what I enjoy doing in the kitchen: It combines Portuguese ingredients with seasonings from the former colonies. Michelin-starred Austrian chef Dieter Koschina made both the lemongrass and ginger sauces surprising with their fresh lightness. It was an amazing way to start his decadent tasting menu. vilajoya.com

I’m ending the way I started—the same way I did on my trip—at Ramiro, with a plate (actually, three) of Cinco Jota’s pata negra. Sure, you can get this Spanish ham elsewhere, but at Ramiro, you can stand at the bar, inches away from the ham and the guy who slices it all day long. He goes through four or five legs a night, so there’s no chance it’ll be dry. And he’ll slide you a plate the second he’s finished filling it and that makes all the difference. The fat melts in your mouth and you can taste the nuttiness from the acorns the black Iberian pigs are fed. Savor each slice with a glass of Sagres Bohemia from the tap and you’ll have experienced the best of Portugal. cervejariaramiro.pt