Emily in France 🇫🇷 Lisbon Opened My Eyes
The gift of travel
My recent sojourn to Lisbon marked the seventh trip I've taken with my aunt/godmother. These trips always take place right around Thanksgiving, but this is the first time we've ventured to somewhere warmer than her Massachusetts and my Paris, from whence I fled a rare snowstorm to wander the sunny Iberian streets lined with tiles.
I love traveling to new places, in large part because it reminds me of what it's like to be a foreigner. I forget, sometimes, after over 15 years in Paris, the sorts of things that will give newcomers pause, like the fact that there are almost no public bathrooms, or that restaurants will surely shutter between 2:30 and 7.
Being somewhere new like Lisbon brought those sorts of details into focus, as I encountered new foreign oddities of my own: The fact that in Portuguese restaurants, free water isn’t a thing, or that cigarettes are still sold in supermarkets, not far from the salt cod and octopus sitting as unobtrusively on the shelves as chicken breasts do stateside. At every restaurant we visited, bread would be offered, and if we accepted, we’d have to pay for it; the same was often true of olives or butter or cheese.
But in addition to details the French would deem dépaysant, an untranslatable favorite word of mine that refers to the destabilizing effect being in a new place has on the soul, I was also surprised to find bits of myself lurking in Lisbon. Much as I saw my grandfather’s round face on nearly every man of a certain age I encountered in Poland, my Portuguese ancestry made itself known on the public bus, where I encountered no shortage of women with the exact same curls I’d thought I’d inherited from my father’s Sicilian ancestors, and I found myself wanting again and again to ask these women how they managed to encourage volume out of our shared, odd balance of space-taking ringlets dominating a fairly thin head of hair.
I saw, too, the familiarity that that side of the family must have encountered when they made it to San Francisco: the mild, crisp, blue-skied winters, the steep hills throughout the city, even the bridge that echoed the Golden Gate I once knew so well.
When we visited the ruined convent at the top of Rossio, I was forced to reckon with the omnipresence of earthquakes, which have devastated both cities. Even when the ground is still, the threat looms, evidenced by the convent whose only roof is the sky.
We dined well, of course, and while on our last night, we did visit one more contemporary spot where I finally sampled local bacalhau à Brás, a dish of salt cod bound with shredded, fried potato and egg, it was in the tascas that I found myself happiest. These Portuguese calques of diners were always bustling at lunchtime, something I would have found to be a very good sign even if the other diners weren't firefighters, which I think is even more portentous.
I followed the directive I found online to stick to the dishes of the day and was rewarded each time with some of the best fish I’d ever eaten, an echo of the approach I've always appreciated in Italy and miss in France, where fish tends to be drowned in something fatty and rich. Here, as on the Amalfi Coast, the fresh catch I selected was systematically served with a simple yet generous seasoning of rich, fruity olive oil and salt, all the better for bringing out the charred notes from the grill. Simple accompaniments of green beans or salad generously topped with slivers of onion and tomatoes that still tasted of summer made this the sort of dish I’d never tire of.
Not that I’m an expert by any means after just three days in Lisbon, but these were my favorite foodie discoveries:
Primavera (Rua Morais Soares 101), a local churrasqueira where most patrons took away, and where I feasted on an entire half a chicken, leaving no bone left unturned.
Casa da India (Ruo do Loreto 49), a tasca with delicious grilled fish and fried prawns that seemed particularly popular among local firemen.
Alpendre (Rua Augusto Rosa 32), yet another local tasca with phenomenal grilled fish of the day and friendly service.
Cacué (Rua Tomas Ribeiro 93B-C), a more contemporary play on a tasca with slightly revisited classics.
Pastéis de Belém (Rua de Belem 84), the supposed originator of the pasteis de nata still serving them flaky and warm out of the oven. Well worth the hype.
Cheese of the Week
This artisanal Monte da Vinha is made with organic ewe's milk in Vimieiro and has understandably won multiple international awards. It's definitely got a sheepy nose, but the flavor and texture are pure, buttery bliss. A lovely discovery thanks to Cacué.
To discover more of my favorite cheeses, be sure to follow me on Instagram @emily_in_france, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and tune into the Terroir Podcast, where Caroline Conner and I delve into France's cheese, wine, and more one region at a time.
What I’m Eating
Trouble has gotten a lot of buzz, of late, and while I was certainly intrigued, I was also on my guard. Paris has no shortage of plates ticking the small-plate-natty-wine box. How would Trouble stand out from the others? The answer, it seems, is in the sheer audacity of the ultra-talented Stefano De Carli, previously of Verre Volé and Passerini, whose Roman background suffuses the border-bending menu with absolutely delightful combinations. More on the blog.
Where I’m Going
To America, to celebrate Christmas with the fam!
What I'm Writing
1. There was a time Arthur Dumait was a regular at Passerini, but since opening his Sugo in 2023, he’s not quite as frequent a flier. It’s nothing to do with the food, which he says, “I like a lot.” But seeing as Sugo specializes in fresh pastas similar to the ones he enjoyed while living in Rome, Dumait admits, “I don’t really go to Italian restaurants much since opening my own.” That said, this restaurateur has got loads of insider spots to share, from Paris’ top Italian tables to local spots in his Montmartre backyard. For Bonjour Paris.
2. When it comes to comfort-food side dishes, it's tough to compete with mashed potatoes. But something so simple is surprisingly easy to mess up. Lumpy, gluey, floury, or bland, the list of potential sins that mashed potatoes can commit is a mile long. Pro chefs offer their tips for The Takeout.
3. From the archives: This beloved French Christmas dessert is made with chard. For Food52.
What I'm Saying
American enthusiasm makes the French roll their eyes, but the French aren’t exactly as pessimistic as they may seem. To get to the bottom of this cultural misunderstanding, I’m joined on Navigating the French by Véronique Savoye, a jack-of-all-trades who’s made France her career, to help navigate râler.
FAQs
With the goal of bringing you the content you crave, I've solicited your help. What questions can I answer for you? Drop them into the newsletter chat, and I’ll answer as many as I can!
This week’s question comes from An American in Paris.
Hi! Not a cheese question per se, but what are your recommended easy, vegetarian weeknight meals? My husband is French and we live in the southwest of Paris ☺️👋🏼
I used to write a lot about cooking; I don't anymore, mainly because I pretty much always make the same four things: a salad with tahini dressing that becomes a cradle for leftover roasted vegetables, the aforementioned roasted vegetables, this Thai curry udon noodle recipe, and a bibimbap now so divorced from tradition no Korean person would ever recognize it.
That said, this question is kind of a propos, because while I’m no stranger to all manner of offal in restaurants, I do eat vegetarian at home – and often vegan. With that in mind, here are a few favorites I’ve tried and loved recently:
This polenta with mushrooms and lentils, for which I splurged and grabbed some of the seasonal trompettes de la mort mushrooms I was coveting at my local Saint-Quentin market.
This squash and wild mushroom curry, a perfect cradle for creamy red kuri squash, my favorite of the winter squashes, whose French name, potimarron, aptly evokes its flavors of marrons (chestnuts).
These cheesy curried butter beans on toast.
This red lentil dal with jammy eggs and peanut rayu.
I’ll finish with something less recipe than hack: I am forever ending up with nubbins of excellent cheese in my fridge. (I know, poor me.) When they start looking sorry for themselves, I grate them and stash them in the freezer, so I’m never far from great mac and cheese or an awesome toastie. (I love using the close-crumbed sourdough from Boulangerie du Nil as the base.)
What I'm Reading
1. The experience of reading I Love You So Much It's Killing Us Both felt a bit dreamy, in no small part due to the fact that it jumps among time periods, and the absolutely gorgeous prose occasionally had me focusing more on the rhythm of a given sentence than the meaning behind it. Compounded with a narrator who seems neurodivergent-coded, it made for a reading experience that was more heart than head, which I enjoyed, for the most part, despite making the story occasionally hard to follow. Ultimately, what resonates after reading this is the cruel yet fierce ways adolescent girls can love one another, feeding off of one another before they’re fully formed as people.
2. This story preaching the sustainability of eating bivalves. In the Bittman Project.
3. My father has been asking me a lot, recently, whether AI is going to take my job. Here’s the long and short of why the answer is no. In the New Yorker.
A bientôt !