GR8 2CU BCN: More cheap eats - olé!

After several hours of having our senses assaulted by the tremendous wealth of high art inside the MNAC on the slopes of Montjuic, it was high time for a bite to eat. Heading downhill back towards Plaza Espanya, our intention was to look inside a former bull ring which had been converted into a shopping mall and would be bound to have a food court inside. Instead, right before we were ready to cross the street, we spied a sign promising a 'cerveseria' down a side street and decided to have a look. Good thing too, because we were in time to catch the tail-end of the lunchtime service.

As readers of this blog will know, we are big fans of the Spanish menu del dia. Franco's finest legacy requires that most all restaurants provide a three-course lunch with drinks, usually for €10-12 a head. This particular cerveseria turned out to provide one of the finest lunches we've ever had in Spain, mainly catering as it does for the local suited office workers. The premises were huge inside and quite smart.

Our friend José raved throughout our meal about the quality (and quantity). For starters they had huge portions of salmon risotto, while I opted for a pile of mixed steamed vegetables in a cheese and garlic sauce. To follow, Christian and I each had the pork ribs with roast potatoes. There was a surprising amount of meat, but by the time we separated this from the bones and gristle our plates looked like the results of an autopsy. José was very complimentary about his handmade tuna pies (empanadas). He passed on dessert in favour of coffee, while we had the cheesecake with yoghurt. Our meal also came with a cold beer.

All around it was delicious food in large portions at an unbeatable price, only €11 each at the time. If you find yourself passing through Plaza Espanya (which most travellers to Barcelona are bound to do at some point, since it sits atop a mainline train station and a popular metro interchange at the foot of Montjuic), head a couple doors down Avinguda Paral-lel and look for the awnings of Xop d'Or on the left.

One interesting cultural observation to make: when we arrived, the waitress walked up to take our order, pulled out her notepad and announced 'digame' (literally, 'talk to me'). No 'hello and how are you?' or the Catalan equivalent. After requesting an English menu from her (because José could not translate all the items for us), she suddenly became polite and talkative, dropping in plenty of phrases like 'excuse me' and 'thank you.'

This greatly amused José, who had pointed out before to us how polite the English tend to be, cluttering conversations with trite phrases, most of them empty of any meaning by how routinely we spout them. Spaniards, he said, prefer the direct approach and don't make small talk. Their thinking is why should the waitress introduce herself, ask how we were doing and comment on the weather when all we were there to do was eat?

We carried on to the former bull ring across the plaza, which as I've mentioned is now a shopping centre. A glass lift attached to the side took us to the roof for €1 each, giving us good 360-degree views as we circled around, passing the eateries, nightspots and even the theatre which has been built on top of the shopping centre.

Here we are looking out towards Mount Tibidabo, the pinnacle of which is crowned by a church and amusement park.

 Here is the ceremonial entrance to Montjuic, with the spires of MNAC on the horizon.

A park next to the old bull ring is crowded with palm trees.

It's a popular spot to get some fresh air and admire the views, so do pop in if you're passing by. The late afternoon light lit up Montjuic beautifully and it was a good spot to stretch our legs after our big meal. For even more fresh air and far-ranging views, click back next time for our day trip to the stunning Montserrat!

GR8 2CU BCN: Hot tapas and cold cava

Probably every day of our visit to Barcelona we found ourselves comparing aspects of the city to Madrid and debating the merits of the two rivals. One key consideration for us when visiting any place is the quality (and cost) of food and drink. Not only because like everyone else we want to be well fed and watered on our travels, but also because we usually come back from our trips with our bags stuffed with new ingredients and our heads full of recipe ideas to try at home.

Thus far our meals in Barcelona had been rather hit and miss, although to save funds we were eating breakfast every day at our holiday flat, where we'd return most evenings for a meal, so we weren't eating out as often as we had on our trips to Madrid. I also have to admit I did not map out as many eateries as I would normally do ahead of a big trip like this by browsing Tripadvisor and reading specialist dining out guides. It was disappointing that at least two or three of the places which I had mapped out had gone out of business or changed their offering by the time we found them. Never mind, we did find some wonderful places to eat and drink, most of which I'll review here.

Barcelona is blessed with not one but two central food markets: the Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria (or simply 'La Boqueria') which sits right on Las Ramblas and Mercat Santa Caterina, which is a bit more off the beaten track in the Barri Gotic. Naturally the central location of La Boqueria makes it touristy and pricey, but it's well worth a look for the stupendous displays and abundant colours alone.

The front of La Boqueria seems to have nothing but fruit juice stalls. Here, the counters are covered with mounds of crushed ice where dozens of clear plastic glasses are kept chilled, each filled to the brim with fresh fruit juice. At the time these were only €1 each, with some merchants offering a 'buy two, get one free' deal. On a sunny day a cool fruit juice is hard to resist and it looked like everyone had one in their hands.

Gimmicks like this aside, La Boqueria is a serious market hall in the business of promoting some of the country's finest wares. Impeccable fruit and veg is stacked high...

you can hardly see the staff for all the meat and cheese...

some stalls sell every bit of the pig aside from the oink...

and you can choose to have your small animals skinned...

or left furry and feathered. Good thing I am a pheasant plucker!

Compared to Madrid's central San Miguel market, the focus at La Boqueria is on shopping, not eating. Aside from the fruit juice stalls, there were only a handful of counters serving up food to eat at the counter or to take away. It was at one of these at the back where we found an organic vegetarian stall called, oddly enough, Organic. First, we were asked to pick our mains (falafel for me, spicy veg paella for Christian; I believe a bean burrito was another option). Then on top of this the friendly man behind the counter piled on salad leaves, tomato, couscous, hummus, roast peppers, cheese, deep-fried croquettes and other goodies. This large carton of food and a drink (your choice of either a bottle of water or a bottle of beer) cost us €10 each. Not the cheapest lunch we could have had (in a country famous for its cheap lunches), but it was filling, tasty and fresh. Like their motto says, Organic is Ogasmic!

Speaking of cheap lunches, on another day while wandering around with our Spanish friend Jose, we found a harbourside Mexican eatery called Casa Mexicana. It's probably one of the few times I've been glad to have taken a leaflet from someone in the street. The flyer promised a 3-course lunch with drinks for less than €10, which is quite typical actually for most of the country, but as it is rare though to find Mexican food in Spain we thought it would be worth a try. The restaurant turned out be in a lovely position, on the second floor of a shopping mall's open-air balcony, giving us a great view of the city's marina. Even in early November the sun was shining and it was pure bliss to sit in the sea breeze and watch the masts of hundreds of sailboats bob on the water below. I don't actually recall what we ate, but it must have been good or else I would have given them a stinging write-up. Probably not worth the trip down to the waterside, but it was more down to earth and friendlier than places nearby if you do find yourself hungry in that part of town.

At one point during our visit we popped into Mercat Santa Caterina, which is a lot smaller and more geared up for the locals than the more famous La Boqueria. It has been renovated recently and now sits under a colourful wavy roof. Inside it was airy and spacious, with wider aisles and higher ceilings than La Boqueria which made for a more relaxing experience. No hassle to buy any fruit juice here! Although not nearly as boisterous, it was plenty busy, with every single seat taken at its food counters and what appeared to be a ritzy restaurant alongside. I didn't check, but I bet food prices are probably cheaper here. Certainly judging by its popularity among the locals, this looks like an excellent place for some market-fresh specialties (despite the rubber chickens on display).

We will definitely go back on our next trip and will be more persistent in finding room at one of the counters.

Leaving Mercat Santa Caterina a bit hungry and thirsty, we pitched up at a tapas joint called El Bitxo near the city's gorgeous concert hall, at 9 Calle Verdaguer I Callis. Squeezing in, we found only four tables and nabbed one. There was no menu, only an assortment of hand-written notices here and there on the walls. We ordered a platter of meat and cheese for €16. This came with spicy chorizo, fuet (a local cured sausage), a fragrant truffle cheese, a colourful basil cheese, a smoked cheese and what we eventually established was sheep cheese. The waitress was describing each of these, but forgot the word when she reached the last one. 'Beef?' she asked herself aloud, before going 'baaaaaaa....'. 'Sheep?' we said. 'Yes,' she replied, 'ship!'

To wash all this down we had bottles of Mortiz beer, which despite the Germanic name turned out to be brewed locally. These cost €2 each and were very strong at 5.4%. In a nod to the concert hall right around the corner, the bar was papered with old sheet music, plus had an assortment of fans hanging by strings so customers could keep themselves cool on a hot day. It was a lovely spot and quite cozy inside with relaxing jazz music in the background and the scent of lilies flooding the air. We would have lingered for longer, but it was getting dark and it was the night of the 'magic fountain' light show.

Believe it or not, we found a dining spot even better than El Bitxo, so click back soon to find out about that and to see the magic fountain in action!

Loitering with intent in Lisbon 16

We enjoyed another fun meal at a Moroccan restaurant called Flor da Laranja ('orange blossom') which is a one-woman operation in the fashionable Barrio Alto neighbourhood. We hadn't made reservations so we stopped by fairly early to ensure a seat, but even at 7pm it was still shut.

There are plenty of bars nearby so we had a quick drink. Along with the adjacent shopping streets of the Chiado district, this hill to the west of Rossio Square is the nicest place in town to spend an evening. Apparently on a balmy night you can hardly move in the streets for all the people spilling out of the wine bars, tapas places and nightspots...but on a cool, drizzly November night it was much more subdued. For most of the week we had cooked for ourselves to save our pennies, but on our next trip to Lisbon we'll be sure to spend more time here. 

Back at Flor da Laranja, the doors were open and we were the third party for the night. With a large group celebrating a birthday coming in behind us, the place was nearly full. The restaurant is one small room that seats maybe 20 people, most of whom are invited to make themselves comfortable among the cushions which sit atop benches lining the walls. As well as the traditional seating, the room is filled with mirrors and lanterns, and is mostly lit by candlelight.  

With the friendly owner taking orders, dishing up food and serving everyone, it felt like she had invited us in to her home for a meal with friends. Apparently she has been running the place on her own for about 20 years; she definitely knows her stuff, because at the moment her restaurant is in TripAdvisor's top 30 for the city.

We ordered beer (which for a change was Sagres instead of the ubiquitous Super Bock) and our starters followed soon after, stuffed vine leaves and something that reminded me of samosas: little crispy pastry pockets. Some were stuffed with fragrant and spicy vegetables, others stuffed with chicken and lightly sprinkled with powdered sugar. Combining savoury meat with sweetness or fruit is a Moroccan tradition, so our lamb tagine was packed with prunes while the lemon chicken was served with a poached pear dusted with cinnamon. 

Before we could tuck in we were presented with several side platters, one after another, until the tiled tabletop disappeared under a spread of terra cotta dishes. All the sides were vegetarian: roast sweet potato in a sticky honey sauce with plump raisins and cinnamon, green beans in a spicy tomato sauce, spinach dressed with lemon, slices of sweet roast aubergine and more. Every bite was delicious and despite the generous servings we didn't leave a single morsel behind.

As the evening grew late, the entertainment took to the floor: a veiled belly dancer. She started with a slow and seductive number, followed by a more lively routine that had her whirling around in her veils with everyone clapping along. There was no threat of audience participation (not yet, at least) but we weren't going to take a chance to find out. During a break we asked for the bill and took off before being invited to take a twirl ourselves. Altogether our meal came to €45 which was an unbelievable price to pay for such large portions of tasty homemade food and some entertainment to boot.

Again, I didn't have a camera with me, but I hope you enjoy these miscellaneous shots of mine from elsewhere in Lisbon. Click back next time to hear about another art gallery and a trip out of town before we move on to Barcelona!

Loitering with intent in Lisbon 15

It looked like we were the first customers for the day at Enoteca de Belem, a little wine bar which I had read about which can be found hiding down a side street near the Jeronimos monastery and famous pastry place in Belem. 

Normally an empty restaurant would put us right off, but the reviews I'd seen were so enthusiastic that we barged in and took a window seat. I heard the woman at the bar put in a call and about three minutes later a chap walked in off the street and introduced himself to us as Nelson, one of the owners.

We were still thumbing through the immense menu, which was dazzling us with page after page of wine and port. Nelson said he had plenty more besides in the cellar and that he took home anything his customers didn't finish (I want his job). He asked what we style of wine we preferred and I asked for a soft red, something aged and oaked.  

Normally I am a bit wary in a restaurant when someone makes suggestions without me being able to check the price on the menu, but their policy here is to sell all wine at €4 per glass or €20 per bottle, no matter what vintage. And besides, with the place coming in as one of Lisbon's top 20 eateries according to the users of TripAdvisor, he must know what he is doing! 

Sure enough, Nelson obliged us with a tasty bottle of Duoro, very similar to Spanish Rioja and probably made from the same tempranillo grapes (although in Portugal the grape variety is called tinto roriz).

With it being an early lunch, we passed on having any hot food and instead asked for a platter of cheese and cold cuts. This came with a basket of chewy bread, delicious plump green olives, white butter and a history lesson from our host. Nelson described each of the cheeses, chutneys and sausages as they were all Portuguese specialties.

Among these were sausages which were first made over 500 years ago by Jews and Muslims who needed to blend in with their Christian neighbours to avoid persecution. So instead of pork, they made their sausages from bread, game and chicken. There was also blood sausage, or black pudding as they call it here in Lancashire. The best of the cheeses were the mild and creamy ones (I regretted not having some paper to take notes or a juiced-up camera to take photos; the photos for this entry are just miscellaneous ones from elsewhere in Lisbon).

All these gorgeous nibbles nearly covered our entire table and it was a struggle to finish everything, so it turned out to be a surprisingly filling meal. The tab came to €45 for the food and three glasses of wine. Forty quid may sound like a lot to spend on ham, jam and grape juice but it was great to be looked after by someone so attentive, knowledgeable and enthusiastic.

The place itself is modern with bright spot lighting, tile floors and hard wooden chairs, but it's small and inviting. Since most of the tables only seat two people each, it's an intimate place and I'd recommend making reservations for an evening visit. The full menu features nothing but Portuguese food and although personally I would pass on things like salt cod and octopus, it is the kind of place where you could easily while away an entire afternoon or evening sampling all the different wines and dishes.

We would definitely make the trip out to Belem again to pay another visit!

Loitering with intent in Lisbon 14

The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain; the rain in Portugal stops as soon as you buy an umbrella. Never mind. After leaving the Old Masters art gallery we were greeted with sunshine and a vintage tram ready to take us to Belem again. We decided we needed to visit a second time because on our first visit quite a few things were shut for the day.

First stop was the famous Antiga Confeitaria de Belem, the bakery which churns out thousands of pastries every day. This time we went inside and found ourselves in a sprawling labyrinth of rooms. It's a huge place, with room for the coachloads of people craving their custard tarts. We ordered ours with coffee and the waitress made sure we sprinkled them liberally with sugar and spice...very nice!

Next door, the 15thC Jeronimos monastery was open for business. The cloisters alone were well worth a look, glowing in the afternoon sun cutting through the rain clouds.

Because the day had started off so wet, I had not bothered to pack my main camera and we only had our small 'snapshot' camera. Unfortunately I didn't have a spare battery, but I managed a few shots before the camera died.

The cloisters had two levels surrounding a pleasant courtyard, with some of the most ornate carved stonework I have ever seen, in a style called 'Manueline' after the king at the time.

The style took its inspiration from the seafaring explorers of the day who came back from Africa, Brazil, India and Japan with tales of strange animals, colourful birds, exotic plants and the odd mermaid or two. The ropes from a ship's rigging also feature heavily in the architecture.

Sailors would visit here to pray for a safe passage and to give thanks for a successful voyage, so they would have recognised many of the motifs (even if some of them were from tall tales).

One of the rooms leading off the cloisters housed the refectory (the monks' dining room) which had some lovely tiles and paintings.

Exit through the gift shop...and into the adjacent church, which was free to enter. Here the same Manueline style was not as successful indoors as out. Without the warmth of the sunshine (and a good clean), the stonework felt gloomy and oppressive.

We had bought combo tickets at the monastery which entitled us to have a look around the Tower of Belem, the fortress on the riverfront which (to be frank) didn't have much to see inside. The building after all was a prison for a time (it takes about two minutes to duck your head and pop into the dungeon), but there is a good view from the top. It's worth sitting a few moments at one of the windows and to listen to the sea breeze whistling through the stonework.

The carvings are in the same Manueline style and among the fanciful animals you might spot is a stone rhinoceros which commemorates the animal which survived a 4-month crossing from India in 1515. It was kept as a pet by King Manuel I for a few months, but he was disappointed that the rhino would not fight his pet elephant for sport. The rhino was made a gift to the pope, but drowned in a shipwreck en route to Rome; such was the fame of the animal that Durer attempted a portrait of it despite never seeing it in the flesh.

Those pastries are wearing off, isn't it time for lunch yet? Click back next time to hear about what turned out to be one of the best meals we had on the entire trip.

Loitering with intent in Lisbon 8

We were aware from our previous trip to Portugal that the Portuguese don't spend much time on their food. They lob a hunk of meat onto the grill and serve it some shredded lettuce, a potato and a dollop of mayonnaise. This is not cuisine, but rather food made suitable for human consumption by the application of heat, as the dictionary would say.

That certainly was the case during the summer in a beach resort, so we hoped Lisbon would be a bit more sophisticated on the foodie front. I have to admit however one of the key factors in deciding to visit the city was upon reading a newspaper article which announced that Lisbon is one of the cheapest cities in Europe for eating out. Would we find gourmet dining with our cornflake budget?

Yes and no. One of the best meals we had was in the shopping mall in the waterside Parque das Nações district. An afternoon in the aquarium had left us hungry, so starved in fact we found ourselves next door in the food court of all places. The place that caught our eye was Alentejo, promising specialties from one of Portugal's backwater regions. Although the food is served cafeteria-style, this is not your usual cafeteria fare.

Their official motto means 'Bread, Olive Oil and Garlic' but for us it meant 'yum yum yum.' I had their gourmet hamburger which was in a roquefort cheese sauce, topped with a runny egg and served with rice and chips. An enormous portion, delicious and very filling! Christian had flaked cod in a creamy sauce with hashed potatoes, also extremely tasty. Along with slices of almond cake in a sticky orange syrup and two glasses of freshly squeezed fruit juice, our bill came to a very easy-on-the-wallet €20.

Roast chestnut stalls

Most nights though we stayed in the flat and cooked for ourselves. One evening, possibly after our gut-busting experience at the shopping mall food court, we could only manage to nibble on a light supper of fresh bread, cream cheese, juicy tomatoes, a small bowl of olives, some crisps and a couple of beers. 'You'd turn your nose up if you came home after work of an evening and this was all that I put on table,' I said to Christian.

Lisbon deli

One evening we did venture out, ending up at an Italian pizza and pasta place which we dived into mainly because it was starting to rain and it seemed to be the only place open on the street. 'No pizza' the waiter said as he handed over the menus. No English either, it turned out, but I sussed out the waiter was able to understand my Spanish (although I think he was Italian). The beers we wanted weren't available either (about the only beer you can find in Lisbon is a lager called Super Bock).

Christian's salad turned out to be a platter of raw red cabbage, sliced, with anchovies on top. Maybe my Spanish isn't all it's cracked up to be. My salad was assembled from the finest shredded iceberg lettuce, a couple of pale and rubbery supermarket tomatoes, with diced onion. Christian then had an insipid lasagna and I had an eggy carbonara, which filled a hole for €30. I've spent a few minutes trying to find a map or link for the place, if only to warn people off, but haven't succeeded. Let's just say the next time you find yourself in Lisbon on a rainy night and you see an Italian restaurant, keep walking!

That's a lot of salted cod

Another evening we looked around the corner to see what our local neighbourhood had on offer. During the day I had spotted a small hole-in-the-wall type place that had a handwritten menu outside. I took a photo of the menu and used my pocket dictionary to translate most of it. When we returned that evening, the place was emptying, and although one of the diners who was leaving assured us 'it's good,' we were tempted instead by the bright lights and hubbub coming from a restaurant a few doors down called Oh Caldas.

How about...hmmm...some salted cod?

Whereas the first restaurant had white tablecloths and minimal decor, this was a rough and ready joint with bare wooden benches. Most of the seats were taken by Mozambican gangsters, except for a few tables along a cramped balcony overlooking the room. From there we could see the cook in her kitchen, frying eggs and chips as fast as she could. The entire restaurant was being served by only the one waiter and we gave up when we weren't even acknowledged by him after 15 minutes of waiting. Back to the our first choice, which now had a family of five dining as well.

The waiter latched onto us immediately, bringing over Super Bocks (again) and chewy bread kept fresh in a cloth bag. I was presented with the menu, which of course had changed since lunchtime so I didn't recognise any of the dishes from the menu I had translated earlier. We figured out what was chicken, what was pork and what was to remain mystery meat. Both the grilled chicken and pork came out with large plates of plain rice, chips and runny eggs (again). Despite the lack of any sauce it turned out to be tasty indeed, with the meat surprisingly tender. All for an absolute bargain €14. If you're in the Alfama neighbourhood, it's called Santa Rita and can be found at number 24 Rua de Sao Mamede.

Tuck in!

I don't have any photos for any of the above places, so the photos on this page are of random eateries and food stalls around Lisbon that caught my eye.

Click back soon and I'll have individual entries for our three favourite eateries: an authentic Moroccan (complete with belly dancer!), the famous pastry palace in Belem and a back street wine bar which dished up a fine dining experience with hand-picked wines and a fascinating history lesson to boot.

Witch way from here? 2

By now it was late afternoon and the light was mellowing. The sky was still clear, a breeze tickled the leaves of the oak tree and swallows swooped about. We had camped near a tiny brook and a tree on the other side was breaking down with apples.

A couple of kids splashed around in the stream, picked some apples, chased the hens, played ball and generally made a nuisance of themselves. Despite this, I willed them on, hoping they would overexert themselves, collapse in heap come nightfall and sleep in until at least 6 or 7 the next morning.

As for us, it was time for the Calf’s Head pub, about a mile back down the road in Worston. A wedding party was in full force and we had to give our names to the chap on the door to wait for a free table in the dining room. This gave us time to walk around their extensive gardens which had a tremendous view of Pendle Hill lit by the setting sun
 
and a family of ducks paddling in a stream out back (mother duck had  about ten ducklings in tow).

The pub had four real ales on tap (Black Sheep, Jennings, Brains and Moorhouses at the time) and the wine list touted a dozen English varieties. The food on offer was classic pub grub: meat pies, burgers, lasagne, etc. They had sold out of the turkey, leek & stilton pie so I had steak & mushroom pie instead while Christian had the lamb shoulder. Both came with peas, carrot mash and steamed new potatoes. We struggled to finish our huge portions. It was delicious and we certainly got our money’s worth, well recommended!

By now it was completely dark outside, although we managed to pick out the outline of Pendle Hill against the orange glow of the towns behind it. We fired up our £1 torch and followed its dim beam down the back roads, dodging fresh cow pats and keeping an eye out for any deranged ghosts of Pendle witches.

This is when the dreadful realisation kicked in, that this was it: this square bit of stretched nylon in a field was to be our home for the night.

It took some acrobatic manoeuvrings in order to get into our sleeping bags. My pair of earplugs which I had carefully set atop my pillow had disappeared and no amount of LED light from the wind-up lantern could pick them out. The pillow turned out to be as substantial as a ball of lint. The sleeping mat provided all the comfort of corrugated cardboard. I must have passed out from sheer exhaustion at some point, because I remember being wakened by a gale whipping through the trees. Sheep bleated, dogs barked and before we knew it, dawn broke.

The toddlers in the tent across the way were up with the larks, stomping about and whining like a right pair of candy-asses. About half 7 and the sun hit our canvas so we had to get up or else be steamed alive, thanks to all the condensation dripping off the nylon. Dew dripped off the tent ceiling and down our necks as we performed more gymnastics in order to get dressed. We unfolded our spoons and ate our muesli.

Time for a morning constitutional, which turned out to be a 5-mile stroll. This time we went over the lower slopes of Worsaw Hill to the village of Chatburn,

crossed fields to a fairytale packhorse bridge,

returned to Downham and followed back roads to the campsite.

By now it was warm, sunny, but hazy. We dried off the tent, packed up, managed to fold everything back into our rucksacks and loaded everything up onto our backs. It was then a 3-mile walk through cow pastures and across the highway into Clitheroe where we caught the train home with seconds to spare. A rough idea of that morning's 8 miles of walking is here.

Maybe we were delirious from the fresh air, maybe it was the delicious crumble we made from the apples we’d nicked, but despite the sleepless night we decided to give camping another go. Click back soon for our Yorkshire adventure!