Oswaldo Costa
Oswaldo Costa
We arrived in Lisbon on December 26.
To a Brazilian, being in Portugal, the old country, is an experience strangely familiar. Our pronunciation of Portuguese is different, perhaps not quite Texan v. Cockney, but maybe Staten Island v. English toff. Theres an old Brazilian joke of being in a taxi in Portugal and having the driver turn and ask what the hell language is that youre speaking that I can understand everything youre saying? The Portuguese are also known for being literal in their use of language. When I was here last, I called a store and asked if they closed on Sundays. The employee said No. I replied Oh, good, so youre open? She again replied No. I said Sorry, come again? She replied well, we dont close on Sunday because we dont open in the first place. But I digress. In the style of architecture, and in the names of things on plaques everywhere, there is so much of what I see in my native Rio de Janeiro. Yet everything is also slightly different, almost, but not fully, European, generating a series of small double-takes at every corner. On the streets, one sees the old Portugal, represented by ruddy faced agricultural physiognomies, blending awkwardly with the new underclass of immigrants from Angola and Mozambique. After years of totalitarian backwardness under Salazar, Portugal has been playing catch up to the rest of Europe, especially since entering the EEC. While it has comparatively little to give the world in terms of industry or commodities (short of that spongiform rod used to imperfectly seal bottles of fermented grape juice), it has a rich culture to be explored.
After dropping our bags at the hotel, we visited the charming but dilapidated Alfama and Chiado districts of downtown Lisbon, where we hit all the tourist must-sees. My favorite was Castelo de S. Jorge, the ruins of a large Moorish castle overlooking Lisbon and conquered by King Alfonso I, the first king of Portugal, in 1147, an important step towards taking the country back from the Moors. The only weird thing we did was look for the Texas Bar Lisbon. Years ago I saw a Wim Wenders movie in which one of the characters wore a t-shirt saying Texas Bar Lisbon; I found the juxtaposition so incongruously compelling that I had to have it, and determined to buy that t-shirt if ever in town. Alas, after years of pining, we found the site in a dark and seedy alley, but a year ago it changed names and was converted into a disco. Not a victimless crime, but I felt like a crimeless victim.
Lisbon is very hilly, so we got back to the hotel exhausted. But tourists like Marcia and me are troopers, so after quick showers we headed for dinner at a well-regarded restaurant called Faz Figura, near the River Tejos dockside. Service was impeccable and we both had, as a main course, a Portuguese staple called Cataplana, a fish stew made in a homonymous pot composed of two hammered brass saucers clamped together. Amazingly good. The wine list had exemplars from most Portuguese appellations, but producers were mostly on the modern side. With our appetizers, we had glasses of vinho verde (2008 Quinta de Azevedo) that had some crispness, but was not satisfying because too lacking in body. Do I have the right to ask a vinho verde to have body? Perhaps as much as I can expect a featherweight to throw a decent punch.
Our main wine was a red made from Baga (2005 Quinta do Foz do Arouce Vinhas Velhas de Santa Maria 14.0%), chosen to experience the work of one of the Bairrada wineries that we decided not visit because of insufficiently traditional credentials. Sour cherry, vanilla and rosemary aromas. Nice grippy tannins, good acid/sweet balance, light bitter finish, but way too much vanilla. Damn new wood; makes it harder to experience whats particular about a grape while pushing the gestalt towards generic Bordeaux.
December 27 saw us headed towards the Gulbenkian Foundation, which has two museums, one of more recently acquired contemporary art, and one of the founders own collection. The contemporary wing had an exhibition of Portuguese art from the 70s, mostly installations and conceptual art, echoing what was going on elsewhere in the US and Europe. I found it dismal and dated, partly because the exhibition space, a cavernous 70s hangar-like industrial temple, is inhospitable for anything other than an automotive parts show. In a funk, and without much enthusiasm, we segued to the founders collection, and Im glad we did. Maybe because Gulbenkian was an Armenian immigrant, his collection eclectically combines east and west with unforced political correctness, like a one-man Metropolitan Museum of Art. Amazing exemplars of Greek, Roman, Persian, Chinese and European art, all beautifully displayed, make a forceful argument for beauty as transcendental, rather than cultural; any suspicion of transitoriness seemed attenuated by centuries of acceptance, like polymerized tannins.
Recharged, we moved on the National Museum of Ancient Art, where mostly Portuguese art is on display, together with an amazing Bosch depiction of hell, a Piero della Francesca, and a few other highlights. Next we visited a wonderful late gothic monastery called the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos, where Vasco da Gama and Cames are buried, and the iconic tower called Torre de Belm from which Portuguese navigators set off in the 15th and 16th centuries to lay claim to half the world. Before entering, we went to a nearby shop that sells the most famous version of a famous Portuguese custard delicacy called Pastel de Belm (the district is also famous because it was here that Jeronimo had his last stand against Custard).
Semi-catatonic with exhaustion, we went back to the hotel for a rest, but soon trooped off for dinner at a quay-side seafood restaurant called 5 Oceanos (5 Oceans). Generous portions of excellent codfish and vongole risotto accompanied by a much better vinho verde (2008 Soalheiro Alvarinho 12.5%; mineral and white flower aromas; good weight, simple but tasty fruit, seemed like it could use more acidity, but was very good and balanced with food) and a good red made by Alvaro Castro (2006 Quinta da Pellada Reserva Do 13.0%; nice cherry, light vanilla, hickory bacon and sage aromas; velvety mouth feel, good acidity, light and elegant tannins, went very well with the food).
December 28 arrived full of expectations because it was the day of our visit to Colares, the westernmost European appellation (next appellation west of that is the North Fork), in frank decadence as a result of changing tastes and encroaching real estate expansion by suburban Lisbon. It is also notable for being entirely planted with ungrafted vines because it is right by the seaside and a layer of sand covers the clay and calcareous soil (phylloxera is allergic to sand). First we took a commuter train to hillside city of Sintra, where there is a lovely royal palace that saw considerable action from the XIVth to the XVIIth centuries. It is full of gorgeous ceramic tiles, including a particularly special one showing grape vines in relief. One sees traces of the Moorish domination everywhere in Portuguese esthetics, particularly in the beautifully patterned and omnipresent ceramic tiles. Since depicting the human figure was verboten in Muslim iconography, their ornamental energies were fully channeled into abstraction, resulting in dazzling geometric patterns that predated Op Art and Constructivism by a cool millennium.
For lunch, at a local wine bar platonically called A Loja do Vinho (The Wine Store) we had a good cheese plate accompanied by our first ever Colares wine (2004 Adegas Beira Mar Casal da Azenha Colares 12.5%; leather and red berry aromas; herbal and pruney, with good acidity, good density and sweet finish; before food, the acid and sweetness seem to be in separate rooms, but with cheese everything comes together and analytic faculties surrender to pleasure; wow, cant get enough of this). After walking around the picturesque town, we took a cab to nearby Colares, where we visited the local coop, the Adega Regional de Colares. Alas, there was wine to be tasted; only by previous appointment with an operator that conducts tasting tours. But they had, incredibly, bottles for sale going back to 1931, with prices higher than 100 Euro only for vintages more than 40 years old. Next we took another cab to the nearby seaside town of Azenhas do Mar, where we had a hard-won (because of the holiday crush) appointment with Antonio Bernardino Paulo da Silva, third generation owner of Adegas Beira Mar. Antonio was recommended by David Lillie, who used to sell Antonios wines at Garnet. Azenhas do Mar is poised on stunningly beautiful craggy cliffs from which a precipitous descent into the foaming and steel gray Atlantic leaves you breathless with vertigo. Antonio was only able to give us half an hour because he had just arrived from a trip and had a meeting to catch at the Adega Regional de Colares where he is treasurer (he even showed us the summons so we wouldnt think he was making it up). But he was extremely gracious, giving us a quick tour (which included large 19th century oak casks made of, incredibly, Brazilian oak), showing off his wines medals (he cares), and answering a few questions. The red grape used in Colares is called Ramisco and the vines are grown very close to the sandy soil to catch the heat from the sand. Below that layer of sand, that can be anywhere from 50 centimeters to 5 meters (he said three men tall, and since the average Portuguese is 170 cm, I just rounded the sum down) deep and serves to keep the bug at bay, there is clay/calcareous soil that feeds the ungrafted rootstocks. Fermentation is floating cap for 4/5 days. No maceration. Antonio avoids new wood and uses as little SO2 as he can (he said the wines show 10mg total at bottling per hundred liters, but that cant be right; 10mg per liter is already lower than most). Malos happen in the spring when temperatures rise, and a touch of SO2 is used to protect the musts during the winter. Colares is a stable microclimate and vintage variation is small. According to Antonio, Colares wine is to be served at 22C, higher than usual, to liberate the aromas. Because of time constraints, we didnt taste any wine, or waste any time, but Antonio made up for it by giving us a few bottles to try later. If, on one hand, our visit to Colares was dismal because we tasted no wine (a first), we came away with booty and greatly enjoyed the rugged uniqueness of the appellation.
Antonio gave us a ride back to Colares from where we took a cab to Sintra, and from there the train back to Lisbon. That night we had dinner at Travessa, an elegant restaurant in an old convent for which we had high expectations, since it was recommended by several guides and blogs. The wine list was the first let down: mostly wines from the Douro or Alentejo, in other words, a choice between modern and QPR. I asked the sommelier why he didnt have any Colares, or even Bairrada, and he replied that they dont sell. With resentful irrationality, I exclaimed all the more reason to feature them! which only drew a puzzled look. After discussing oak-free and sufficiently acidic options (he tried to steer us away from a particular wine by saying its a monovarietal, and blends are more complex, we settled on a white (2008 Domingos Soares Franco Verdelho Coleo Privada Setbal 12.5%; pleasant mineral, white flower and citrus aroma; fresh, but needs more acidity to be crisp; decent weight) and a red (2004 Donzel Reserva Douro DOC 13.0%; blend of Touriga Nacional, Tinta Roriz, Touriga Franca and Tinta Amarela; sour cherry, gunpowder and chocolate aromas; velvety smooth, decent acidity, short finish, no personality to speak of; alas, lower alcohol and little wood are no guarantee of pleasure) that were disappointing. The food was fine but a bit too delicate, as if walking on tip toes, or under a fog of SO2.
Next: three days on the island of Madeira.
To a Brazilian, being in Portugal, the old country, is an experience strangely familiar. Our pronunciation of Portuguese is different, perhaps not quite Texan v. Cockney, but maybe Staten Island v. English toff. Theres an old Brazilian joke of being in a taxi in Portugal and having the driver turn and ask what the hell language is that youre speaking that I can understand everything youre saying? The Portuguese are also known for being literal in their use of language. When I was here last, I called a store and asked if they closed on Sundays. The employee said No. I replied Oh, good, so youre open? She again replied No. I said Sorry, come again? She replied well, we dont close on Sunday because we dont open in the first place. But I digress. In the style of architecture, and in the names of things on plaques everywhere, there is so much of what I see in my native Rio de Janeiro. Yet everything is also slightly different, almost, but not fully, European, generating a series of small double-takes at every corner. On the streets, one sees the old Portugal, represented by ruddy faced agricultural physiognomies, blending awkwardly with the new underclass of immigrants from Angola and Mozambique. After years of totalitarian backwardness under Salazar, Portugal has been playing catch up to the rest of Europe, especially since entering the EEC. While it has comparatively little to give the world in terms of industry or commodities (short of that spongiform rod used to imperfectly seal bottles of fermented grape juice), it has a rich culture to be explored.
After dropping our bags at the hotel, we visited the charming but dilapidated Alfama and Chiado districts of downtown Lisbon, where we hit all the tourist must-sees. My favorite was Castelo de S. Jorge, the ruins of a large Moorish castle overlooking Lisbon and conquered by King Alfonso I, the first king of Portugal, in 1147, an important step towards taking the country back from the Moors. The only weird thing we did was look for the Texas Bar Lisbon. Years ago I saw a Wim Wenders movie in which one of the characters wore a t-shirt saying Texas Bar Lisbon; I found the juxtaposition so incongruously compelling that I had to have it, and determined to buy that t-shirt if ever in town. Alas, after years of pining, we found the site in a dark and seedy alley, but a year ago it changed names and was converted into a disco. Not a victimless crime, but I felt like a crimeless victim.
Lisbon is very hilly, so we got back to the hotel exhausted. But tourists like Marcia and me are troopers, so after quick showers we headed for dinner at a well-regarded restaurant called Faz Figura, near the River Tejos dockside. Service was impeccable and we both had, as a main course, a Portuguese staple called Cataplana, a fish stew made in a homonymous pot composed of two hammered brass saucers clamped together. Amazingly good. The wine list had exemplars from most Portuguese appellations, but producers were mostly on the modern side. With our appetizers, we had glasses of vinho verde (2008 Quinta de Azevedo) that had some crispness, but was not satisfying because too lacking in body. Do I have the right to ask a vinho verde to have body? Perhaps as much as I can expect a featherweight to throw a decent punch.
Our main wine was a red made from Baga (2005 Quinta do Foz do Arouce Vinhas Velhas de Santa Maria 14.0%), chosen to experience the work of one of the Bairrada wineries that we decided not visit because of insufficiently traditional credentials. Sour cherry, vanilla and rosemary aromas. Nice grippy tannins, good acid/sweet balance, light bitter finish, but way too much vanilla. Damn new wood; makes it harder to experience whats particular about a grape while pushing the gestalt towards generic Bordeaux.
December 27 saw us headed towards the Gulbenkian Foundation, which has two museums, one of more recently acquired contemporary art, and one of the founders own collection. The contemporary wing had an exhibition of Portuguese art from the 70s, mostly installations and conceptual art, echoing what was going on elsewhere in the US and Europe. I found it dismal and dated, partly because the exhibition space, a cavernous 70s hangar-like industrial temple, is inhospitable for anything other than an automotive parts show. In a funk, and without much enthusiasm, we segued to the founders collection, and Im glad we did. Maybe because Gulbenkian was an Armenian immigrant, his collection eclectically combines east and west with unforced political correctness, like a one-man Metropolitan Museum of Art. Amazing exemplars of Greek, Roman, Persian, Chinese and European art, all beautifully displayed, make a forceful argument for beauty as transcendental, rather than cultural; any suspicion of transitoriness seemed attenuated by centuries of acceptance, like polymerized tannins.
Recharged, we moved on the National Museum of Ancient Art, where mostly Portuguese art is on display, together with an amazing Bosch depiction of hell, a Piero della Francesca, and a few other highlights. Next we visited a wonderful late gothic monastery called the Mosteiro dos Jeronimos, where Vasco da Gama and Cames are buried, and the iconic tower called Torre de Belm from which Portuguese navigators set off in the 15th and 16th centuries to lay claim to half the world. Before entering, we went to a nearby shop that sells the most famous version of a famous Portuguese custard delicacy called Pastel de Belm (the district is also famous because it was here that Jeronimo had his last stand against Custard).
Semi-catatonic with exhaustion, we went back to the hotel for a rest, but soon trooped off for dinner at a quay-side seafood restaurant called 5 Oceanos (5 Oceans). Generous portions of excellent codfish and vongole risotto accompanied by a much better vinho verde (2008 Soalheiro Alvarinho 12.5%; mineral and white flower aromas; good weight, simple but tasty fruit, seemed like it could use more acidity, but was very good and balanced with food) and a good red made by Alvaro Castro (2006 Quinta da Pellada Reserva Do 13.0%; nice cherry, light vanilla, hickory bacon and sage aromas; velvety mouth feel, good acidity, light and elegant tannins, went very well with the food).
December 28 arrived full of expectations because it was the day of our visit to Colares, the westernmost European appellation (next appellation west of that is the North Fork), in frank decadence as a result of changing tastes and encroaching real estate expansion by suburban Lisbon. It is also notable for being entirely planted with ungrafted vines because it is right by the seaside and a layer of sand covers the clay and calcareous soil (phylloxera is allergic to sand). First we took a commuter train to hillside city of Sintra, where there is a lovely royal palace that saw considerable action from the XIVth to the XVIIth centuries. It is full of gorgeous ceramic tiles, including a particularly special one showing grape vines in relief. One sees traces of the Moorish domination everywhere in Portuguese esthetics, particularly in the beautifully patterned and omnipresent ceramic tiles. Since depicting the human figure was verboten in Muslim iconography, their ornamental energies were fully channeled into abstraction, resulting in dazzling geometric patterns that predated Op Art and Constructivism by a cool millennium.
For lunch, at a local wine bar platonically called A Loja do Vinho (The Wine Store) we had a good cheese plate accompanied by our first ever Colares wine (2004 Adegas Beira Mar Casal da Azenha Colares 12.5%; leather and red berry aromas; herbal and pruney, with good acidity, good density and sweet finish; before food, the acid and sweetness seem to be in separate rooms, but with cheese everything comes together and analytic faculties surrender to pleasure; wow, cant get enough of this). After walking around the picturesque town, we took a cab to nearby Colares, where we visited the local coop, the Adega Regional de Colares. Alas, there was wine to be tasted; only by previous appointment with an operator that conducts tasting tours. But they had, incredibly, bottles for sale going back to 1931, with prices higher than 100 Euro only for vintages more than 40 years old. Next we took another cab to the nearby seaside town of Azenhas do Mar, where we had a hard-won (because of the holiday crush) appointment with Antonio Bernardino Paulo da Silva, third generation owner of Adegas Beira Mar. Antonio was recommended by David Lillie, who used to sell Antonios wines at Garnet. Azenhas do Mar is poised on stunningly beautiful craggy cliffs from which a precipitous descent into the foaming and steel gray Atlantic leaves you breathless with vertigo. Antonio was only able to give us half an hour because he had just arrived from a trip and had a meeting to catch at the Adega Regional de Colares where he is treasurer (he even showed us the summons so we wouldnt think he was making it up). But he was extremely gracious, giving us a quick tour (which included large 19th century oak casks made of, incredibly, Brazilian oak), showing off his wines medals (he cares), and answering a few questions. The red grape used in Colares is called Ramisco and the vines are grown very close to the sandy soil to catch the heat from the sand. Below that layer of sand, that can be anywhere from 50 centimeters to 5 meters (he said three men tall, and since the average Portuguese is 170 cm, I just rounded the sum down) deep and serves to keep the bug at bay, there is clay/calcareous soil that feeds the ungrafted rootstocks. Fermentation is floating cap for 4/5 days. No maceration. Antonio avoids new wood and uses as little SO2 as he can (he said the wines show 10mg total at bottling per hundred liters, but that cant be right; 10mg per liter is already lower than most). Malos happen in the spring when temperatures rise, and a touch of SO2 is used to protect the musts during the winter. Colares is a stable microclimate and vintage variation is small. According to Antonio, Colares wine is to be served at 22C, higher than usual, to liberate the aromas. Because of time constraints, we didnt taste any wine, or waste any time, but Antonio made up for it by giving us a few bottles to try later. If, on one hand, our visit to Colares was dismal because we tasted no wine (a first), we came away with booty and greatly enjoyed the rugged uniqueness of the appellation.
Antonio gave us a ride back to Colares from where we took a cab to Sintra, and from there the train back to Lisbon. That night we had dinner at Travessa, an elegant restaurant in an old convent for which we had high expectations, since it was recommended by several guides and blogs. The wine list was the first let down: mostly wines from the Douro or Alentejo, in other words, a choice between modern and QPR. I asked the sommelier why he didnt have any Colares, or even Bairrada, and he replied that they dont sell. With resentful irrationality, I exclaimed all the more reason to feature them! which only drew a puzzled look. After discussing oak-free and sufficiently acidic options (he tried to steer us away from a particular wine by saying its a monovarietal, and blends are more complex, we settled on a white (2008 Domingos Soares Franco Verdelho Coleo Privada Setbal 12.5%; pleasant mineral, white flower and citrus aroma; fresh, but needs more acidity to be crisp; decent weight) and a red (2004 Donzel Reserva Douro DOC 13.0%; blend of Touriga Nacional, Tinta Roriz, Touriga Franca and Tinta Amarela; sour cherry, gunpowder and chocolate aromas; velvety smooth, decent acidity, short finish, no personality to speak of; alas, lower alcohol and little wood are no guarantee of pleasure) that were disappointing. The food was fine but a bit too delicate, as if walking on tip toes, or under a fog of SO2.
Next: three days on the island of Madeira.