Nibbling Around the Delights of Coimbra

On a sunny afternoon last spring, I stood on Cabo da Roca, Portugal, the westernmost point in continental Europe. Looking at the vast Atlantic horizon, it was impossible not to feel the pull of faraway places, the allure of exploration. A thousand miles behind me was Italy, my homeland--and that of Christopher Columbus. Ahead, almost directly across the ocean, was my adopted home, Massachusetts, the shore at the end of the Pilgrims’ journeys.

The Portuguese, living on a narrow strip of land thrust into the Atlantic, were natural voyagers, blazers of new sea lanes, cartographers of the oceans. Their natural curiosity and maritime skills greatly influenced Columbus, shipwrecked here as a youth and for many years a seaman on Portuguese merchant marine routes. Had he ever stood here, on this rocky headland, and imagined unseen lands?

My spell was broken by a curtain of clouds dimming the sun and reminding me that my wife, Gwen, and I had many land miles to cross to reach our destination that day. For most travelers, that would be a hotel; for me, a food writer, it was the dinner table.

We began our Portuguese odyssey with two days in Lisbon, the capital. From the elegant and most comfortable Hotel Diplomatico (also most affordable: small suite, super breakfast, for $110) we walked up and down, down and up all over town, from the Sao Jorge castle in the colorful old quarter of the Alfama, to the twisting cobblestoned alleys of the Bairro Alto. Our curiosity could not resist the “what’s around the corner” attraction--each turning of a corner offered a new stage-like setting--and we kept going until our legs begged us to stop. We appeased them, and our exercise-heightened appetites, at a small tasca.

Tascas are simple, family restaurants, reminiscent of a French bistro or Italian trattoria, that can be found all over town. What attracted us to the first one we patronized, besides its name, Lagosta Vermelha (Red Lobster), was the menu affixed on the door: We counted three soups, 14 fish dishes, 14 meat dishes plus three specials (rabbit, tripe and sardines), nine kinds of fruit, six desserts, four cheeses and five salads.

Once seated at one of the 10 tables inside, we had to marvel at how an aging woman and her young assistant could produce such a cornucopia in their minimalist kitchen, but they did.

The owner (who also served as maitre d’ and waiter) helped us navigate through the menu with the assistance of the only language we had in common: sign (and smile) language. After almost two hours, we left the premises satiated, happy and barely $20 lighter, wine and tip included.

Our first stop outside Lisbon was Luso, about 100 miles north. It is a small town on the edge of the Bussaco Forest, idyllic in pace and renowned for its curative waters. They are advertised as low in mineral content, mildly radioactive and loaded with a slew of elements that, to be brief, are good for whatever ails you.

We, thankfully, did not have to take advantage of Luso for its waters, but for one other advertised reason: “Luso’s position and climate are excellent for all those who need rest and relaxation after spending most of the year subject to the daily stress of modern life.”

That’s us, we said, and settled into the Grande Hotel das Termas do Luso. Modern (in a 1950s way), it offered all we looked for: comfortable quarters with all accouterments and amenities, an Olympic-size outdoor swimming pool, a smaller indoor one with hot tub and whirlpool, a friendly, quiet and well-stocked bar, and a breakfast buffet.

Whatever its vaunted properties, Luso’s is the best drinking water I’ve encountered. Light and limpid, it can be compared to a deep breath of mountain air, so delicate you would expect it to float up when escaping a spout. (It is bottled and sold all over Portugal.)

Seemingly at odds with the purpose of “taking the waters” is the hotel’s breakfast buffet of bacon, ham and sausages, fried eggs, cereals, butter, honey and jellies, buns, rolls and toast, dairy cream, fresh or compote fruits, coffee, tea or chocolate. Watching the patrons return repeatedly to this spread, I entertained the suspicion that the buffet provider was in cahoots with the spa’s owners to keep the water cure business active in perpetuity.

In the days to come, we gratefully and happily took advantage of the offerings, burning them off with long walks on our again cooperating legs. We turned out to be the only English-speaking (even if, given my accent, Gwen sometimes does not include me in that category) guests, but we had no problems communicating with the hotel’s hospitable personnel. We even struck a sort of friendship with the concierge, a young man most interested in things American, who advised us on our daily trips and on which eateries to favor, and who finally contributed to having our bill (already pleasing at $80 per day) discounted. For the pleasure, he said, of seeing us come back.

A few minutes’ drive from Luso was the Bussaco Palace Hotel, set is in the middle of the Bussaco Cypress Forest and Botanical Gardens. Botanical interest aside, the palace is often described as “nostalgic” and “mythical,” an architectural fantasy built between 1888 and 1907 as a royal hunting lodge. The Italian designer, Luigi Manini, borrowed ideas from all over: the Doge’s palace in Venice, Bavarian castles, Portuguese monasteries, Florentine formal gardens. If the final design is of dubious architectural style (“astonishing” could be the operative adjective), the interior accommodations are royal.

The guest rooms are splendidly appointed--some, I suspect, in the style of the latest renovation, up to and including Art Deco--with equally expansive attached bathrooms. (We did not stay there.)

The dining room is a Gothic-windowed sumptuous space with a view of the gardens and of a little pond with swans. Its long menu is balanced in favor of Portuguese and local specialties, and its collection of wines from the exceptionally well stocked cellar is more a book than a list. The service, naturally, is princely.

About 20 miles south, we traded “nostalgic” and “mythical” for “romantic.” This was in Coimbra (pronounced kwim-bra), a provincial town of about 90,000 souls with perhaps the most distinguished history in Portugal.

Already important in Roman times (ruins may be visited in nearby Conimbrige, the town’s early seat), the buildings flanking its twisting streets tell of the development of Coimbra under the Moors and then, after they were forced to leave, as the capital of Portugal in the 12th century. The layers of history coexist in what may be many different Coimbras: the Gothic; the Manueline, (a uniquely Portuguese style that evolved in the reign of Manuel I (1495-1521); the Renaissance; the Baroque; and the modern.

The artistic and historical focus of the city is its university, which, established in 1537, is one of the oldest in Europe. Its hilltop medieval buildings dominate the city and provide a majestic view; from the university’s terrace-like square we thought we could smell the ocean, 30 miles away down the valley of the Mondego River.

We could not pass up a visit to the university’s 16th century library (more than 1 million volumes) and equally old chapel, both like architectural icing on the already rich cake of the institution.

Coimbra, to Gwen’s delight, is a trove of beautiful faience ceramics and porcelain of classic designs, but is best known for its azulejos, the uniquely Portuguese tiles used for centuries to decorate homes and public buildings.

For entertainment, we found in Coimbra a wealth of good restaurants and tascas. At night many of them offer fado performances: two guitars and a voice pouring out melancholy songs to stir your soul, even if you don’t know the words. The songs of fado (“fate”) resemble our country blues, and apparently all follow the general theme of “my lover has run away, stealing my best friend, my heart and my fishing boat. . . .”

The fado supposedly reflects the stereotypical national character: somber, gloomy, closed in and joyless. But that can’t be a true picture. We have rarely met a more cheerful and friendly people, always willing to help and ensure our enjoyment of their country.

At the crossroads between Coimbra, Luso and Bussaco rests the small town of Mealhada. The whole community straddles the main north-south highway, A-1, to advertise its specialty: leito.

A leito is a month-old suckling pig, roasted slowly on a spit over smoldering embers of dry grapevines. A portion on your plate is culinary gold: a melt-in-the-mouth morsel of meat wrapped in crackly, butterscotch-colored skin. Servings are priced by weight and traditionally are accompanied by a glass of Bomfinal, a white sparkling wine, but any of the many excellent and locally produced Bairrada whites or reds will do.

The leito is a national dish, but in Mealhada, judging by crowds mobbing the many eateries (22 by our count), it reigns supreme. And we paid homage to it, frequently, at the big Pedro dos Leitoes establishment and then at the smaller Restaurante Floresta and then at Flor de Bairrada.

As in all the other restaurants or tascas that we encountered in Portugal, individual portions are served on large platters, family style, always accompanied by thick-sliced fried potatoes and other vegetables. We caught up with the fashion quickly and started ordering one portion for two, without the least resentment from the servers.

Besides walks and sightseeing, we dedicated our interest to the local gastronomy, seeing food as an important element of a nation’s culture. Naturally, fish and shellfish dominate the Portuguese table, their textures and tastes frequently used in surprising combination with meat, as in porco con ameijoas, pork loin with clams.

The rich catches from the Atlantic fishing banks inspire another national dish, caldeirada, a fish stew as aggressive or delicate as the chef wants to make it. Made with as many kinds of fish and shellfish as are available, it is like a concentrate of the flavor and fragrance of the Atlantic brought to the table.

Pushing for national status are fresh sardines, or sardinhas, the strong aroma of which, as they are charcoal grilled, is present in every town and village. But the pride and joy of the Portuguese table is the beloved bacalhau. First, fresh cod is split open and cured and dried in salt until it resembles a wooden board; in that state it will keep for years. When the desire or need strikes, it is soaked in running water for one or two days, returned to its unsalty plumpness and cooked. Baked, poached, roasted, grilled or fried, in combination with potatoes, ham, olives, tomatoes, chickpeas, onions, sausages, clams, mussels--one could eat it every day for a year and not come to the end of bacalhau’s disguises.

It was somewhat unfortunate that time did not allow us to put this to the test. We will have to come back. There is so much more of Portugal to explore and discover.

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GUIDEBOOK / What’s Cooking Around Coimbra

Getting there: Service from Los Angeles to Lisbon is on TWA and Continental (one stop, no change of planes) and American, Swissair and Air France (with plane change). Restricted round-trip fares start at $538 ($658 after Saturday).

Where to stay: In Lisbon, Hotel Diplomatico, Rua Castilho 74; telephone 011-351-21-383-9020, fax 011-351-21-386-2155. Doubles with full breakfast about $75; centrally located with big, modern rooms. Hotel Jorge V, Rua Mouzinho da Silveira 3; tel. 011-351-21-356-2525, fax 011-351-01-315-0319, Internet https://www.hoteljorgev.com. Doubles with breakfast about $58. A small hotel with 1960s decor, on a quiet street one block off the main street, Avenida da Liberdade.

In Luso: Grande Hotel das Termas, Rua dos Banhos; tel. 011-351-231-937-937, fax 011-351-231-937-930. Doubles with huge breakfast about $70. Large establishment dating from the 1940s; plain but spacious rooms.

In Curia (near Luso): Palace Hotel da Curia; tel. 011-351-231-510-300, fax 011-351-231-515-531, https://www.bestlodging.com/sites/20076/index.shtml. Art Nouveau palace set in 15 acres of gardens, with tennis courts and swimming pools. Closed until April.

In Bussaco: Bussaco Palace Hotel, Mealhada; tel. 011-351- 231-930-101, fax 011-351-231-931-609, https://www.small-hotel.com/bussaco. Doubles $100-$140.

Where to eat: In Lisbon: There are restaurants and tascas all over the city; we chose by how happy the people looked inside. The price for two, including wine and tip, rarely exceeded $20.

More formal, with fancier and a bit more expensive but not necessarily better food: El Bodegon (in the Hotel Fenix), Praca Marques de Pombal 8, local tel. 21-386-3155; quiet, elegant surroundings and service. Pap’Acorda (in the Bairro Alto), Rua da Atalaia 57, tel. 21-346-4811; fashionable but friendly.

In Luso: O Cesteiro, Rua Dr. Lucio Pais Abranches, tel. 231-939-360. A short walk on the road leading out of town, a spacious room with hearty food.

For more information: Portuguese National Tourist Office, 590 Fifth Ave., 4th Floor, New York, NY 10036; tel. (800) 767-8842, fax (212) 764-6137, https://www.portugal.org.