VittlesVamp

Portugal & Porco

Most people think of Spain when they think jamón. Admittedly it is a country that can boast a museum devoted to the the glory of dry-cured ham. But, Portugal can lay claim to porky genius as well.

My first meal in Lisbon was at a unassuming taberna called Zé dos Cornos, where I was greeted with a wide variety of gorgeous pig parts in the form of a dish called Espetada de Porco Preto -- skewers of black pork tenderloin alternating with peppers and thin slices of blood sausage and chorizo.

What is "black pork," you ask? Black pig is a breed native to the Iberian peninsula, raised in the Alentejo region of Portugal, famous for its vineyards, cork and acorn trees, and its incredible pork.

And, when you let pigs eat those acorns in Alentejo?

You get dry-cured hams that are marbled, with a sublime melt-in-your-mouth texture. Called pata negra de bellota, it is pure piggy bliss. I couldn't help but buy one too many paper-thin slices at Manteigaria Silva, while similarly indulging in the purchase of dried-cured sausages such as linguiças and salpicões.

Unsurprisingly, all of this pork goodness didn't last too long in my apartment over the course of two weeks, so more pork had to be had off-premises...

This platter of pork goodness was enjoyed at Taberna da Baixa, another unassuming spot in Lisbon that knows its way around a pig.

So, am I Team Portugal or Team Spain when it comes to the pork crown?

I'm going to withhold judgement here. This is a longstanding rivalry. The only Portugal vs. Spain rivalry that is more contentious is over fútbol -- and, I will leave that to the FIFA referees.

Céu Do Marisco Em Portugal

It was a classic Portuguese sight: Fishermen in the seaside town of Cascais hauling back lobster traps and trawl nets after bringing in their catch. This coastal tableau confirmed what I had already known for several days.

Portugal is quite simply seafood nirvana.

The realization began to dawn on me on my very first night in Lisbon, At a late night dinner at the Time Out Market, I sidled up to the counter at Marisquiera Azul and joyously tucked into a bowl of insanely fresh clams, doused in garlic butter...

They went down so easy. And, sopping up all the sauce with a hunk of crusty bread just added further glee to my evening repast. Fork down, I suddenly spied the kitchen's myriad of crustaceans, all kept on ice and at-the-ready. Tempting. Should I order up more? Giant head-on prawns perhaps?

It was a close call, but ultimately I abstained. It was only my first night, after all. Quite literally, I thought to myself that there are more fish in the sea.

Boy, was I right.

There was a business lunch in the swank Chiado district at Aprazivel, where I laid waste to a mighty helping of a traditional Portuguese dish called Bacalhau à Brás...

...fluffy scrambled eggs with chunks of silky bacalhau - salted codfish - and matchstick potatoes.

Then there were the stores filled, top to bottom, with cans of sardines. And, there was a trip to the headlands beach mecca of Peniche, which allowed for a memorable lunch, featuring the most delectable grilled octopus that I've ever encountered...

...in this case a whole octopus, tentacles charred to perfection, plated alongside migas - a delicious cornbread stuffing perfumed with garlic, tossed with hearty white beans and herbs.

But the ultimate seafood experience was had at the end of my stay. At the suggestion of a local colleague, I snagged a reservation at a Belem district restaurant called Nunes Real Marisqueira. I think this picture says it all...

Tiger shrimp, gamba do Algarve, oysters, crab, and so much more.

It was a pescetarian dream come true - no lobster traps or trawling nets necessary. Thankfully, though, I had a credit card handy and the restaurant was kind enough to provide a bib, as well as a seafood mallet.

So, it should come as no surprise that I stand by the name of this post - which loosely translates to "Portugal is Seafood Heaven."

If heaven is real, the angels are most certainly hanging out by the pearly gates, indulging in a platter of shellfish from Nunes. And then, the next logical question for me has to be: Where do I get my hands on a halo? Or, at the very least, when can I get my sweet self back to Portugal?