37:57.1N 008:52.2 W Sines Anchorage
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Zoonie
Wed 16 Sep 2015 10:44
Last year, on the Rally, when we arrived here we had to spend the evening
washing out the accessible parts of the bilge after the black water tank had
leaked into it, so we missed out on the memorable meal our friends told us about
the next day. A quick text to Geoff confirmed the location of the Restaurante O
Castello, just behind Vasco da Gama’s birthplace in the castle, and on the
right. Since my Open University days I have always enjoyed seeing things by
comparison. Not only do I find it fun but two apparently quite different things
or concepts, approached from different angles can result in similar outcomes.
Remember the old adage, more than one way of skinning the cat.
When we arrived in Lagos, a few days later, we decided to have a meal out
and during one of our shopping trips we happened by the open door of a little
restaurante called Artistas Restaurante. The door was barred with two quality
chairs upholstered with spotless blue covers. A notice in English and Portuguese
read ‘Please come and enjoy our Garden.’ We decided we would do just that in the
evening.
So we have Restaurante O Castello in Sines and Artistas Restaurante in Old
Lagos. On entering the former a vast glass counter full with joints of meat,
fish and glass bowls of fruit mousses and topped with bottles of wine greeted
us, making me wonder if we had happened upon the local butchers by mistake. A
man in his fifties, the owner I guess, greeted us and found us a table which
abutted the one next to it. The room was say forty foot long and one end was the
kitchen and half of one side housed the counter. So not much room and lots of
tables crammed in. The decor was spotless and the fourteen little square tables
could be moved easily to increase the number of seating places. Next to us a
Portuguese man was just finishing his supper. Strangers engaged in conversation
with their dining neighbours. The atmosphere was very friendly and social.
The menu was simple and could be guessed at from the counter contents. Rob
had rump steak that he said could be mistaken for fillet as it was the most
tender and tasty he had had for years, and I had a calamari skewer with peppers
and onions and inch wide strips of sweet and tender calamari seared so the edges
crinkled like brown lace. The service was almost instant and the turnover at the
tables was brisk. A quick meal and the diners were off, but not before our
Portuguese neighbour said I must put lots of olive oil on my calamari to keep it
moist. Our new neighbours started their holiday by renting a hire car at Faro
Airport and were coast hopping as far a Porto before flying home from Lisbon.
They ordered sardinhas and were not sure what to do with them. We laughed and
made a few suggestions, “Head off, tail off, open along the back”.
We sipped the blanco wine from the Douro region as the kind man topped us
up before returning the bottle to the fridge with all the other open ones. I
wondered if he ever poured the wrong one at table, but then there was no room
for the bottle on the table anyway. The kitchen organisation was brilliant with
starters, salads and cooked veg all prepared in advance and the latter kept in a
heated cupboard. The staff, family members I think, were very busy and smiling,
sharing jobs with a liquid style that comes from experience and working together
in harmony. In just over an hour we were done.
By contrast in the Artistas in Lagos the waiter encouraged us to pause
between courses and we got to know a lot about him. From the Ukraine, his
Russian mother and Ukrainian father brought him to safe and beautiful Portugal
when he was nine and he has now taken on the nationality. He learned English
from children’s programmes with English sub-titles and from working with
tourists for years. The house was built on the ruins left by the 1755 earthquake
and the garden was surrounded by a sandstone wall and dotted with a subtle and
effective mixture of real and artificial plants that blended different hues of
green. White LED lights shone up into the branches of the trees and green lights
shone down from the cream umbrellas over the tables. There was no question of
chatting to the neighbouring tables as they were insulated by the space and
potted trees around them. The atmosphere was serene, quiet and restful. The
crudity of seeing the unprepared food was eradicated and only in its most
sophisticated, nouveau cuisine form, was it brought to the table by smartly
uniformed waiters to whom the name of the game was refinement and
perfection.
While we were still menu gazing the chef came up with delicate crab pate
and three types of bread, followed by carrot, orange and vanilla soup
accompanied by half a quails egg, broccoli and roasted tofu in soy sauce.
Then, to start with (!) I had black prawns smothered in some sort of froth
with curry flavoured rice and Rob had different cheeses, then he tucked into
pork medallions on seared aubergine slices and I had home-made pasta with
truffles and saffron stems. The preparation again was done largely beforehand
but the attention to detail reached artistic rather than rustic standards. In
between courses the chef’s home-made lime sorbet cleansed the palate and for
pudding we accepted his invitation, as written on the menu, to wander through
their patisseri choice of tiny pastries, sorbets and sliced fruit in sweet
liquor.
The prices also were at high contrast. The O Castello was yet another
sufficient and affordable meal. The Artistas, we decided at the time, would be
our sixth wedding anniversary celebration to justify the expense and the latter
experience lasted nearly three hours. Both dining experiences were worthwhile,
enjoyable and faultless in our view. Vive la contrast!
Now, back to reality. On the Sines evening I had decided to wear a long,
body hugging horizontally stripped dress. Nice and easy to put on by just
pulling it up sufficiently far for the stretchy fabric to cover most of my top.
Remember the saying, ‘What goes up.......’ The evening was cooling as we left O
Castello so I slipped my cotton jacket on and we explored this historic town in
its after dark character. Vasco was gazing far out to sea from his plinth, other
restaurants were full of people eating while they watched football and as we
wandered back to the beach a group of people were approaching us. I was nice and
warm now so happily unzipped my jacket looking forward to some cool air when I
realised said bodice had now become a waist band. Rob, as you can imagine, was
beside himself “Sort yourself out you 17th century tart!” The oncomers smiled
kindly.
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