September has arrived. Summer is slowly beginning to say goodbye and, somewhere on the horizon, New Year’s resolutions are already coming into view, with their usual promises to eat more healthily. Until then, there is still plenty of time to enjoy a few petiscos and savour Portugal’s culinary delights, especially those served at the table in portions made for sharing. Or not…
Bread and Olives, Please
To begin with, Portuguese tables fill with simple delicacies, the kind that whet your appetite for everything that follows. A tiborna may look, at first glance, like nothing more than bread with olive oil. But anyone who has tasted one knows it is so much more than that.
If the bread is from Alentejo, even better: you know it has been kneaded by hand in the early hours of the morning, baked in a wood-fired oven, and arrives at the table with a crisp crust and a light, soft crumb. Add some new-season olive oil, a few grains of fleur de sel, and perhaps a handful of seasoned olives, and that’s all it takes.
Simple? Apparently, yes.
What Comes from the Sea
Then there is the sea. And to taste it, we need to travel a little. In the Algarve, there are sardinhas albardadas. In Madeira, grilled limpets. In the Azores, cracas, and along the rocky coast of the Costa Vicentina, goose barnacles.
Sardinhas albardadas, an Algarve speciality, are coated in batter and fried, while in Madeira, the limpets go straight onto the grill. In the Azores, eating cracas requires a little patience, but that is part of the experience. Then there are the goose barnacles, gathered from the rocks of the Costa Vicentina by men whose courage borders on madness, but who know better than anyone where and how to find them.
In the end, they are boiled in salt and water. The best way to let the taste of the sea speak for itself.
What comes from the land
From the sea, we make our way inland, where another Portugal awaits discovery. A country of cured meats, bread and recipes that are as rich in flavour as they are in stories. Take the alheira, traditionally associated with Jewish communities, who are said to have created this sausage to escape persecution by the Inquisition. Made with poultry and bread, it resembled the pork sausages eaten by Christians. Of the wide varieties, Alheira de Mirandela is perhaps the best known.
Pica-pau, as its name suggests, is meant to be picked at with a stick — or, more accurately, a cocktail stick. This is a dish made for sharing and is said to have originated in the Ribatejo region. It is made with tender beef, pickles, olives and a sauce that always calls for bread.
And if there are petiscos made for sharing, there are also those that can be enjoyed anytime, anywhere. The origins of the bifana are not entirely clear. Vendas Novas, in the Alentejo, is often regarded as one of the places most closely associated with the tradition of this pork sandwich. Simple, tasty and found in cafés and traditional taverns across the country, the bifana is one of Portugal’s most popular snacks, and almost every establishment has its own secret way of preparing it.
For the More Curious
Then there are those petiscos that might make visitors stop for a moment and ask: “But do people actually eat that?” The answer is yes — and very happily so.
In Lisbon, there are peixinhos da horta, which, despite their name, do not come from the sea. Further south, snails appear when the warmer days arrive and during the months without the letter R in their names. Then there are pig’s ear and frog’s legs, which may seem like more unusual petiscos, but are every bit as tasty.
Peixinhos da horta are a Portuguese snack that travelled to Japan in the 16th century. Green beans, coated in batter and fried, are believed to have inspired the famous Japanese tempura. The recipe is thought to have originated aboard Portuguese ships as a means of preserving and cooking vegetables during long voyages.
Pig’s ear is served as a salad, dressed with garlic, coriander, olive oil and vinegar. Although its origins are unknown, it is one of those petiscos that says a great deal about Portuguese cuisine: making use of everything and turning every part into a dish full of flavour.
In the Alentejo, frog’s legs were once a staple of traditional taverns, often cooked in a rich tomato sauce. Today, they are less common, but they remain part of the region’s culinary memory.
Sitting down to enjoy petiscos is about taking the time to share dishes and conversations. It is about trying a little bit of this and a little bit of that. Ultimately, it is a way of celebrating Portuguese culture through small dishes that are big on flavour.
That is exactly what happens on the terrace in Mar d’Estórias. The petiscos arrive one by one. Some start with roasted Monchique chouriço, while others prefer octopus salad or a sharing board of cheeses and cured meats for the centre of the table. The bread never stays in the basket for long, and the conversation moves effortlessly from one subject to the next.
And in the end, there is nothing quite like finishing with a perfectly brewed coffee and realising that the true recipe for Portuguese petiscos is good food, good company and time to enjoy both.