Xmas in Portugal - Day 6: Travel Day from Lisbon to Porto

Another bright sun breaks over Lisbon this morning as we begin to pack for our departure. I assume the trip will be similar to our ride from the summer, but the weather will certainly change its expression.

It has been a memorable Christmas, getting re-acquainted with Portugal and with our friends here. My immediate impression is a more leisurely paced stay as opposed to the summer, and a deeper experience learning the neighborhood. Towards the end, we simply left the maps apps turned off; places we stumbled upon were no longer discoveries, but a re-tracing of our steps from new directions.

The forecast for Porto is not good: steady rain. The Uber driver who takes us to Santa Apolonia station is a socialist; he admits he is told not to talk politics, but we dive right in. His escape plan is to leave Portugal for Costa Rica. He claims he can get a one bedroom apartment for $40,000 there, which is clearly much lower than is currently possible in Lisbon. He says the socialist party in Portugal is disconnected from reality; they've taken away travel lanes for bus lanes, and they don't even drive on the cobblestones, so how would they know what needs to be repaired? He is sincere and energetic, and the conversation is lively and certainly eye-opening.

Everyone has an escape plan; the grass is always greener.

Our train takes us through the outskirts of Lisbon and then into the farmlands and pastures. The land looks fallow, as it might in the winter, but there is still some green on the fields. Reports from the summer have put some fear into my imagination that the area would be dry like straw.

 

 

 

Soon we head into the valleys north of Fatima, which are filled with fog and steam. The train begins its turn west toward the ocean, then follows the Rio Mondego back east for a quick stop in misty Coimbra.

 

Departing Coimbra, the train turns back to the coast towards Aveiro, and the clouds crowd in, leaving scratches of spray on the windows. The train picks up speed, and we consume the distance. 

 

We pass under the coastal hills via a tunnel; we emerge on the other side, into the drizzle, and the spray on the windows begins to wash past. Along the shore, we can peek the white caps and the sand dunes beyond the streaming drops on the glass.

 

 

With a pause in Vila Nova de Gaia, we head over the Rio Douro, and Porto suddenly comes into view. Looking north, we see the Clerigos Tower at the edge of the horizon, and Eiffel's Ponte Maria Pia just outside our window. We arrive in Porto with the exasperating rain chasing us.

A quick pit stop at our hotel, the Sheraton Porto, to drop off our bags and get organized, then off to dinner at Antiqvvm. Their web site is down, so I cannot check them out. As we go to catch our Uber, the wind is whipping the doorman's overcoat, but the rain has stopped for now. The drive is not long, but it end is a dark, muddy plaza with a sad-looking fountain, and a tall white building (the Museo Romantico?). The windows are boarded; our Uber driver waits for us.

I walk to the far end of the plaza, and there is a long, stone ramp down to a cozy dining room. Suddenly one of the kitchen staff steps out of the darkness with some spot-lights and illuminates the walkway, and it all seems comfortable again. We enter, our coats are dispatched, and we are seated with a view of the stormy patio garden, the Rio Douro, and the lights of Gaia beyond.

Another meal to remember. We start with an assortment of amuse bouche: smoked trout with fresh cheese, chive and caviar is a crispy filo; fried shrimp with a mango chutney nested in coral; crispy cod skin with a traditional Portuguese sauce; a sharp cheese served with nuts and honey; and super-smokey Portuguese sausage balls dusted with black truffle. We start with a fresh burrata (burratina?) cheese salad with tiny tomatoes, arugula spaghetti, pesto, and a mound of foamy something (creme fraiche?); and a fresh crab chowder poured table-side, and accompanied by crunchy, deep-fried shrimp heads (awesome).

It starts to dawn on me that this is an extraordinary place; the components and the composition are all stunning. I want to ask about everything. The place-settings are changed with each course; the flatware the porcelain are modern and eye-catching. Servers work as teams to deliver and remove dishes; their timing and coordination are spot-on. Main courses are: vegetable pasta with poached egg; and duck with creamed sweet potato with mushrooms, and a dark a-l'orange sauce.

For dessert we start with a "pre-dessert"; I've never had that course offered to me before. It's a passion-fruit cup, the fruit is an emulsion on top of fresh yogurt and some kind of stiffened cream base. Dessert-dessert is a kind of deconstructed chocolate cake: fluffy green-tined cake-like puffs, with dollops of melted 72-percent dark chocolate, another (heavier) cake component that's formed into a pair of "Rolling Stones" lips, candy butterflies, and a cherry and balsamic sauce (served on the side). There are also raspberries.

Sorry – have to write that all down so I can remember. It's a truly great meal. When we arrive back at the Sheraton, I find out Antiqvvm has held a Michelin star since 2016. Their web site is still down.