Joao Pedro Marnoto for The New York Times
At Manifesto restaurant in Lisbon, Luís Baena, who acquired techniques under Paul Bocuse and Joël Robuchon, is one of a handful of chefs in the city earning much deserved attention.
For centuries, the humble fish, which is often salted and dried, has been the star of the seafaring nation’s national diet, with supporting roles played by squid, octopus and other creatures pulled from nets and hooks. Stores selling slabs of dried bacalhau dot many neighborhoods; there’s even a street that bears the name Rua dos Bacalhoeiros, or Street of the Cod Sellers.
With the ubiquity of bacalhau and its fellow low-cost aquatic ingredients, the Lisbon dining scene has long been dominated by homey mom-and-pop joints serving cheap (and often tasty) seafood-heavy fare. Over the years, a scattering of internationally minded restaurants have added a bit of an edge. But for many, the city simply isn’t considered a culinary destination.
That should soon be changing. Lisbon’s culinary scene is witnessing a remarkable evolution, with a handful of chefs concocting new takes on bacalhau and other traditional staples. At least a dozen ambitious upstart restaurants have opened in the last few years, headed by the country’s small but growing group of celebrity cooks, many of whom have worked abroad.
This really started rolling in 2009 — a year that
the Go Lisbon blog remarked, “should go down in Lisbon history as the ‘Year of the Chef.’ ” Last year, the acclaimed restaurant Tavares
was awarded a Michelin star, only the second in the city’s recent history. Now other spots are revitalizing the culinary landscape and earning much-deserved attention. Although the city’s reputation as the seat of a maritime trade empire has long since faded, when it comes to cuisine, this might well be Lisbon’s Golden Age.
Alma
Entering this restaurant, which opened in 2009, with its clean, white-dominated décor, you are greeted by a large cloudlike structure suspended from the ceiling, visibly pulsating. Alma means soul in Portuguese. Was this fixture a physical manifestation of that idea? Or did it represent the idea-swollen brain of the chef, Henrique Sá Pessoa, who also hosts
a Portuguese cooking show?
The first test of Mr. Sá Pessoa’s imagination was his treatment of mackerel, a fish often written off as low-class, overly pungent and oily. In Mr. Sá Pessoa’s hands, however, the three small slabs of skin-on fillets, which arrived on a bed of thin disks of potato and accompanied by a saffron aioli, had a satisfying salty-crispy exterior and a moist, meaty interior. Test passed.
Two more traditional seafood staples, squid and prawns, were finely chopped, then sautéed with a compote of tomato, garlic and a bit of chili, lending a wonderfully zesty kick.
The next challenge was bacalhau, an ingredient that, I must admit, has never really wowed me. Mr. Sá Pessoa chose a simple preparation — a lush purée of chickpeas underneath, a few oven-roasted tomatoes for color — that didn’t overpower the delicate flaky fillet. It was pleasant but unremarkable. I had hoped for more.
But Mr. Sá Pessoa did manage to elevate another Portuguese staple, pig, to new heights, with a slow-cooked cylinder of pork confit, pink and succulent. Balanced by a crispy exterior of pork skin, crunchy green bok choy and an orange-tinted sauce, the dish was suffused with an Asian-inspired citric tang.
As I glanced up at the strange light fixture overhead, it occurred to me that perhaps it represented
my state of mind: I was momentarily on cloud nine.
Alma, Calçada do Marquês de Abrantes 92-94; (351-21) 396-3527; alma.co.pt. Dinner for two is about 80 euros, $108 at $1.35 to the euro. (All prices are without drinks or tip.)
SeaMe
A different sort of cloud rose from the back of this seafood restaurant, which opened last November. As if it were a Kiss concert, smoke was shooting into the air. But instead of cloaking past-their-prime rock stars, these cool, moist mists were there to keep fresh the whole stacks of fish soon to be consumed by a boisterous weekend crowd.
The fish indeed looked fresh, and so did the menu, which was filled with Asian-tinged dishes, served in tapas-like portions. The chef, Filipe Rodrigues, is dedicated to injecting Japanese flavors into his nation’s seafood standards. Chopsticks lay on the tables, alongside bottles of soy, ponzu and teriyaki.
For the most part, the combinations worked. Mr. Rodrigues transformed the often banal sardine into a worthy piece of sushi, placing it on a finger of rice with a dash of sweet sauce. The flavor summit continued with cuttlefish tempura; dusted with a layer of cornmeal, deep fried, and coated in a zesty sauce of lime and yellow miso, the strands were tender, not rubbery.
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