Post-Colonial Lisbon: Cape Verde

On a narrow and, until recently, slightly forgotten street in Lisbon’s city center, a simple Cape Verdean eatery is holding its own. As one of the few tascas serving up African dishes in this part of town, Tambarina, with its dozen tables and keyboard and mics set up in the corner, bears testimony to this urban quarter’s historical connections to the people of Africa’s northwestern archipelago. Rua Poço dos Negros – a street whose name (poço means “pit” in Portuguese) reveals a disturbing history as a mass grave site for the bodies of enslaved people – is on the border of what until two decades ago was known as “the triangle.” This is an area extending to São Bento and which in the 1970s became home to a new group of migrant Cape Verdeans.

Post-Colonial Lisbon: Angola

Those normally finding themselves craving Angolan flavors in central Lisbon head straight to Mouraria, the medieval downtown neighborhood that has experienced a conceptual conversion of its peripheral status into a landmark of cultural and culinary diversity. Despite it being the area with the highest density of Angolans in Lisbon’s city center, Angolan restaurants open and close at a rapid rate, with now-shuttered CB favorites Palanca Gigante and Shilabo’s falling prey to this trend. In the beginning, these restaurants were only popular among the Angolan community, but nowadays, due to the rehabilitation of the neighborhood, a new clientele is discovering them. Now that we can’t get the country’s iconic national dish, muamba, at Shilabo’s or Palanca Gigante, we head to Rato instead for a taste of Angola.

Post-Colonial Lisbon: Brazil

Despite Brazil being the largest of Portugal’s former colonies, the presence of its people in Lisbon has only been felt recently. During the 1950s and 60s, Brazilians in Portugal were limited to small groups of students, a few migrant adventurers and those Portuguese descendants born in Brazil who decided to return to the motherland. However, since the 90s, a more regular coming-and-going has been taking place between Brazil and Portugal. This pendulum-like swing of migration is a consequence of their respective political and economic crises and moments of growth. At the beginning of that decade, many Brazilians moved to Lisbon in the wake of the difficult inflationary crisis that was affecting South America’s biggest nation. By 2005, they formed the largest foreign community settled in the Portuguese capital, with more than 30,000 residents.

Gleba Moagem & Padaria

Bread may be fundamental to Portugal’s food culture, but over the last few years the baked goods landscape in the country has begun looking increasingly uniform, with fake neo-classic franchising playing no small part in its decline. Although many old and family-run bakeries can’t keep up with the competition – especially in the cities – there are a few initiatives kneading a small revolution. Courses, workshops and experimental research are creating a new class of future bakers who often rework old techniques. Among them is 21-year-old Diogo Amorim. Gleba, his bakery, with its contemporary look and historic techniques, attracts customers from all over Lisbon. It opened six months ago in Alcantara, a neighborhood that shows traces of many past lives, from industrial working-class to the aristocratic.

Fumeiro de Santa Catarina

Though it’s an age-old method for preservation and flavor enhancement all over the world, the smoking of meat, fish, and cheese is not a notable tradition in southern Europe. In Portugal, in the old days, salt curing was more common – particularly for the national staple, cod. However, the presence of smoking traditions in the north, particularly around the Minho river, indicates the possibility that the Vikings’ favorite method for cooking fish may have reached all the way to the northeastern Iberian peninsula.

Bagos

In downtown’s Chiado, a slightly bougie-looking restaurant profits from the crowds leaving weekend performances at the São Luiz theatre, a former 19th-century cinema. This place also takes advantage of a common and ubiquitous Portuguese ingredient – rice. Bagos (“grains of rice”) has just a few tables over two floors; the upstairs level is the more suitable for a business lunch partaken while tram 28 trundles by. The vibe is refined but simple, and that is reflected in how the humble staple on its menu is reworked in the kitchen. Chef Henrique Mouro explores the many ways in which different varieties of rice are prepared across the country, revealing a very typical component as the basis for all sorts of invention.

O Churrasco

Rua das Portas de Santo Antão is probably the most touristy food street in Lisbon. This pedestrian road is full of restaurants with guys outside hawking their specials and menus offering out-of-season sardines and frozen pizzas. But there’s more to this downtown thoroughfare than just luring American vacationers to overpriced mediocrity. Located on this road, buzzing even before the tourist boom thanks to its central location, musical theaters and local commerce, is one of the city’s timeless classics, O Churrasco. This restaurant looks different from the usual chicken restaurant, with impressionistic paintings hanging from its wooden walls and waiters in bow ties, and has been a camouflaged gem for many years, a particular favorite of middle-class families and theater lovers.