The entirely-too-long narrative of the events of Tuesday, October 4, 2022

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Two days ago, we celebrated our 25th anniversary. Given that the odds of either of us ever having another 25th are nearly zero, we wanted to go out to a nice meal to mark the occasion.

Preparations began weeks ago as we Amy looked for a venue worthy of the occasion. The initial focus was on Michelin-rated restaurants. There are nine in Lisbon with stars and a couple dozen more with mentions in the famous guide. After much agonizing, we made a selection. Then we remembered our previous experience with a Michelin-starred place in Oxford, England. There were many courses of very small food. The meal was lengthy, precious, expensive, and we left hungry. It tasted fine but it isn’t an experience we’re longing to repeat.

We tried again. What’s more Portuguese than a seafood restaurant on the beach? We asked around for recommendations and our pastor suggested a place in Cascais where they’ll keep bringing seafood until you’ve had enough. While it wasn’t right on the beach, it did have a view and we figured we couldn’t go wrong with unlimited seafood so we made a reservation at Baia do Peixe.

Tuesday arrived and we called an Uber at Noon. Our driver, Ana, was wonderful. (Does anyone know if Uber allows the “Favorite Driver” option in Portugal? We can’t seem to find it.) She spoke fluent English and was tolerant of Scott’s random interjections of both Portuguese and Portuñol. She told us that it’s possible for children in Portugal to be in school from 7 AM to 7 PM between classes and before/after school activities (she has three daughters ranging from 4 years old to 8th grade). Classes start close to 9 AM and we neglected to ask when they finish. We also learned that public school teachers work for the government rather than for a school or district, and, consequently, can be reassigned annually. Sometimes these assignments can be hours by train from where they live. A multi-hour daily train commute would make a tough job even harder!

The highway to Cascais was nearly empty and the trip took less time than we expected. Ana (who lives in a divided fútbol household – she’s a Sporting fan, her husband roots for Benfica – putting us no closer to figuring out which team we should back) mentioned that the GPS takes us the fastest way but there’s a train that would offer a more scenic ride. We don’t know why it didn’t occur to us earlier to look into trains.

Prior to arriving at the restaurant, Scott queued up “temos uma reserva” (“we have a reservation”) on DeepL and got to use it twice as the woman at the door merely told us (in English) to go upstairs after checking the computer. The man upstairs asked our name in Portuguese and said, “Please follow me” despite the previous entirely-Portuguese exchange and led us to uma mesa para dois smashed between tables, next to a pole, and three rows from the edge of the patio. (Yes, when making the reservation we’d noted in the comments that it was our 25th.) Amy promptly played the anniversary card and asked if we could sit next to the railing instead. He looked put out but shifted two tables and seated us so we had a lovely, unimpeded view of the harbor.

All photos in this post by Scott, who knew he’d be under the gun to get a blog post out soon.

Our waitress arrived and, when we asked “Fala inglês?,” looked pretty much how Scott feels when someone asks if he speaks Portuguese. We could almost see the pit sink in her stomach. In general, the conversations went this way: Scott would ask a question in halting Portuguese. A torrent of words would come back in reply and between us we’d pick out one or two and get the general idea.

Scott took a stab at understand the reasoning behind the menu: there were two “rodízio” options, fish or shellfish, either of which they would bring until we dropped. There was also “miso do mar” – a one-platter-only mix of both fish and shellfish – at a price point a bit below rodizio options. Why, we wondered, could we get 100 shrimp or two kilograms of grouper if we wanted but only one plate that mixes both types of food? Our Portuguese was insufficient to get beyond the fact that the miso do mar was not repetition, so we opted for the shellfish.

A few minutes later, the implements of destruction appeared. We’d never seen crab crackers with curved tips before.

Also that’s a pretty long handle on the tiny fork.

And we confess to being so excited to tuck into the food (not to mention hungry) that this photo was taken well after we’d been going a while:

Just visible to the left of the main platter is the edge of “shell bowl #2”.

We had a second round of everything but the crab legs (too much work for too little return), the oysters, and the snails (which may be an acquired taste). Amy – the major shellfish lover – will say that it was all … disappointing. She’s been known to make a meal of oysters and she only managed two. As a side note, it turns out to be surprisingly difficult to feel satiated when a meal consists entirely of shellfish. We had mounds of empty shells (at least three bowls were whisked away and our plates were covered by the end as well), went through a total of four giant, super-absorbent napkins, and ended up stopping more because we were tired of eating than because we were full.

The shrimp were orange. The napkins were orange. There must be a connection. But why orange? And how does the color come off?

After lunch (which ended around 3:15 ... our reservation being at 1), we did some quick research and discovered that for 20% of the cost of an Uber, we could take a train back to Lisbon. We wandered through town for a short while, poking into a couple of shops, and found ourselves around the corner from the train station. We bought tickets and got on the 4:24 bound for Cais do Sodre, where we’d connect with the Metro’s green line.

It’s important to mention here that this has been an unseasonably warm week in the Lisbon Metropolitan Region. Highs on Tuesday were close to 28 Celsius – 83 Fahrenheit, give or take. The train did not have climate control (at least no A/C was on), and the windows were closed. There were 16 stops between Cascais and Cais do Sodre and people got on the train at nearly all of them. Almost nobody got off. After about 20 minutes, we were packed in like the sardines that would have been close to coming back up had we not chosen shellfish for lunch instead. People were standing in the aisles between the seats (which we were fortunate to have scored, having gotten on board roughly 20 minutes before departure) and the indoor temperature was climbing. Let’s just say the trip felt longer than it was. But we made it home without incident – even discovering a way to disembark the blue line and not immediately have to climb the steep hill to our apartment.

Josie was happy to see us, we were glad to be back.

That’s more than enough for now (trust us, you’re happy that Amy edited out nearly 700 words from Scott’s first draft).

Love from Lisbon,

Scott & Amy