I received a tip from a very wise waiter in Portugal. The question at hand — where to find the best sandwiches and lightly battered fish among a landscape of very, very good options — was one he didn’t take lightly. After an appropriate period of deliberation, the advice I received was simple: “The thing that hangs over the sidewalk outside a restaurant, what’s the word for that? Anyway, if it’s the color white that means they carry decent espresso. These places will take care of you.” He was spot on.
Lisbon and Porto are two cities that, I surmise, would be hard to have a bad time in. There, alongside two dear friends, I spent the end of April taking in a great many small beers, life-affirming selections of cured meats and fish, glasses of vinho verde (among other, more challenging varietals), and long walks on steep, cobbled streets. That’s about as good as it gets, if you ask me.