Memorable Bites in Porto

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With SGD, my fourth blog venture in life (lol, I am also including the few months I had a Blogspot in high school to document the cool snacks my sister’s friend brought back from Japan one time!), I see it more as a portfolio of my writing style when I compare it to my other blogs.

You know, something to mention in my query letter to the agent who will one day publish my memoir 😉🌠

I used to blog solely about two main passions of mine, running and food. But when I left for Italy, I got bored of restricting myself with my writing. With SGD, I wanted to have more freedom in this regard, and I do, but I also miss writing about food and my day(s) around the foodie adventures I planned around! Though the standard food product and restaurant reviews do get repetitive…

So with this blog, I’ve experimented with different writing formulas when it comes to writing about my long-standing passions. Like when I wrote about my day in Torino through the eyes of an aging debutante 😂. Give that a read if you haven’t already 😉

And I thought I’d do something similar with my weekend spent in Porto: fill you in on not just what I ate, but how I felt…

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Why Porto? Because it happened to be cheaper than Lisbon when I booked the Ryanair tickets 😂. I knew Portugal was a country I would be interested in visiting, and I thought “why not now” since it was only about a two hour flight from Milan…

…but if there’s anything I learned about these “cheap flights within Europe”, it is that they are cheap for a reason. Always delayed. Always crowded. Always an unpleasant experience.

Needless to say, I was looking for my dinner that night to soothe my irritated soul, and Kind Kitchen, not too far from my hostel, was the perfect place to refuel.

I was the only solo diner that night, surrounded by German-speaking couples, but it didn’t faze me.

No one mattered, once I locked eyes with my plate of vegan nachos.

It was satisfying indeed, but I craved something sweet and cold, despite the coastal winds bringing a chill along with them. As I walked towards Gelataria Portuense, I noticed several crescent moons gliding across a pitch black sky—haha no, they were just ‘gulls! 🐦

They followed me all the way to a rich, creamy cup of porto tawny + cheesecake morango—a taste of Porto Tawny wine without the alcohol, caramelized walnuts, plus cream cheese and strawberry puree with a crumbly biscuit.

Now my appetite was satisfied, and I was ready for a well-deserved night’s rest. Thankfully, only four girls including me were in my hostel room that night, when the maximum is supposedly eight…

I slept well that night, and in the morning learned that gray and cloudy skies awaited me, prompting me to push my run to later in the day. The other girls in the room were still snoozin’, including a Californian girl who’s last stop had been Morocco.

I wanted to sleep-in like them all, catch them at a more “decent” hour so we could unite and leave our solo traveler identities for a while….but I was hungry. The story of my life.

I was on the hunt for Pastel de Nata, as well as a place to possibly work with a laptop. But, Confeitaria Calica checked off only one of the two.

I decided to take care of my stomach first, and could deal with work a little later. The cafe with its no-frills decor made sure to humble me and my breakfast. A hefty, cube TV with a bubble screen played Portuguese news in the background, while the aged clientele seemed to have lived through better days…

My breakfast was indeed spartan, but in the most Portuguese way. I had seen Pastel de Nata before in Italy, but I vowed to never try it until I was on proper ground to take my first bite.

A cappuccino—in the most darkest form I had ever seen, almost as gray as the skies were that morning!—made a fair accompaniment to the golden egg tart with a flaky crust. The camera didn’t do well in confirming its real size—the size of my palm!

Within minutes it was all gone, and it was time to hunker down to get some work done. “Nomading” was going great, but it was about time I got some digital in! The Pilot Hostel lobby was decent enough, but the dark red walls fed me “vampires in daycare vibes”. It didn’t help that my “desk” and chair felt like a toddler’s play station.

After a few hours of work, I decided I would squeeze my run in—it’s my go-to way to also check off some sightseeing. The girls in my hostel room were long gone by the time I returned to gather my running gear. My 7 mile run was invigorating as much as it was exhausting, thanks to steep hills that made me second guess where I really was…

Porto, or San Francisco Bay Area? 🤔

I was hoping not to run into others while still in sweaty clothes, but there was nothing I could do to avoid the two blondes, attached at the hip, running damage through their already-flat-and-fried hair. Years of middle and high school in the 2000s as a brown, oily-skinned awkward duckling, and perhaps getting through my twenties constantly rolling my eyes at the routines of other women, made me immune to the self-doubt I used to experience upon seeing “feminine competition”.

The Californian who had recently trekked Morocco was at least one friendly face. While she had already made plans with the blondes, we exchanged numbers and mutually suggested to catch up for dinner. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to trek around Porto alone, after all. Even though the city caught my attention without my needing another human to distract me, the extroverted introvert in me always welcomes the company of a warm soul.

So I was content having another meal alone in the meantime—at least I had the freedom to go vegan once again, at Apuro. It was dimly-lit, yet cozy cafe, that truly reminded me of the restaurants we’d visit in Berkeley with “my really cool cousin”.

While I slowly answered the work emails that suddenly accumulated in my inbox within the last working hour of that Friday afternoon, this “sweet” bowl composed of sweet potato puree, basmati rice, bittersweet seitan, sauteed mushrooms, eggplant, lettuce, arugula, tomatoes, walnuts, cilantro, and a generous serving of (chili) sauce helped me stay focused until I could *officially* clock-out for the day.

And as usual, I had to have something sweet to feel content and complete. A slice of a dark chocolate vegan tart with almond and coconut did the trick, even if dark chocolate isn’t my most favorite taste in the world…

As I approached the last spoonfuls of my scrumptious vegan dessert, I decided to reach out to the Californian. As usual, I was making the first move. A somewhat-desperate extroverted introvert who wanted to seize any chance at companionship, because she wasn’t looking forward to yet another meal alone, if she could avoid it…

Thankfully, I was able to confirm company for the evening. After so much time in Italy, I was used to a latter start time for dinner. 7pm in the lobby and then a slow walk over? I mean, did I have a choice?

But at least Porto showed its thoughtful side again, this time with Francesinhas Al Forno da Baixa. A short conversation in the hostel lobby about where to go for dinner led the Californian and I here, after I confirmed that they indeed had an ample selection of vegan francesinha delights.

There were at least four vegan francesinhas to choose from. Four!! Not having to pick “the vegan one”, rather picking one from a selection, was a novel experience to say the least.

So I went with curry, filled with everything possible that was all vegan: seitan, vegan chorizo, vegan sausage, vegan cheese, and curry sauce. And for less than 10€.

The conversation was filling as well. As two women travelers, though under different circumstances and with years between us, we were able to talk about things relevant to us both. There were times when the conversation steered towards unnerving memories from my end, but she was yet another kind listener from these recent months, helping me to sand down those once abrasive emotions.

The next morning, I sacrificed a run since my appetite still seemed to be raging—despite the “rich” francesinha consumed only hours before!

It was an excuse to try another hipster eatery near the hostel, and I immediately thought of Lazy Breakfast Club just a few doors down…

I was indeed feeling lazy, but it didn’t seem like the cafe was, based on the staff on call. While the cafe was small and cozy, it had an upstairs level, and the number of staff seemed to outnumber the patrons.

It’s almost like I had a personal server, and mine followed me up the stairs and asked if I (as a single patron, of course) wouldn’t mind sitting at a communal table with a German couple already seated. I welcomed the opportunity, thinking perhaps the German couple would be interested in some early morning conversation, but one look at their phone-fixed faces and I rolled my eyes. This solo stuff was really starting to get on my nerves…

But it was the server who had led me to my seat who annoyed me the most. His quirk was saying a little “brrp” sound after presenting each food item to a patron.

Golden milk latte, brrp!

Overnight oats with fruit and peanut butter, brrp!

At least he was entertaining to watch, as he air drummed to the music being played over the cafe’s stereo system. He also seemed to break the ice with the Germans at my table by speaking in German and bonding over his admiration of Nietzsche. Cue bigger eye roll here.

My breakfast was light enough that by the time my Californian friend woke up and met me in the hostel lobby, we quickly made our way to stop for Pastel de Nata before heading to our walking tour start.

Cervejaria Metro da Trindade wasn’t fancy, but like the name suggests, it was close to the metro, and close to where we were headed. My new friend tried PdN for the first time, and I decided last minute to grab one to-go. I was still hungry, believe it or not!

I did my best not to get custard all over me, and I managed success despite all the wobbly, cobblestone roads that insisted on defeating me!

We made it to the walking tour starting point with time to spare, and found company with a “diverse” group (half of our group were Americans from California, go figure). Our walking tour guide was lively and friendly enough, but as with all walking tours I’ve participated in my life, my mind was thinking to the meal I’d have after!

So I shamelessly tuned out the history that was being shared, in favor of taking photographs of the mesmerizing architecture and the bustling crowds that encircled it all. I perked up when the tour guide began to speak of the history regarding bread, eggs, and the Portuguese Catholic church 🤣.

And when a 15 minute break was mentioned so we could climb back up a hill to check out the infamous Padeirinha Doce, a bakery known for its carb-heavy Portuguese delights, my friend and I didn’t waste a minute, almost running up that hill.

But I was humbled here. After being “spoiled” up until this point with vegan options and dietary-friendly/open-minded catering, the only savory treat I could partake in was a “golden roll” and a cappuccino on the side to wash it all down:

At the end of the day, bread is bread, and I couldn’t complain about biting into a chewy ball of sun. It was the cappuccino I should have been more wary of—piping hot, with each sip threatening to burn off my taste buds.

We managed one more hour of walking, and despite the break, my mind was still thinking about where to eat/drink more coffee after this “distraction” was done and over. I also still had to figure out where my tip was coming from…even after living in old-world Europe for the past few years, the thought of ever having to carry cash continues to send shivers down my spine.

But my new friend came through—I’d cover her next meal, and she’d cover both of our walking tour tips. Our tour stopped at the Douro River, and from there we decided to climb back up to the center and stop at a place along the way.

How convenient that Bite was this place.

While my friend let me cover her glass of wine, I got myself the crisps with aioli, since there weren’t an ample amount of “big” meals to choose from (and I figured I could have another excuse to eat later).

Sitting by the window, I could see we were perfectly positioned in the beating heart of Porto. I guess 3pm was when things started to take shape, and was proof that Portugal was yet another country and culture filled with people who shuddered at the thought of waking up at 6am for a morning run.

Even with company by my side, my mind always manages to find a way to make me feel othered.

With most of the city attractions checked off thanks to the walking tour, my friend and I decided to take our time strolling in and out of shops, to of course buy more time before the next snack 😂.

Then we found it, the grand entrance to Mercado do Bolhão, Porto’s most famous and grand outdoor market. I was surprised that several vendors offered samples as well, even though they tended to be micro-sized slivers of cheese or teaspoons of vinegar.

What caught my eyes was the decadent display of chocolate truffles—the brigadeiros.

The tiny one I decided to treat myself to was a costly 1.50€! I took the time to admire it before allowing it to melt in my mouth within seconds. It was a vanilla-and-chocolate blend of condensed milk encrusted with sugar crystals, and boy did I wish these miniature truffles were the ones being given out as samples…

After making our rounds, my friend and I made our way back to the hostel. She had to quickly pack up and walk back across town to change her hostel for the night, but we agreed to meet up for an Indian dinner in a few hours. Indian food, you’re guaranteed to find it everywhere and anywhere 😅.

But I was a mix of bored and tired—I was too lazy to climb up to the top bunk that was my hostel bed and I was too exhausted to socialize in the hostel lounge. I made myself cozy on one of the sofas, and passed the next hour and a half doing something I dread: doomscrolling through my phone 😫!

As time ticked on towards 7pm, I decided to take the “scenic” route to Thali. Too bad there was nothing new to see, as I was crossing the same hipster paths I crossed all weekend. Thali was in the middle of Porto’s version of Gourmet Ghetto, yet another similarity to its sister on the Pacific 😉.

It would be the last meal with my new friend, and despite the bittersweet undertones, we were both eager and hungry to dive into some warm (and spicy!) North Indian food. I knew that the spice level of North Indian food offered in Europe is significantly toned down for the sensitive stomachs of the locals, while the price is significantly cranked up!

Being too hungry to capture the full spread, I quickly scooped a spoonful of mushroom paneer and a quarter of my butter garlic naan before chowing down.

While my friend and I mostly stayed quiet as we focused on the food in front of us, the young child of a couple next to us was happily squealing to the sounds of Bollywood music videos playing from the TV screen behind me. Her father looked to us and apologized for his “rambunctious” daughter, to which we politely smiled and said it was no bother.

It led to my friend and I talking about having kids and starting families, and it led me to be completely honest about my take on it all. My friend spoke excitedly about the idea of being able to tell her kids about her one year traveling the world solo, while my mind fixated on the idea of having to prioritize my life around another human being for eighteen consecutive years, if not more…

But having the confidence to have these conversations with anyone openly is something I attribute to my personal growth while living abroad—I am not afraid to share my thoughts and opinions, and at the same time, I cherish the stories that are shared with me.

Our dinner soon came to a close, and with bellies now warm and full, my friend and I hugged each other goodbye. As I walked back to the hostel, I knew I had to stop for dessert, and I suppose Gelateria Sincelo was able to read my mind. A cup of cinnamon ice cream with mini malt balls was the perfect nightcap, despite the cool, sea winds making my body feel especially cold.

The next morning, I woke up around 6am and was the first of all the girls in my room to do so (of course). My flight back to Milan beckoned, and so did one last meal on Porto soil. It wasn’t a special breakfast at Deli & Cia, but a cappuccino + something always seems to comfort me, even on my most stressful days…

Savory breakfasts are hard to come by in Italy, so I was happy to collect my thoughts over a spinach pasty (not quite Portuguese, more like British 😅).

And after the last bite of my dear pasty’s flaky crust, it was back to the land of bland carbohydrates and spartan vegetarian options. Porto was indeed a refreshing break for my microbiome!

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I fed myself well in Porto, and while the food was accommodating as much as it was nourishing, the added benefit of having a “travel pal” for the weekend helped pass time in a city that already performed well in distracting me.

And while this post is a clear record of my literal bites in Porto, the feelings associated with these meals are also “bites” that will remain ingrained in my mind for years to come…