Over the hills, under the moon - and off the beaten path

The unmarked door in the alleyway gave no indication of the feast that lay beyond. We knocked twice, and curious eyes sized us up before the door creaked open. Tonight we were visiting one of Lisbon's 'Chinês clandestinos', the illegal, non-regulated Chinese restaurants, which opened some twenty years ago during a wave of immigration from China. In a city that at the time was notoriously unwelcoming to immigrants, these underground eateries were sanctuaries, and some exist to this day in the narrow back alleys inside the multi-cultural Mouraria neighborhood Often on an upper floor and with no outer signs at all - just  perhaps a red Chinese lantern swinging high up on the wall The staircase was steep, grungy, and strewn with graffiti, but stepping inside on the first floor, we were immersed in delicious scents of Szechuan spices. We were led past the narrow kitchen, dodging woks ablaze with oil and a cook yelling...

I'll admit I was a bit anxious walking into my first attempt at making Pastel de natas, those dangerously addictive Portuguese custard tarts.  Michael and I have eaten them about every single day since we came to Lisbon. We've even tried them at the Pastéis de Belém - the legendary bakery,  which claims to have  the original recipe - but I've never tried my unskilled hand at crafting their intricate layers.  Until this morning, when I stood ready with about ten other newbie pastel bakers, while the chipper instructors at our cooking class reassured us that we'd all be custard experts in no time.  Martha and her colleague demonstrated how they carefully stretched the dough, explaining it should be made so thin that you would be able to read a newspaper through it. Soon I was elbow-deep in flour, attempting to coax my dough into ultra-thin plates, possibly using a few choice wo...

Last night was our first night ever in Lisbon, and the start  of a long stay in the historic neighborhood of Alfama. We had just arrived and were sitting on our balcony, looking out over the terracotta rooftops, which slide all the way down the steep hill towards the Tagus river. We knew, when we looked for an apartment in Alfama, that this neighborhood was the birthplace of the traditional Portuguese music Fado, which we love very much -  and it felt almost like a  miracle, when the melancholic tones of a fadista, a female Fado singer, suddenly filled the alleyway below us. Although we were completely worn out from a 30-hour long journey, we had to find the source of these mournful vocals,  and we went out and tracked the music to a nearby café.  Here a woman stood in the doorway, eyes closed, singing her heart out. Her rich, emotional delivery conveyed the essence of Fado - a bittersweet od...

Ever since our very first visit to Paris, we have made it a tradition to light a candle at the Church of St. Pierre de Montmartre on our final day in the city - hoping to be allowed to come back. This is of course superstition, and we're not superstitious, but luckily it seems to work, even if you don't believe in it! For the last 40 years, we have  lit perhaps thirty candles - and we have been coming back to Paris every single time without exceptions :-  ) This afternoon a new candle has been lit. À bientôt Paris!