Sebastiao Garcia, the boss, has the most fabulous Hercule Poirot style moustache, sadly I didn’t have my camera with me or I would have taken a picture of me fondling it. The menu encompasses meat and fish dishes, as we were sat by the tropical fishtank we opted for the latter. The fish in the tank eyed us with disdain, if not downright hatred.
I have no clue about Portuguese food, except a vague memory of a New Year with Harold in Lisbon a number of years ago when I recall eating very well, although no idea what. I know that Bacalao, or salt cod, is very, well, salty. As it was a bit late, we skipped the starter and ordered main courses directly. I opted for the caldeirada de peixe which is a big fish stew. Roopers knew a bit about Portuguese food and ordered the roasted cod for himself and the “bar” or sea bass for Scouse Doris. We ordered a pitcher of house white to go with it, which came in a most original glass jug which was weighted so as to tip naturally into the correct angle for pouring. Very clever.
While we waited we were served a complimentary plate of delicious finely sliced raw ham, and a bowl of buttery yellow-green olives sprinkled with rock salt. Salt, decidedly, is an important part of Portuguese cuisine.
Both the white fish dishes came on a rectangular plate with vegetables and beautiful little new potatoes roasted in their skins. My caldeirada, however, was the pièce de résistance. I was first issued with a great big bib adorned with a picture of a lobster. The reason for this became clear when the dish arrived in a hinged metal cauldron, hence the name I suppose, and Sebastiao unhooked the lid with a flourish to reveal the most beautiful and fragrant stew you have ever seen. There were lobster claws, there was a king prawn, and lumps of skate, and other white fish, in the most delicious orange-tinted broth which would have made a delicious fish soup on its own. I was equipped with all the necessary tools – a big spoon for the broth, a knife and fork and a crochet hook for digging into the lobster claws. I prepared to get myself into one delicious mess.
Some half an hour later I emerged from the primeval soup, my bib generously splashed and licking my chops. The creatures in the fishtank had now turned their backs on us in disgust. Two pitchers of the house white had slipped down nicely. Doris had found her sea bass a bit on the salty side, but Roops enjoyed his roasted cod.
While Doris and Roops went outside for a fag, I mentioned Gonzo to the guv'nor, who beamed broadly, and our coffees arrived with a complimentary snifter - three massive glasses of Portuguese brandy. Cheers, Gonzo! Much as I would have loved a pasteis de nata, I was stuffed. But I shall certainly reserve space next time, and either eat meat or sit further away from the fishtank.
It’s not the cheapest restaurant in town – but situated on the Rue des Dominicains alongside Chez Vincent and Scheltema, it wouldn’t be. We ended up coughing for about 32 euros a head, without ordering starter or dessert, but got complimentary nibbles and pousse-café. Sebastiao waved us off into the wet night, his moustaches curling in the rain. The fishtank bubbles flared briefly with a rude noise.
30 rue des Dominicains
1000 Brussels
