Portugal is one of my favorite countries. The landscapes are gorgeous, the coastline even more so, and the people are hospitable, friendly, and very easy on the eyes. I’m often reminded of San Francisco when I am in Portugal, and some streets could be snapshots of an old SF, especially the hills and streetcars.
Oporto is in the northern part of Portugal; it’s nestled up into the mouth of the Douro River right on the Atlantic coast. Along the river, you can see houses stacked up on one another, squeezing together for the last 2,000 years. In fact, Oporto is on the UNESCO World Heritage List, which states the city may have been inhabited since the 8th century.
Of course, with all this history and beautiful surroundings, there is a lot to do and see. However, life here is slowed to a meandering pace. As in Spain, priorities here are taking the time for friends, family, and happiness. One of the best things I did was hang out by the Eiffel Bridge, an area called Ribeira. It’s a beautiful area, full of restaurants and port tastings on Vilanova de Gaia (at some point in Oporto you ought to try the port, as it comes from this region).
Around this area, you’ll also notice many signs advertising the Francesinha. This ‘little Frenchy’ is a monster of a sandwich first dreamed up here in Oporto, so since you’re at the source, why not have a go at it. I’d like to preface my experience with the Francesinha with the fact that I am not an adventurous eater, nor am I a big meat eater. So when a lovely Portuguese woman overheard my plans to not indulge she turned around and said, “You’ve never had it?! You have to try it!” So I did.
Truth be told, I was incredibly disgusted by the amount of meat and sticky orange sauce pl aced in front of me, but I’ll let you judge for yourself. The Francesinha will come to you in a shallow bowl; a bottom layer of bread sits smashed beneath the mammoth amount of food like a soggy, drowning cracker. Then comes the meat. Five hefty layers of meat. While I’ve heard the kind of meat may very from establishment to establishment, mine included: ham, steak, chorizo-ish meat slices, sausages cut in two, and another layer of unidentified meat. This meat-pile is topped with another comically thin slice of bread and the whole thing is enrobed in melted cheese. At this point the sandwich conservatively stands a good six inches tall. The entire meal is then doused in a sticky orange sauce, the consistency of little-kid boogers, and served up hot. The sauce is said to be a secret recipe, and you’ll probably be hard pressed to find two chefs that make it the same, but it is some kind of marriage of beer and tomatoes. Luckily for me, port was on hand and in tall supply. I’d also like to mention that I was with a friend from France who was aghast such a sandwich’s name would be a nod to her homeland.
Yet, I’ve met many a carnivore since that claims the Francesinha is the best thing we humans have ever come up with. If you do find yourself in this beautiful region, try this behemoth. At the very least, the immense protein intake will help sustain you as you explore the city and guzzle more port! A good place to try is the Mercado de Bolhao and Majestic Café on Rua Santa Catarina. This art deco café will undoubtedly serve you a better Francesinha than I had, with a panoramic city view.
