Saturday, 17 October 2026

The Algarve (13): Eating the Algarve 2026. Part 2: Food not from the Sea

Originally posted in 2011, Eating the Algarve had a major rewrite in 2022 and has since been updated annually

Part 2: Food not from the Sea

 2026 Explanation

Portugal
Over the years this post has seen many deletions but even more additions, and this year's new material would make it overlong. So, for ease of reading I have split the post in two. Part 1 deals with fish, shellfish and other denizens of the deep, and this is Part 2 covering everything else. The two posts share the next three paragraphs.

Eating in the Algarve

For me food ranks high among the pleasures of travel and 'eating local' is important. In a very few countries eating local is a chore, endless mutton in Mongolia (there was no choice) or two kebabs a day in Iran (I hear menus have diversified since 2000) leap to mind, but I have a much longer list of lands, from China in the east to Cuba in the west where dinner is a delight. Portugal ranks highly amongst them.

We first visited the Algarve, Portugal’s southernmost region, in 1982, returned several times in the 1990s and have not missed a year this century (except 2020, the Baleful Year of Covid). From 2005-25 we based ourselves at Carvoeiro, east of the city of Portimão. This year we relocated to Alvor 12km further west, just the other side of Portimão. The reason? We are getting older and were finding Carvoeiro's steep, hilly terrain increasing hard work; Alvor is flatter. Both are smaller resorts and I admire the way the locals accept that, for a large part of the year, they are a minority in their own towns, yet deal calmly and honestly with the invading hordes. I love the October warmth, the sunshine sparkling on the sea, the bougainvillea trailing across freshly painted white villas, and. of course, I love the food.

Algarve featuring Carvoeiro and Alvor

Portugal is often thought of as a Mediterranean country. Portuguese is a Latin language, the climate, particularly in the Algarve, is Mediterranean, as is the food. Tomatoes, garlic and peppers are important while olive oil is the essential cooking medium, condiment and salad dressing. All it lacks is a Mediterranean coast.

Warm(ish) and blue, but definitely the Atlantic Ocean, not the Mediterranean Sea

Breakfast

For the Portuguese, breakfast is little more than coffee, bread and jam. Much as I attempt to eat local, I need more than that in the morning, which gives me an opportunity to crowbar in a mention of presunto, despite it not coming from the Algarve. Portuguese has two words for ham, fiambre is wet cured ham, pink, flaccid and forgettable while presunto is air cured – most like Spanish Serrano ham. Of the many ways to enjoy presunto, none is better than smeared with a warm, runny egg-yolk.

Presunto, a sadly broken fried egg and an over-large breakfast

Although we eat presunto for breakfast regularly, this is not a regular breakfast, this is the final day, 'clear the fridge' breakfast - well, that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

Morning Snacks

Coffee and cake! A section of  I Don’t have a Sweet Tooth but… is dedicated to Portuguese coffee and cake. I shall not repeat myself here, but I cannot resist a picture of café com leite with a pastel de nata, my absolute favourite.

What eleven o'clock is for

It does not look much, but melts away leaving a legacy of lovely, lingering flavours. It’s like Portugal, not always showy but full of depth and richness.

Light Lunch

We sometimes go out for lunch, but rarely for a 'light lunch' - keeping it 'light' is too difficult. But to control a regime noticeably leaning towards over-indulgence, light lunches are a necessity. This is salad time - lettuce, tomatoes, peppers, garlic, a sprinkle of herbs, a dash of vinegar and a drizzle downpour of olive oil - accompanied by whatever seems appropriate. Locally produced sardine paté (see Part 1) can be particularly appropriate.

Salad and sardine paté

Or maybe some cheese. The Portuguese tend to eat cheese at the start of a meal, but visitors can do as they please. The Algarve produces a little, but most eaten in the region comes from the Alentejo, the next district to the north, or from the Azores, 1,000km out in the Atlantic.

Two cheeses

On the left is an Alentejo sheep cheese. It is close textured with a gentle flavour, but a pleasing tang at the finish. (For more on Alentejo cheese see Eating and Drinking the Alentejo). On the right an Azores cheese made with mixed cow, goat and sheep milk – I don’t know of anywhere else that mixes milks. It is soft and creamy with a delicate flavour but a sumptuous texture.

Dining (or Lunching) Out

Couvert

Either Portuguese portion sizes have increased, or - more likely - we are just getting old, but we no longer eat three course meals. Starters are pleasures of the past while desserts, if we bother at all often involve two spoons but only one dessert. We do however maintain the Portuguese tradition of a couvert.

In days of old, when clams were bold (or at least, cheap) you had no sooner sat down but some bread would arrive at your table, followed by the obligatory olives, sardine paté, carrots, maybe a small cheese or an even smaller fish. These were presented as though they were gifts, but of course you paid for them in the end, under the heading couvert (cover charge). This seemed fine to me, I liked the element of surprise and the cost was small, but clearly it did not please everybody. In the interests of transparency, the various items must be listed and priced on the menu and you have to ask for them, though specials, like a fish paté freshly prepared in-house, are offered verbally. We regard bread and olives as an absolute minimum, indeed starting a Portuguese meal without first eating a bowl of olives is downright perverse, if not actually illegal. We also like the garlicky, gently spiced boiled carrots which, despite numerous attempts, I have never quite managed to reproduce at home.

Bread, olives and white port - well why not?

Unlike the French, the Portuguese do not leave a specific time for an aperitif, but we like a white port while we are munching our olives. Sweet or dry it has just enough acidity to sharpen the appetite for whatever comes next.

Carne - Meat

(For fish and seafood dishes see Part 1)

Borrego. Throughout the Algarve there are patches of scrubby land with a few sheep and a shepherd. The shepherds are uniformly the sort of old men who feel they still need to do something useful (an affliction I have never suffered from). Lynne felt that as they went to so much effort it was rude not to eat some lamb.

Her rack of lamb at the Casa Algarvia was top quality meat, perfectly cooked. Unfortunately it was marred by a squirt of sweet commercial mint sauce at the side of the plate, partly over some salad. I suspect helpful British tourists have for years been telling Portuguese restaurateurs that ‘we always eat lamb with mint sauce’ and this is the result. Not all restaurants do this, and mint sauce has its place in a British-style ‘roast dinner’, but here it was just inappropriate.

Rack of lamb, Casa Algarvia, Carvoeiro, 2022

Frango Piri-piri. Chicken piri-piri was on (almost) every menu in the Algarve long before Nando’s existed. Nandos was co-founded in South Africa by Fernando Duarte, a Portuguese Mozambiquan who gave the dish the fast-food franchise treatment and aligned himself with the gastro-criminals of KFC, MacDonalds and the rest. There are mercifully very few fast-food franchises in Portugal (though there is a Burger King with a ludicrously large sign in Lagoa) and chicken piri-piri is cooked individually by each restaurant in their own style. It is traditionally our lunch on our last day in Portugal.

Chicken piri-piri, O Barco, Carvoeiro 2022

Portugal and the chilli: a small digression

The chilli pepper was first cultivated in Mexico some 10,000 years ago. Several millennia later It was taken to Asia by Portuguese traders, arriving in India in the late 16th century, recasting the whole cuisine of south-east Asian. Vindaloo, the ultimate test of British diner's machismo, originated in Portugal's Indian colony of Goa, and is a Portuguese/Indian fusion.

The variety that would become piri-piri was taken to Africa and made its way to the Portuguese mainland from their colony of Mozambique. Chilli does not appear in traditional Portuguese cookery but sausages (chouriço picante) and sardine paté with piri-piri are widely available, as is piri-piri sauce, suggesting it is much used in home cookery.

Desserts

Dessert menus used to involve a large glossy folded card produced by a manufacturer of synthetic desserts and ice creams. Stuck somewhere on the card there would always be a small, sometimes hand-written, list of the grown-up desserts, many of them made in-house. Now, the diner is usually offered a normal dessert menu.

Pudim Flan. Almost ever present is pudim flan, a rich eggy caramel custard, which is perfect when you have too little room for anything heavier. Sometimes it is just perfect.

Lynne and a pudim flan, Martin's Grill, Carvoeiro 2019

Pudim (Pudding) entered the Portuguese language from English in the 19th century. Flan may derive from an Old Frankish word meaning a flat cake or disc, but now means a smooth, set custard made with eggs, milk and sugar, usually cooked in a caramel-lined mould. It is hardly unique to Portugal, but it is particularly popular here - and no one does it better.

Pudim de Mel I found Honey Pudding, on the menu at Capacho in Alvor this year. It is not as soft as pudim flan, has two distinct layers and a good honey flavour without being too sweet. I  liked it a lot.

Pudim de Mel, Capacho, Alvor 2026

It is not entirely obvious what these two 'puddings' have in common, but I wounder if there are more Portuguese pudims to discover. I do hope so.

The English word 'pudding' seems to have lost its way, covering a range of savoury pleasures from haggis ('Great chieftain of the pudding race' as Burns called it) to Yorkshire pudding, and sweet desserts from rice pudding to sticky toffee pudding. They appear to have little in common, and anyway 'pudding' is also colloquially used for anything eaten after the main course. In America 'pudding' is applied to soft, creamy, milk-based dessert, not far from pudim flan, but several miles from jam roly-poly.

If you have enough space left for more than a pudim, there are bolos, tortas, tartes and more, made from local produce including (but not limited  to) almonds, figs, carobs and oranges.

Torta de Amendoa e Doce de Ovo Almonds are an important crop in the Algarve. Almond Roll (torta) is just one of the variations.

Almond Roll, Zé Morgandinho, Alvor, 2026

Soft in texture, though firmer than the pudims, it was gently sweet, largely smooth but nutty where it was required to be. It was perhaps a little more than I needed after my large sole at Zé Morgadinho, but I happily made the sacrifice.

Figo I presume people grow figs commercially in the Algarve, but fig trees also grow where they choose, whether intentionally planted or not. Figs can be used on their own, but at Atlântida in Alvor I enjoyed a fig and almond roll.

Fig and almond roll, Atlântida, Alvor, 2022

I have been slow to appreciate the pleasures of figs; too many pips, I thought, and not enough else. In Spain in 2019 for the first time in my life, I ate a fig straight from the tree. It was amazing,.Figs, I belatedly discovered, are delicious.

Bolo de Laranja Like almonds and olives, oranges are an important crop in the Algarve, and if you have abundant Oranges, then will make orange cakes.

An amazingly light yet full flavoured orange cake, and an affogato of sorts
O Barco, Carvoeira, 2022

Portuguese cakes (bolos) are wonderfully light, and an orange cake has the flavour of freshly squeezed orange in every bite.

Tarte de Alfarroba Carobs are not as familiar in the UK as oranges and almonds, but carob products are always available in wholefood shops as a substitute for chocolate. In Portugal you do not see ranks of carob trees in commercial orchards as you do with oranges and olives, but they are common. You know you are standing under a carob tree when the ground is littered with their huge papery pods.

Carob trees (nearest camera) with large pods ready to fall, Mexilhoeira Grande

In 2013 my 'long lost cousin' Ricky and her husband Zeka were, as a hobby rather than a necessity, small scale producers of carobs and olives. The trees in the photo above were theirs and below the 2013 carob harvest so far (early October). The price per tonne sounds quite encouraging, but you need an awful lot of carob pods to make a tonne. I doubt that relying on carobs for the entirety of your income would provide a good living

The first half (maybe0 of Ricky and Zeka's carob harvest

My carob tart looked like this. Carob does taste a lot like chocolate, but in this quantity it soon cloys. When it became claggy, I put a spoonful of unflavoured Greek yoghurt on the top, the acidity was just what it needed.

Carob Tart

I could do that because I was not eating in a restaurant. I bought the tart in Alvor's Sunday market, from a stall selling vegetables, olives and their home made Doces Regionais (regional desserts).

Where to buy regional desserts and more, Alvor Market

Mousse de Chocolate And finally if you want something more familiar, even if it is not strictly regionais most Algarve restaurants should be able to serve up a good chocolate mousse.

Chocolate Mousse
Zé Morgadinho, Alvor 2026

Extroduction

The end of a meal demands one of these.

Bica

The Portuguese version of an expresso is maybe larger than the Italian, but although it is strong the flavour is less aggressive and more layered. It is known as a bica, a word which also means spout and, in some contexts, nipple, though I have no idea why. Decaf is available, should you deem it wiser in the evening.

When you ask for the bill, it will often be presented with a small glass of port, bagaçeira or almond liqueur. Once you have drunk up and paid up it is time to go.

Friday, 16 October 2026

The Algarve (12): Eating the Algarve 2026. Part 1: Food from the Sea

Originally posted in 2011, Eating the Algarve had a major rewrite in 2022 and has since been updated annually

Part 1: Fish, Shellfish and other Denizens of the Deep

2026 Explanation

Portugal
Over the years this post has seen many deletions but even more additions, and this year's new material would make it overlong. So, for ease of reading I have split the post in two. Part 1 deals with fish, shellfish and other denizens of the deep, Part 2 (coming soon) covers everything else. The posts share the next three paragraphs.

Eating in the Algarve

For me food ranks high among the pleasures of travel and 'eating local' is important. In a very few countries eating local is a chore, endless mutton in Mongolia (there was no choice) or two kebabs a day in Iran (I hear menus have diversified since 2000) leap to mind, but I have a much longer list of lands, from China in the east to Cuba in the west where dinner is a delight. Portugal ranks highly amongst them.

We first visited the Algarve, Portugal’s southernmost region, in 1982, returned several times in the 1990s and have not missed a year this century (except 2020, the Baleful Year of Covid). From 2005-25 we based ourselves at Carvoeiro, east of the city of Portimão. This year we relocated to Alvor 12km further west, just the other side of Portimão. The reason? We are getting older and were finding Carvoeiro's steep, hilly terrain increasing hard work; Alvor is flatter. Both are smaller resorts and I admire the way the locals accept that, for a large part of the year, they are a minority in their own towns, yet deal calmly and honestly with the invading hordes. I love the October warmth, the sunshine sparkling on the sea, the bougainvillea trailing across freshly painted white villas, and. of course, I love the food.

Algarve featuring Carvoeiro and Alvor

Portugal is often thought of as a Mediterranean country. Portuguese is a Latin language, the climate, particularly in the Algarve, is Mediterranean, as is the food. Tomatoes, garlic and peppers are important while olive oil is the essential cooking medium, condiment and salad dressing. All it lacks is a Mediterranean coast.

Warm(ish) and blue, but definitely the Atlantic Ocean, not the Mediterranean Sea

The Algarve is a tourist region and thus prey to foreign influences - tapas and sangria from Spain, salmon from northern Europe and all-day English breakfast from somewhere. Between them Alvor and Carvoeiro also offer Chinese, Indian, Thai, Nepalese and Georgian cuisine of varying authenticity, not to mention an increasing number of vaguely named ‘Mediterranean’ restaurants, and so-called Italian restaurants many of which hardly reach beyond spag bol and American style pizza.

Carvoeiro

I have nothing against any of these restaurants (except. perhaps, the fake Italians and the all-day English breakfast) but my interest is in Portuguese food with an Algarve accent. In the nineties and early noughties most restaurants could be described as 'tipico' and that is what they gave you, now it may be less than half. The problem for those wanting to eat Portuguese is not the 'ethnic' restaurants, they announce themselves clearly, it is the many apparently Portuguese restaurants who have, in part or entirely, given up on local food in favour of 'tourist food'. It feels like a betrayal, but I cannot blame them, restaurant owners have to make a living and if tourists ask for steak and chips, fried chicken breast, spaghetti Bolognese, or fish and chips, then that is what they will provide, and most, to be fair, do it very well.

Alvor harbour in the evening - a few fishing vessels among many pleasure craft.

For those who really want local food, the clues are in the menus. The Algarve produces good pork, lamb, turkey and chicken, but not beef. A menu featuring a list of steaks signals a tourist restaurant, as does a sign saying 'roast lamb with mint sauce.' The Algarve is roughly rectangular with the Atlantic Ocean on two sides. Unsurprisingly, it is blessed with the freshest of fish. A 'tipico' restaurant's menu will offer more fish mains than meat mains, but none of them will be 'fish and chips', and they will not call squid 'calamari' and serve it breaded and fried in strips or rings.

Foods from the sea are so important to the Algarve diet that the rest of this post is dedicated to them. For anything else see Part 2.

Peixe - Fish

Sardinha. Sardines are the right place to start, they are available in (almost) every restaurant in the Algarve and are often the cheapest main course.

Sardines, Dona Barca 2024

Since 1982 we have been making what has become a pilgrimage to the Algarve’s second city of Portimão to eat sardines. The scruffy trestle tables on the dock have long been tidied up, but ducking under an arch from where they used to be brings you to a small square where Dona Barca, an old-style restaurant, which retained its communal tables (until Covid) grills fish in the open air. Since we discovered it with Brian and Hilary in 2002(ish) we have never felt the need to go elsewhere for our sardines.

Sardines at Dona Barca, Portimão, 2004
Brian, Hilary, their daughter Lauren and me, with Lynne behind the camera

Sardina Pilchardus
Photo: Gervais et Boulart     Pub. Dom.

Sardines in Dona Barca, Portimão, 2026
Lynne included this time (a helpful waiter behind the camera) - no Lauren, she lives in Hong Kong

It is a treat we have often shared with friends, usually Brian and Hilary but with several others at various times. Dona Barca is inexpensive, the food is excellent (they have a full menu, it’s not just sardines) and it is one of the very few restaurants we visit with Portuguese customers as well as tourists.

I should also mention sardine paté. These little tins of loveliness are widely available and often part of a restaurant's 'cover' (see part 2). We often eat it for lunch with a salad, while Brian likes it for breakfast.

Sardine Paté

The paté is produced and canned in Olhão just east of Faro and it come with or without piri piri (we prefer it with). Taking a supply home means we can have reminders of Portugal whenever they are needed.

Robalo e Dourado. Sea Bass and Sea Bream are also ubiquitous if slightly more expensive. The tourist-driven fashion of late is to fillet them, but they used to be plated whole....

European Sea Bass
Photo:Miguel Mendez used under CC BY 2.0

Robalo, Casa Palmeira, Carvoeiro 2023

....and thankfully still are at Casa Palmeira in Carvoeiro.

Dourado, Casa Palmeira, Carvoeiro 2023

Dourado
Photo:Amada44 used under CC BY-SA 3.0

In 2025 I noticed menus in Carvoeiro offering Dourada and/or Robalo, while also offering 'fillet of Dourada/Robala' as a separate item, This seems a reasonable compromise, protecting those who suffer conniptions on seeing a fish head on their plate, its dulled eye staring reproachfully up at them, while allowing more robust dinners to carry on as before.

Linguado. Sole used to be on most menus, then disappeared and is now making a come back. Occasionally it appears as sole veronique, but more often in simple Portuguese style. This year (2026) I chose mine from the fish reclining on ice outside Zé Morgadinho's in Alvor...

Fish selection Zé Morgadinho, Alvor 2026
My sole has already been removed from its place between the sea bass, top right and the turbot below.
Lynne ate two of the cuttlefish, metal tray bottom right

...and it was taken away gutted and grilled.

Dover sole
Hans Hillewaert used under CC BY-SA 4.0

Sole, ready for eating, Zé Morgadinho, Alvor 2026

Perfectly cooked and served with a boiled potatoes and salad, it was as fine a fish as has every faced a knife and fork. I had noticed that sole cost half as much again per kilo as sea bass and sea bream, but I had not realised how big a fish I had selected. It cost rather more than I expected, but it was worth it. Zé Morgadinho's and Dona Barca where we eat our sardines, appear to be under the same management. Both are old-fashioned hardcore Portuguese fish restaurants refreshingly unafraid to offer tourists fine fish simply cooked.

Tamboril. The Monkfish may be the ugliest fish in the sea. On a fisher-monger's slab it is mainly face - and a face only a mother monkfish could love - with a tail as an afterthought.

With the head removed and the tail skinned a substantial slab of meat remains. There is a membrane that should be removed (though that does not always happen) and the tail is then cooked whole, or filleted and cut into several sizable medallions. This year (2026) at the Casa da Maré in Alvor I chose Espetada de Tamboril c/ Camarão Monkfish Kebab with prawns.

Monkfish and prawn kebab, Casa da Maré, Alvor 2026
The restaurant is by the harbour, but I am sitting in front of a picture

European Monkfish
Photo: Libby Keatly used under CC BY 4.0

The big cubes of fish were soft, luscious and perfectly cooked, as was everything else on the skewer, prawns, onions and more. It is a clever trick when everything has to be skewered at the same time. The Casa da Maré is nicely situated with a view of the harbour, but it is the standard of cooking that ensures it is full to bursting every evening, even in in mid-October.

Espadarte. We both like an occasional swordfish steak, though sometimes they can be a touch dry. It is a meaty fish and Lynne enjoyed her swordfish in A Galeria in Carvoeiro, though presentation does not appear to be the restaurant's greatest strength.

Swordfish, A Galeria, Carvoeiro 2025

Swordfish
Photo: Naturalis Biodiversity Center  Pub Dom

At lunch at the Atlântida, on the beach at Alvor, they offered an Espadarte Algarvia. There is no agreed definition of ‘Algarvia’ or ‘Algarve style’ but I expected something with tomatoes, peppers and garlic. I was wrong about that.

Swordfish with orange and almonds, Restaurante Atlântida, Alvor 2022

Oranges and almonds are important local products, but I was not prepared for a slab of fish to be doused in orange (juice and pulp) and sprinkled with toasted almonds. ‘Oranges and fish!' I thought, 'I have made a terrible mistake!’ But I was wrong about that, too, it was the best plate of food I ate in our 2022 visit.

In 2023 we visited Madeira, a Portuguese island 700km out in the Atlantic. There they catch tonnes of black scabbard fish which are dramatic to look at but make dullish eating. The locals pop a fillet of scabbard fish onto a slab of mashed potato, top it with one of their small Madeirense bananas and then cover all in locally grown passion fruit, thus turning a forgetable fish into a memorable dinner. That gave me two reasons to reassess my feelings about fish and fruit.

We lunched at the Atlântida at the suggestion of my (distant) cousin Ricky, long- time Algarve resident, fluent Portuguese speaker and now a Portuguese citizen. See Finding a Long Lost Cousin.

Ricky and me, Restaurante Atlântida, Alvor 2022

Ensopado de Enguia. Spotting clues in the menu is one way of avoiding tourist restaurants (should you wish to), another way is to drive a few kilometres inland where there are (almost) no tourists (except, of course, yourself and companion(s)). Inevitably, we tend to eat at restaurants along the coastal strip where the clientele is mostly foreign tourists. They might be largely 'tipico' but survival demands they keep an eye on what appeals to the north European palate, and generally that does not include eels.

In 2023 Ricky took us to her village restaurant. At A Oficina, she told us, they feed local workers on weekday lunchtime and on Sundays (when we visited) people drive up from Portimão (the nearest city) for 'country food'. Wherever the clientele came from, they were overwhelmingly Portuguese

A Oficina, 2023, Mexilhoeira Grande

A Oficina gave us access to several dishes unlikely to appear on coastal strip menus, and I could not resist trying ensopado de enguia, eel stew. Disks of perfectly cooked eel floated in a somewhat rustic sauce consisting largely of blitzed tomatoes strongly flavoured with coriander. It was accompanied by a plate of chips and fried bread, which would have been perfect if I spent my day labouring in the fields, but for an idle so-and-so like me, was more carbohydrate than I needed. The eel, though was delicious, the white, delicately flavoured flesh falling willingly from the bone.

Eel stew, A Oficina, Mexilhoeira Grande, 2023

European eel
GerardM used under CC BY SA 3.0

Bacalhau. The Portuguese love affair with salt cod started over 400 years ago and continues to this day, even in the Algarve. However, for me the Algarve is about fresh fish, and Bacalhau feels more at home in the Alentejo, which has much less coastline and a different culinary tradition. So, for Bacalhau dishes visit The Alentejo: Eating and Drinking 2024.

Lula, Choco, Polvo - Squid, Cuttlefish, Octopus. Not Really Fish, Not Really Shellfish

Lula. Squid has long been a favourite of both of us. They were disappearing from menus a couple of years ago, but I am glad to see they are now making a recovery. In 2022, 23 and (for Lynne) 24 and 25 the Bela Rosa in Carvoeiro was the chosen venue for squid.

Squid at the Bela Rosa, Carvoeiro, 2022

European squid
Photo:Hans Hillewaert used under CC BY-SA 4.0

Perfecting squid is tricky and Bela Rosa are doing well enough to encourage our repeated return, but the very finest squid we have eaten was served at Maria's, a breath of fresh air, proper Portugal and sensible pricing on the beach beyond the tourist wonderland of Vale de Lobo/Quinta da Largo. After several decades of sterling service Maria sold up. The restaurant is still there, the name is unchanged, but the prices soared under management fully invested in the creeping Californication of the Algarve.

The good old days at Maria's, Quinta do Largo, 2011
Fish is always best eaten within sight of the sea

There is another style of squid dish that involves many small squid, often carefully stuffed and sometimes served in their own ink, as at Cozinha da Avó (Grandma's Kitchen) in Carvoeiro in 2024.

Squids, Cozinha da Avó, Carvoeiro 2024

Lynne is not keen on squids like this and it is not always clear which your are ordering, though these are usually sold as 'Algarve style' or 'house style'.

Choco. Cuttlefish are closely related to squid, and, much as she enjoys squid Lynne is always keen to choose cuttlefish when it appears on a menus. This year (2026) it not only appeared on the menu at Zé Morgadinho in Alvor, it also appeared on the ice tray at the entrance. (see under sole).

'With or without ink?" asked the waiter when Lynne made her order. After a slight pause she said "With," "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Very sure?" "Well, I have eaten them without but never with so I should try it." Relieved, I think, to find he was not talking to a cuttlefish novice, the waiter nodded and wrote it down.

Lynne's inky brace of cuttlefish, Zé Morgadinho, Alvor 2026

Common cuttlefish
Photo: Diego Delso used under CC BY-SA 4.0

Cuttlefish have a distinct and somewhat stronger flavour than squid, further intensified by the ink. Lynne was enjoying them very much even when I pointed out that her teeth had gone black and she appeared to be wearing black lipstick.  She had an ineffectual wipe, and then managed to smear enough ink over her face to look like she had gone three rounds with a Gestetner printer (for those of us old enough to remember the Gestetner). The waiter stepped in with additional napkins and order was soon restored.

Polvo. We regularly ate octopus, more precisely, polvo à lagareiro in Martins Grill by the beach in Carvoeiro. Sadly Jan (Martins) Zegers died in 2019, Martins Grill closed soon after and octopus all but vanished in tourist orientated restaurants. 2025 saw a superabundance of octopuses in the waters around Devon and Cornwall, and as my fellow countryman and women have never warmed to their mild flavour and sumptuous texture, octopuses were exported to southern Europe in vast quantities. This may account for their sudden appearance on many menus in Carvoeiro.

In 2025, while Lynne ate her squid in Bela Rosa, I went for the octopus from the specials board. It was the best polvo à lagareiro I have eaten. A lagareiro is a style of cooking that involves generous application of olive oil during the roasting phase and is perfect for octopus.

Polvo à lagareiro, Bela Rosa, Carvoeiro 2025

The common octopus
Photo: Albert Kok used under CC  BY-SA 3.0

Marisco - Shellfish

Amêijoas. Clams have always been important in Portugal but the last twenty years have seen serious over-fishing. Amêijoas à Bulhão Pato, clams in a garlicky broth, was once a cheap starter, it still appears on menus but now costs more than most main courses.

It is possible to find a bag of fresh clams at a reasonable price in a supermarket and cook them at home. I have never essayed Amêijoas à Bulhão Pato but I do a fair Amêijoas marinière to mess with a classic and mix languages.

Clams marinière frites

Búzios. Whelks were once a popular street food in Victorian London but are no longer. The internet tells me there are still plenty of places where you can buy a bag of whelks, but I have never seen them in the UK. Buccinum undatum is the most common food whelk in the north east Atlantic, but Londoners ate the smaller 'dog whelks' Nucella lapillus.

The name 'whelk' is applied to several carnivorous sea snail species with swirling, tapered shell. My first encounter with them was in France as part of a fruit de mere. They were quite large with little flavour but a texture awkwardly poised between soft and rubbery that did not invite chewing. I may have eaten eels when visiting A Oficinia in 2023, but our first visit was with Ricky and her (now sadly, late) husband Zeka in 2014. He ordered feijão cozido com búzios (bean stew with whelks) and as I love Portuguese bean stews, I thought I would give it a go, too. I enjoyed the bean stew, and the whelks, cut small, did not interfere with my enjoyment - nor add anything to it. This was two years after the first version of this post, but I had not then started updates. This year (2026) when browsing menus prior to our visit to Alvor I saw the same dish was available in Restaurant Capacho. I had to go and try it.

Bean stew with whelks, Capacho , Alvor 2026

Buccinum Undatum
Photo: Bernard Picton used under CC BY 4.0

It was well done, but the beans were haricots, larger than those in A Oficinia, and the rice was served separately, whereas I think it was cooked in the stew last time. I preferred smaller beans and integral rice, but that is my taste, not a criticism of Capacho. The whelks, again cut small, offered the only resistance to the teeth in the whole dish, but otherwise made no more contribution than last time. I am glad I went and checked it out, I would happily go back to Capacho but not to eat whelks, I think I have given them a decent enough go for one lifetime. And perhaps that was how Londoners felt when alternative street foods started to appear.

Camarão. Prawns used to appear more in the starters section than in main courses, except of course in Arroz de Marisco (see below).

More than 20 yeasr ago, when we still ate three courses, I used to enjoy the prawns piri piri starter at Retiro dos Indios outside Val de Lobo. The restaurant survives to this day, but I have no idea what is on the current menu. In 2025 three prawn dishes appeared as main courses in the Bela Rosa in Carvoeiro, prawns piri piri, prawns 'house style' and shrimp curry - though they were all Camarão on the Portuguese menu.

I chose the curry...

Prawn curry, Bela Rosa, Carvoeiro, 2025

Common prawn
Photo: Eltrusko25 Pub Dom

...it was all right but the chilli could have been hotter and the rest of the spicing was far too muted. And as for it being a shrimp curry, no these were (I am happy to say) prawns. British English makes a distinction between prawns and their much smaller cousins, shrimps. Americans seem to use 'shrimp' for all such crustaceans regardless of size, even for tiger prawns. Perhaps Bella Rosa found their curry recipe on an American website.

Arroz de Marisco. Seafood rice, a particular favourite of mine, is usually a dish for two. First comes the ritual tying on of the bib - this is going to be a messy business - and then a large earthenware bowl is placed on the table and the waiter gives it a judicious stir.

Arroz con Marisco, Casa Palmeira, Carvoeiro, 2023

He then hands over the spoon and you serve yourself a portion of rice, with clams, prawns, mussels, cracked crabs legs, langoustine and whatever else had been in the market that day. Fingers are required to liberate tasty morsels from shells - the crab legs sometimes require force - and it all gets wonderfully messy. It can also demand some concentration!

I've found anothrter clam! Casa Palmeira, Carvoeiro 2025

Tasty though the morsels may be, I derive as much pleasure from the sauce and the rice that has been soaked in it as I do shellfish, indeed the whole process and the whole dish is a delight.

When all has been consumed it is time to sit back and relax. Although I like hands-on eating, I also enjoy washing my hands thoroughly when it is all over.

And relax, Casa Palmeira, Carvoeiro 2025

Cataplana Dishes. A cataplana is not a little known shellfish, but a cooking vessel unique to the Algarve. It consists of a pair of hinged copper shells which enclose the ingredients sealing in all the moisture and all the flavour. It can also be put on the heat either way up. A fish cataplana, usually serving two, will contain several pieces of fish - whatever is available that day - and, typically, prawns and mussels. The smell when your cataplana is opened at the table is memorable.

Cataplana, Vimar, Carvoeiro 2011

The cataplana in the picture was expertly cooked, but I doubt the slab of salmon among the fish is local, and nor are the New Zealand green-lipped mussels at the front. Local produce is excellent and promoting it is even more important now than it was in 2011.

Another dish traditionally cooked in a cataplana is pork and clams, and in 2022 I enjoyed this in an individual cataplana at the Casa Algarvia in Carvoeiro. This apparently strange combination was made in the Algarve, but undoubtedly designed in heaven.

Pork and clams in a cataplana, Casa Algarvia, Carvoeiro. 2022

And having mentioned pork, the section of Food from the Sea comes to an end. Part 2: Everything Else will follow shortly.