A Sprinkling of Peace

Therefore, it was back to an old favourite, the Casa do Lago in Mondim de Basto. For us, it's a place that is synonymous with reassuring contentment.

We arrived with plenty of time to wander through the pretty little park in the town centre on the way to the restaurant. It's a park you need to walk through slowly, not so much because there is a lot to admire but because if you don't dawdle then you'll be out the other side before you know it. We dallied in the middle of the lake, more precisely around the wooden gazebos reached by a wooden walkway, enjoying the cooling mist drifting in from the fountain.

Commanding views

We usually occupy one of three tables set slightly above the main dining room as they are the only tables laid for couples. From here we have a commanding view of the rest of the place, which always seems to be interestingly lit because of the reflected water surfaces outside – the little pond by the entrance and the municipal outdoor swimming pool next door. It's quite subtle and puts me in mind of the light and colour of certain French Impressionists. Très reposant, m'sieur. The place is owned and run by a local family. Mum is the boss and the rest of the family do her bidding, as is all right and proper. We always get the feeling that we are being welcomed back as valued customers, though whether they actually remember us at all is a moot point. We are too shy to ask and no doubt they would be too polite to tell us the truth. So, we were greeted like old friends and shown to our usual table and the myth was maintained. We were handed redundant menus as we had made up our minds: bochecha de porco (pig's cheeks) for the missus and javali (wild boar) with chestnuts for me. It's wild boar country around there, with the mountains of Alvão creeping into the little town. Anyway, it doesn't actually matter which one of us orders which as there is a lot of food transferring between plates that goes on, but I did remember that I had ordered bochecha the last time we were there . . .

I always forget how big the portions are. The missus always remembers and reminds me but I am too dumb to listen to her advice and order a starter anyway. Sautéed mushrooms can't be that filling, surely? In the autumn, these are likely to be gathered from the surrounding hills but this time, it being summer, they were shiitake, which I always find to be far more substantial than I anticipate. The 'light starter' idea, bright as it might have been, was already looking like a lost cause. As we were chewing our way through a shared plate of Substantial Mushrooms, we were each brought a casserole containing large quantities of our chosen meat. Each casserole contained enough food for a small family, but there is written in the holy scriptures that thou shalt not stint when noshing (Epicurus IV.5) so for the next half an hour we did our solemn duty and noshed and noshed and spoke only in rapturous whispers.

Essential

Meanwhile, the place had filled to capacity and large family groups were creating the kind of background noise that I have now come to find essential for fine Sunday dining. This included children singing, shouting and squabbling – and not just children for some of the grown-ups were doing just the same. This reinforced my belief that a very large number of people never actually grow up and remain children all their lives, emotionally at least. Men mainly. As the meal progressed, the smaller children broke free from captivity and other forms of restraint and a constant stream of tiny forms skittered and jostled past our table, jabbering in delight. I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.

We declined coffee, often preferring to take it somewhere different, no matter where we eat. The temperature was now well into the 30s so a postprandial walk would have been foolish. The road back home from Mondim is a delight in itself, one of our favourites, and it was made even more special on this occasion when a Bonelli's eagle almost landed on the bonnet of the car just after we had crossed the Tâmega river, each wing feather astonishingly distinct as it swooped up away from the windscreen, engraving a startling imprint on the optic nerve. We stopped for coffee in Carvalho, perched on the side of the Viso mountain, at Bons Costumes, a veritable dive of a bar that also, rather surprisingly, provides superb lunches for any lucky diners who might have managed to book one of their three rickety tables. The coffee was top class and the missus remarked that it has been years since we'd paid just 60 cents for a cup. We collected their phone number so that we could put our names down once again for one of the three coveted tables. Boa sorte para os bons costumes.

Fitch is a retired teacher trainer and academic writer who has lived in northern Portugal for over 30 years. Author of 'Rice & Chips', irreverent glimpses into Portugal, and other books.

Fitch O'Connell