No one does cities the way Europeans do. They really get cities. They get the
whole thing about setting, vistas, squares. They get architecture, urban
aesthetic, design. And they get that interface between spaces and people, that
intersection of the private and the collective. Above all they get that wholly
nebulous concept of vibe, character, culture, spirit, cuisine. Not for the Europeans the
monotonous, efficient homogeneity of American cities, the chaotic squalor of
South Asia or the soulless glass and steel behemoths of the East. Europe gets
charm.
Lisbon, Europe’s westernmost capital, has Charm written all
over it. As Ana, our hostess shows us around the apartment in Baixa we are
renting from her, she warns us the fado
restaurants have all become very touristy. “Eet eez s’pozed tu be very
melon-cholic, you see,” she tells us, “De song ’as tu come from de ’art. But dees
days, umm, with de tourists, you know,” she rolls her eyes. After some more
details about shopping in Chiado and walking through the Alfama district with
its Moorish heritage, her eyes light up. “You ’ave to try the Belem cakes,” she
says and gulps as her mouth has suddenly watered, “Dey are delightful.”
The Tagus river meets the Atlantic ocean in Lisbon, giving
it the most spectacular harbor of all European capitals and a historic port
that has seen several voyages of discovery for the progress of mankind. Vasco Da Gama is popularly remembered, and
commemorated in important bridges and monuments. The city itself has a laid-back,
relaxed feel that reminds you more than once of Goa, with its languorous sea
air and beautiful churches that inspire joy, not awe. The historical ups and downs that the city
has seen are matched fully by geography, spread as it is over several hills
with steep climbs and sharp drops, with trams winding through lanes that are sometimes
no more than ten feet wide.
You will be forgiven, however, for believing that destiny
sent you to Lisbon so you could eat the Belem cakes.
The guide books list them as a top attraction. The
commentary on the hop-on-hop-off service informs you that ten thousand of them
sell every day from a single counter in Belem, and that of the secret recipe,
the only known ingredients are sugar and cinnamon. Pastel
da nata, pasteis da nata or custard tarts are the other names by which they
show up in every confectionery and bakery window across the city. The price is
uniform – 1.1 euro each. Recommendations are uniform too – eat hot, eat dusted
with cinnamon, and eat the best in Belem.
So finally we are in Belem. The Torres de Belem, the
shoe-shaped old tower, we are told was used in the olden days to shoot down
suspicious ships trying to enter the city harbor. “Should we go eat the Belem
cakes first?” We wonder, before looking at the watch and realizing it has been
only forty minutes since breakfast. The Monument of Discoveries that celebrates
the numerous voyages the Portuguese explorers undertook, is important for me
because I remember a cute Neetu Singh posing in front of it in the song from
The Great Gambler - Main tumko kya khoon ? Diwana. From the terrace of this monument we
have a spectacular view of the city – unfortunately though, all we can see are
the long lines of people that have queued up in front of 84, Rua de Belem, to
buy the cakes. We cross the street and go to the Jeronimos Monastry but find
that we can’t hold out any more – the famous Belem cake shop is right next
door. The monastery has to be absolutely the jewel in the crown of Lisbon,
built as it was to celebrate the discovery of the sea route to India. No disrespect
to history, but the cakes get us first.
So we take our place in the aforementioned long queue to
enter the shop. There are two lines – one to buy the cakes at the counter, and the
other to sit inside so the cakes can be served hot at the table. A note pasted
outside the shop informs us that the price of sitting inside and eating the
cake is exactly the same as that of buying it at the counter. And there is a
helpful addition to that note – there are more than 400 seats inside!
Inside, past the crowded counter, one blue-tiled room leads
to another, then to several others, each filled to capacity with tourists and
locals. The arrows keep pointing us
forward until we finally reach a great hall with at least a 100 tables, I
guess, where we are quickly shown to a table.
The friendly waiter takes our order for the cakes and coffee and doesn’t
take much time to return with the goodies as we sit quivering in anticipation.
The fresh-out-of-the-oven Belem cake is in front of us, and
the first bite doesn’t disappoint. The crunchy, flaky and perfectly salted
pastry has a warm and light custard core that is not too sweet and not too creamy.
There is no smell of egg nor any lumpiness – in other words, it tingles all my
senses in very good ways, not one note out of place. The cinnamon dusting lends
a wholesome familiarity to the taste that you can’t place, but feel very
comfortable with. This Belem cake you have eaten before – maybe in your past
life, and this reunion is fulfilling.
Maybe it is
destiny. 