Castro Restaurant Lisbon

Ask anyone who knows me very well and they will tell you I am an octopus mad person. When in the land of octopus, meaning generally sea destinations in the Mediterranean, I will eat it everyday, all day, until I leave. So I found myself in the Barrio Alto in Lisbon, Portugal, the first day out of cold rainy London… and I think…octopus.

As this was my first evening there, I was in the mood for something cool and chic, or some downtown lowbrow spot with no tourists and maybe a mom and pop feel? I guess you can’t quite take the New Yorker out of me just yet. After a small search and several run-ins with sunburned people from Manchester, I ended up at the brother and son owned restaurant of Castro. Love the name. I decided to sit outside, and the shocked father arrived with blankets to cover me (admittedly the skirt I was wearing for Portugal was a short skirt, but I guess 18 degrees is also cold for Lisbon… bless). First the usual amuse bouche Portuguese staple of the olives-soft cheese-soft bread variety arrived (you pay only if you eat it). I find this pre-part of dining in Lisbon extremely charming- in the way a refrigerator magnet sits on your fridge for years that you neither notice nor change. But if it went missing it would make you sad at the same time.

I didn’t need a menu. Noooo. I ordered…the octopus.

I admit I can judge a whole country on its octopus cooking- and the Portuguese- they have it down. How do they do it? Quickly put- braise the crap out of it. Slowly but softly. Similar to a lamb shoulder or not-so-savory piece of beef. Then dry it off and super hot grill it for 30 seconds. End result? A seafood version of slow cooked pork falling in crusty pieces on your watering tongue. Accomplished here. Ok, this must be mentioned. There were odd bits of mangled broad beans cooked to a 1970s English ideology with a dash of boiled carrot and potato here and there (raw or slow cooked tomatoes please?) alongside my insane octopus. But the octopus was so delicious even I overlooked this. I really liked the raw white onions with it too- a detail I found common later on in my octopus quest, and one I really grew to like it. A bit like a tiny string of lace on a skirt.

I decided after a second glass of wine (this was a whole octopus in my alcoholic defense, so much food to get through, really!), that was it possible to have any chilies? I described a variety ways to the waiter (who was also the son) in which it could be served to me…dried, in oil, fresh… I was desperate. The one thing you have to give up in Portugal is chilis. They just don’t eat them. I find this fascinatingly odd, since they introduced them to India. Anyhow, it was my first night and I was not quite rid of my chili desires yet. I was just about to give up when finally appeared a dusty emptied water bottle- and in it a puree of chilis mixed with some sort of salt or anchovies? Sun dried tomatoes? Not sure. But heat! I asked for the recipe a dozen times but after a few tries, there was no real answer, just smug soft smiles. Best chili sauce in Lisbon… maybe the only one, but definitely the best. My suggestion to the Castros? Remove the carrots and add that secret sauce!

This is a touristy area, so you will most likely end up around here anyway. Therefore I would definitely choose this spot over the vast array of super tourist places, as these guys are amazing octopus cooks (don’t worry, there are many other things to choose from). I spied a fish entrée arriving at another table and there were probably ten different varieties of Portuguese fish freshly caught and piled high. They were all cooked in various fashions according to the fish and shellfish (this is not an easy feat). It looked awesome.

To finish you get this sweet sherry after the usual coffee (please order the coffee after dinner- trust me on this- the coffee roasting capabilities in Portugal is indescribable), which is at once gaudy but delightful.

The vibe is nice too. Inside is warm and cozy and old-fashioned, and the father and son duo are chatty and inviting. They are eager to please and overwhelmed with pleasure when you like their hard work. You hear wafts of songs like “NY, NY” playing in horn and guitar form in the background from a nearby Jazz Bar. There are people on the street selling bracelets and bad art. Happy northern European tourists in tiny shorts and red cheeks everywhere! It’s got that, “it’s summer and it’s time to be in the hot Mediterranean” feel. So good. Excellent fish restaurant in an area loaded with hamburgers and hot dogs; do pay the Castros a visit.