The specialty of the Antigua Confeitaria Belem
If no place existed, surely it would have the exact coordinates of that internal place where the memories of aromas, textures, and flavors that we are sometimes unable to define live.
It is the journey that goes from an external pleasure to an interior one, to a self. In a way, it is a journey that dwells in the depths of a being. Every place in the world has its place 'of nowhere'. In Lisbon, I found it in the neighborhood of Belém.
There is always a first time for everything and whoever sets foot in the Portuguese capital is almost obliged to do three basic things: listen to a fado in some old tavern in the fishing district of Alfama, squeeze some clams a la cataplana in Las Docas on a Sunday in sun; and the third, take the tram 28 that will take you to one of the most famous (and therefore touristic) pastry shops in this city : Pasteis from Belem.
Yes, sometimes waking up in a place hyper populated with tourists is worth it. An ordinary day at that time when it is difficult to articulate a word. In that economy of language, one sometimes only manages to say: "a coffee and a cake, please".
Legend has it that the person responsible for the gluttony caused by these pastries dipped in cinnamon is from a monk from the neighboring and beautiful Monasterio dos Jerónimos.
It turned out that in the midst of a monastic crisis back in 1834, the Portuguese monasteries began to close, leaving the tenants of the Jerónimos without bread to eat.
This is how a monk came up with the idea of starting to market those pastries that they had been making in the monastery for years. to the taste of sailors and clueless travelers who approached that (then) Lisbon outskirts in search of such a delicious morsel.
A better kept secret than the Coca Cola formula
From then until today, the cupcakes are made in the utmost secrecy. Its formula is passed down under "'secret confession'": no one except three mysterious craftsmen pastry chefs or witnesses of the good food know what is in such a wonderful delicacy. It's nine o'clock.
There is hardly anyone, just some German stretching his sleep with his jaw. Cloud bites, with rain of icing sugar and cinnamon. If they would let us, with each bite we could show what "delicious" tastes like, perhaps what they call umami lives here. Good morning!
*This article was originally published on March 9, 2017 and updated on June 15, 2018.