folds it shut. She tells me that recipes were traditionally
passed from one Mother Superior to the next. Eventually,
the crista de galo recipe reached the hands of her great
grandmother, and the bakery was born. Not much has
changed since, apart from one thing: now that tourism has
grown, Rosa supplements her pastry sales by giving baking
classes to visitors like me.
Rosa sources all her ingredients locally, including
pumpkin, almonds and, of course, eggs. As she only uses
the yolks, she donates the egg whites to anyone in the
neighbourhood who asks for them. Her generosity seems
to know no bounds: I’m sent on my way clutching a box of
still-warm pito (pumpkin jam-stuff ed pastries) and tooth-
achingly sweet toucinho do céu fl an squares.
In the photogenic hilltop wine village of Provesende,
Graça Monteiro is also doing her part to preserve the
cookery traditions of the Douro. I reach its lofty heights
along a vertiginous road in a mint 1952 Cadillac, driven
by the charming João. His guided Luxury Douro Tours
is another new tourism experience in the region, and the
journey is so spectacular I forget to worry about the vintage
vehicle’s lack of seatbelts.
Opening the door to Papas Zaide, I feel more like I’m
entering a home than a restaurant. João introduces me to
a smiling Donna Graça — or Mrs Graça, as she’s known to
everyone — and acts as interpreter. But I don’t need help
in understanding when it’s time to eat. She gestures for us
to follow her up narrow stairs to a tiny, three-table dining
room, where a fl oral tablecloth is spread with bread and
olives under a sun-lit window.
I’m instructed to grab a glass from the neighbouring
cupboard if I want wine (I do) and to ring the bell if we
need anything. Then our host disappears back down the
stairs, only to re-emerge minutes later with a parade of
small dishes: creamy cheese with rosemary and a drizzle
of honey; spicy sausage stuff ed with pork and beef; pillowy
codfi sh fritters; savoury ham pie; and a moreish port-and-
pork stew that’s been simmered for so long my knife falls
through the meat as if it’s butter. With great pleasure, I lose
my afternoon to the ultimate Portuguese long lunch.The wait is over
The rest of my time in the Douro brings new encounters,
always with an exceedingly warm, tactile welcome. At
Quinta da Aveleda, near Porto, I spot peacocks roaming
opulent English-style gardens. At Quinta Nova, a small
luxury hotel and wine estate, I dine on elegant plates of
wild boar ravioli in a smart dining room and explore a
museum dedicated to winemaking history. And at Quinta
do Pacheca, a cool and contemporary stay where you can
glamp in giant, wooden, port-style barrels, I tour one of the
most atmospheric cellars in the Douro.
And then, before I know it, it’s almost time to bid the
region goodbye. But before I do, there’s one fi nal part of the
Douro I need to experience: the Corgo Line. This walking
trail, once a narrow-gauge rail line, stretches around 18
miles along a Douro River tributary from Vila Real to
Régua. Fairly fl at but rocky, the route cuts right through
the core of the region, immersing trekkers in some of its
unforgettable scenery.Graça Monteiro, owner-chef
at Papas Zaide, outside her
restaurant in ProvesendeRight: A traditional worker’s
lunch of sausage, cheese
and bread at Papas Zaide