Chucked out of weight-watchers

So, an unexpected afternoon in Porto; what to do whilst I rearrange travel.

I wasn’t intending this; but purely for research purposes, a francesinha is on the menu. The spiritual home of this latter-day speciality appears to be the Café Santiago; so there’s a bit of serendipity. It’s packed, and there’s a queue, which is a good sign and as the only solo diner I’ve got a stool at the bar.

I’m not usually one for photographing my food, but this deserves it. It’s the kind of menu item which anywhere normal would only list as a joke with either a prize or ‘money back’ promise if you ate it all. The ingredients are listed as: (processed) bread; ‘fresh’ sausage; red sausage; ham, cheese, fried egg and ‘special sauce’. With French fries. It’s going to be a challenge to eat it before the sense of self-loathing overtakes me. As you only live once (probably not for long if this is a typical lunch) I’ve gone for the top of the range into which they’re somehow going to insert a portion of sirloin steak.

A short time later…

Well; I couldn’t eat two. That was simultaneously the best thing I’ve eaten in a while but also, by some way, the worst.Read more