When you walk past O Buraquinho da Se, you start questioning this whole reliance on Google thing. Google clearly says its here, but it’s clearly not. Is it closed? Did it move? Do I need to learn how to fold a map again? Yikes! Hold on, wait a minute, its only 7 pm, and restaurants here dont open for dinner until 7:30-8. We are clearly not in Kansas anymore, not even NYC. So coming earlier to confirm reservations means the place may not even be open yet. But that doesnt answer the question of where the heck is this place.
There’s no sign and no door that I could see. There are some empty tables on the alley steps, but they may belong to the bar in the corner. When I came back a few minutes later, an older gentleman with a giant open book and a cigarette occupied one of those tables. After delivering the sad “we are full” news to some patrons, he confirmed mine, with almost perfect English. Apparently Jacque recently retired from finance to do this, along with his wife in the kitchen.
And I suppose there is a door after all. More like half a door that leads to a hers and hers closet. Once inside, you find yourself in this tiny half basement, with maybe 5 tables. O Buraquinho da Se in fact translates to “The little hole”. But you can use all your favorite travel cliches here.. “A hole in the wall”, “hidden gem”, “like eating at someone’s house”, “mom and pop”, “old school”, just about all of them. The only thing left is to see if their octopus lives up to the hype.
It exceeded it. By like, a mile. 12 years ago, we fell in love with Portuguese octopus 500 meters away at another hole, A Grade. Today A Grade is a magnet for foreign, especially Asian tourists. But O Buraquinho da Se’s version was just magnificent. Two mammoth tentacles, not particularly dressed, a good thing when the product is this good. You can tell its the angels singing variety as soon as you touch it with the fork. Perhaps best Octopus I ever had.
Normal people, while vacationing, like to eat things that they, well, like. And avoid ordering things they dont like. But since Bacalhau is so deeply rooted in local culture, how can we come here without trying it again. Since I already mentioned Bacalhau in other Portugal posts, it’s safe to say that we got converted at some point. It was here, in this church. Unlike prior tries, this fish, covered with cornbread was much more balanced.
There was also a supremely flavorful, hearty shrimp Acorda, an excellent meat and cheese board, and a portobello topped with grilled goat cheese that had our taste buds dancing. Ended with a very satisfying homemade chocolate mousse and an almond tart. Washed it all down with a local fruity white Altano, by one of the Douro pioneers.
One of those flawless meals, aided by Jacque’s attention and English command. We live in a country dominated by a service industry, but we travel to experience this kind of service. O Buraquinho da Se is only open four days a week. Three of those for lunch as well. You wont find many or any mentions of it by influencers or Facebook like Chama and many others. Go! You can reserve this via Facebook.
Eating With Ziggy 