Two Perfect Tens

Reliable 10s (see my surprisingly non-ditzy system for rating food and other things on a scale of one to ten) don't happen often. They're unicorns, arising in a certain moment in a certain place. Like Patsy's Pizza in Harlem in the 90s when Jose manned the oven...AND had an especially good day (Jose, on a bad day, produced a "9", and his cohorts on a good day were good for an "8").

More elusive still is a certain food or recipe. Any formulation that could reliably "10" would cost like beluga caviar. Or white truffles. Or real Venezuelan chuao chocolate (as opposed to fake chuao). If humanity could consistently, rotely, turn out 10s independently of fickle muses, there would be a sure path to success in the food industry. McDonald's, with its infinite R&D budget, would have long ago seized upon it to turn out burgers that made you cry (good crying).

But there's one reliable, consistent "10", for about a buck, available at a small, homey, staunchly regional bakery in Azeitão - an area even Portuguese know little about, a half hour south of Lisbon.

It's called bolo mémé. I tried saying "may-may" to a local, who had no idea what I was talking about, until finally it dawned and he calmly screamed "MAY-MAY!!!" quite loudly. When I did likewise, he nodded approvingly. As far as I can tell, it's like Newfoundland.

Pastelaria Regional Cego, in the heart of the village of Azeitão, proper, appears to be the exclusive maker of bolo mémé, which is strange. Innovations normally spread quickly. All the locals know about these things, and they all love them, yet none of the other highly competitive bakeries even attempt them.

Everything is excellent at Cego, but this item (always made to order, to avoid sogging the pastry) is in another league. It's a reliable ten. Bottled lightning. I've read detailed descriptions, but the most evocative was a tourist's review on Google Maps: "Made with crumbled sheep's cheese, in a fresh, thin, and crispy crust, topped with an almond-egg-candy marmalade." Yup. That's it.

I paired it - as all local pastries are best paired - with a glass of moscatel, the proud local specialty. One of my new year's resolutions was to develop a taste for moscatel, figuring (based on prior experience) it would take effort. But I ticked this off my list upon my first sip at Cego. That said, I'm certain it's the same brand everyone pours, and which I've tried many times previous. Not needing to make sense reflects my dawning Portuguese assimilation.

Let's go to the food porn:

I forgot to shoot an essential cross section. It's hard to adequately document something like this, because, per well-established quantum theory, food this good skews observation. I'll try it again in a few days. Maybe tomorrow. Hell, check back in an hour.


Bonus "10": Sabino Rodrigues - Queijos Da Azóia produces the best fresh cheese I've ever had. It, too, is a reliable "10".

The elderly maker sells it in his obscure little shop, way the hell down in Sesimbra, but it's also served - exclusively, I believe - in fantastic A Casa do Jorge, not far from Azeitão in the village of Santana.

I wrote about A Casa do Jorge - and my first experience with Sabino Rodrigues cheese - here.


Now, if I can only get Pastelaria Regional Cego to make their bolo mémé with cheese from Sabino Rodrigues, I might enjoy something to rival the medusa gruel I reported about from Oaxaca, Mexico; the only "11" I've ever experienced.

Follow up posting