The University of Porto

I enjoy this benign exuberance and, strangely, can sleep through it. But I’m ambivalent about the University of Porto student as an idea. Caped and cloaked by day, they live in a world of guarded ritual, with upperclassmen bearing giant spoons, leading their younger charges through the streets.

In Gaia, they asked me not to photograph them, to which I responded by looking at my feet, planted firmly on the sidewalk. They backed away like coyotes, lacking the power to persuade me in one of the city’s most public areas. I have seen underclassmen lightly hazed, and, as this video above shows on a weeknight at 3:30 a.m., you can see their respect for the hardworking people of Porto, who assiduously indulge them. This screamfest will repeat itself tonight and the night after that.

One Porto resident explained to me that the big spoons derive from “Harry Potter” lore (J.K. Rowling is said to have developed many of her ideas for the series while living here in the early 1990s), but I dunno.

Boundless entitlement: No photos! I am implored.

Taberna Santo Antonio

32 Rua das Virtudas.

Like many places here, the kitchen takes a siesta from 3 to 7 p.m., so plan accordingly.

Pork cheek. Porto has the best slow-cooked meats this side of Memphis.

Pasteis de nata

This being my first visit to Portugal, I’m late to the pasteis de nata party, but I do see what the fuss is all about.

Bite into one of these egg tarts and the pastry shell discernibly cracks, giving way to a buttery chewiness. At the shop under my apartment I detect a hint of lemon zest in the custard. I suspect these are near-impossible to make by yourself: Achieving the characteristic char without curdling the custard is a devilish trick, achieved only by brief exposure to super-high heat.

Each morning I put on a mako pot of Sical-brand Portuguese coffee, walk three flights downstairs and watch as my pastry man uses tongs to delicately place two natas in a paper sack (cost: 1.60 euros). By the time I open my door, my coffee is ready. Rituals like these reinforce my belief in slow travel, and I will keenly miss them.

If your corner pastelaria is out of natas, that’s a good thing! There will be fresh, warm ones coming along at any minute. I’m eating about four a day; I’m sure my doctor would approve.

Cevejaria Gazela

171 Praca da Batalha.

Going a bit deep here so forgive me. One of the reasons I keep returning to Europe despite its middle-class malaise is that its impulse to shake off the past and reinvent itself is healthfully muted. There is an undercurrent of maturity in matters of art and food — it is a continent comfortable in its own skin. This is an unconventional way to begin discussing a place known for its hot dogs, but sometimes you run across an establishment so aligned with the needs and sensibilities of its neighborhood, in this case the rough-and-tumble streets behind the Sao Bento train station, that you can’t help but take notice.

Try the cachorro especial.

This sandwich from Cerverjaria Gazela (called a “special hot dog” by an earnest extension of the term) is grilled bread hugging white cheese and aged sausage, sliced into bite-sized pieces. It is crunchy and addictive and, incidentally, why Super Bock was invented. I cannot imagine what it’s like for Fernando and Alberto to work together in a 4-by-7 space every day, but they make a great team.

Menu.

By way of bidding farewell to a valued customer, Fernando clasped his wrist with two hands and wouldn’t let go. It took me a moment to realize this was an act of condolence. The customer, his cheeks sagging red and white, had lost a spouse or grandchild or a dog and Fernando kept saying, “I’m so sorry.”

“Speaks to you … beautiful ... do you understand? … Not yet. … What do you dream about?” These were the chopped up words I thought I could make out. At this point, the adolescent aloofness that characterizes street-level retail back home seemed very distant indeed.

The most analogous North American restaurant I can think of is Swan Oyster Depot in San Francisco, a 12-stool anchorage where people go when they’re hungry for chowder or a crab salad — and, just as importantly, the old-school values of precision and liveliness and compassion. Please find this place. It’s tucked away in Batalha Square near the Sao Joao National Theater.

Bolhao Market

Looking for a bracing morning activity in the city center? Visit the Mercado do Bolhao, dating to 1850, where you can buy fish so fresh they practically jump into your shopping bag. There’s no better spot to pick up live and freshly killed chickens, wine, flowers, and fruits and vegetables. It’s a good place to practice your Portuguese, too. Many of the vendors are older ladies who have been at this for decades and are happy to talk your ear off, especially the ones involved in the manufacture of cotton dish towels, which I confess to having a hard time generating excitement for.

Majestic Cafe

Work clothes