Really though, Evora, like any other old Southern European town, is constricted by its oldness. Like all old cities built haphazardly over a thousand years or more, Evora is a driver's nightmare. A maze of old restaurants and apartment buildings and one way streets that seem to dead-end nearly as quickly as they begin. For walkers, it is a dream, and most probably one of Europe's most beautiful cities. Its alleys are bright white and sometimes the tiny courtyards feature an orange tree or a lime tree hanging their botanical color out into the white alley.
Somewhere in the Evora maze, we find a quiet restaurant in a quiet alley and ask if perhaps they carry Evora cheese.
Absolutely, please have a seat.
For all our awful meals from Morocco to Portugal, this restaurant is a saving grace. For every nasty tapas slap-to in Spain, and for all the grease in Gibraltar, this restaurant represents honest Iberian cooking.
Waiter recommends I try the grilled black-footed pig. He serves us a white port from the Douro Valley with our Evora cheese. And a marinated squid, with bread and chickpeas.
The Evora cheese is soft, mild, and as Jane says, 'pillowy.' All it takes is a small bite to enjoy.
Nighttime in Evora
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