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Setubal is a mazelike city, even more gnarled and twisty than Evora. It hugs the coast of the Setubal Peninsula, facing south. Immediately west of the city, the mountain road rises high above the ocean.
It is a chapparal-like landscape, and at one point, we pass a whitewashed monastery clinging to the scrub. This old Franciscan monastery faces the ocean. We are looking for the Azeitão region, where Azeitão cheese is produced.
In Setubal, we buy our sixth cheese at a local market near the Atlantic coast. But we quickly realize it is a fake. It may be labeled Queijo de Azeitão, but it tastes like butter. Portugal's ability to protect its authentic traditional foods lags behind the rest of Western Europe. To find the real thing, you need to make sure its labeled DOP, which is similar to France's AOC label of authentication.
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