Macau interprets fusion fare as monster platters of peasant food spiced up by Asian influences. Be prepared, reports Alex Perry, to be overwhelmed
MICHAEL WOLF FOR TIME
A local motorcycle club cruises past Café Nga Tim in Coloane village, Macau
I was about halfway through the chocolate mousse when we hit the wall. I remember dropping the teaspoon and lurching across the table for the sparkling water while my wife clutched her sides and snarled like a cornered animal at the vast, unfinished plates of garlic chili prawns, cod cakes, tamarind pork and African chicken encircling her. As the sweats came on and all color drained from our faces, we scanned the dining room for an exit, for someone to pay who would also roll us out into the cool night breeze. A long stroll later, our pulses finally slowing and our eyes losing some of their bulge, we caught a cab back down the seafront Rua do Almirante Sergio, past the scene of our near demise. "Number one," said our driver, jabbing a fat finger at the Restaurante Litoral and slapping a belly that surfed over the top of his pants. "Number one in Macau."
Centuries before the term fusion was invented, it was cooked up in this former Portuguese outpost across the Pearl River Delta from Hong Kong. But this was no clever culinary mix, shrunk to miniature and served up as foodie fashion. Taking salt cod from the Atlantic and pig's knuckle from the hills of Alentejo, Asia's first European settlers added the spices and fruits of China and from across their empire in India, Malaysia, Brazil and Africa. The result was peasant fare made exotic: curried crab with quails' eggs, pig's ear and papaya salad, rabbit stewed in wine, cinnamon and star anise. And as more ingredients were included, dishes grew not just in flavor but in size. The Macanese judge a restaurant on quality, yes, but also on whether quantity is sufficient to warrant a table-side stomach pump.
The Litoral, tel: (853) 967 878, is undoubtedly up there with the greats. Chinese and Europeans alike crowd its simple, old-world tables, and advanced booking is essential. Nor do you need to break the bank to bust your gut. A gargantuan meal for two, with a full-bodied Esporao red, comes to about $75. A few doors down, A Lorcha, tel: (853) 313 193, is another colossus of Macanese cuisine: the focus here is more on seafood and traditional Portuguese fare. Solmar, tel: (853) 574 391, at 512 Avenida Da Praia Grande, has attained near legendary status as the favored haunt of residents and tourists alike. Neither the décor—cast-iron light fixtures, red leather seats and gilt-framed oil paintings—nor the waiters, clad in red vests and long, white aprons, seem to have changed over the past 50 years. While the soups border on insipid and the Portuguese classic—fried cod—just lives up to expectation, Solmar's oft rhapsodized African chicken deserves its reputation as the best in Macau. The strident, single-note chili sauce that overpowers many of the restaurant's other signature dishes is softened by the addition of coconut milk and the sweet-tart surprise of pickles. Portuguese cuisine is known not so much for innovation but simply for its great seafood, and Solmar does not disappoint when it comes to the shrimp. At first I thought the waiter was joking when he suggested only one prawn each—until I saw the lobster-size monsters.
The quest for size above all else has built a formidable following for two places on Macau's southern islands, Taipa and Coloane, that serve platters that matter. Cozinha Pinocchio on Rua do Sol, tel: (853) 827 128, in Taipa Village, and Fernando's, tel: (853) 882 531, on Hac Sa Beach on Coloane's southern coast are wildly popular for a stripped-down recipe of bare brick walls, stone floors and mountains of food. The cooking is basic, service harried and conversation difficult above the clatter of cutlery. But prices are rock bottom for these portions and true gluttons wouldn't eat anywhere else.
Those who prefer to be able to stand up and walk away from their table have to search harder. Two small eateries serve slightly less elephantine fare in charming surroundings. Tucked in a side street just north of the rotary in Coloane Village is the CaCarola, tel: (853) 882 226. Appetizers of Portuguese pork sausage, goat's cheese and marinated octopus salad are delicious, and priced from an extremely digestible $2.50. Mains are substantial and include an excellent breaded cod with potatoes and a fine turkey stroganoff, but it is the stews of rabbit, pork, beans and sausage from which the restaurant takes its name that are particularly noteworthy. Dinner for two with wine is about $60.
The Portuguese passion for fresh seafood is perfected at Os Gato, in the Pousada de Sao Tiago, tel: (853) 378 111, a 17th century stone fortress turned hotel overlooking the harbor. Here you can eat your fill without having to worry about getting home—just roll into one of its beautifully furnished rooms. The stunning terrace, flanked by gnarled trees and ancient stone walls, is the ideal setting for an alfresco meal not to be forgotten. Our repast started with a trio of succulent, plump sardines, simply dusted with sea salt, grilled to melting tenderness, and so fresh they tasted like they had still been swimming as we sipped our predinner cocktails. The Fisherman's Stew for two (make that four) is hearty and replete with squid, shrimps, mussels and tender, flaky cod, simmered in a rich sauce of piquant chili mellowed with garlic, herbs and freshly crushed tomatoes. A dry, lightly sparkling Gazal, a vinho verde that resembles only in name the raw, young table wine serves at most Macau tables, served as the perfect foil for the richness of the meal. Dinner for two, including wine and dessert, will set you back $100.
While it may seem churlish to complain there's just too much food, even avid gourmands can crave something a little lighter. Happily, tapas such as fried fish balls, grilled sardines and roasted garlic vegetables are also integral to Macanese cuisine. Two good places for such snacks include Platao's on Travessa de Sao Domingos, just off the main plaza of Largo do Senado, or O'Barril, just down the road and one of the hubs of the Portuguese community. The laid-back Café Nga Tim on Largo Sao Xavier in Coloane Village, built around a row of rotund banyan trees on the side of a charming church square, is also great for a glass of vinho verde accompanied by a plate of salt and pepper shrimps so good you needn't even bother peeling them—just break off the tails and crunch through the tender shells, then suck the sauce from the heads.
Perhaps the best expatriated Portuguese product, however, is the humble egg tart, polished to perfection by Café e Nata's Margaret Wong Stow who serves them up with rich coffee at her outdoor café and bakery on Ma Tung Ling Lane in central Macau, tel: (853) 710 032. Be warned: they can be addictive. Stow tells tales of customers leaving for home after a weekend in Macau with boxes of the deceptively light-seeming custard-filled tarts tucked under their arms. The secret to her success? Less sugar, she says. "That way people will eat more, because they are not so sweet." Not only has she tinkered with the filling, which calls for fresh cream and egg yolks instead of whole eggs, but the pastry shell as well, using a butter-rich, flaky dough rather than the dense, shortbread type found in the original—proving that more is less when it comes to light, airy pastries.
Should you tire of the world's original fusion fare, the financially flush should head for A Galera in the Hotel Lisboa, tel: (853) 377 666. Under maestro Joel Robuchon, Macau's French restaurant can lay a credible claim to be Asia's best, and the cellar, stuffed with ancient Bordeaux and Burgundies, is sensational. Such rarefied dining is pricey: a meal for two starts at $250. But if only for the novelty of a chef who isn't bent on making his customers explode, many may find it worth every cent.
