Bric-a-Brac 69
Coastal holiday inspiration from four transportive new books drenched with the colors and flavors of Mediterranean summer—consider this your Armchair Traveler edition.
Now that summer is suddenly coming into focus, our list-making brains and Googling fingers have been sparked by these books from our friends (who are also Yolo contributors), which are basically love letters to their destinations. All four capture the feeling of those slow-paced afternoons on the coast of Italy, France and Portugal that revolve around long meals made from the freshest market ingredients eaten by the sea or in some rosemary-scented coastal mountain village setting. They’re also all great lessons in geography, history, and the gradual cultural/gastronomical shifts from one stretch of coastline to another—not to mention incredibly useful and hard-earned accounts of where to eat, swim and stay. Over to Rebekah Peppler, Lucy Laucht, Amber Guinness and Christine Chitnis…
le SUD: Recipes from Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur, by Rebekah Peppler
We’ve followed Rebekah for a while, ever since the Paris-based food/travel writer/stylist published Apéritif: Cocktail Hour the French Way in 2019, followed by À Table, which revealed her knack for hosting relaxed dinners in that unfussily French way—often in her 18th-arr. flat with the photogenically laden bar. Her newest, le SUD, focuses on recipes inspired by her travels throughout Provence, and is juiced up with sun-kissed images of the region’s hills and coastline. Follow her travel Substack, Shortlisted, join this trip she’s hosting in Provence in September, or catch her US book tour!
You did a huge amount of driving and eating to research this book. How did you approach it?
I really did! Though I need to give all driving credit to my partner, Laila Said, who also assisted with the culinary research. I merely navigated from the passenger seat! As far as the research approach, it really depended on where we were. While in Menton, for example, we spent time with Argentine chef Mauro Colagreco and his team, as well as ethnobotanist Alessandro Di Tizio, who took us into the mountains and gardens of Mirazur to forage and chat about the wide variety of plants endemic to the region. We visited La Maison Gannac to learn about the citrus Menton is rightfully famous for; we drove across the border to Ventimiglia's local market, where so many chefs that live near the border shop; we popped into small, family-owned bakeries to sample what specialities are offered in the region; we met with friends of friends of friends. It was during that trip we also drove up from the coast to the Roya Valley to start to understand the Italian influence and the region's culinary tradition known as cuisine blanche (or cucina bianca). I still dream about one of the sheep's milk cheeses we tasted at the market in Tende. In Nice, we ate at every socca stand we could find. In the Luberon Valley, we're lucky to have so many friends in and out of the industry, and so we were often in people's homes or restaurants or popping into my favorite cheese shop, Maison Moga, in L'Isle-sur-la-Sorgue (discovered years ago during a birthday trip with a group of friends to Cavaillon). In Arles, we wrapped in some research alongside a trip with friends over Les Rencontres de la Photographie d'Arles, and also made sure it overlapped with the city's Saturday morning marché—a massive (it stretches over two kilometers), winding, beautiful market that is full of some of the best produce in Provence.
How does geography influence the various foods and flavors of the Provence-Alpes-Côte D’Azur?
To borrow directly from the introduction to le SUD: “The 12,000 square miles (or 31,000 square kilometers, if you will) that make up Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur are bounded in the north by the snow-capped Southern Alps and in the south by the blue French Mediterranean. The Italian border (and its culinary influence, of course) marks the east; the Rhône River makes up its western edge. Included within its borders are vineyards, olive groves, pine forests, lavender fields, the Camargue plains and marshes, rivers, and the Mediterranean seaside. Influences from Mediterranean and African countries arrived and were absorbed via modern trade and travel, colonization, migration, and exile. The region’s food culture is made—first and foremost—in the home, reflecting and drawing directly from the region’s people and landscapes. The resulting recipes translate the region’s terroir onto the plate while veering away from overwrought, technique-heavy dishes that tend to be associated with French haute cuisine.”
What were a few of the most memorable dishes that you ate during your research?
Unexpected meals always make for the most memorable, I think. During a research trip/holiday in Marseille, we were with friends and decided to spend the day at Plage des Sablettes, a beach about 20 minutes south of the city center. The little beach shack/restaurant there is Le Cabanon de Paulette and their moules in aïoli directly inspired le SUD's recipe on p. 107 [copied below!]. When we were in Ventimiglia, it was the gorgonzola focaccia fresh out of the oven at Panetteria Mondino that I still think about regularly (not featured in the book, but maybe for the next one?). On the drive from Nice to Saint-Tropez, it was a ratatouille car snack, which became the inspiration for le SUD's ratatouille (p. 173).
Any favorite hotel stays or other lodging recommendations along the way?
Ooh so many! Top top would be The Maybourne Riviera, Le Saint Hubert (which wasn't open to the public during the research, but we got a sneak peek stay and it is opening to the public this June), and L'Arlatan in Arles (where we'll be staying this coming September while I host a trip with Modern Adventure to Arles + Marseille — there are still some spots left!).
When you arrive in a new town or place, how do you follow your instincts to find great food?
Recently, while in Japan, Laila and I followed the sage advice to hop in whatever line of locals was longest. That plus simply trusting your gut feels like pretty good universal advice when traveling, and it's always those unexpected bites that are truly the most memorable. Often, if it's feasible, I'll pop in somewhere I'm curious about and order one thing. If it's good, I settle in and keep ordering. If it doesn't hit the way I thought it would, I ask for the bill and head to the next spot. Nine times out of 10, I stay.
Is there one Provençal town or region that is your happy place—that you come back to again and again?
Marseille. It's a city that has a dedicated and committed following of people who love it—and an equally passionate group who very much don't. For me, it's perfect. It's an easy train from my home in Paris (3 hours direct), it has the sea, it has so many different flavors and smells and influences, it has great coffee, a thriving natural wine scene, easy access to nature. Honestly, I go down as often as possible and in as many seasons of the year as I can. My full Marseille list was just featured in my newsletter, Shortlisted, if you're looking for my city recommendations!
What’s your favorite bring-back food product that is only found in Provence?
Such a good question. We're lucky to be able to access such incredible products from the south here in Paris, but there's nothing like a heavy, ripe, sun-warm Melon de Cavaillon in the heat of summer. Even in Paris, the very same melon doesn't compare. There's something about eating a perfect piece of produce, feet away from where it was grown. I also bring home Provençal honey, nougat, hyper-local olive oil, and pastis (I especially like Pastis Château des Creissauds, which is made in Aubagne). Oh, and Laila always brings back lavender soaps that she finds at whatever market in whichever town we happen to be in.
How do you bring le sud into your home wherever you are?
The recipes, photos and stories in le SUD, of course, but also a custom summer playlist Laila made inspired by the book, which will be playing at many of the stops from New York to Chicago to Seattle to LA (and more) on our spring-summer book tour.
MOULES IN AÏOLI
Serves 6
In a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat, add the oil. Once the oil is hot, add the shallots and garlic and cook, stirring, until the shallots are translucent, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and pour in the wine. Let simmer, uncovered, for 5 minutes.
Add the mussels to the pot and use a wooden spoon to stir them into the shallot mixture. Cover the pot and cook, stirring halfway through, until the mussels are opened and fully cooked, 6 to 8 minutes.
Transfer the mussels to a serving bowl, reserving the broth. Strain the broth through a fine-mesh sieve, discarding the solids. Add the aïoli to a small bowl and gradually whisk in 3 tablespoons of the mussel broth. Spoon the sauce over the mussels, tossing to coat, and serve with crusty bread. Should you like, this dish can be, and often is, also served chilled.
Note to prepare the mussels | Place them in a colander or fine-mesh sieve and rinse with cold water. Scrub gently to remove any grit and use your hands to remove the “beard” (the thread-like piece attached to the side of the shells) by tugging firmly. If any mussels are open and don’t close when tapped, discard them. Drain and transfer to a large bowl.
Il Dolce far Niente: The Italian Way of Summer, by Lucy Laucht
We’ve been fans of Lucy Laucht’s photography for years, and last summer we got to preview her photos of the Aeolian islands in our Mediterranean issue. Her first book, Il Dolce Far Niente, is a transporting, photographic ode to the magic of Italian summer. It’s full of those perfect scenes of southern coastal Italy: unselfconscious nonni bronzing on a craggy lido, kids plunging from rocks into impossibly blue Mediterranean water. But it also has Lucy’s inside scoop on seven of her favorite destinations in Italy, and leaves you with a new understanding of how to embrace the distinctly Italian art of sweet idleness, no matter where you are.
You’ve spent a lot of time in Italy throughout the years. When did you visit for the first time? What was that experience like?
Well, I first visited Italy by way of a semi-detached terraced house in the wilds of British suburbia. My grandfather landed in Italy following the Second World War and fell in love with the country (so much so that in Rome he was blessed by the Pope!). Once home, he painted the family house with brilliant frescoes. He would never return to Italy, but the country lived on in his mind and in his home, where the Bay of Naples shimmered across the walls. The Amalfi Coast was my first tangible experience of southern Italy. I still remember the hairpin drive from Naples, a true baptism of fire. The first sight of Positano—that impossibly beautiful village tumbling down vertiginous mountainside—will always stay with me.
What inspired you to explore the concept of "il dolce far niente" and its significance in Italian life?
The elegant Italian expression il dolce far niente translates as the sweetness of doing nothing, sweet idleness. Our world is noisier than ever, and so I wanted to explore the principles of this philosophy and ask what can be learned from this gentle way of life.
An old film camera once belonging to my father held the answer. In spare moments on shoots and assignments, I’d slip away and photograph scenes: a quiet moment amid Naples’ chaotic city beaches, colorful coastal towns and fishing villages, and most of all, people by the sea, at ease.
The result is a photographic journey around Naples, The Aeolian Islands, Ischia, The Amalfi Coast and Capri, Sicily, Puglia and The Egadi Islands—seven southern Italian seaside places that speak to me with the clearest voices!
Each chapter is framed by a rule that embodies the essence of the place and your “inside track” to the seven southern Italian seaside places that speak to you. Do you have a favorite rule or insider tip that you discovered while working on this book?
My Naples, as I see it through the viewfinder of an old film camera, is a patchwork of humor, vitality, and sometimes quiet melancholy, where people live in close, chaotic proximity. A place where you learn to create solitude amid chaos. And so, I love the adage, “Find peace in chaos,” or “Trovare la pace in mezzo al caos.”
Unique to Naples is the art of “caffè sospeso.” Next time, leave a caffè sospeso—a prepaid espresso—ready to be claimed by the next person who comes in and asks, “Is there a caffè sospeso for me?” It’s a lovely, thoughtful tradition.
During your travels for this book, did any hotels emerge as favorites?
Le Sirenuse in Positano, Hotel Il Pellicano in Porto Ercole and Mezzatorre Hotel & Thermal Spa in Ischia—places that literally sing il dolce far niente! It was an honor to document such iconic properties.
What about beaches?
It’s like picking a favorite child! Tonnara di Scopello in Sicily—there’s no place like it—epitomizes il dolce far niente.
Your book is so transportive visually, and the rules you share show people how to bring the magic of an Italian summer home. Is there anything you do when you want to transport yourself to Italy?
Dodge the inbox, forgo the washing up, forget the to-do list. Find a little patch of sunshine, hit play on “Buona Sera” by Louis Prima and steal an afternoon pennichella (forty winks.)
Italian Coastal: Recipes and Stories from Where the Land Meets the Sea, by Amber Guinness
An English cook and food writer living in Florence, our friend Amber started the Arniano Painting School a decade ago in a Tuscan farmhouse meticulously restored by her parents, and where she spent a good deal of her childhood. These painting retreats (upcoming dates are here!) feature Amber’s bright and fresh cooking, which inspired her first book, A House Party in Tuscany. Her newest, Italian Coastal, draws on the flavors of holidays spent by the Tuscan seaside and in the Tyrrhenian coastal towns of her youth.
This book was inspired by your upbringing in southern Tuscany and remembrances of flavors of the coast. How did you approach researching recipes for the book?
The recipes in Italian Coastal are a collection of things I’ve eaten in restaurants, bars, people’s homes and then recreated for myself at home. I’ve spent a lot of time over my life on Italy’s Tyrrhenian coast and visiting its islands. When I was child, the Tuscan Coast was our nearest coastal option—a 1.5-hour drive from home. And later because of work and holidays, I would go further south. I’d always scribbled things down if I ever tasted anything that I thought was interesting or delicious, but in a much looser way than since writing my first book, A House Party in Tuscany. Since then, those scribblings have become much more like formed recipes. I love translating what I’m doing practically into language that people can follow at home to recreate one of my dishes. [The process] has really driven home to me how interesting the food culture of these regions is. I wanted this book to be a collection of recipes that were not just the greatest hits of these regions. This book is meant to be a celebration of the food, the history, and the gorgeous visuals that are around every corner of this part of the world…and a collection of recipes that I think are special, delicious, and fun. I just hope people enjoy it, really.
Were there certain beloved towns and restaurants you knew of and returned to?
Absolutely—there were certain spots that I wanted to describe and capture in the book and recipes that I feel are emblematic of the coastal experience along the Tyrrhenian. Ansedonia in Maremma, Sabaudia in Lazio, Lo Scoglio in Marina del Cantone along the Amalfi Coast, Salina in the Aeolians, Cefalu and Palermo on Sicily’s northern coast.
Did you take research trips to areas you knew less well?
The area of Cilento, just south of the Amalfi Coast, has always fascinated me as it’s where all the best mozzarella di buffala is made. When compiling the recipes for the book, it felt like a missing piece of the puzzle. We went down there and it’s fabulous, very untouristy and without much swanky infrastructure. We stayed at a charming four-bedroom place in the countryside near Paestum called Il Cannito, which seems to be the only nice place to stay. It’s magical, a little oasis with lots of birdsong and fabulous food. I also found one of my favorite recipes in the book when I was staying in this area. It’s delicious, but also has an incredible story—scauratielli. They are an ancient Greek sweet recipe—deep-fried pieces of dough soaked in rosemary honey, which they would make at the temples of Paestum in Campania south of Amalfi on the winter solstice, which in Europe is the 19th of December. They would make them to celebrate the lengthening of the daylight, banishing the darkest days of the year. I love that there is this 2,000-year-old recipe that is still made today.
The Tyrrhenian coast encompasses seven regions, from La Maremma in Tuscany down to Sicily. How would you describe the culinary variety within it, and the impact of geography on the flavors and foods?
The Tyrrhenian is a really magical pocket of the Mediterranean—there’s a vague aura of chaos, laidback glamour, stunning scenery and, of course, amazing food. It’s a large area, but many of the places scattered across these waters are some of the most beautiful in the world—Naples, The Amalfi coast, Capri, Giglio, Sicily, the Aeolian Islands, Ischia. And what I also love is that each of the places I talk about in the book has a particular bit of produce or dish that is specific to that spot, which they are so proud of and will champion in lots of different ways: in Campania and southern Lazio it’s mozzarella; in the Aeolian islands it’s capers; in Tuscany it’s bottarga and wine; around Naples and the Amalfi coast it’s their use of fish and their amazing desserts; and, of course, their lemons. The landscape is so varied, you’ve got the undulating dunes in Maremma, the sheer dramatic cliffs of Amalfi and the Aeolian Islands, which are so insular. I think what is really lovely about the Tyrrhenian in terms of the wider context of the Mediterranean is the fact that the history feels very immediate when you’re there. You feel this sense of people, recipes and ingredients moving around. You can understand why someone would attribute mythology to places like Monte Circeo with Circe, and Punta Campanella with Ulysses and the Sirens, because they are so beautiful that they are inexplicable and need a bit of fantasy thrown in there just to get your head around how incredible the nature is.
And nature has huge effect on the bounty of these places. There are three active volcanoes in that part of the world—Vesuvius, Stromboli and Etna—and when a volcano erupts, a lot of very rich minerals go into the atmosphere and into the soil, which means that you can grow absolutely delicious produce. There is a reason why tomatoes from Naples are supposed to be the best, or the reason that real buffalo mozzarella has a slight tang to its flavor, because the buffalo graze on grass that is infused with everything that Vesuvius has to give.
The cuisine is as varied as the places that make it so special—the food of my native Tuscany will vary dramatically from that of the Amalfi Coast, but they are unified by the same sea, the same soil, the same climate. And it’s a part of the world has almost identical produce all around—eggplants, zucchini, tomatoes—but they’ve come up with completely different ways of preparing them, for various reasons. They might have been colonized by different civilizations, their level of prosperity might have been different, or their ability to access the outside world might have been limited. The Aeolians, for instance, are very remote and difficult to get to, so they were reliant on what was available to them—oregano, lemons, capers, and of course fish from the sea, but mainly what they could grow; they had almost no livestock because there was no space on these tiny islands for them to graze, so any meat they had would be chickens, rabbits, the odd pig. But equally they were on the trading route from Naples to Sicily, so there is a little Arab influence, a bit of Spanish. It’s very interesting and I loved getting under the skin of it all and learning some of the local histories. I think the basic principle with all the food from this area, and all the recipes I have chosen in the book, is to make the most of what you have, to imbue the maximum amount of flavor possible with the minimum effort.
Can you describe a handful of unforgettable meals that you drew on for your recipes?
Bar Trani in the main piazza of the lovely, whitewashed town of Sperlonga on the coast in Lazio. Here I had a pasta dish, which I found both delicious and surprising. It was pasta calamarata (so-called as it looks like calamari, but is in fact rings of pasta) with eggplant, Gaeta olives, almonds and pecorino Romano. This was such a gorgeous combination and so refreshing as it’s rare to see eggplant with pasta, which isn’t prepared with its usual bedfellow, tomato.
The granita at Da Alfredo in the town of Lingua on Salina is legendary; have the pistachio!
The Messina Sporca (lemon granita mixed with Messina beer) from the beach shack on Punto Scario beach on Salina is the best way to cool down after a few hours in the sun.
Carmen Bay restaurant on Macchia Tonda beach in the Southern Tuscan area of Maremma has the absolute the best spaghetti con bottarga.
Another wonderful meal that I had at the beach restaurant of Le Scalette at Sabaudia in Lazio was a filet of sea bream baked in the oven with almond flakes – it was such a lovely texture and flavor combination.
Any favorite hotel stays or other lodging discoveries along the way?
There are several really special hotels in this part of the world. There are the well-known grand dames—The Grand Excelsior in Sorrento, Il Pelicano on Monte Argentario, The Santa Caterina in Amalfi—but there are also some incredible smaller boutique hotels run by some very inspirational people. There is the Principe di Salina on the island of Salina, run by my friend Anita, which has twelve bedrooms and is perfect in every way. Il Cannito near Paestum is run by a set of siblings and serves incredible food.
Is there one Italian coastal region that is your happy place?
The Aeolians, in particular Salina, which is the second largest of this cluster of seven volcanic islands. There is such a magic to these islands, which is enhanced by the fact that they are so difficult to get to and so have been spared the onslaught of mass tourism. When I’m on Salina, I like to have a breakfast of pistachio ice cream in brioche and a cappuccino at Bar Malvasia in Malfa, my favorite town on the north side of the island. After a leisurely breakfast, I like to walk down to Punto Scario beach, which is a little cove down a precipitous cliff path. The beach is made up of perfect spherical boulders and pebbles—you can rent an inflatable mattress and umbrella to sunbathe or take into the sea with you for €9 euros a day. The water is wonderful and you look out onto Stromboli and there is a tiny beach shack that sells beers and delicious sandwiches, all of which include the island’s most famous export, capers. A day on this little corner of this enchanted island, doing nothing except for swimming, reading, and lying in the sun, beer in hand, is pretty perfect.
What’s your favorite bring-back food product that can only be found in the region?
Capperi sotto vuoto (vacuum-packed salted capers) from the Aeolians. I buy these as they are easy to transport, and when I’m back in my kitchen I simply transfer the salted capers to a glass jar, where they sit quite happily for up to 12 months to be used as and when they are needed. You simply need to soak salted capers in a bowl of water for two to six hours before using them to rehydrate them and plump them back up into delicious flavour bombs. I use capers in everything! In Italian Coastal, there are lots of recipes for capers with pasta, fish, and even a lemony chicken with capers. I also parboil potatoes and fry them with capers. My favorite recipe in the book is one that I eat several times a week – linguini ai capperi, which is a super simple but absolutely delicious and satisfying plate of food—pasta with tomatoes, white onions, and lots of capers. [See recipe below!] Capers are such a versatile ingredient—on the island of Salina they even candy them and serve them with ice cream!
LINGUINE WITH TOMATOES AND CAPERS
Serves 5
100 g (3 ½ oz) salted or brined capers
75 ml (2 ½ fl oz) olive oil
1 white onion, finely chopped
sea salt
3 garlic cloves, crushed
1 small red chili, deseeded and finely chopped
500 g (1 lb 2 oz) cherry tomatoes, cut into quarters, or 1 x 400 g (14 oz) can of peeled plum tomatoes
500 g (1 lb 2 oz) linguine or spaghetti
finely grated parmesan, to serve
If you are using salted capers, soak them for about 2 hours, changing the water three times. If you don’t have time, use brined capers.
Pour half the olive oil into a frying pan wide enough to hold all the linguine and heat over a medium heat for 30 seconds or so. Add the onion and a pinch of salt and gently fry for 2 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for 3-5 minutes until the onion is translucent. Add the capers and chili and cook for a further 5 minutes.
Add the fresh tomatoes and a pinch of salt and give it a good stir. Simmer for the same time it takes to cook the pasta (about 10 minutes). If you are using canned tomatoes, half-fill the empty can with water, swish it around to pick up any remaining tomato and add the tomatoey water to the pan. Simmer for 30 minutes.
While the sauce is bubbling away, bring a large saucepan of salted water to the boil. Add the pasta, give it a good stir so that it doesn’t stick together, and cook until al dente (about 9 minutes, but check the package instructions). Halfway through the cooking time, add a ladleful of the pasta cooking water to the sauce and increase the heat to high. Scoop out a mugful of the pasta water in case it’s needed.
Drain the pasta and toss through the sauce, along with the rest of the olive oil. Add a little of the reserved cooking water if you need to loosen the sauce. Top with finely grated parmesan and serve immediately.
Patterns of Portugal: A Journey Through Colors, History, Tiles & Architecture, by Christine Chitnis
Christine’s first book, Patterns of India—exploring the exuberant palette and intricate embellishments of her husband’s home of Rajasthan—has been essential escapist reading for us since it was published early in the pandemic. So when we heard the author-photographer had a new book coming out, Patterns of Portugal, we asked her to write something for the Spring ‘24 issue of Yolo Journal. Which we’re reprinting here! Below is Christine’s account of her drive through the Alentejo chasing traditional artisans, bright tiles and bougainvillea set against whitewashed villages (and staying in a few fabulous hotels) while researching her book.
ALENTEJO ROAD TRIP
Sparkling with a golden light that dances off olive groves and gnarled, ancient cork trees, the sparsely populated Alentejo feels like a well-preserved secret. The landscape, though arid, is fertile, renowned for its wine, olive oil, cork, wheat and heritage livestock breeds. The rich red-clay soil is essential for crafting terra-cotta. Portugal's well-maintained roads wind through lush green countryside, picturesque villages and coastlines, making traveling by car a breeze.
This is how I found myself on a solo, two-week trip through the Alentejo, which encompasses the land southeast of the Tagus River, bounded on the east by the Spanish border and on the southwest by the Atlantic Ocean. In Portuguese, its name means "beyond (além) the Tagus river (Tejo).” My purpose was to research my book, Patterns of Portugal, delving into how color and pattern intricately weave into the country's culture, history, architecture, and traditions. Portugal’s compactness—roughly 350 miles long and 110 wide—lends itself to a spontaneous itinerary, yet belies its weighty historical significance as the seat of the first global empire, a history reflected through the use of surface design.
As a photographer, I was drawn to Portugal’s unique palette and rich use of pattern, and intrigued by how the same hues seem to echo throughout the country. The blue-and-white azulejos (tiles) are reflected in the sunbaked beaches and enchanting blue water of the Atlantic coast. The fuchsia and gold of bougainvillea in bloom are mirrored, though timeworn and softened, in the colorfully painted pastel facades of homes.
Beyond aesthetics, the warm reception from the people I met shaped my travels. I was plied with sparkling, incandescent wines; I feasted on fish pulled from the water before me and grilled over a beach fire; and I was guided through artists’ studios, working farms, homesteads and vineyards. Steering away from tourist traps, I found myself visiting tiny olarias (pottery studios), centuries-old textile mills, and villages and museums dedicated to telling the stories of traditional Portuguese craft. I stayed in intimate hotels that solidified the Portuguese talent for seamlessly merging historic preservation with architectural creativity. Two of my favorites were the first stops on my trip: Convento do Espinheiro and São Lourenço do Barrocal.
Convento do Espinheiro was once home to monks from the Order of Saint Jerome, and it stands as one of the earliest examples of Renaissance architecture in the UNESCO World Heritage city of Évora. Just over an hour from Lisbon, Évora is home to many historically significant sites: Chapel of the Bones, the Évora Cathedral, and ancient Roman and Moorish ruins. Nearby, the town of Arraiolos, centered around its centuries-old tradition of hand-embroidered rugs dating to the 16th century, offers open-door workshops lining the streets and the Arraiolos Tapestry Museum narrating the rich history.
A 45-minute drive from Évora brought me to São Lourenço do Barrocal, nestled among ancient cork trees and flourishing olive groves. Once a bustling 19th-century farming village, it remains a hub of agricultural production, including wine and olive oil. Old stone farm buildings have been transformed into charming rooms, cottages, a restaurant and a spa. Day trips to Monsaraz, a stunning medieval hilltop village, and Corval, the largest pottery community in Portugal, are easily accessible.
Instead of heading right back to Lisbon, I aimed south and spent time unwinding on the coast. The drive to Alentejo's coastal region and the villages of Melides and Comporta is about two hours. There are stunning places to stay here—Vermelho, Christian Louboutin’s new hotel, and Sublime Comporta, a tranquil, 17-acre property—from which to explore the fashionable town of Comporta. Here, one can savor grilled squid, Ibérico pork, and cured sardine bites at Cavalariça and Almo café, or sunbathe on the stunning beaches—Praia da Comporta, Praia da Torre, Praia do Carvalhal, and Praia do Pego.
It’s on the coast that the magic of the Alentejo reveals itself—its ability to blend historical depth with contemporary flair, to interlace tradition with modernity. The golden light, the ancient cork trees, the vibrant azulejos, the sunbaked beaches, and the warm hospitality—all paint the Alentejo as a uniquely Portuguese destination where every color, every pattern, and every moment tells a story steeped in history.
Ooft, we are visiting all three of these countries over the next few months! Very excited to add these towns and cities to my list.
Literally just bought 4 of these books. Why did you have to share them all with me?! 😂