There's something about a painted street that brings joy, whether it's pink or yellow. Arriving at Bairro Amarelo, in Cascais, I immediately felt a new vibe, as if I were in another territory. It was here that the City Council installed, since last summer, an area dedicated to street restaurants, without traffic, full of tables arranged on the street, people moving from one side to the other and the smell of spices and roasts. And the painted road.
There should be more colorful streets, I think, already seated at one of the tables at the Mexican Malacopa, with a small bowl of guacamole and a Pacifico beer in front. It is clear that asphalt black dominates the highway, it is not so clear that pedestrian roads are all the same color.
The guacamole is good, thick and fresh – and not the usual avocado cream for newborns – and that encourages me to continue the obvious ululating reflection: there should be more investment in outdoor restaurants. In a country with a temperate climate, when faced with a homely animal like the moth, it's like going outside, eating on the street. Without fear. With a temperature of 5 ºC, Copenhagen basks on the terraces like a lion in the savannah, while in Southern Europe we shiver like skinny children if there's a little cloud filtering the bronze.
It's fresh? Give blankets to diners (recover traditional blankets, of which there are so many beautiful ones). Invest in outdoor heating. Does it rain? Is it too sunny? Install an elegant and efficient removable roof (if Wimblendon can do it, so can an alley), without merchandising or cheap plastics.
The rest, we have. The proof is in the tacos that land on the table. Octopus on top of a crispy fried tortilla; the classic al pastor with sautéed diced pork and pineapple; another tortilla with grilled cauliflower and coleslaw; plus large rebosado shrimp (fried in batter), over chipotle mayonnaise (dried and smoked japapeño chile), avocado and red cabbage. Everything is fresh, there are no old onions (we already know that happens a lot). This is particularly noticeable in the pico de gallo, a type of mountain salad (Algarve) topped with lime, with diced tomatoes and onions – which accompanies the tinga quesadilla, this Mexican mini-calzone, with melted cheese and shredded chicken.
Furthermore, the avocado always appears at the right point of ripeness and each taco has flavor and texture. The menu has almost all the classics, from refried beans, to shrimp aguachille (a type of ceviche with habaneros), to carnitas and conchinita pibil stew.
Controlling everything and serving is the owner, Pedro Leitão. He lived in Mexico City and brought the kitchen from there. But honesty and transparency are very important to you. When asked about the tortillas, he admitted they were not homemade; and he also assumed that the sauces lack fresh tomatillos, a typical Latin American fruit, very difficult to obtain without being preserved (I don't know if anyone has them in Portugal).
None of this detracts from Malacopa, especially because I got the impression that Pedro Leitão knows what he does and is the person to achieve both things, in the short term. The restaurant is already a small oasis of Mexico in Cascais; and it could be even bigger, so look to the future and the block doesn't fade away.
*Time Out reviews relate to one or more visits made by the magazine's critics, anonymously, on the date of publication in print. We are not responsible for nor do we update information regarding changes to the chef, menu or space. That's how it happened.
