Yes, I know Italians will murder me for saying this. But it’s true.

A few years back I was on a work trip to Italy and Portugal. In Italy, I had all the usual popular Italian dishes – different types of pastas and pizzas  – and I really indulged in all of them and must say I thoroughly enjoyed it too.

But that was until I reached Cabo da Roca in Sintra, Portugal.

We had wrapped up our work for the day and were searching for a place where we could tackle our hunger pangs. We came across this quaint restaurant with a strong rocky grand exterior called Refugio de Roca. The interior was completely opposite to its tough projection. It had a homely feel to it. Wooden tables with crisp white table covers and cutlery neatly laid out, a wooden ceiling, decorated walls with elements that represent the sea, an open bar, a fireside, and everything full of an old-world charm.

It was a family-run restaurant, and because we were there on a weekday during off-peak hours, the restaurant was empty.

So, when the menu was brought to us, everyone in the team quickly ordered except me. I wanted something vegetarian. As we chatted with the person who was taking down our order, he told us that his grandmother made all the desserts, his parents prepared the rest of the menu, and he took care of the serving and other things that needed to be done at the front end.

The son was a friendly chap, so I politely asked him if there was anything vegetarian that they could serve me. He promptly answered with a big smile that his mother made the best red sauce vegetarian pasta. I was pleased to hear that and so I told him that I would go for it.

Since everything was freshly prepared, we chatted and helped ourselves to some drinks while we waited for the food to arrive.

All the food arrived, except mine. I told the team to go ahead and start eating, as I knew everyone was famished by then. As I waited, I wondered if my patience would pay off. Asking for a vegetarian dish, and pasta at that, in a popular coastal destination in Portugal seemed like a long shot, but since he had so enthusiastically told me about it, I assured myself that it would be a decent one, or if nothing else, I could at least satiate my hunger with it.

And then he arrived with a big pan closed with a lid, which he carefully placed on the table near me, and told me that it was hot and just out of the fire, so I should wait for a few minutes before I could eat it.

After a patient few minutes, I finally opened the lid. The steam blew directly towards me, and along with it came fresh flavours of basil and tomato; it was so refreshing that I knew in that instant that it was something special.

I served a portion of it onto my bowl. The deep red sauce was a bit watery; unlike the pasta I had eaten in Italy. There were half-softened chunks of tomato, vegetables, and small pieces of pasta that seemed to float lazily in the broth.

I scooped a spoonful and took the first bite.

The flavours unfolded slowly. The tomato tasted just right, its gentle tang softened by the warmth of simmered spices. Fresh basil added a fragrant sweetness, and it all mixed together and had a quiet depth that lingered on my tongue. The soft yet slightly firm bites of pasta soaked up the sauce nicely, releasing little bursts of flavour with every chew.

I slowed down instinctively, wanting to understand what I was tasting. The flavour was fresh, comforting, and unfamiliar all at once, a balance of tangy, herby, and warmly spiced notes that seemed to settle softly in my mouth.

I chewed each bite slowly, almost carefully. I had never encountered this kind of flavour before in my life.

And yet, once I began, I could not stop. Spoon after spoon followed, each one as irresistible as the last.

Though my team members were all ardent non-veg eaters, I told them that they had to try this out-of-this-world pasta. They suspiciously agreed. When they tasted it, they agreed with me that it was the best pasta they all had ever tasted. A pan full of pasta was completely eaten to its last drop by everyone at the table.

When the son came back to ask me what I felt about the pasta, I told him that it was the best pasta I had in my entire life. He smiled and said – I told you so.

When I asked him what made it so unique and full of flavours, he said that they only used local ingredients, plus it was his grandmother’s recipe, and of course the water of Sintra also added to the flavour.

I was in heavenly bliss for the rest of the day. Good food can do that to you. I forgot all about the aches and pains the long work schedule had on my body and mind. All I could think of was that deeply flavourful red sauce vegetarian pasta.

If you ever make a trip to Portugal, make sure you visit Refugio da Roca and get a taste of this pasta. And then maybe you’ll also say that I had the best pasta in Portugal and not in Italy. 😊 😊 😊

P.S. I unfortunately don’t have a single photo of that pasta; I was so hungry that I forgot to click a pic. Though that image is completely captured in my mind, I have made a note that I will visit this restaurant again someday to get a pic and of course to taste that divine pasta one more time.