Standing on one of Monchique’s narrow, cobbled and dimly lit streets was one of the town’s most talked-about restaurants, the aptly named Restaurant Central on Rua da Igreja. It was the go-to place for small soirées and social events, not so much for the food but for the quaintly bizarre ambience, all thanks to its colourful owners.
The small, cramped restaurant, with no more than six tables, resembled a Parisian café from a bygone era or, more likely, a scene from the eighties’ British sitcom ‘Allo ‘Allo!. With no menu in sight, Senhor Virgilio, an upmarket version of René Artois, would look somewhat perplexed when asked for one. It was as if the owners did not want to ruin the ambience with something so functional.
Whether he understood the question or not is anyone’s guess, but no menu would be forthcoming and an entourage of prix fixe would be presented, whether customers liked it or not.
It was obvious that Senhor Virgilio aimed at a level of service at least equivalent to the era of the great ocean liners. Patrons were ushered to their seats and chairs deftly slid under their bottoms to ensure the utmost comfort. Meanwhile, the maître d´s wife fussed with the patrons’ overcoats to ensure they were neatly hung up before the meal commenced.
Customers spoke in hushed tones, even when there were no other diners to disturb, and raised questions as to what their meal would be. Pondering what delights might be served from the non-extant menu, Senhor Virgilio bitterly dithered over the accurate positions of the silverware. Silverware was a title the cutlery rightly deserved, for it was, without a doubt, the best quality cutlery any tourist had encountered in Portugal. It was Senhor Virgilio’s greatest concern that the dessert spoon was not completely parallel with the butter knife, meaning he would carefully adjust them for the fourth, fifth, and even sixth time.
With her husband dressed in his finest dinner suit, complete with bow tie and cummerbund, Senhora Virgilio had also retained a good selection of antiquated evening wear and she dressed in a colourful cocktail dress with a rose pinned to her side.
Influenced by French presentation, Senhor and Senhora Virgilio – or perhaps I should say Madame et Monsieur Virgilio – eventually served an assortment of entrées which managed to silence the customers’ whispers and put an end to Senhor Virgilio’s fussing. After the well-presented nibbles, followed by a very pleasant and plentiful tomato salad, the highlight of the visit would be a main course of coq au vin in ample quantities washed down with Senhor Virgilio’s homemade wine. “One more for the road”, the sophisticated garçon would say as he filled the wine glasses to the brim. The eventual bill would leave a hefty hole in anyone’s wallet.
The precise details of the dessert have become lost in the mists of time, but no doubt included Portuguese specialities such as pudim flan, almond tart, or maybe even a slither of parched fig cake.
In keeping with all good Portuguese restaurants of the day, Restaurant Central served a final digestif of their finest local liquor, almost certainly the Monchique speciality medronho – homemade of course and the only complementary drink offered.
If the eccentric ambience was not enough, the décor was just as bizarre. All four walls of Restaurante Central were adorned with the business cards and thank you notes of hundreds, if not thousands, of previous diners, including celebrities. All would have enjoyed recounting the unique restaurant visit that was forever etched in their minds.
The origins of Restaurante Central and its colourful owners are as much of a mystery as the restaurant itself. It is believed Senhor Virgilio Pombo Massano trained at Faro’s hospitality school before going on to work at some of the Algarve’s most prestigious restaurants, establishments where the à la carte menu was served under a cloche by waiters tailored in white dinner jackets, complete with white gloves and a plateau (waiter’s cloth).
It was on a visit to Monchique, most likely to sample some of the finest regional produce, that Senhor Virgilio met his wife, a daughter of a respected born and bred Monchiquenese land owner. In opening Restaurant Central, the couple created their own ivory tower based on days gone by and ostensibly lived in a period that, even then, was a far distant memory.
From the beginning, the restaurant and its owners were the talk of the town. “As children, we were naughty and used to buy French cigarettes, a novelty at that time, from the restaurant because we would lie about our age,” says Cândida, a lifelong Monchique local.
Everyone who dined at Restaurant Central was greeted like a long-lost friend. Customers would say “yes” to almost everything that was offered and, of course, the price of their bill increased throughout the night. With his own enjoyment for a tipple or two and his ageing ears, Senhor Virgilio’s catchphrase “another for the estrada?” was more a statement than a question. A polite “no thank you” was met with an oblivious “of course, Madam, I will bring to you”, regardless of whether the customer wanted another glass of wine or not. Plied with more booze than a châteaux wine cellar, customers would pay their bill (in escudos of course and god forbid no credit cards) and stagger home, no doubt wondering the next morning how they made it back in one piece.
Senhor Virgilio was indeed a hospitality professional and a well-known figure in Monchique. Restaurante Central was in its prime during the 1970s and 1980s, but by the first years of the 1990s, the restaurant had already closed its doors, and its owners vanished just as mysteriously as they appeared decades earlier, without a single “au revoir.”
If you know any more about Sr and Sra Virgilio or what happened to them we would love to hear from you.
PHOTOGRAPHY Curtsey of Armindo Manuel
