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I have a thing about people lining up for food. If I see a line, I feel a very strong compulsion to stop whatever I’m doing and get in it. Because what do those people know that I don’t know? Following the mob isn’t always the wisest of choices, but seriously, what’s at the front of that line and how do I eat it?

So when I saw a line for a place that specializes in fries called Las Fritas when I was walking around in Barcelona, I was in that line almost instantly. I had never heard of this place, and French fries don’t exactly scream authentic Spanish food, but look at that line. It must be good!

This wasn’t something that I thought would be particularly blog-worthy; just a quick (and unhealthy) breakfast thanks to a random recommendation on the internet.  “Hey,” the internet told me, “the napolitana de chocolate at La Mallorquina is actually pretty good!”  Okay, internet, I’ll give it a shot.

The bakery turned out to be in a super touristy part of town, so my expectations weren’t very high, to put it kindly.

Then I took a bite and my whole life changed.

So here’s a thing that happens a bunch in Portugal. You’ll head to a restaurant, all excited to try whatever dish they’re known for; you’ve walked a few kilometres to get there, and oh, what’s this?  Yeah, they’re closed for the next three weeks.  Apparently Portuguese chefs love to shut down for the month of August.

This recently happened to me (for the third or fourth time), and so I was wandering around looking for something to eat.  I very quickly (and fortuitously) stumbled on a park that just happened to be hosting the Porto Food Festival.

I was walking back to the Airbnb the other day, and I passed a storefront that was just three vending machines in a small space — two were pretty standard (drinks, chips, etc.), and the third had a variety of hot sandwiches like fried chicken, burgers, and the one I tried, kebab.

Two thoughts immediately crossed my mind:

  1. This can’t possibly be good.
  2. I need to try it.