Thirty-year-old João Cura and his wife, 29-year-old Sofia Gomes, may be young but they have long had a wish to open their own restaurant. Yet it was never totally clear where or when they would fulfill this dream: both are originally from Coimbra, a city in central Portugal, and worked for years in Barcelona. The couple finally found a perfect spot, in Porto of all places, to open Almeja, which fittingly means “to want or to wish for something very much” in Portuguese. Talk about a dream come true.

A gloppy, meaty, cheesy brick served in a pool of sauce and with a mountain of fries: please meet the francesinha, the culinary pride and joy of the city of Porto. Today, restaurant billboards proclaim in many languages that they serve the best version in the world, revealing the genuine power of this artery-clogging combination that, incredibly, was originally conceived as a snack. We have to say it though: eating a francesinha is worth every last calorie. This dense sandwich, which is impossible to eat just with your hands, is often considered the lusophone version of the croque monsieur.

“It’s not enough,” says the waiter at O Pascoal. We had inquired if one dish would be sufficient for three people, and his reply is immediate, firm and confident. We take his advice, order another, and the two dishes are easily enough for six people (we are three). We are in Fajão, an aldeia do xisto, “schist village,” in inland, central Portugal’s Beira region – about a two-and-a-half hours’ drive from Porto, or around three hours from Lisbon – and this interaction is the perfect introduction to the almost comically hearty cuisine of this area.