The Search for Data

Our phones were switched to Airplane mode as soon as the flight crew directed us to do so. But before that, DW had the forethought to download some Google Maps directions in Lisbon and in Porto. She wanted to make sure that we knew how to get to a Vodafone store so that we could get SIM cards for use while we were in Portugal.

Smart.

When we arrived at the Oriente train station, in Lisbon's east end, she had directions to a Vodafone location. Except, on an early Saturday morning, it was closed.

Not to worry, we said. There are a couple in Porto and they would surely be open by the time we arrived, which was scheduled for 1:00 in the afternoon.

The first-class section of the high-speed intercity trains are really nice. Large, comfortable seats with plenty of leg room. The coach itself sways as it negotiates turns, making it relaxing for the occupants.

I probably slept for at least an hour during our trip, though DW and I would make sure that at least one of us was keeping an eye on our bags (DW had Apple tags in each of our suitcases but our backpacks were untraceable, should they go wandering without us). The train stopped at the Campanhã Station and we had to transfer to another train, which was a one-stop ride to São Bento Station, in the heart of the old city and a short walk to our hotel.

Before we arrived in Portugal, DW had contacted the hotel to see if we could check in early, but they were strict about a 3:00 check-in time. We could, however, leave our bags with them for safekeeping until check-in time.

On the way to our hotel, DW and I found the first Vodafone store closed. There was a second store that DW had saved, just in case, but we wanted to unburden ourselves first. We made our way to the hotel, a small inn at Praça de Guilherme Gomes Fernandes, but there didn't seem to be a clearly marked entrance. The address showed a locked door with buzzers for various apartments. There was no sign, nothing.

Without Internet, we could not reach out to the owners of the inn.

Time for drastic measures.

DW was tired and didn't want us to lug our gear to the next Vodafone shop, so she volunteered to sit in the plaza, under the shade of a tree, and watch our stuff while I went in search of data. She gave me her phone, with the downloaded maps, and I went on my way.

I found the second store about 10 minutes from our inn, but it's doors were locked up, too. I found a third store, indicated on her map, but it was a further 10 minutes away. Not to be disheartened, and also because we were sunk without data, I wandered the streets in search of this final store.

My spirits were lifted when I entered a large, air-conditioned shopping mall, and happened to spy the red Vodafone sign, three floors below me.

A woman in the store who spoke pretty good English talked me into a 15-day, unlimited-data plan, which cost 15 euros. I had her insert the new SIM card in each phone, restarted my smartphone, and I was in business.

By the time I returned to DW, it was just approaching 3:00. With DW's data turned on, she found a message from the inn that the registration desk was in a building a few doors down from the rooms. She went in while I watched our bags, and 10 minutes later, we were in our room.

Our first instinct was to flop on the bed, but we had plans. After all, we only had two days in Porto.

We freshened up and then rushed to city hall, just over five minutes away, and met up with our guide for the Take Porto city tour, a free service that takes you through the heart of the city.

Our guide was a woman named Susana and she was engaging and full of interesting knowledge. We got the feeling that at some times, her interpretation of various sites was based on her own take, but we felt we got an authentic look at the city.

Our only problem with the tour was that because we had yet been unable to get cash from a bank machine, we were without water on this two-and-a-half-hour tour, and the jet lag was also starting to have its effect. We finally stopped at a café and we were able to buy some food and drinks with our credit card, but by then our brains were barely functioning.

And while the tour is free, the guides live on the tips that they receive at the end. We explained to Susana that we wanted to pay her but that we had not had the time to get cash. We learned that she was going to lead a Spanish tour the next day, and we agreed to meet her before it started.

How did we end up getting cash? Tune in, tomorrow.

The tour ended a few blocks away from the Cais da Ribeira, a waterfront promenade along the Douro River, near the Luis I Bridge, and one of my goals of the trip was to take a sunset photo from the Gaia side of the river, above that famous bridge. Though DW and I were exhausted, we carried on.

We climbed countless flights of stairs to get from the river's banks to the top of the bridge, designed by a student of Gustave Eiffel, and reached a vista, near the Mosteiro da Serra do Pilar, a 16th-century monastery, and I was able to get my photos.

From there, DW and I made our way back down to the river's edge, but on the Gaia side, and sat on the patio of Sandeman's port winery, enjoying cod cakes and cocktails, but mostly resting until we had the energy to cross back into Porto.

We crossed the lower span of the Luis I Bridge, which is usually open to car traffic but is under construction and only allows for pedestrian crossings, and we ordered an Uber drive back to our inn. Uber is the way to go, as it is incredibly inexpensive (the ride from Cais da Ribeira to Praça de Guilherme Gomes Fernandes was only three euros!).

There was a convenience store near our inn, so we picked up a few things to eat for the next morning: cereal, yogurt, milk, and juice. We knew from our tour that there was a Manteigaria café around the corner from our square, where we could pick up a coffee and pastéis de nata, the famous Portuguese tart, so we were in good shaper for breakfast.

But we were still hungry when we arrived at our hotel (we had burned way more calories than we had consumed over the course of the day), so we sat at one of the restaurants in the plaza under our inn and shared a plate of sausage, fries, and salad, and I tried my first Portuguese beer, Super Bock lager, while we rested our feet and reflected on what was a very long day.

I don't remember falling asleep but it had to be fast. DW said I didn't even pull the sheets over myself.

For day two in Porto, tune in tomorrow.

Rage in Eden

A few weeks back, DW texted me while she was out with her BFF. She had tried a new cocktail and was excited about it.

"New cocktail for home—Dark and Stormy. Mmmm."

I replied that I had had one before, and that I too liked the dark rum and ginger beer concoction, with just a twist of lime. I couldn't remember exactly where I had enjoyed one, but I thought DW had been with me at the time.

Since then, ginger beer has been added to our grocery list. We've gone through one bottle of dark rum and have cracked open another.

Candy-corn vodka.

As Hallowe'en approached, DW was looking for some haunting cocktails to mix. We would be attending a party and she wanted something to add to the theme. She explored Blue Curacao, Grand Mariner, and Cointreau to add with the ginger beer. She even took a few cups of vodka and added a generous handful of candy corn to add to her witches brew.

In honesty, the candy-corn-infused vodka tasted best on its own.

I joined in her mixology venture, looking to make a drink of my own. I had already done my own take on a mulata and even modified it to make a mango mulata, so I looked at the ginger beer to see what I could do.

I've done a lot of experimentation, adding ingredients, removing others, and I finally came upon a drink that I liked a lot. It didn't seem related to Hallowe'en, but that didn't matter to me.

I looked to DW's current favourite, the Dark and Stormy, and thought I'd make it more tropical. Here's what I did.

• 1 mason jar, half-filled with ice
• 1 1/2 oz coconut rum
• 1/2 oz Kahlua
• mango nectar, filled to the halfway line of the jar
• ginger beer, filled the rest of the way

What this sweet beverage gives you is a coffee-and-coconut-backed fruit drink with a bite of ginger.

I've since modified the recipe, upping the alcohol but removing the Kahlua: it now has 2 oz of coconut rum and 1 oz of dark rum. The coffee flavour, which really stands out—almost to distraction—is now tempered with the warmth of the dark rum.

It's incredibly tasty.

I was looking for a name for this new cocktail and reached out to my Twitter friends, but in the end I came up with a name of my own. This drink retains some of the goodness of the Dark and Stormy but the coconut and mango give it a tropical touch of paradise. It's a mango mulata and D&S hybrid: stormy and heavenly.

Rage in Eden.

The name came to my head and gives a nod to my favourite album from my favourite 80s band, Ultravox.

Give it a try and let me know what you think. Try it with the Kahlua and try it with the dark rum and tell me which one you prefer.

With the weekend upon us and days getting darker sooner, a Rage in Eden just might shine a bit of light. Cheers!

Mango Mulata

I was sure that we had an unopened bottle of lemonade, one of those giant Kirkland brand that they sell as a two-pack at Costco. I was sure that someone in the family had carried the bottle up from the basement and set it on the kitchen island.

I had already added the ice and alcohol to my glass and would be damned if I let it go to waste. Four ounces of booze was going to be used, somehow.

In the fridge, we had a jug of mango nectar, also from Costco. Would this make a decent substitute for lemonade?

A couple of years ago, I posted a recipe for my version of a cocktail that I had when the family and I were in sunny Cuba. It was a lemon-based drink that featured Kahlua and dark rum, and an 'elixir' that I could never determine. It's called a mulata.

When I tried to replicate the cocktail, I ended up making something different but that captures the essence of the cool summer drink. I ended up calling it the Brownfoot Mulata.

So, here I was, with a 20-ounce pint glass, filled with ice, one ounce of Kahlua, two ounces of dark rum, and another ounce of Malibu coconut rum. All I had to do was add the lemonade and stir; only, I found myself without the lemonade.

So I filled the glass with mango nectar, instead. And a new drink was born: the mango mulata.

Creamy and sweet, with traces of coffee and coconut, this spiked beverage was magical. Give it a try.

I later learned that DD18, who went to an outdoor get-together with her friend (both wore masks and kept a safe distance, even though both are fully vaccinated), took the lemonade with her.

Lemon or mango, both drinks are going to make this summer cooler.

Mango mulata

• 20-oz glass, filled with ice
• 2 oz dark rum
• 1 oz coconut rum
• 1 oz Kahlua
• fill remainder of glass with mango nectar (for a Brownfoot mulata, use lemonade) and stir

Cheers!

The Brownfoot Mulata

Each summer, as I sample various beers for my Beer O'Clock reviews, I try to find a brew that I decide will be my go-to pick for the warm days. Something, that when a hot day hits, I can pick up and know that my thirst will be quenched and that will fully satisfy me.

So far, this season, I've come close to picking a favourite, but no luck so far. But there is a drink that I've had more than any other alcoholic beverage.

It's inspiration comes from my recent family vacation to Cuba, and no, it's not a Cuba Libre (though that drink comes in second).

Toward the end of the week in our all-inclusive resort, as I went down the list of various cocktails that was laminated on a card at every bar table, my eyes landed on something that piqued my curiosity.

It was called a mulata.

According to the drink card, the mulata consisted of lemonade, sugar, dark rum, and "elixir." I never learned what that elixir was, as the servers couldn't describe it and I never thought to ask the bar tender.

When I returned home, I looked up mulata on Google, and found out that creme de cacao could be used. Some recipes even called for Kahlua.

At the LCBO, I found that two types of creme de cacao were available: a clear variety and a dark one. Because my Cuban mulata had dark rum, it was impossible to tell if a dark creme de cacao was added or the clear one. Plus, at the time, my LCBO only had 40-ounce bottles, and that was more than I wanted to keep in the house.

I went home, feeling that I would try the liquor store again, another time, but I really wanted to have that drink. So I searched my liquor cabinet and checked to see what I could use to make a similar drink.

I had a large bottle of lemonade that we had picked up from Costco. We had purchased three bottles of Cuban rum: light, amber, and dark. I had Kahlua. Plus one other bottle that made me go "Hmm..."

Here's what I made:

• one 20-ounce pint glass, filled with ice
• two ounces of dark rum
• one ounce of Kahlua
• one ounce of Jamaican coconut-flavoured rum

Fill the rest of the glass with lemonade (already sweetened) and give it a stir.

I haven't looked for a smaller bottle of creme de cacao, nor have I tried to make a genuine mulata. I prefer this beverage.

I call this the Brownfoot Mulata.

You're welcome.