Blind Restaurante – Review

In 1998, Portuguese novelist José Saramago won the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature, with his novel ‘Blindness’ being one of the key works the committee highlighted. The novel investigates a blindness epidemic in an unnamed city and follows a disparate bunch of characters as society collapses around them. Vitor Matos is generally known as Portugal’s most commonly decorated Michelin star chef, his current tally an impressive five from four different restaurants. In 2020, he established Porto’s Blind, which gained one Michelin star last year and retained it this year. Taking Saramago’s novel as inspiration, Mato offers an epicurean journey which investigates sensory perception with chef Stéphane Costa taking executive chef duties in the kitchen.  

A large glowing sign with the restaurant’s name guides guests down a narrow side alley where a multitude of strategically placed lanterns achieve a pin-prick aesthetic and suggest drama lurks nearby. Part of the Torel Palace Porto, guests avoid the hotel’s formal entrance but, after the alley, pass by a compact and glowing azure hotel pool and a few drinks tables above which two chandeliers hang. An unassuming doorway on the left opens into the monochromatic Blind, which, chequered floor aside, is more black than white. The sight of a horseshoe bar around which no chairs are placed, no punters stand and no drinks are served is surreal, and what appears to be a contemporary art series hanging from the walls offers, in fact, a spelling of ‘sensation’ in Braille. 

There’s no messing around, and we quickly learn from Wagner that not only is he a wine sommelier but a water sommelier and, yes, he has a water menu to prove it. Pellegrini, Evian and Fiji represent more recognisable brands but the choice extends from Australia to Iceland to Scandinavia and much of Europe. We opt for Finland’s still Vellamo, which is ‘like a misty morning cloud by the sea, just before the rainfall’ and Germany’s  sparkling AQA Finelli from the Harderheck Spring – ‘high quality, pure taste and natural composition.’

Diners are asked if they have any allergies but are offered no other choice beyond a ten or twelve course tasting menu. And actually, courses aren’t ‘courses’ or ‘dishes’ or defined by ‘starters’ or ‘mains’ or ‘desserts’ but are all ‘moments’. And the ‘moments’ have names which are sometimes poetic and sometimes humorous. And half the time diners are encouraged to guess the ingredients of each ‘moment’ which leads for plenty of back and forth with our waiter César who, much like Wagner, is a non-stop source of cheery information. 

Three small moments, which make up ‘3 is Never Enough’ arrive simultaneously. The Amberjack tartlet with oscietra caviar is my favourite; it’s multicoloured, crispy and bursts with the caviar’s viscosity. The McBlind chickpea burger with curry mayo seems more of a gimmick than an haute cuisine offering but the specially designed paper and its unwrapping achieves a curiously joyous and childlike frisson. Three balls of liquid cheese from Portugal’s highest mountain are served in a deep and savoury mushroom broth whilst a hazelnut tincture is squeezed from a pipette at the table. A glass of Premier Cru ‘Natura’ champagne by chef Vitor Matos, no less, accompanies a small batch of 160 bottles which was harvested in 2016. The restaurant is down to its final three bottles, and we feel privileged. 

‘Candlelight’ is as it sounds. However, the candle isn’t made of wax but butter with garlic and specks of parsley. The wick burns, the hard butter melts. It’s served with sourdough full of pine nuts and is all so moreish that we go through two candles. ‘A Sin in a Spoon’ is a small bowl of foie gras decorated with star shaped granny smith apple, muscat gel and elderflower gel. Foie Gras errs more towards the soft than the solid so a spoon is definitely in order for a sloppy and extravagant mix. ‘A Clash of temperatures’ consists of raw Algarve prawns, more caviar, grapefruit and orange segments, all of which are covered in a warm leek foam at the table for an exercise in contrasts. 

At some point we notice a dry, red, inverted rose hanging above our table. What does it mean? Some kind of normative subversion, one assumes, which is definitely the case when César brings us not the next dish but two black blindfolds. Yes, we’re to fulfil the name of the restaurant by eating without vision and the evening suddenly becomes a mental exercise, a guessing game. What, actually, are we eating? César refuses to reveal, wants us to tell him. Hmmmm. Well…There’s definitely some mushrooms, not so obvious for their flavour, but their minuscule and slippery shape. And some fish for sure. My companion thinks it’s maybe monkfish. I think maybe prawns. Something in the back of my mind tells me a Michelin-starred chef wouldn’t be so lazy as to serve prawns twice in a row. I ignore my own advice and we opt for prawns. I’m right and I’m wrong; of course, a Michelin star restaurant wouldn’t serve two moments of prawns. We would never have guessed. Hardly knew the things existed: Sea snails! In a garlic and butter sauce with mushrooms! 

Wagner keeps the wine flowing thick and fast. We have Guri by Vinvevinu, we have Lacrau Garrafeira, we have Vinha Paz Reserva. We have a blind tasting session with the wine, too, where we fail miserably to identify what we’re drinking and then we have wine from a bottle which is never opened. Almost like a magic trick, this is made possible by a Coravin device, specifically invented to pour wine without removing the cork, so that the bottle doesn’t go off if you don’t fancy drinking it all. 

We devour ‘Sea Breeze’, which is a tender chunk of cod with plankton powder and seaweed. We devour ‘Feel the Sea’ which is red snapper with sea lettuce, and saffron-infused couscous. We devour ‘Meat Fell in the Ashes’, another one of my favourites. Not only is it the first meat dish, Wagyu, it’s also the closest the meal comes to having an identifiable ‘main’. Dehydrated mushrooms act out the titular ash role and crispy seaweed works with Swiss chard and rice for an all-around richer and heavier dish. Before we know it, three hours have whipped by, and we’re presented with ‘Red Passion’, a seriously colourful and happily bright dessert. With luscious red, Mae West lips, the concoction includes mascarpone (the lips), mini meringues, lychee gel, egg custard and ice cream and resembles a joyous cubist portrait or a child’s pic ’n’ mix presentation.

A final moment called ‘Adam and Eve’ ends the evening. Served on a picture frame and a printed painting, three petit fours make their own statement; food can transcend its functionality and also work as art. After a titillating and lively evening full of surprise and delight, technique and flavour, it’s a tough one to disagree with.