A few blocks south of downtown Jamaica, Queens, lies a miniature Portuguese neighborhood that has managed to remain intact for decades. There's a soccer club, a churrasqueira, and a couple of taverns, set amid truck depots, warehouses, and frame habitations decorated with ornate metal grillwork that might remind you of Lisbon. The neighborhood's anchor is O Lavrador ("The Farmer"), a restaurant dating to 1981 that rivals those found in Newark's Ironbound in fidelity to its Portuguese models. Out front stand spindly trees cocooned in tiny lights, and the façade blazes with signage offering seafood and valet parking.
There are two competing entrances. Through the left, heralded by a sign that traces "Bar" in what look like bullet holes, sporting a gnarled branch as a door pull, find a long, narrow barroom clad in rusticated wood, plastered with TVs tuned to European sporting events. The more handsome door on the right provides ingress to a formal dining room that has all the charm of a mausoleum, attended by waiters in starched waistcoats who sometimes wait for customers that never arrive. By contrast, the convivial barroom is often thronged with homesick Portuguese nationals, travelers who need a cheap belt on the way to JFK, and office workers from downtown Jamaica. They come for drink specials that include $15 ice buckets sprouting five bottles of Portuguese Sagres beer.
Read more at http://www.villagevoice.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment