There’s a quiet charm to Plano that’s hard to pin down. Maybe it’s the way the room feels lived‑in without being worn, or the sense that Chef Vítor Adão cooks with both feet firmly planted in Portuguese soil while still letting his imagination wander. Whatever the reason, it made a fitting home for a Howard’s Folly dinner hosted by winemakers David Baverstock and Luís Lérias, who brought along a line‑up of bottles that felt perfectly in tune with the kitchen.
The evening began with Plano’s understated “Pão, azeite e azeitonas” — bread, olive oil and olives — a small reminder that simplicity, when done well, can be its own kind of luxury. Sonhador Rosé 2024 opened the night with its usual ease: bright, gently aromatic, and quietly persuasive.
Chef Vítor stepped out to introduce the first dish, a fresh fish tartare with leche de tigre and peanuts, a plate that managed to be both refreshing and grounding. Alvarinho 2024 echoed the citrus and salinity without overwhelming the delicacy of the fish, the pairing feeling more like a conversation than a performance.
The fish course — cod with crushed potatoes, beurre blanc and roe — was a reminder of how satisfying Portuguese cooking can be when handled with care. Familiar flavours, balanced and unhurried. Reserva Branco 2022 added a little breadth and texture, its gentle oak and structure giving the dish a quiet lift.
Then came the meat: dry‑aged Barrosã sirloin with Kennebec potato and cauliflower, a dish that felt honest and rooted. David and Luís poured two reds side by side, and this is where the table leaned in a little closer.
Reserva Tinto 2019 showed itself first — fuller‑bodied, generous, with dark fruit and a sense of warmth that suited the richness of the Barrosã. It’s a wine that doesn’t rush, carrying its weight with a kind of calm assurance.
Cristina 2019, by contrast, felt more lifted — fresh, layered, quietly complex. Where Reserva leans into depth, Cristina leans into nuance: redder fruit, a little more brightness, a sense of movement across the palate. Tasting them together didn’t spark debate so much as appreciation for how two wines from the same place can take such different paths.
Dessert — Pão de Ló with Serra da Estrela cheese — was soft, comforting, and just a little nostalgic. Carcavelos 1995 rounded things out with its mellow sweetness and gentle maturity, the kind of wine that invites you to linger a little longer at the table.
By the end of the evening, the room had settled into that easy rhythm that good dinners tend to create. Conversations drifted, glasses refilled, and David and Luís moved between tables with the unhurried generosity of people who genuinely enjoy sharing what they make. Nothing flashy, nothing forced — just a night of thoughtful cooking, expressive wines, and people who were happy to be exactly where they were.
