There’s something about the Algarve light that makes everything feel a little softer around the edges. By the time guests arrived at Botânico in Quinta do Lago for the latest Howard’s Folly wine dinner, the restaurant was glowing — part fire, part open‑kitchen energy, part that unmistakable southern‑Portugal ease. It made the perfect setting for an evening hosted by Howard himself, joined by Howard’s Folly members and Botânico’s regulars, many of whom greeted each other like old friends before they’d even sat down.
The kitchen leaned into Botânico’s “meat, fish, fire” ethos, while Howard poured wines with the enthusiasm of someone who still genuinely loves what he makes.
The evening opened with a couvert that felt like a quiet nod to the region: Algarvian‑style carrots, marinated olives, Esporão olive oil and fleur de sel, paired with Sonhador Rosé 2024. Simple, bright, and exactly the sort of beginning that lets people settle into their seats and into the evening.
The starter — smoked cod carpaccio with broad beans, pickled red onion and mint pennyroyal — arrived with Sonhador Branco 2024, a pairing that made perfect sense. The wine’s freshness lifted the smokiness of the cod and the herbal notes of the pennyroyal, the whole thing tasting like spring had wandered onto the plate.
Then came the first of the mains: pan‑seared amberjack with onion and pepper stew and asparagus migas, served with Reserva Branco 2022. The dish was warm, generous, and unmistakably Portuguese, and the wine — structured, gently oaked, quietly confident — wrapped around it beautifully.
The second main was the kind of plate that makes a room collectively slow down: venison loin with veal jus, chestnut purée, crispy Portuguese kale and red berry jam. Howard poured both Cristina 2019 and Reserva Tinto 2019, and the table did what tables always do — compared, contrasted, and quietly chose favourites. Cristina, fresh and layered, brought lift to the venison; Reserva, fuller‑bodied and deeper, leaned into the richness of the jus. There was no wrong answer.
Dessert arrived in two parts, both unmistakably Alentejo: sericaia, soft and comforting, and a selection of Alentejo cheeses, each with its own quiet personality. Carcavelos 1995 tied it all together — amber, mellow, and carrying the kind of depth that only time can give.
As the evening drifted on, the atmosphere shifted into something unhurried and quietly celebratory. Conversations stretched, plates were traded across the table for “just one more taste,” and the wines seemed to take on a life of their own as the night deepened. Howard moved easily between groups, sharing stories, topping up glasses, and laughing with guests who clearly felt at home.
By the time the final glasses were emptied, the room had that unmistakable glow of a dinner that landed exactly where it needed to.
