Oldest companies in Lisbon
During the post-earthquake era, Lisbon was an open construction site managed by a wigged gentleman called Marquês de Pombal. This nobleman was able to grab the tiger by its tail and provide the king’s authority to bring the city back on its feet. (The monarch, shocked by the catastrophe’s damage, spent the remainder of his life glamping close to Belem.) This is the late 18th century: in a relatively short time, the downtown area of Lisbon becomes a newly built shopping area. The result, to this day, is an unparalleled cross between contemporary and ancient — even in this postmodern reality.
The aforementioned Bertrand Bookshop of Rua Garrett is certainly the most striking example of an historic shop. Since 1732, it has been the scene of an uninterrupted book trade — to the point of earning a world record. Prizes aside, this bookshop has been a real institution, even among the locals. Throughout the 19th century, artists used to exchange opinions walking these same corridors, fired up by literature or politics. In the 1950s — right in the midst of Salazar’s dictatorship — the place was also frequented by authors who were opponents of the regime. Some shelves are paying homage to their contributions still today. Visit this store to learn about Fernando Namora, Urbano Tavares Rodrigues, José Cardoso Pires or Aquilino Ribeiro.
Luvaria Ulisses has been crafting gloves since 1925. This is even clearer once you step in: neoclassical columns and shiny furniture from the roaring ’20s will bring you back to those times. The boutique was originally designed by Joaquim Rodrigues Simões — former mayor and member of the municipal council. He asked for permission to build commercial establishments in the still unused part of Carmo (the area immediately next to the Carmelite Convent, aka the roofless church). This is how the 3-square-meter commercial institutions of Chiado District were born: a sharp answer to the post-earthquake commercial demand from the just-moved-in aristocrats. This is a one of a kind kinda shop, also because it is the last Portuguese house that sells only gloves. Items come in seven sizes, with quarter-inch differences in measurement. The manufacturing process has never changed. Eight people still work in the old workshop in Travessa do Almada, guaranteeing a production of 10,000 to 12,000 gloves per year.
There are pasteis de nata, and then, there are Pastéis de Belém. Some do not notice the difference; others prefer the pasteis from Manteigaria, or from the S. Antonio pastry shop in Alfama. I prefer to look at my tourists’ expressions after they take the first bite of Belem’s sweets: what is it that makes them so special? We have to travel back to 1834, when, because of the spread of liberal ideas, in Europe, many monastic orders were dissolved. In the throes of austerity (and close to exile), the monks of the order of St. Jerome, who lived inside the colossal Monastery of Belém, found themselves forced to sell their recipe to a baker in the neighborhood. Guess what? Ever since that year, the recipe has remained secret. Today there are five who know the ingredients and quantities — the shop manager, the CEO and the chefs — and they cannot travel on the same plane. Extreme? Maybe not: at least 20,000 pasteis are sold a day. You can drink and eat at the counter or inside; there is also a lovely garden where you can sit while you enjoy a treat or two. In this case, you can kill the waiting time while peeking at the pastry chefs who work behind the windows. Take a picture or two and your friends back home will drool over your social feeds. Pasteis de Belem is an excellent choice for lunch, too.
It was 1778 and Café Martinho de Arcada sold ice and wine in Commerce Square. After two years, the ownerships went to an Italian, Domenico Migliani, who turned it into an Italian “casa de café.” Between the late 1800s and early 1900s, Lisbon was bustling with cafeterias, each with a specific set of customers. Café Martinho was a literary café — the poets Fernando Pessoa and Mário de Sá-Carneiro used to exchange drafts of their writings right on those tables. The rest of the personalities who walked in — including actors, politicians and doctors — stuffed themselves with torradinhas de meleças. In 1909, the owner changed, and so it turned from an artistic café into a café-restaurant, the first of its kind in the city. In 1999, the place received the award for the “best coffee of the year.” Luckily, the quality of the coffee is still too good to resist — but the business is a restaurant now.
In 1887, two Germans called Ferdinand Calus and Georges Ph. Schweder decided to inaugurate the “Claus Porto.” Schweder was a chemist who settled in Portugal with the idea of opening the first national factory of perfumes and soaps. Calus had already been a local in Porto for quite some time. Claus Porto made quality beauty products that were accessible to the poorer classes. Today the trend is exactly the opposite — 14 euro for a bar of soap is not really within everyone’s budget. But even so, visit their Lisbon shops. You’ll be treated like a prince while relishing the lime and oak fragrances, pastel colors and tiled aesthetics from the Belle Époque. Excellent choice for classy souvenirs, with history and certified quality of products.
Adriano Telles founded A Brasileira in Chiado in 1905. This was the last of the three homonyms that he had already opened in the rest of the country. He had spent many years in Brazil trading coffee beans, probably a way to establish continuity in his own country. However, the place quickly became popular among Bohemians. They used to hang out in the neighborhood, leaving an aroma of absinthe behind. At those tables they drank, but, above all, built ideas upon ideas — they were the ones belonging to the “Orpheus’s Generation.” At that time, the walls were crowded with canvases signed by modernist painters such as José Pacheko, Almada Negreiros, António Soares, Eduardo Viana, and Jorge Barradas. In the 1970s they were replaced with more contemporary works. If today that piece of pavement in front of the entrance is well coveted, is it because outside there is a statue of quite a popular gentleman — the most popular Portuguese poet — who, with one hand on the table and the other in the air, almost seems to whisper, “Still there? Come on!”
It is said that this is where the espresso was first called bica. Telles initiated the meme by posting a sign that said “Beba Isto Com Açúcar (B.I.C.A.!).” Translated: “drink with sugar.”
There is no shop in this list that embodies the word “historical” as much as the Espingardaria Central located in Rossio Square. The armory was opened 1909, one year before the proclamation of the Portuguese Republic. And it is in this shop that the young employee António Montez sold the Winchester rifle that killed King Carlos. His death was the event that sped up the end of the monarchy. António Montez, from office worker, became a sportsman and participated in the 1924 Paris Olympics, but he always had that shop in mind. He would soon give up his sporting career to take the lead in a business that would stay with his family. Apart from firearms and hunting items, today it is also possible to buy backpacks, sports jackets and tennis shoes.
Decapitated heads, limbless busts, green and pink woolly hair, dismembered trains. This and more can find a place in the Hospital de bonecas. Since 1830, every injured toy has been filed and cataloged in wooden drawers. However, they were a bit modest with the name: there is not just a real playroom E.R., but also a laboratory for the restoration of miniature toys and sacred objects AND a workshop that designs costumes of various kinds (from carnival to folkloristic). The adjacent museum is also a hidden gem. Come check it out, unless Chucky still gives you nightmares. There are about 3,500 baby dolls scattered around. They will stare at you with their huge, creepy eyes wide open — if they’re still in place 😉
In Faz Frio, they have been cooking “Bacalhau à Zé do Pipo” and other traditional specialties for 150 years. The name “It’s cold” comes from the ancient habit of leaving a door open at the back. It was not the heat — or at least, not only that — rather, the political conspirators who sometimes had to run away. And certainly, this stone and majolica floor has seen quite some worn-out soles: not only demonstrators against Salazar but also fado musicians who trod the scene with guitar and mandolin, and writers, newly landed sailors or runaway lovers. The drawings on the walls recall the trades of many professions lost over time — such as the knife sharpener and the water carrier. It’s nice to read the menu’s candor in specifying the method of preservation of the ingredients (frozen, or 3 or 6 months of shelf life). Not bad for one of the oldest restaurants in Lisbon — at least, so we are told by some municipal documentation that mentions the restaurant was already operating in 1863.
“Portuguese canned fish is the best in the world,” says one of the four plaques right at the entrance to the Conserveira de Lisboa located in Rua Bacalheirau. And, in fact, there are countless cans packaged one by one that welcome visitors to this shop — together with the unfailing smiles of the Ferreira family. At its dawn, 90 years ago and counting, the shop functioned as a small grocery store. It was a typical neighborhood little shop, the chit-chat pit stop. Today, there are old can openers, an antique typewriter, several lithographed cans and the proprietary registrations of the three brands that the canning company sells to the public: Tricana (for whole fillet fish), Minor (smaller fish pastas) and Prata do Mar (medium-sized fish). Their specialties? What about cod with figs and walnuts or swordfish with chickpeas and mint? Prices range from two euro (mainly cans of mackerel) to 17.79 euro (stuffed smoked lamprey). The Romans imported the technique, the Portuguese made it flourish.
Joaquim Lourenço and his nephew Artur in 1891 opened the first Papelaria Fernandes. Still functioning in the heart of Rato, at the time, it replaced a tobacconist called Fernandes. The building still maintains the aesthetics of the period, in iron and colored glass. In 1917, the business was expanded: an area adjacent to the shop was used for typography, and this is how the production of envelopes began. Subsequently, the company also dedicates itself to binding, lithography and engraving. From 1928, another branch sat in Rua Aúrea, and then from there, there were more and more. (Some, unfortunately, were forced to close during the early 2000s.)
Despite this, 129 years after the opening of the first store, Papeleria Fernandez certainly holds the title of having had a monopoly of the stationery sector, in Lisbon and throughout the country. If you’re a stationery addict like I am, you will love to visit their shelves.
Do you want to visit more historical shops? Check them out here — you can browse by category or location.
