Petropolis, Brasil, is a city in the State of Rio de Janeiro where intellectuals, artists and craftsmen have long congregated. It is a young and beautiful city filled with university students and gardens. This is the Pousada da Alcobaca there.
Petropolis, a city in the mountains above Rio de Janeiro, is known as the Imperial City. In 1830, Emperor Pedro I planned a progressive forward-thinking community on the site of a farm called Corrego Seco (“Dry Stream” in Portuguese.) Six Hundred European families were brought in as the first settlers. When agriculture proved too difficult on the steep mountainous slopes the people turned to crafts to support themselves. Today Petropolis is still known for the handiwork and craftsmanship of its people.
In 1843 Pedro II continued his father’s vision by building the Emperor’s Summer Palace there. The large pink building is now the wonderful museum Meseu Imperial. Pedro II also built formal gardens on the palace grounds using plants imported from all corners of the Portuguese Empire. These gardens are open to the public, as are several major gardens in the area. Over the decades, artists, intellectuals and nobility were attracted to this beautiful setting.
Petropolis is also a university town, with students making up the majority of the population. That youth and vitality make Petropolis a vibrant and exciting city. So, besides culture, crafts and its youthful outlook, Petropolis is also known for its gardens, especially for the beauty of its hydrangeas.
I spent my first night in Rio de Janeiro (the State) at Pousada da Alcobaca, in the cool high mountain city of Petropolis, escaping the 100 degree heat of Rio de Janeiro (the city) as privileged Brasilians have done for centuries.
Stepping into Alcobaca was like going to my grandmother’s house. Even though I arrived at midnight, hostess Laura Goes was as gracious as if it were midday. She kissed me on both cheeks. “Come into the kitchen” she invited, “I fixed something for you to snack on after such a long journey.” And, just as when family arrived, she ushered me to a seat at her table and began putting a dinner together over my faint protests. The flight into Rio de Janeiro from JFK on TAM airlines was pleasant, but long. I was hungry, dirty and tired, having been up since two AM that morning. Laura made me feel at home with her maternal ministrations. The aroma of baking empadinhas (little pies) mixed with the fragrance of the leek and potato soup bubbling on the stove to complete the feeling. I was home.
The more I looked around the kitchen the more I realized how special it was. My great-grandmother ran an Irish boarding house with ten rooms. Both her kitchens combined (she had a summer and a winter kitchen) still wouldn’t equal this one. There was a wood stove with big burners that also heated the water for the sinks. There was a six burner gas range nearby, with the huge stump of a eucalyptus tree between them as a cutting block. That also came in handy when the bubbling cauldron of soup came off the stove. Laura had stacks of soapstone pots under the gas stove. They fit as neatly into the wood stove burners as they fit comfortably on the gas, and they held their heat so well that the soup continued to boil long after it was removed from the flames. I’d love to have even one of those pots for my kitchen range.
At first, her kitchen seemed an example of excess. Where I have one set of measuring cups hanging in my kitchen, Laura has ten! Ditto the strainers, mixing spoons, graters and everything else needed in a well equipped kitchen - all hanging like bunches of grapes - handy, on the walls. Cupboards held teapots and pitchers, windowsills held herbs, some growing in through the open window. Bowls of eggs on the table, bowls of water filled with water cress by the sink, and a bowl of manioc with vegetables sitting covered on a worktable all set the stage for a real working kitchen. I found out later that Laura and her small staff routinely turn out 100 to 300 meals a day. Besides being a small eleven room posada, Alcobaca is a very busy restaurant!
Late night snack in Petropolis
Empadinhas, little pies, the pastry made with half lard and half butter (the same as I make) baked in muffin tins, filled with any empanada mix (these were both shrimp and chicken.) Small pieces of quiche, plus bowls of steaming hot leek and potato soup, with local native potatoes. Red wine completed the midnight snack for me, but a chocolate tarte and coffee were offered. I politely declined, wishing not to disturb my sleep with the sugar and caffeine.
Satisfied that I had eaten enough, Laura showed me to my room. It reminded me of my old boyhood bedroom, 8000 miles away in a house that no longer exists. I eerily revisited my youth as I ducked under the eves of the steep tiled roof into bed. The smells and sounds of my childhood comforted me into a deep sleep; a sleep in which I relived, rather than dreamed of, a comforting family home gone these 25 years. I slept the sleep of innocence. Foreign bird songs awakened me to a strange but somehow familiar room. The illusions of the past evening melted away as I stood on the small deck and viewed the lush tropical gardens below me. What a night! I shook off the cobwebs of fading memory and went in search of the pool, hoping that a swim would clear my head. Day one of ten days in Rio de Janeiro had dawned.
Alcobaca is so much more than an inn and restaurant. There are several acres in vegetable gardens on the rich river banks below the pousada where all the food for the restaurant is grown organically. So much is produced that those who tend the gardens sell the excess at the local markets. And then there are the exquisite flower gardens. On my first day there, thirty-five horticulturists from England arrived for lunch and a tour through the many paths and along the borders Laura has planted in the decades she’s owned the pousada.
They were accompanied by a guide from the gardens of the world-famous landscape architect Roberto Burle Marx. (Laura later told me that he asked for cuttings from plants the Burle Marx gardens didn’t have. I’ve toured those gardens and know what an honor that request was!) In a personal tour later that day I learned that the formal European-style gardens in place when Laura and her husband opened Alcobaca were transformed by Laura herself into the tropical splendor I witnessed. Every time she found an interesting plant along the river or when clearing the fields for the vegetables, she transplanted it into her gardens. Over the years this unique mix of gardening styles - English cottage garden and Burle Marx “junglesque” - grew into a stunning collage of color and form that is now a stop on international horticultural tours.
There are other public gardens in the area, other pousadas and other restaurants, besides the museums and craft shops. I was so busy exploring them I missed just relaxing in the gardens at Alcobaca. Maybe next time. Petropolis would make an excellent destination any time of year, but it is especially pleasant when the temperature soars in the lowlands of Rio de Janeiro. I can’t wait to return.
Spelling note: Brasil, not Brazil, is how they spell their country. I followed their lead.
TurisRio (Tourism Company of Rio de Janeiro State)
http://www.1Rio.net Email Miriam Cutz miriamcutz@turisrio.rj.gov.br
Rio Convention & Visitors Bureau
http://www.rcvb.com.br
Pousada da Alcobaca
http://www.pousadadaalcobaca.com.br
Museu Imperial
(24)2237-8000
open Tues - Sunday / 8 Reals
TAM Airlines
http://www.tam.com.br
Roberto Burle Marx
http://www.travelroads.com/article/id_1455
Richard Frisbie, FOOD Correspondent:
RICHARD FRISBIE is published twice a month to Gather Essentials: Food. It is a food junkie's take on growing, raising, preparing and - above all else - eating food. Together we’ll explore the trends, addictions, equipment and regional specialties that make up the sometimes mundane and sometimes sublime cooking and dining experience. You can keep up with my other postings and Gather activity by joining my Gather network -- I look forward to hearing from you.
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Comments: 28
Are you going to tell us more about the cooking there?
Richard, you keep stretching my travel destination list!
(Incidentally, my brother owns a home about a half-day (literally 13 or so hours) drive north of Rio on the coast.)
Seriously, loved the photos and great info!
I agree, Priscilla - it was a wonderful first day!
Thanks Dianne - I really enjoyed my stay.
Hey, Sophie - you gotta go!
I had one describable potato, Madame - even photographed a raw one and discussed them with the chef. Look for that in an upcoming article - and Thanks for the kind words!
They were empadinhas to put under your pillow and dream on (if there were any left, that is!) Glad you enjoyed it, Kimberly.
Does it mean city of Rocks?
That's what I said, Waiguoren. Great place with fine dining and touring - Go!
Thanks, Sandra - I am more than lucky. I am blessed.
When you mentioned this kitchen, the empanadas -I think of mi tia Angelica - oh she could make the best empanadas - those kitches - they are all so well-equipped. I did love your description of this one very much.
I love the gardens too and how there are snippets and cuttings from everywhere all growing in harmony in such a lush area. The whole place is where I want to go. I will go there - someday cuando era una vejita. Oh Richard, I could sit and talk to you for horas on end - having red wine!
Las empenadas - the steaming leek and potato soup - all of it so well remembered and given tribute in this post...and the sleep - the deep sleep of childhood and waking to bird song - oh my childhood ears do remember that time so long ago...this was excellent, Richard. I must say - one of your best! Thank you dear friend. Salud
Again, thanks for this flavorful filled post - I love it. Salud
Mariana - you are always so sweet AND so supportive. No wonder your weight-loss group is so successful. (Thanks for clearing up that "Mistah" thing!)
Hi Melanie - thanks for the kind words!
I've shared this with Fred for inspiration, as we hope to one day open our own bed and breakfast in the Arizona wine country (yes....there is wine country here!)
As a last note - "My great-grandmother ran an Irish boarding house with ten rooms." I knew we had a kinship! I'm still trying to verify facts, but rumor has it that my own great grandmother ran a boarding house in Springfield, MA during the end of the 19th century. Perhaps it's something in our blood?
Thanks for a wonderful read!
Good to see you here also, Fran. Thanks for the kind words.