My cousin had flown out a couple of days before the rest of our family. He'd already grabbed the hire car and explored the immediate area. He'd found the nearest restaurant and enjoyed the food.
Upon our arrival, we descended en masse on Scooby's Pool Bar, in Galé. It was owned by a British couple.
The menu looked exactly like any you might find in a pub anywhere in Britain. The bulk of it was *insert meat* with chips and peas, or vegetables. Which isn't to say that it wasn't delicious.
My father was practically drooling at the sight of his steak and kidney pie with chips and peas. He uttered a satisfied sigh as soon as he dug in. Then recommended it to everyone in the vicinity.
I fared less well. As a vegetarian, my only options were a jacket potato with cheese, cheesy chips or a salad. For someone who had been anticipating fine Portuguese cuisine, it was less than underwhelming. (I had much better luck around the corner at JKs.)
But it was also a story repeated just about everywhere else we went. You couldn't have chucked a stone in Albufeira, Sesmarias, Galé or Joinal without hitting some purveyor of staple British food. It was actually intensely difficult to eat anything but British food.
Even the handful of Dutch restaurants in the town seemed to cater for the British. Their walls were orange and photographs of the Nederland royal family adorned the menu. Yet the food was British.
Which is all a great shame because, as my friends from the rest of Europe diplomatically tell me, Britain is not known for its cuisine.