A fillet of salmon, also done in the so-called magic oven, was more precisely baked. Flaky and with a crisp outer edge, the two-inch-high fillet was covered with an aromatic combination of chopped tomatoes, capers, black olives, garlic, and onions. Dubbed salmone provenzale, a nod to the French-Italian border, this could easily have been named salmon perfection.
Desserts, perhaps, should be rethought. Though he serves them forth with dramatic flair, Magalhaes makes only a few each day. We ordered two of the three that were offered, a bread pudding flambe in brandy sauce and a flan with caramel sauce. Both the pudding and the flan were luscious, but, in contrast to the meal, the sauces here were bitter and overly alcoholic. If our visit is any indication, diners are advised to skip the after-dinner cordial if you're going to indulge in one of these.
Or, like me, you just might start seeing (or hearing) spirits.