In winter some of us might feel like orphans, Oliver Twist begging for a morsel of comfort. A place where you can say to the master: "Please sir, I want some more," without "horror depicted on every countenance". Such a venue is the Vasco da Gama, anchored in the backstreets of Green Point. It's also known by hordes of disciples as The Portuguese Embassy, as for over four decades it's been serving humble, yet superior Portuguese pub grub.And we're not alluding to lonesome, soggy prego rolls surrounded by limp lettuce leaves. We're referring to fat plates of ambrosia catapulted with its historical umbilical cord right from the southwestern Iberian peninsula.Regulars include cricketer Graeme Smith, entire rugby teams, politicians, writers, chefs, mad dogs and Englishmen, and rotund members of Overeaters Anonymous.I once met a woman here, a pauper at that time, who sold a homemade red wine stain remover, became a millionaire and bought a penthouse down the road.In the 1970s it was a mixed working-class area where factory, dock, railway workers, and second-hand car salesmen hung out.The corner where my father sat and held court in those days is still there. They were a jolly lot and he had friends with names like Spikkels Moore (car washer), Kleintjie Kleingeld (fisherman) and Cliffie Dippenaar (railway shunter).There was talk that the tavern had to move and the 100-year-old building was to be demolished. Regulars went mad, there were fisticuffs in dark corners.The last time they knocked down the building next door, where The Rockwell stands, they discovered more than 2000 skeletons in the foundation - the remains of servants, slaves, sailors and washerwomen who were executed at Gallows Hill way back when.By chance a regular stepped in, who prefers to remain anonymous, bought the place and injected new life into the Embassy. He kept the attractive old original interior intact (yellow Formica tables, lipstick-red barstool covers, yellow-stained glass windows, colourful mosaic tiles, dark wood finishes), but cleaned up the outside area, annexed an extra room next door and renovated the top floor for private functions.In the 1970s the two rooms upstairs were used for rumpy-pumpy by "night flowers" and sailors.The troupes of familiar waiters are still there: Stella, Sharon, Rosy, Angie, and more, a coterie of wonderful women (and some men) who make you feel as if you're sitting in your mamma's kitchen.Try the grilled sardinas assadas, trinchado (cubed beef), grilled whole baby kingklip, seafood pan with calamari strips, tentacles, and prawns with garlic butter.The hot peri-peri sauce is made from a secret recipe that's been passed down from one of the first waiters from Madeira who worked there in 1972. Bless.The daily specials include more than a "thin gruel a day, with an onion twice a week, and half a roll on Sundays". No, you can feast on tripe and beans, pork and bacon, and much more, which you can wash down with a catemba (Coke and red wine).On a freezing day, hidden warmly from the hard northerly, rain-bringing Cape winds, you'll be excused if you asked, paralysed by wonder: "Please sir, I want some more."Vasco da Gama Tavern. 3 Alfred Street, Green Point, Cape Town. 021-425-2156..