My obsession with Portuguese custard tarts didn’t start in Portugal but in the grimy back alleys of late ’90s Macao and Hong Kong. In a world of glutinous rice balls and faux cakes that looked much more impressive than they tasted, I found solace in these ‘proper’ treats – their creamy, not-too-sweet custard and flaky, melt-in-the-mouth pastry, all caramelised to the point of ‘when it’s black it’s done’.

And one of my main memories of Kyoto is not of Kinkaku-ji or Kiyomizu-dera but of John and I holing up in our tiny bijinesu hoteru room with a beautifully presented box of a dozen custard tarts … and debating whether we should venture back out into the madness to buy some more! (Sadly, we didn’t.)

When I finally made it to Portugal in the early 2000s, the ‘real’ custard tarts did not disappoint. And, now that we’re in Madeira, I’m happy to be a good mum and support Alfie in his quest to find the best pastéis de nata on the island.