Some Lisbon stories begin with a recipe. Others begin with a quarrel. This one begins with both.

The ginja is a sour cousin of the cherry, the kind that makes you close one eye when you bite into it. Very healthy, very hard to eat. So, somewhere along the way, somebody added aguardente and sugar, and Lisbon found a way of eating fruit without looking like it was eating fruit.

The story starts around 1840 on Largo de São Domingos, next to Rossio, where a Galician named Francisco Espinheira opened a tiny shop and began serving ginjas soaked in aguardente with sugar, water and cinnamon. Legend has it the recipe was not really his, but a friar’s, a man who knew a thing or two about fruit, spirits and miraculous mixtures, and who one day gave the right advice to the right man.

The shop grew. So did its fame. And then, as the story goes, along came an employee named João Lourenço Cima.

Old Espinheira had a daughter, and he wanted João to marry her. João did not find the idea as good as his boss did. There were words, there was a falling out, and João did what any reasonably proud Lisboeta would do: he opened his own shop a few doors up, at number 7, Rua das Portas de Santo Antão, and called it Ginjinha Sem Rival.

The Ginjinha Without Rival. Some names are names. This one was a provocation.

That was around 1890. Both shops are still there, practically facing each other, like two old rivals who have long since grown used to each other’s company. Somewhere in between there was also a clown, a liqueur and a story that deserves its own post. The story of the Eduardino is coming soon.

And there is one last, delicious detail. Espinheira’s label still proudly lists the medals it has won at fairs and competitions. Sem Rival’s label makes a point of saying that “this house has never entered any national or foreign competition or exhibition.” One collects medals. The other is proud of never having gone to get any.

Almost two hundred years later, the little war goes on. Which is probably why ginjinha tastes so good in Lisbon: it was never just a liqueur. It is a story you drink.