the portuguese boil

I can't think of a better way to start 2013 than being with a warm and kind family at a table heaped with delicious food. How lucky am I? I was warned in advance that the New Year's Day feast, known only as The Boil, would involve copious amounts of meat— but I never imagined this:



The Portuguese don't mess around with food. Nor with portions, as you can see from the above photographs. Our dear hostess, with a little mischievous grin, generously piled my plate high, in spite of my previous moaning about the growing pudginess of my belly. Suddenly I felt like I was in Lebanon, with my aunties lovingly creating architectural masterpieces upon my plate. Food that comes from the heart is the most divine— and goodness, do you feel cared for with each spoonful.  

The Boil, includes a variety of Portuguese sausages including chouriço de sangue, and the tasty but deadly farinheira. Then there's the boiled pork, cured pork, pig ears, rice cooked in pork fat, the beef, beans, boiled potatoes, cabbage and carrots. Bread. Wine. Lots of wine.

It's amazing.



But wait— there's more! Following the main part of the meal (oh and I forgot to mention the shrimp and presunto appetizers): roasted chestnuts, fruit (to cut the fat of the meat), coffee, and ginjinha. I was deliriously happy and full, and feared this meant I would be a lousy co-pilot on our road trip to the interior, which was to begin shortly.

Sleep was descending heavily...

should your stomach groan...

I have always been swayed by the salty rather than the sweet— and my goodness, does Portugal offer some tasty salty snacks! Meet three of my favourites:

Pastéis de bacalhau e ginjinha– that's codfish cakes and a spot of cherry liqueur. Next to preserving and pickling, the next best thing to do with a fish is to make a cake out of it. Ok, I exaggerate— I love fish in all forms of culinary creativity, but there is something so satisfying in a fishcake. The traditional ginjinha is a wonderful touch, something I could thoroughly enjoy on a regular basis.

And now my friends, behold the bifana:



A heap of tender pork steak, dripping flavour into its humble bun, mustard flowing carelessly over the mounds... Oh yes....

Lately I find myself craving bifanas— but in a country where pork is hard to come by without busting your wallet or trekking to some mysterious Armenian butcher shop, all I have are memories and a groaning belly.



Clockwise from the top in this lovely little box of goodies, we have fine examples of rissóis de leitão, rissóis de camarão, and pastéis de bacalhau— that's a pastry with piglet, a fried turnover with shrimp, and the omnipresent codfish cake. Though I intensely loved every crumb of all three snacks, only one them sprouted the roots of an obsession within me: the rissóis de camarão. The dough was delightfully crispy with the creamiest shrimp filling— so sweet and... shrimpy? I found myself casually seeking them out behind every glass counter, even indulging in its lesser airport version.

I must learn to make them...