So maybe we were just a little bit spoiled in La Alberca . . . our days were filled with interesting conversation and activities, the weather was warm yet breezy, the company was sublime, and the food and wine just kept flowing . . . Three days later I found myself in Viseu, Portugal, and instead of embracing the adventure in true Wander Woman fashion, I was fighting off a serious case of The Crabbies. This particular bout was induced by a lack of food, a lack of breeze, and a lack of open businesses. Alas, Robert couldn't do much about the change in weather, but he was able to magically produce two cokes and a ham and cheese sandwich, sustaining both our bodies and spirits. The day was saved! It's embarrassing how much sway the presence (or absence!) of food has on my mood. Anyway, Robert will probably write his own blog and give a more thorough overview of our experiences in Portugal thus far. I'll just stick with my sustenance for body and spirit theme: Food and Music.
Menus Lost in Translation:
Just when we thought the observation of Sunday Sabbath in Viseu meant bar food for dinner, we had the good fortune of dining at O Cortiço, a lovely little restaurant tucked surreptitiously into a side alley off the main square of Viseu. Robert's travel Bible, the Lonely Planet guide, had led us to this eatery that specializes in various recipes of the surrounding region. Not exactly sure what to expect, we were grateful for the English descriptions following the Portugese. Their ambiguity might have been a means to keep the recipes a mystery or maybe it was just poor translating. Either way, the wording delighted us. For example, we might have sampled any of the following:
-Feijocas contodos à manera da criada do Sr Abade otherwise described as "Large French beans cooked like the aboot's maid"
-"Drunken rabbit 3 days in is lie"
-"Roasted duck rice, roasted like the old times"
-"Stew little pieces of veal in the earthern mug stewed like the farmer from Cavernãos"
And, my personal favorite, Bacalhau podre apodrecido na adega or "Rotten codfish in the wine cellar". I passed on that.
In the end Robert chose "Roast lamb, roasted like the mountain shepherd", and I scored another point in the ordering game with my choice, "Shrub rice with little pieces of veal". The half portion I asked for was still large enough for a family of four, arrived in a solid, well-used earthenware pot, and had a little dried twig rising from the center. As a self-proclaimed foodie, I always enjoy trying a new restaurant or cuisine or dish, and there's something exciting and satisfying in "discovering" a new flavour. I have no idea what unique spice or herb or cooking technique or "shrub" element produced the earthy, beautiful taste, but it was a-ma-zing! Add a sweet young waitress who was patient and helpful in spite of being scared to death about using her English, an opening cheese and ham plate with the first whole wheat bread I've had since arriving on this continent, and Robert´s lovely cooked cabbage that came with his meal, and I was thoroughly sated. And mellow enough to endure the "fire water" the waiter produced as a final exclamation mark to our experience. Bom Apetite!
Music that Needs No Translation
Several years ago I heard a piece on NPR about Mariza, a new fado singer from Portugal. The article was intriguing enough to prompt a little research, and a fascination with hearing it for myself someday was born. When we first decided to travel to Spain, my mind went immediately to the neighboring Portugal and its music. Fado is a uniquely Portugese musical form that involves traditional guitar, a distinct, round-bodied, 12-string Portugese guitar, and a soulful singer. And today, finally, I heard it for the first time in person. We took in an afternoon show at the Fado Center here in Coimbra, supposedly (at least according to some sources), the birthplace of fado. The rapid, intense stylings of the Portugese guitar left me breathless even before the vocalist began. I didn't need to understand Portugese to understand the longing. Apparently the first fado songs were meant for one specific purpose: wooing women. After just one fado experience, I can honestly say the Portugese women don't stand a chance of resistance.
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