I'm Turning Portuguese!!

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We took a day of rest from our frantic travels and went to visit Maria's cousins, Maria and Manuel. In a matter of minutes, an offer for lunch.

Now, here I should make mention of Portuguese food. It is very good. It is also very much concerned with meat. Great slabs of meat, most likely fried and served with potatoes that are very often deep fried. On a day of abstinent prudence, one will eat great slabs of fish.
For about a week it's a party of carnivourous gluttony washed down with fizzy glasses of vinho verde. Then, one morning, your entire being cries out for a salad, or a sprig of parsley if nothing else.

So, back to the offer for lunch. I sat with an ear to the kitchen. All was silent for a time, and then the snap and crackle of boiling oil meeting fresh cut spuds.

With the food comes conversation, and that of an extremely animated variety. I've found that it matters not whether you can actually speak Portuguese. They will talk to you anyway, with complete confidence that you understand every word. It's quite charming.

Talk shows and game shows consist of a tremendous amount of chatter.People lean in and yack away, occassionally turning to the camera, but largely engrossed in their own conversation. There are no Oprah-type hosts here. Portuguese shows are comandeered by garrulous packs of people. You get the feeling that they just talk all the time and they turn the camera on once in a while when they need to run some tape.

Oh yes, and they're really into gags. It is not uncommon to see glamourous TV types engaged in all manner of corny antics, smiling blithely and seemingly enjoying themselves.

We went to Luis and Tamaris' house for dinner. Here it would be good to tell an interesting bit about the story of the Verdades'. They lived for many years in Venezuela, so many of the dishes they prepare are South American in origin. Our hosts are known for their skill with this food and many have come to visit them over the years to taste the delights from their kitchen. The star of our dinner on the 23rd: homemade empanadas.

Tamara (the Mum) called me into the kitchen. I was soon put to work rolling up the corn meal dough and gently (or, as I was instructed "Suave! Suave!") flattening the mix into little moons that turned to halves as we filled them with seasoned chicken.

The crispy little treats were brought to the table. There, to accompany them, sat a vision of pure health - a big leafy salad, glistening green and tasty.

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