Some time ago I wrote an article entitled “Coincidences”. At that time I took the opportunity to say that when coincidences are good we attribute them to destiny, and when they are bad even witches are blamed, witches in whom we say we don’t believe, but who are around…, in whom we secretly confide… But I attribute good coincidences to “good witches” which we already claim to exist. We may see that from the witches, the bad ones, we accept fine inheritances such as those of culinary experience. “A Bruxa de Valpaços” (the Witch of Valpaços) is renowned.

But let’s get back to coincidences. Recently I returned from a sojourn in Brazil. At first I didn’t miss Portuguese food much, but after the first month, although I don’t usually eat much, I missed our Portuguese bread. From breakfast time and beyond. Who would have thought that our bread-making tradition would disappear in a country where the first bakers were Portuguese! French bread is all the rage. After bread what I missed was our soups. Although the Brazilians have some traditional soups, they have lost the habit of having them, and soup rarely appears on menus. However, what I missed most was our fish. Portugal has “the best fish in the world”, and we know how to cook it just right. I managed to find a restaurant that understood how I liked fish, and now it is offered “as how the Portuguese like it”. And then I even missed Água das Pedras (well-known Portuguese sparkling mineral water), but next time I’ll make sure I take some along with me.

Well, this year I had quite an adventure. I joined a Maracatú group, the “Rei de Paus”, in a Carnival parade which is different from that of the samba, and one which reflects the Afro-Brazilian culture. Anyone who might be interested in this kind of carnival can read my articles in my site: www.virgilio gomes.com. On Carnival Sunday, the first day of the parade, I arrived at the hotel very tired with scarcely the strength to place the bolster at the foot of the bed to sleep with my feet raised. After switching on the television, surprisingly, there was a programme about the last day of the Feira do Fumeiro de Vinhais (the Vinhais smoked meat fair). So far, yet so near! Of course it whetted my appetite for the traditional lunch that I always had in Bragança on that day. Fat Sunday! And on that day, I hadn’t ever eaten my supper! But tiredness was greater than hunger and I dreamt of butelos (traditional from Trás-os-Montes), salpicões (pickled pork sausages), cascas (bean pods), chouriços (cured pork sausages), pispernos, boiled rodião (side of veal), etc. And I fell asleep counting bísaros (a rather large breed of Portuguese pig) jumping over a fence. My nostalgia evaporated when the group in which I paraded won first prize. On my debut I had won a prize! I spent Carnival there with only few gastronomic ventures, with the exception of a set dish in the simple Brazilian style: rice, beans, dough, farofa (toasted manioc flour dish) and two slices of sawfish, all eaten with a spoon, and the traditional Maracutú soup, Dona Nariza’s “Rei de Paus”.

Well, no sooner had I arrived in Portugal than I was invited to a lunch of cascas com butelo. Then I remembered the yearning that I had felt and thanked destiny (my Fado) for the coincidence that had offered me this delicacy, which in my time wasn’t eaten during Lent. My friend wanted to offer me these good and healthy sins on my arrival from Brazil. I’ve never really understood certain ideas about some sins, and at this time I’m even in agreement with José Saramago on reading his “Cain”. The more you know the Bible, the more you understand this book. The Church lost a great opportunity to maintain silence because its official pronouncements only gave the book a great deal of publicity which aroused people’s curiosity, including mine.

But let’s get back to the lunch. The master of the house welcomed us in an apron. And what an apron! It was one of those that only friends can understand. You could smell the nice aroma that came from the kitchen. After settling down, I was jokingly invited into the kitchen to help our host, but the “help” was confined to conversation. He was preparing genuine bísaro ham with a cut that resembled that of restaurants, but which was quickly cut into more homely pieces.  Then came medium mature Terrincho cheese ( a Trás-os-Montes sheep’s milk cheese). These were the aperitifs, accompanied with Vale Pradinhos and Valle Passos, white wines from Trás-os-Montes. After sitting down at the table, a very thick Sopa de Castanhas (chestnut soup) was served. This soup, made following the recipe of our host’s mother, could have been a meal in itself. One following the other came the strong fragrances of each dish as it was placed on the table, and with each the fascination of its presentation. It’s very important to smell the aroma of food. First of all came the cascas with potatoes, carrots and cabbage. Then came the already opened butelo, followed by a plate of salpicão, chouriço and carne da feira (boiled rodião).

When we thought that we had partaken of all the delicacies, behold there appeared a serving dish of pisperno (pig’s knee and boiled aged smoked ham on the bone) and even a dish with cooked pig’s ear. Of course, all the produce had been cooled, some of them together. The majority of them had come from Trás-os-Montes the day before. I remember that I had a very good wine to go with all this, and that it was from a demijohn, obviously also from Trás-os-Montes. To end the meal there came a great surprise: chestnut syrup! Now, don’t find fault with the name and don’t think it’s a gastronomic error. The “syrup” was made with oranges and chestnuts previously cooked in “almíbar”, a sugar syrup. This dessert, concocted by the master of the house and possibly inspired by the Far East, was a clever finale to assuage the combination of strong and well-seasoned meats that we had just eaten. And the syrup was freshly-made. We finished the meal with coffee and an excellent home-made aguardiente made from the arbustus-berry in Vinhais.

All this took place in Lídia and Vasco Veiga’s house, and it is because of things like this that I sometimes write that I don´t often have to go to Trás-os-Montes. Trás-os-Montes comes to Lisbon.

Bon appetit.

© Virgílio Nogueiro Gomes

In the photo, a chouriça sausage from Vinhais and bread from Trás-os-Montes, photographed on another occasion.