Spring has definitely arrived in my part of Central Portugal. The air is full of pollen, which is the bane of people with allergies. It’s a season when the sounds of strimmers (aka weed wackers) and chainsaws ring across the valleys as people clear their land. Portuguese law requires property owners to remove undergrowth and brush from their land to reduce fire risk. Wildfires are unfortunately all too common in some parts of the country during the dry summer months.

Now though, all is lush and green. The sun has been shining and my neighbors are out early planting their gardens. Last year was the first year I tried my hand at growing vegetables. Thanks to abundant rain in April everything I planted shot up, I even outwitted the snails. It was such a satisfying experience I decided to do it again this year. We are still in lockdown so I can’t travel. So far, I have planted potatoes, onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, radishes and green beans. 

Flowers provide a riot of colors

Warm sunshine has brought out the flowers too. The Rua Principal through my village is lined with wisteria. Calla lilies and deep purple irises bloom alongside several houses. Fruit trees began blossoming at the beginning of March and the plum trees along my street are already bursting with leaves. 

One of the best signs is the emergence of tiny blossoms on the olive trees. This is a necessary indicator of what kind of olive harvest can be expected. Since olive oil is a key agricultural product in Central Portugal people are eager to see the flowers. Last year the olive harvest was very poor. Many people blamed it on wet and windy weather during the spring.

1. Dawn. My house faces southeast so when I look out my kitchen window in the morning I can see the sun peeping over the horizon on the other side of the valley in the direction of Spain. In this time of Covid, with all its challenges, I welcome the sight of the sun at dawn as a sign of hope.

2. The bread lady. Five years ago, when I walked the Camino de Santiago, I noticed a van would drive through the villages, honking its horn and delivering bread to the houses that had a bag hanging on their door handles. Here in my village, I have the same experience. A van from the Pecado Divino padaria (bakery) in Rio de Couros comes barreling though the village to deliver bread rolls. I hang my bag with change in it on the gate post and the lady van driver, the padeira, stops and leaves me my fresh rolls. I even named my dog Divina, after the bakery, it means divine sin.

3. My neighbors. I live in a tiny village atop a hill in Central Portugal. Many of the houses are empty. Like elsewhere, people here have left the villages for the cities and better employment opportunities. Several of the homes are owned by expats – Belgians, British, Dutch, Italian. But everyone I have met has been outgoing and welcoming and I feel very much at home here. I especially like my near daily chats with my old Portuguese neighbor. She is a widow in her late 70s or early 80s. We chat frequently. I understand about 10 to 15 percent of what she says and I try my best as my language skills improve. But I love the contact.

4. My local hardware store. Manuel and Erminda, the couple that run the hardware store located about 4 km (2.5 miles) from my house, are always kind, patient and helpful. This is a trait I have found in almost all my dealings with Portuguese people. They are always willing to be helpful and they will give you time. You may have to wait for service because everyone gets the time.

5. My local restaurant. Saavedra’s. During the time that people have been allowed to go to restaurants in this dire era of Covid, I have so enjoyed eating lunch there. Fernando and his wife who run the restaurant and serve meals are the sweetest kindest people. You can see the smile even behind a mask. A wonderful three-course lunch with wine costs about 10 euros or less. I love the Doce de Casa dessert.

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I’ve been living in Portugal for 18 months now, long enough to sample a variety of the wonderful food that the Portuguese are so proud of. It’s too hard to list them all but here a three of my favorites.

Bacalhau á Bràs: it’s found in almost any local restaurant, one of the innumerable recipes made from dried salted cod. The cod is rehydrated and mixed with egg, potato sticks and olives. Sound odd? No doubt, but I love the simplicity of it, like a Portuguese version of one of those comfort food recipes like shepherd’s pie or meat loaf.

This Bacalhau á Bràs recipe is from Maura at Hostel 33, a place I was fortunate enough to stay a couple of nights on my research trip to Portugal in 2018.

Pastry

In my mind, nothing says Portugal like a pastel (plural pasteis) de nata. These wonderful concoctions of creamy custard encased in crispy flaky pastry are the perfect accompaniment to a cup of espresso coffee as you sit at a cafe and contemplate the world.

The recipe was developed about 300 years ago by monks at the Mosteirio dos Jerónimos in Belem. Although cafes all over Portugal serve these delightful pastries, the most famous is Pastéis de Belém, located at Rua de Belém 84, near Lisbon. The cafe has been making them since 1837.

Olives

Olives were never part of my food repertoire growing up. But 18 months in Portugal, where they grace the table at every restaurant as soon as you sit down, has made me an enthusiast.

I now live in an area surrounded by olive trees and I have spent hours helping neighbors with the annual olive harvest. Last year, one of my neighbors offered me the opportunity to pick some for eating. You can’t eat olives straight off the tree, you have to pickle them in brine first. It is a lengthy process but worth it if you have the time and the inclination.

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