Life Is Crazy-Stupid, Absolutely Fantastic!

Bom dia (ou, boa tarde) a todos nossos amigos e entes queridos! // Good morning (or, good afternoon) friends and dear ones! Crazy-stupid? When my great-nephews think something is good, that is, really good, they say it is crazy-stupid. Here in Santa Luzia, life is crazy-stupid.

The Portuguese lean into life as few other cultures do, and for good reason. The food, the wine and the desserts form just a small part of all the good stuff — the crazy stupid — of life here.

A great meal, unhurried and utterly relaxing, shared among and with family and friends. An amazing dessert paired with deliciously strong Portuguese coffee, uma bica, enjoyed on a crisp autumn evening in Tavira’s center. A “mini” Sagres (or Bock) sipped slowly on a hot summer day against the backdrop of Santa Luzia’s harbor. Yes, these are some of many pleasures we have found here alongside of our Portuguese neighbors.

The Food Is Crazy-Stupid!

The food in Portugal is crazy-stupid good! Or so one of my great-nephews might say. Joseph’s vegetarianism came slower than mine so he has enjoyed a wider range of the country’s delicacies than I. Still the cheeses, the breads, the nuts, the fresh and the dried fruits, the fresh vegetables, the intense-orange-yoked eggs, the goat-milk yogurt, etc. are crazy-stupid delicious.

A typical meal, if you wish, starts with a feast. Petiscos, the Portuguese version of the Spanish tapas, combines cheese, nuts, fresh breads, fruit, sausages, hams, and fish. A good petiscos — it is hard to find a bad one — is a full-blown meal unto itself. In the photograph above, the football-shaped thingies in what looks to me like my grandmother’s black enamel pie plate are called pasteis de bacalhau. These deep fried cod-cakes ooze a creamy river of cheese — these above with queijo serra da estrela — thinned with port wine. A delicacy in Portugal, Joseph tells me they are lick-your-plate scrumptious.

Pork and fish are Portuguese staples, which makes life somewhat complicated for vegetarians. It should, however, be a delight for everyone else. The fish on your plate, like the sardines above, swam in the Atlantic just a few hours before. The ham or sausage of your petiscos started and ended on a farm probably no further than 50 miles from where you are enjoying it.

Fresh, Fresh, Fresh!

Most food in Portugal comes from small, family farms and from local fishermen. The methods of farming and fishing are practically pre-industrial, reminiscent of a by-gone era. In the States we would call this ”artesanal“, but in Portugal it is just how it is. Sure you can go to one of the big chain supermarkets and buy processed and packaged foods from further afield but the point is that you do not have to.

The Municipal Market in Tavira, which is open six days a week!, is a veritable paradise of fresh everything. Local farms also sell directly to the public; our favorite here is Maria Flaminga. Even the Aldi and the Lidl, both German chains, as well as the Pingo Doce and the Continente, two Portuguese ones, sell a wide selection of locally sourced meats, fish, eggs, milk, cheeses and breads.

But you do not need to live in a small city like Tavira nor a village like Santa Luzia to enjoy freshness everyday. Portugal’s big cities, like Lisbon and o Porto, are surrounded by vineyards and farms. A 10 to 15 mile drive puts you in the countryside. We saw this on a trip to o Porto, which introduced Joseph and I to even more food and wine delights. Outside o Porto is the Douro wine region, the Napa or Loire Valley of Portugal. The food and wine, as you can tell from Joseph’s facial response in the photo above, were stunning.

The Wine, etc. Is Crazy-Stupid!

Joseph loves the excellent white wines of France’s Bourgogne terroirs. He has found the whites of the Douro and the Bucelas region, a wee bit north of Lisbon, to be competitive. Interestingly, the local English-language paper broadcast this past week that the next big thing in white wines is right here in the Algarve. If Joseph has his druthers as well as the opportunity, however, it will still be a Bourgogne in his glass.

Nonetheless, the wines — reds, whites, ”greens” and rosés — as well as the fortified wines — port and Madeira — are all excellent. The Portuguese take their wine making and their wine enjoyment very seriously. Good local wines are readily available at every store, even itty-bitty local markets. The prices are extremely reasonable as well.

Wine is not the only beverage here that is great. The local beers — there are two, Super Bock and Sagres — are also fantastic. Joseph’s favorite is Sagres; his brother George preferred Super Bock.

In the large cities as well as the Algarve, craft beer making has made substantial headway. In the hinterlands, good quality local craft brews can be found. But it might take some searching to find anything beyond Super Bock and Sagres.

As Sobremesas São Boas!

What would the sweet life be without sweets? Fortunately, the Portuguese love desserts, and the richer the better. While Joseph looks for good white wines, especially French, I hunt good desserts. I am more ecumenical than Joseph, that is less particular… anything loaded with sugar, calories and chocolate is fair game. It is not that difficult to find. I am rarely disappointed flavor-wise.

Carob, or alfarroba (remember the alfarrobeira in an earlier post?), is grown, harvested and milled into a flour locally here. The flour finds its way into cakes and cookies. Here carob has no pretense of being chocolate and its unique flavor is allowed to shine. Oranges, as laranjas, also omnipresently local, find their way into desserts of all stripes as both principals and supporting players.

Egg cream is also popular both as a pastry filling and the base for Portugal’s national breakfast dessert. The pastel de nata, a nearly bite-sized, orange-kissed custard tart, offers up a flavor punch. Channeling my great-nephews again, it is crazy-stupid delicious. Lisbon pastelarias compete for the appellation “best pastel de nata”. I have performed exhaustive and arduous personal research. I highly recommend Pastelaria Santo António in Lisbon, despite the long lines of tourists at other pastelarias. All the reviews will send you to Pasteis de Belém but then you have those long lines!

The Ordinary Is Beautiful!

Some of the above — especially the wine, that incredible meal out, the desserts — are the extraordinary, the special treats. Yes, Portugal and even little Santa Luzia have them all, in spades. And all the Portuguese take advantage of them as do we. The Portuguese, even with their meager wages, eat out far more than all other Europeans. Perhaps everyday is a celebration for the Portuguese.

But treats are still too far between to presume that everyday, all of life, is crazy-stupid, as it has seemed to me here. There is something more. For sometime I pondered “what was I missing” without being able to put my finger on it.

Then months ago, in the dead of mid-winter, I was out on one of my biweekly shopping trips. As usual I biked to Maria Flaminga, the organic farm store we go to. It sits at the very end of one of the dirt roads behind Santa Luzia. Just after entering I passed a box piled with young artichokes. The layered, lacquered chartreuse and vermillion gobsmacked me in my tracks.

I ultimately recovered my composure and then crossed the store. There, once again, I got slugged. Another box, this one lined with straw, held fresh eggs. I had passed the chickens on my way in. The eggs were a rainbow of brown hues. Laying haphazard in the straw, flecked with shit and stuck with feathers, they were jaw-dropping.

Ordinary As Crazy-Stupid

I have been overwhelmed here many times before, but then the awe seemed justified, natural. An ocean of red poppies and white daisies flowing with the afternoon sun down a long, gentle slopping hill. A sunrise painting purples, blues, reds, yellows, oranges in broad strokes over the fading Milky Way onto the tide-flooded ria. These and others have been showstoppers. But these arose as once-in-a-lifetime, tripart serendipity, that is, being in the right spot at the right fleeting moment with my eyes-wide-open.

Artichokes and eggs are everyday, ordinary, nothing special. But here they were, each as spectacular and gorgeous as any sunrise could possibly be. I realized, not right at that moment but later, that the ordinary was extraordinary. It is simply a matter of perspective, how I see what is right in front me. For that matter, whether I see what is in front me at all.

So there you have it. Everything is crazy-stupid in Santa Luzia as elsewhere in Portugal. I think that is the Portuguese perspective on life. They are a people who can take it all in — the special and the ordinary — and enjoy it all.

A Special Note

I have broken this post into two parts. Once it jumped over 3,000 words I knew then it was simply too much to ask of you. Next week’s post, therefore, will approach crazy-stupid in Portugal from another angle. Até à próxima! // Until next time!