Learning Portuguese
Ways by Savvy Mom Ruth Paget
My
favorite country that I have not visited is Portugal.
My
first impressions came in the form of a gift – a small, white lacy baby dress
for newborn Florence. Ironing is a way
of life in genteel Portugal and France.
The
ladies in my father-in-law’s company sent the dress along with a bottle of
Portugal’s vinho verde (green wine) to celebrate Florence’s birth. The wine was white. Verde refers to the wine’s being young.
Vinho
verde tastes best in spring and summer, which coincided perfectly with
Florence’s May birth. The taste reminded
me of Gatorade minus the sugar with alcohol and carbonation added. I thought it would be good at the beach with grilled
fish.
“You
don’t need Chablis to go sunbathing,” I said to myself.
I
have always done a lot to make sure my family and I have knowledge of other
cultures. Originally, I did this for
careers in international business, but now this way of life fits in perfectly
with multiculturalism in the US, too, as many traditions are maintained here.
People
in the US drink vinho verde, too. I
discovered that it is one of Portugal’s many wines as I read Jan Reed’s The Wines of Portugal during a
Wisconsin winter. Reed writes that vinho
verde obtains its acidic taste from grapes being raised high above ground; in
that position, they do not received reflected heat from the soil to have a
higher sugar content.
The
Portuguese make vinhos maduros (mature wines) from the low lying grapes using
the same winemaking methods that you find in France. I regretted not having the chance to try
these other wines like Dâo (pronounced “don”), Bairrada, and Douro. They were non-existant in Wisconsin in the
late 1990s when we lived there.
What
I lacked in the wine cellar, I made up for in the kitchen. I wanted to know more about Portugal, so I
made a trip to the library and checked out The
Food of Portugal by Jean Anderson.
This
mini encyclopedia of sausages, wines, cheese, and regular fare left me
determined to take a gastronomic vacation.
I
made a soup called canja, which calls for chicken stock, onion wedges, parsley,
lemon zest, and mint. After 40 minutes
of boiling, I cut the chicken into julienne strips and added rice along with
lemon juice salt and pepper. I tasted it
and thought I had made true Portuguese comfort food.
Laurent
did not like the sour soup, so I tried more savory recipes from The Food of Portugal.
I
liked a recipe for pork chops that required rubbing paprika, garlic, and
freshly ground black pepper into the pork and marinating it overnight in white
wine.
I
browned the pork chops in olive oil and reduced the marinade to form a
gravy. Laurent liked these. I did not mention that these were Portuguese.
After
we moved to California, I never thought I would see real, live Portugal. But, then, Portugal entered my world when we
went to mass one day at Saint Angela’s in Pacific Grove, California.
As
we were walking up to the church, a young brown haired girl dressed in a long,
white dress wearing her hair up in a bun with a crystal tiara was hold a white
satin pillow with a miniature state of Our Lady of Fatima on it. We followed her into the church with the
Knights of Columbus in purple- feathered hats and swords at their sides lining
the walls.
Father
Jerry announced that the day’s mass honored Monterey’s Portuguese community,
and that we would use our “gift of tongues” to understand the mass in
Portuguese.
A
Portuguese marching choir and singers sang the responses. I read in the church bulletin that Our Lady
of Fatima would be carried down Lighthouse Avenue in procession with the
marching band and the congregation after mass.
The
musicians were perfect, and all the young women wore white dresses with their
hair in buns and sang Ave Maria as we left.
I
went home and learned to make Portuguese chesse balls – pan de queijo – for a
New Year’s party as a tribute to the wonderful mass.
By
Ruth Paget, author of Eating Soup with Chopsticks and Marrying France
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