Lucy, thank you for treating Portuguese culinary and cultural idiosyncrasies with your mix of keen observation and razor-sharp humor. I finished reading Como não morrer de fome em Portugal last week, and enjoyed it so much I had to find a way to congratulate and thank you. My local public library in Hudson, Massachusetts, USA, has a copy. Hudson has a sizeable Portuguese American community; our library has a decent Portuguese language section; and I need to practice my Portuguese from time to time.
Like you, I enjoy eating soup in general, but not everyday or multiple times a day, especially in the summer. It’s too hot for soup! And Portuguese people don’t eat cold soup. Even though my Avó literally made vichyssoise ingredients-wise, she never called it that, and it was always hot. Growing up if I ever refused soup, my Mom and Avó would scream-ask, “Estás doente?!” in unison, as if being sick is the only possible reason for refusing soup (or any food), and paradoxically, also a reason to eat it (especially canja). My mom and Avó are from the island of Faial in the Açores, and everything is a potential mortal danger or cause of misfortune there, from not eating enough soup to “ventos encanados” to living in a house on a street corner.
Nearly every day my dad eats a bike-helmet-sized bowlful of, as you call it, orange soup with things floating in it, except the vegetables are all puréed to hell with an immersion blender. He also eats “sopas de café” for breakfast every few weeks: a queasiness-inducing (for me) mix of day-old bread, coffee, and milk. Açorda is one of his favorite foods and the only thing he knows how to cook.
He grew up in village called Lobão da Beira near Tondela and Viseu. I first visited there in 1998, when I was four. Feral dogs barked at night. My dad’s cousin took me to his barn to feed the chickens every morning. Old ladies in mourning black led goats and cows through the cobbled alleys. Years later, after many visits there, I would describe it as being like Romania, much as you describe Portugal of the time. Growing up with one foot always in Portuguese culture, and speaking the language fluently since childhood, I still experienced intense culture shock going there, so I can only imagine what yours was like. That is part of why I had to thank you directly for your writing: I feel our Venn diagrams of deep appreciation and love for Portugal, and also impassioned critique and exasperation, overlap. Thank you again for your creativity and humor!
Love me a good old Auchan/Continente/Lidl housewifely soup kit. With one clove of garlic, a knorr veg stock pot and creme fraiche (which I’m sure is cheating).
"He wasn't even Portuguese" had me in stitches just now. I grew up on sopa alentejana. I make it weekly at home and often for friends who have never heard of it. They can't believe four ingredients (plus stale bread) can do so much. They're amazed by its simplicity and yet suspicious of its complex and memorable flavour. How is it possible so little can do so much?! The Portuguese pride themselves on doing a lot with nothing. To "desenrescar" is a way of life, as you know, I have no doubt. Portuguese life is reflected in the soup I think: making the best of nothing into something you can proudly pass on to your family (other than generational trauma, lol)
I knew an old Portuguese guy who had a pebble the size, colour and shape of a small potato, which he kept with the potatoes in the kitchen. He was perverse enough to pop it into the soup pot when he made *sopa de pedra verdadeira*. He was a very good cook. He had had this realistic potato stone for years.
I love soup so much that when I go back to the UK once a year, I force my family to eat it. In Portugal, I've eaten it every day for 37 years I've lived here, although my sogra says "it's not like PORTUGUESE soup" (even if it is).
Meanwhile, many Portuguese I know hate it. Having been forced to eat it twice a day since they were born, they've developed a deep revulsion for the stuff. Unfortunately, I had to coax reluctant young cousins to eat it, or their mums would have accused me of neglect. I wish that was a joke.
Ha! Yeah, it must be really hard. At least we’re past the days of being given a ham omelette if you said you’re a vegetarian…. if you said vegan, it would be a cheese omelette haha
Very funny (and informative), Lucy! The image of a bucket of soup swamping your fridge each week faster than you can use it reminded me of Mickey Mouse as The Sorcerer’s Apprentice in Fantasia.
Soup is a hot drink. I like it fine, but more than a mug full is hard labour. Unless it has so many lumps in it that it is, in fact, stew, in which case serve it on mash as the good lord intended
I never think of soup, but when I have it it’s fine!! Some of these sound really delicious.
Lucy, thank you for treating Portuguese culinary and cultural idiosyncrasies with your mix of keen observation and razor-sharp humor. I finished reading Como não morrer de fome em Portugal last week, and enjoyed it so much I had to find a way to congratulate and thank you. My local public library in Hudson, Massachusetts, USA, has a copy. Hudson has a sizeable Portuguese American community; our library has a decent Portuguese language section; and I need to practice my Portuguese from time to time.
Like you, I enjoy eating soup in general, but not everyday or multiple times a day, especially in the summer. It’s too hot for soup! And Portuguese people don’t eat cold soup. Even though my Avó literally made vichyssoise ingredients-wise, she never called it that, and it was always hot. Growing up if I ever refused soup, my Mom and Avó would scream-ask, “Estás doente?!” in unison, as if being sick is the only possible reason for refusing soup (or any food), and paradoxically, also a reason to eat it (especially canja). My mom and Avó are from the island of Faial in the Açores, and everything is a potential mortal danger or cause of misfortune there, from not eating enough soup to “ventos encanados” to living in a house on a street corner.
Nearly every day my dad eats a bike-helmet-sized bowlful of, as you call it, orange soup with things floating in it, except the vegetables are all puréed to hell with an immersion blender. He also eats “sopas de café” for breakfast every few weeks: a queasiness-inducing (for me) mix of day-old bread, coffee, and milk. Açorda is one of his favorite foods and the only thing he knows how to cook.
He grew up in village called Lobão da Beira near Tondela and Viseu. I first visited there in 1998, when I was four. Feral dogs barked at night. My dad’s cousin took me to his barn to feed the chickens every morning. Old ladies in mourning black led goats and cows through the cobbled alleys. Years later, after many visits there, I would describe it as being like Romania, much as you describe Portugal of the time. Growing up with one foot always in Portuguese culture, and speaking the language fluently since childhood, I still experienced intense culture shock going there, so I can only imagine what yours was like. That is part of why I had to thank you directly for your writing: I feel our Venn diagrams of deep appreciation and love for Portugal, and also impassioned critique and exasperation, overlap. Thank you again for your creativity and humor!
Ha ha. I love soup and that’s what helped me get through lockdown. I’d make a large pot of soup and eat it all week long. 🫶
Weird!! ;)
❤️❤️
Thank you so much Mark. This is great to hear. And I’m amazed there’s a copy in a library in Massachusetts!!
And sopas de café… oh I hear you!
Thank you. You have cheered up a boring Sunday afternoon.
Love me a good old Auchan/Continente/Lidl housewifely soup kit. With one clove of garlic, a knorr veg stock pot and creme fraiche (which I’m sure is cheating).
Hehehe
"He wasn't even Portuguese" had me in stitches just now. I grew up on sopa alentejana. I make it weekly at home and often for friends who have never heard of it. They can't believe four ingredients (plus stale bread) can do so much. They're amazed by its simplicity and yet suspicious of its complex and memorable flavour. How is it possible so little can do so much?! The Portuguese pride themselves on doing a lot with nothing. To "desenrescar" is a way of life, as you know, I have no doubt. Portuguese life is reflected in the soup I think: making the best of nothing into something you can proudly pass on to your family (other than generational trauma, lol)
I knew an old Portuguese guy who had a pebble the size, colour and shape of a small potato, which he kept with the potatoes in the kitchen. He was perverse enough to pop it into the soup pot when he made *sopa de pedra verdadeira*. He was a very good cook. He had had this realistic potato stone for years.
I’m going to do that, with a nail!
I love soup so much that when I go back to the UK once a year, I force my family to eat it. In Portugal, I've eaten it every day for 37 years I've lived here, although my sogra says "it's not like PORTUGUESE soup" (even if it is).
Meanwhile, many Portuguese I know hate it. Having been forced to eat it twice a day since they were born, they've developed a deep revulsion for the stuff. Unfortunately, I had to coax reluctant young cousins to eat it, or their mums would have accused me of neglect. I wish that was a joke.
It's the Portuguese way. Imagine being raised like that ahaha. Maizena still gives me nightmares.
What the hell are you saying woman?! 😅 Soup is one of the best things there is. I eat soup everyday, at every meal and most times also at breakfast.
You can’t help it Hugo, it’s in your genes!! ;)
Survival of the fittest.
Hahah
Soup is what is saving me as a plant based person, bless soup and any Goan and Lebanese restaurant in Lisbon. :)
Ha! Yeah, it must be really hard. At least we’re past the days of being given a ham omelette if you said you’re a vegetarian…. if you said vegan, it would be a cheese omelette haha
The egg, the great “vegetarian” Portuguese option 🫠I laugh a lot in this country I admit it.
You are not alone :)
Very funny (and informative), Lucy! The image of a bucket of soup swamping your fridge each week faster than you can use it reminded me of Mickey Mouse as The Sorcerer’s Apprentice in Fantasia.
That’s exactly what it was like, except no magic brooms or mice in hats, and no music!! Just fizzy soup.
I'm the Portuguese who doesn't like soup. I stopped the moment I left my parents house... Maybe once it twice a year 😄
God bless you!!! ;)))
Soup is a hot drink. I like it fine, but more than a mug full is hard labour. Unless it has so many lumps in it that it is, in fact, stew, in which case serve it on mash as the good lord intended
THANK YOU
And whiskey, honey, lemon and hot water :)
Mmmmm
Chicken soup made with leeks and barley (or rice)
My penicillin is cock-a-leekie. Topped off with a hot toddy ;)