Páscoa = Easter = Candy

Easter as an expat can be a double-edged sword.

On the one hand, there are new traditions and treats to try on for size. Here in Portugal, I fight through the crowds at the grocery store to buy almonds. Chocolate almonds, jordan almonds, candied almonds, you name it. There is no Easter in Lisbon without covered almonds, Easter bread with an egg on top of it, and a big piece of lamb. (But mostly-- almonds.)

Alas, here is the double edge I mentioned: as much as I enjoy almonds, the Easter candy of my own youth is nowhere to be found. In particular, do you know what they don't have? Peanut butter eggs.

Easter without peanut butter eggs. It looks sad, as I am typing it.

So what is a girl to do but figure out how to make her own? And in the meantime, why don't I give these almonds a try?

(Bonus: all three recipes are insanely simple.)

Torresmos de Vinha d'Alhos

Although technically spring has sprung, it seems that the weather has not chosen to cooperate yet. For me, this is not unwelcome since:

a) I thrive in cooler weather and can maintain a happy mood for longer periods of time;
b) The baby has many cute long sleeved outfits and sweatshirts which he is getting good use out of; and
c) Comfort food tastes better when there is a chill in the air.

Case in point: this Marinated Pork in Wine and Garlic, known in its native Açores as Torresmos de Vinha d'Alhos.

Fresh Peach Pie

I believe in happy accidents. Especially when they lead to fresh pie.

Baked Calamari

Last week I saw a big sign at my supermarket saying there was a sale on jumbo packs of squid. I stopped my cart in front of the giant refrigerated case, surrounded by other bargain-hunting donas de casa, and wondered when I last saw a grocery store displaying family-packs of squid.  Probably not at Stop and Shop. 

Then, I decided I would have to find a recipe to suit this bargain Portuguese find.

Massa de Pimentão Pork Roast

Massa de pimentão, or red pepper paste, is a condiment I had tasted many times before I ever knew what it was. Or that it existed.

Why did the juice on Portuguese pork roasts have a red tinge? What was the spicy-but-not-spicy flavor that the pan drippings gave my potatoes? I tried putting some slices of chorizo in the roasting pan, doing a paprika-based spice rub-- not the same taste.

Then, I found a smiley little jar. (See above.) Bingo!

Boeuf Alentejano

If you are looking for a quick weeknight meal, look away.

On the other hand, if you are snowed in for the day with a side of beef and feel like transforming yourself into a beloved wintertime kitchen god or goddess-- here you go.  Julia Child's Boeuf Bourguignon recipe, featuring a robust Portuguese wine and even more robust side of Portuguese beef.

All Gold Bolo Rei

This Bolo Rei is missing its traditional jewels.  Candied fruits in neon colors are not bedecking the top, and piles of chopped dried fruit are not baked into the dough.

It is more like a simple gold crown for the king.  A lack of ostentation.  A Portuguese King Cake which has been subjected to austerity measures.

But this cake is not a socio-economic political statement.  It is merely a matter of taste-- MY taste.  In the past few years of tasting bolo rei in Portugal, I have found the visual impact of the fruit entirely cancelled out by its off-putting taste and slimy shiny texture.  Meh.

This year I decided to attempt a makeunder on this Lisbon holiday staple.  The result was a golden, crusty, simple, sweet treat that made for many a happy winter breakfast.

Fish Chowder and Crusty Bread

The weather is not exactly frosty here in Portugal.  As I walked around town yesterday, I had on a long sleeve shirt and a sweater vest. All around me were people stubbornly making the most of their winter wardrobes-- full length wool jackets, fur collars, chunky knit scarves and knee high leather boots.  I couldn't help but smile, thinking of how the Vermonters I used to live and work with would be happy to run around in t-shirts on a 60-degree sunshiney afternoon.

Nonetheless, winter is here juuuuust enough, and as night falls I am cozied up in my favorite sweater and leggings and socks imagining what warming dinners I can make in the next few weeks before spring arrives. The first thing on my cold weather menu is hearty and healthy all in one, and slightly adapted from a meal my sister-in-law made us in DC this fall.

Bacalhau Assado no Forno

If Bacalhau à Brás is the dish I hear most foreigners call their favorite, then Bacalhau Assado has to be-- hands down-- the one I hear most Portuguese call their favorite.

It shouldn't be terribly surprising, really.  Of all the simple ways to prepare bacalhau, this is one of the simplest. And in a culture where quality ingredients are prized above fancy culinary techniques, how could you help but love a no-fuss dish which showcases the taste of bacalhau at its best?

Finnish Pulla

Finland.  It was a land of mystery.

Before 2009, this country made me think of:  Snow.  Marimekko.  Double vowels.  Lapland.  The Flying Finn.

Then Bacalhau Boy and I had a two week honeymoon there.  Christmas 2009 was spent mainly above the arctic circle meeting the real Santa Claus, dogsledding, snowmobiling, steaming in saunas, watching the sun set at 3 pm, and spending one night in a bed (and room) made entirely out of ice.

The Ice Hotel: carved entirely out of snow and ice.  Amazing.  Also: one night was enough.

I don't know why, but I have been getting nostalgic for Finland lately.  Perhaps it is getting to be that time of summer when an ice bed and some cozy soft sweaters sound appealing.  Or perhaps it is because I have a natural tendency to be all sentimental and nostalgic without provocation. Either way, this weekend I decided to try my hand at some homemade Finnish Pulla.

Corn Muffins

Saturday mornings have a special magic, don't they?  I vividly remember sitting on the living room floor as a little girl, eating cereal and watching Jem and the Holograms.  Truly truly truly outrageous! Oh, and Pee Wee's Playhouse-- the fabulous Miss Yvonne rocked my 10-year old heart with her poofy skirts and poofier hair. But my all-time favorite treat actually came in between the shows, in the form of Schoolhouse Rock.  Conjunction Junction may deserve the credit and/or blame for making me an English major.

Perfect American Pie Crust

When it comes time for sweet things in Lisbon, pastelarias will do you just fine. Crisp puff pastry shells filled with custard, wodges of chocolate cake covered in chocolate sprinkles and oozing liquid fudge centers, gooey sweet sponge cake, little meringues called "kisses"... there is a whole compendium of sweets which Portugal does exceedingly well, and which perfectly explains their delightful ritual of the afternoon coffee.

Then, there are the times when all a girl wants is some pie. Pie that makes you feel comforted and at home.  Pie that is the perfect dessert when you have a bounty of fresh fruit in front of you.  Pie that makes you feel a little less homesick.

It's not that you don't see pie on the menu in Portugal, it's just such a different creature it is impossible to take comfort in the taste of it.  There are no pie pans here, only tart pans.  And inevitably the restaurant pie is an industrial-tasting concoction with plenty of gelatinous goop and hard slices of apple smashed in between two rather tough layers of dough, in which not an ounce of buttery goodness can be found.

So, what could I do except go old school and try to quell homesickness with a quest for the perfect pie crust?
 

My Thanksgiving Table O´ Pie 2010. The quest begins.