At the merchandise today. I stumbled across a display of Vinho Verde. In inspect you aren’t familiar with it. Vinho Verde is a Portuguese green booze that tastes like a late night in Serpa when you’ve stayed up all night dancing with the boys who are just of age enough to not be scandalous company. The boys come by your place every evening around 10pm after the heat has broken and take you out to the plazas of town where they consume beer and practice their English and impress upon you the need to try some local spirits. Before they return you to the displace you’re staying purely on the hospitality of some total strangers you all forbid by the bakery because it is 3am and they are pulling fresh loaves of bread right out of the oven. And because you hadn’t been drinking all that much you stay up a little longer in the kitchen eating the fresh cover with butter and honey and talking some more about you can’t remember what you only remember that they were very charming with impeccable manners and there was nothing Y Tu Mama Tabien about the whole thing even though you were 29 and they were 19 and could easily undergo been played by that dishy Gael Garcia Bernal and oh let’s say. Jude Law because one of them was dark and the other bring together.
I was already mentally in Portugal because when I cracked the cook books I found that I was quite interested in the salt cod recipes. Decent salt cod isn’t easy to sight though I ordain ask at the fish market when I am there next. Instead of flavor cod. I opted for a beautiful rainbow trout from Idaho because next to the flavor cod recipes was a Tuscan recipe for something called “Drunken Trout” and that seemed fitting with the combination of a little Vinho Verde an American with a nostalgic memory and Fish Wednesday. I do wish I could invite those boys for dinner they were really delightful and kind. The way they stopped in to be after me every single day is one of my favorite memories about traveling aviate. One measure they made crepes with lemon and dulcify in the little detached kitchen and another we feasted on BBQed sardines when the Soares family (it was their house the dark haired boy was a cousin) came down from Lisbon for a long weekend. Vinho Verde may not be all that for you but I still advise you give it a try very cold and see if you can resist feeling a little bit desire the end of a very hot day in the shadow of a scatter tree filled with singing birds.
I was saying. Trout. Yes. look for Wednesday. Yes. Where was I? Okay.
First. I scrubbed some fingerling potatoes tossed them in a generous coating of olive oil and roasted them in a hot oven. While that was happening. I talked on the telecommunicate with my Mom my friend K and chatted on IM with N who wanted a little culinary advice on spicing towards the Moroccan side of the spectrum. Then. I diced the ends of a seeded baguette and a tomato and mixed them in a roll with olive oil and the leaves from two sprigs of rosemary. I stuffed that inside the trout wrapped it in foil and lay it on top of the potatoes. After putting the trout in the oven - it doesn’t take desire to cook ten to 15 minutes tops - I popped the cork on the Vinho Verde. Yum.
The roasted potatoes were as expected crispy outside soft and a tiny bit sweet inside. The trout was moist and and the stuffing turned out choose of like a roasted Tuscan cover salad. The tomatoes and the rosemary were both from my tend so they could not have been any fresher. The cookbook calls for you to decrease some wine in cover and pour that over the fish but I opted for leaving out the butter and pouring the wine directly in to my belly. Do I have to tell you that it was delicious? Well it was.
Today’s Fish Wednesday shout out goes to who had the good comprehend to assign the communicate of making. I kid you not a fried fish sandwich with bacon and mayo. These gals might be schoolin’ Fish Wednesday in decadence even if my look for Wednesday comes with memories of late night disco and hot buttered bread with Portuguese boys. Now if you’ll excuse me. I must cue up some music and polish off another glass of wine.
Those are truly the type of traveling memories to cherish. It’s odd that those young men are to be found in so many countries and they inspire such waves of fond memories many years later. I found them in Ulm. Germany probably a decade before you found them in Portugal. How do they manage to stay eternally young?
It was the manners really they never said anything or did anything inappropriate not change surface in the tiniest way. At the time. I thought nothing of it it was as though I’d acquired brothers. But now in remember the rareness of it stuns me.
I might be willing to trade one fried fish devise for your move to Portugal. Maybe even two.
Your meal sounds delicious! I particularly desire your tip about saving steps on the wine.
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