Memories, Like the Colors of My (Overly Imaginative) Mind

Me with my Grandpa, Joe Ponte

One of the unexpected side effects of my job as the Portuguese Food Writer for About.com is the memories. I suppose it's kind of obvious that exploring some of the foods of my grandparents homeland would bring up childhood memories, but I just didn't think it through ahead of time!

What is particularly amazing about this is the way the memories incorporate all of my senses. It's not just that I remember a dish, like rice pudding (Arroz Doce), for example and I think to myself, "Oh, that's right, I used to have that at Cussie's restaurant in New Bedford." It isn't just an intellectual thinking experience. It's more that as I am cooking it, and then tasting it, I find myself, all of a sudden in a past setting, along with all of the colors and smells.

I can remember that every time I visited the Buttonwood Grille (my cousin, Cussie's restaurant in New Bedford that was the focal point for my Grandmother's side of the family) she would ask us if we would like to have that rice pudding. Of course what we really wanted were the lollipops that were stashed underneath the old cash register! The restaurant smelled a certain way, like the hundreds of bowls of homemade Kale Soup that were cooked there every week and the fried fish that was always served on Fridays because good Catholics never eat meat on a Friday. I picture the knotty pine paneling that the walls were covered with.

And there was that feeling of being part of the family that owned and ran the restaurant. We thought it was so cool that we could just walk behind the counter or go into the kitchen whenever we wanted to because we were part of it. Other kids, who were unfortunate enough to be mere customers did not have that privilege.

Last week I had a lot of guests. First there was my college buddy, Ann and her Dad. Then, the next day, our other college buddy, Rachel, came for lunch. Then that same night, after they were all gone, my friend Karen came to stay for a few days. This caused a rush of cooking on my part, so the sense memories were coming up like crazy.

First I made my grandfather's recipe for Kale Soup, which I served for dinner with Ann and her father. They liked it so much and there was so much left over that we had it for lunch the next day too. Then we had the rice pudding for dessert.

I thought about the restaurant, of course, but also was thrown back to the time that my grandfather was living with my aunt and uncle, near the end of his life. That was when my Aunt Rosemary got him to cook the soup with her so that she could write it down and preserve the recipe for the family. Even though I was not there at the time, I have a strong image in my mind of her kitchen and of him, stooped over from Parkinsons Disease, standing by the stove and stirring the soup.

Which means that I am making up sense memories that aren't even mine and that I wasn't there for. Oh dear.

I also made Sopa de Cenoura (Carrot Soup), which didn't bring up any memories at all, because it wasn't one of my family's recipes. So at least I know I am not completely nuts. (By the way, it is a fantastic and easy to make Autumn soup. I think it would be a good one for Thanksgiving).

Here are a couple of others to try:

• Bolinhos de Bacalhua (codfish balls): This is another one of my grandpa's recipes
• Porco Altenjana: not a family recipe, but one of Portugal's most famous dishes and a great dish to serve for company