cuisine – Papagni Pages

Posted on February 11, 2023March 19, 2023 by CP · 4 Comments

Hurled Into the Extraordinary World of Food

At A Ripe Early Age

I have a confession to make. I’m not proud of it. I wish I hadn’t done it, but it was over 50 years ago and it’s time to let it go. There were eleven children from two different wombs in my family; that’s a story for another day. I was born to please. I learned early on that if I did the “right” thing, I would get the food that I wanted and liked. If I played my cards right, I could count on privileges my siblings were unaware of, and further, it was not my place to tell them. At the ripe old age of 12, I volunteered to do the weekly grocery shopping. With a family as large as mine, door-to-door delivery was necessary and fortunately for us, free. My neighborhood grocery store knew my family; I’m certain they were grateful we were catholic (usually an absence of birth control) and big eaters. You may be thinking that I was a good kid to relieve my mother of this cumbersome chore, but alas, I had an ulterior motive. Each week I would purchase cake and sweets which I did not send home with the delivery boy (always boys — I later became one myself). I coveted these ill-gotten goods and devoured them on the way home. This would explain my pudgy teenage physique. What I couldn’t eat I hid for later consumption. I committed this heinous crime for quite some time; my parish priest was never told at confessional (also for a later blog). Finally, a combination of guilt and excess pounds forced me to give up my criminal behavior. Lighten up, I’m no George Santos.

I’m afraid this was not my only crime. As the eldest son of divorced parents, I was charged with the task of taking the Brooklyn N train to Coney Island. I would meet my father at Carolina Restaurant for family meal (when restaurant staff sit down to eat before service); we spent ten quick minutes eating peasant Italian food and sharing not-so-pleasant stories about my mother and stepfather. Toward the end of our weekly ritual, I’d stick out my hand for the cash I made the trip to secure. Collecting and doling out our weekly allowance was solely my responsibility. I did not take this task lightly, in fact, I saw this as a huge burden. A burden deserving of compensation. Confession #2, I paid myself a salary for my hard work getting each of them their cash on time each every Tuesday, and me, worse for the wear. My earned bonus went toward the purchase of Coney Island confections at the sweets counter under The El: taffy, chocolate covered peanuts, huge colorful jawbreakers, and jellies. I had 20 minutes on the train home to hide the evidence in my belly.

I’m ashamed of these deceptions; however, they mark the beginning of my fascination with all things culinary. My desire to have all kinds of foods led me to a lifelong struggle with guilt, weight loss, and
the avoidance of food related lies. It feels good to report that most of these issues are under control. Although this is my first time publicly admitting my egregious wrongdoings, I have come to terms with my past and I forgiven myself. After all, we were dirt poor and my entrepreneurial spirit just needed channeling in a more positive direction. It it my hope that my siblings do not read this blog (I’m certain they won’t actually). I’m positive several of them would hold me accountable and might even go so far as to seek retribution — I imagine years of skimming off the top of their allowance, added up. My parents are long gone; they probably would have laughed about it and patted me on the back–afterall, it was their DNA that got me into that mess in the first place.

“I know once people get connected to real food, they never change back.”

– Alice Waters

Fast forward to college and beyond. As a college student, my school loans went toward buying food and eating out. I borrowed books and used the reference section of the library in order to spend less money on books for school and more money on good food. My father cooking was sublime; his knowledge of food extensive, and so, he consequently, spoiled me for life. I can’t be happy with MacDonald’s or canned beans. Like most incurable illnesses, I cannot be blamed for this affliction. Food has taken me to places I never imagined I would go. Dinners with Julia Child, business trips with Jacques Pépin, curriculum meetings with José Andrés, a lifelong friendship with the former editor of Bon Appetit, Barbara Fairchild, who is one special human. I realize it all started from a series of lies, but they were miniscule lies in the scheme of things. I have fond memories of discussions with Anthony Bourdain, although I never ate his food. My friendship with André Soltner will always be cherished (owner of Lutece in NYC). And 16 years at The French Culinary Institute was the single greatest gift of my life; the marriage of education and incredible foods doesn’t get any better. And as an added bonus, I met a few people there who have become lifelong friends. Not just foodie friends, they’d take a bullet for me friends.

“My weaknesses have always been food and men – in that order.”

– Dolly Parton

The FCI, eating at the #1 restaurant Francescana, cooking without recipes

Why I love Food

My father gets 100% credit for my love of good food. In addition to being a fabulous cook, he also loved food from all around the world. On his day off from work, he often took us to restaurants in our very diverse neighborhood. But I do have a story to share:

I was visiting him in Florida after he retired there. I told him I was taking him out for Chinese food; however under one condition: I would be ordering the food for us (I was a precocious twenty year old). He insisted on knowing why. I was quite frustrated with his resistance; he always ordered the same three dishes and I wanted him to try some Chinese food he’s never eaten. After a couple of hours of telling me I was ridiculous and stubborn, he gave up the fight. I ordered five or six exotic Chinese dishes: shark fin soup, abalone in garlic sauce, fried mashi; to name a few; I ordered a lot.

My dad was open minded, but he liked what he liked and he did not like dinner that night. He didn’t complain during the meal; however, after I paid the check he said, “From now on I’ll pay for my own meal and order whatever the hell I want.” He was right of course; I was an SOB.

It’s a Blessing and a Curse
Have you ever gone into a restaurant and found a dish so sublime you couldn’t get it out of your head? Two weeks later you return to said restaurant only to find out the chef left or he’s away for a few weeks or they’ve taken the dish off the menu and they’re not sure if it will ever return or the purveyor no longer carries that cut of beef or it just doesn’t taste the same and you don’t know why? This is the story of my life. Whenever any of the aforementioned happens, I am devastated and ruined for the day.

On the flip side, there are foods and dishes that I love that will never go away for the following reasons:

I cook them.
Many food brands have been around for 100 years.
Brooklyn and all of it’s wonderful ethnic restaurants is here to stay.
It comes from the ocean.
People would revolt if pizza and/or hamburgers went away.
They’ve been around for many centuries (e.g., nuts, rice, vegetables, bread, pasta).
Salt & pepper will be here long after we’re gone.

Fine dining is nice on occasion. I ate at high end, expensive, popular, talented chef restaurants, for so long it became tedious; if I’m going to be honest, I prefer either my own cooking or a neighborhood restaurant with good food. I can’t do super rich anymore; my digestive system just can’t handle it. I’d rather have a nice meal at a good price and take home the leftovers. When I really want to eat well: fresh, simple, and delicious . . . I cook. Cooking is my Zen place.

Then there is the wine — I’ll leave it at that.

Future Travel

Fort Lauderdale (Deerfield Beach) in two weeks, then Nantes and Pornic, France, Liverpool, England, and Marseilles, France — Nantes and Pornic are happening on the same trip, over a four day period. Other holidays planned later in the year. Biggest trip of 2023 will be Dubai, Singapore, Vietnam, Thailand, and Hong Kong — end of October to mid-November. This will be an adventure of a lifetime that has been postponed three times due to COVID.

Co-coaching

I am over two months into a co-coaching experiment I will write about soon. There are two things I want to tease you with:

We sometimes limit ourselves in what is possible due to financial situations. This is unfortunate; I’ve learned there are many constructive things you can do with your life that cost nothing or next to nothing.
Doing a deep dive into what emotionally and psychologically ails you is not easy, but it can be the most rewarding thing you will ever do.

________________________________________________________________________

I commissioned Lori Owens Kostiuk, a very talented artist friend, to do a watercolor portrait of Paco. She truly captured the essence of Paco in his Sweet Pea harness. Thank you Lori. If you’re interested in a portrait of your pet, private message me for her details or find her on FB, LOK Studio 6.

“I cook with wine. Sometimes I even add it to the food.”

– W.C. Fields

This was a fun blog to write. Thank you for reading.

Posted on March 13, 2022March 16, 2022 by CP · 16 Comments

My Love Affair With Food

Ain’t it the truth!

My name is Christopher and I am a foodaholic. I do not mean to poke fun at or trivialize alcoholism, however, I do believe that addiction to alcohol is similar (not the same) as addiction to food; no doubt that I am highly addicted to the consumption of “good” food. I will not, however, be seeking a cure or remedy.

foodaholic

^{[ foo-duh–haw-lik, –hol-ik ]}

noun

— a person having an excessive, often uncontrollable craving for food.

A few things right up front:

I have felt this way since I was a small boy.
If I were told that I could eat bland food and live another 20 years or eat delicious food and only live another two, I would choose the latter.
I believe I was born with the ability to distinguish between good food and mediocre food.
I dream about food more than I dream about sex. That wasn’t always the case.
I am perfectly content to dine out alone — food and wine being the perfect dining companions.
I choose most my friends based on their love and knowledge of food (there are a few exceptions; calm down Julie).
I love lists and menus are sort of similar to lists. I love menus.
I like how my taste in food evolves.
I like to grow food.
I love how food brings people together.

“People who love to eat are always the best people.” – Julia Child

A Bit of Background

I consider myself a food snob. I will not eat just for the sake of eating. I eat for the flavor, taste, and for the pure pleasure of excellent food. I love texture and spice and I love street food. I am a carnivore; unless I’m told I will die tomorrow unless I cut meat out, I will eat meat until I die. A good steak and a glass of wine gives me more pleasure than poker and I love playing poker.

The food I eat does not necessarily have to be deconstructed, molecular, Michelin star, five star, pure gold leaf, rare, expensive, fortified, modern, home grown, top chef cooked, hand selected or from a high-end restaurant . . . it just has to be good. I love rich food, healthy food, straight from the garden or sea food, food truck food, restaurant food, street food, pasta, more pasta, ethnic food, prepared food, my food, cookbook dishes, friend’s food, family food, chef’s food, and snack food.

I first got to know good food at home and in the homes of family members. My father worked in an Italian restaurant six days a week most of his adult life and he often took us out to dinner on his day off; there were a lot of us in his immediate family.

There are so many types of cuisine and/or street foods that I love, it would be impossible to name them all. Italian will always be my favorite cuisine; although I was raised on Southern Italian, I passionately love almost all Italian food. I also love Thai, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Indian, Japanese, Chinese, Moroccan, Jamaican, Scandinavian, Southern BBQ, fried chicken, hamburgers, frankfurters, in no particular order.

Dad

Dad’s mom taught him how to cook. My father taught me how to enjoy food, how to source good food, why handed down recipes matter, and how food can take you out of a funk. He was passionate about cooking and feeding people. My dad’s cooking made me happier than just about anything else.

Mom’s Side of the Family

My mother had very little family. Her mother was Russian. My grandmother loved Eastern European food, but she was too old and frail to cook when I entered the picture. My mother’s brother was a butcher. He loved meat and he knew how to cook it. Other than that, he was a horrible human being: self-absorbed, big gambler, verbally abusive, homophobic, and a bully. Did I mention that he was horrible?

My mom made a handful of good dishes. My father tried to teach her how to cook, but my mom did everything fast and without much consideration. There were certain foods she enjoyed, but sauteed broccoli rabe (garlic, red pepper flakes, and extra virgin olive oil) was probably her absolute favorite. It is for this reason that I order it whenever I see it on a menu and I saute it whenever I can find it in a market (I’ve never seen it in Portugal where I live).

Dad’s Side of the Family

My dad and his family were born and raised in Italy. Dad had four sisters (Mary, Rose, Grace, and Alice) and they were all amazing cooks. When we got to eat at any of their houses I would be up all night the night before. I would think about what I would be eating and I would shiver with anticipation. I only really knew two of his four brothers (Tony and Nicky) and honestly couldn’t tell you whether or not they cooked, but Dad cooked.

I can say without a doubt, that my father was the best cook I have ever met in my life. I know that sentiment has a great deal to do with how I felt about my father, but he instinctively knew how to make food taste good. He mostly cooked Italian dishes, using only fresh ingredients from the best markets and food sources.

Friends

I have several friends who are excellent cooks. I love invitations to their homes and I love their food. I cannot name them for obvious reasons. Some friends are afraid to cook for me. It’s sort of sad because making the effort is everything and I’m not as fussy as people think.

Career

After years in academia, I fell upon a position at the French Culinary Institute (FCI). There my obsession with food was out-of-control. I ate food prepared by students in our kitchens or at L’Ecole, our restaurant, nearly five days a week. It was also my responsibility to dine out at restaurants owned by former students, alumni chefs, and jury (chefs who judged student finals), new hotspots, and restaurants that might be looking for new talent. I had an expense account that never lasted very long. It was like a game and I played it well. I worked out twice as hard so that I could eat and not feel guilty. It didn’t work, I did feel guilty, I was consumed by guilt. I left the FCI and the guilt went away. Sixteen years of obscene eating and drinking.

Breakfast, Lunch & Dinner

Cooking makes me happy, it calms me down, it satisfies me in so many ways, it provides an opportunity to feed people I care about; food is my crack cocaine. I never take food for granted. I was born with a stomach issue that kept me from eating many types of foods and drinking many beverages. Surgery fixed this problem five years ago and now I can eat or drink anything. This surgery was available thirty years ago, however, not recommended by most gastrologists until recently. I consider myself fortunate to have found a good surgeon in Maine and I am forever grateful for modern medicine and good health insurance.

Breakfast is different everyday, however, I admittedly love cookies or cake in the morning. I don’t do it every day, but I do it a lot. It’s the coffee cake combo that does it for me. Never more than a couple of not-so-sweet cookies or a small piece of cake — lemon pound, chocolate layer, carrot, orange, banana bread — I try not to discriminate. Eggs on occasion, oatmeal, avocado toast, pancakes — I love it all.

I’ve been making lunch my “big” meal for a few years now. I prefer to cook, but I do go out on occasion. I like to go to the market early in the morning and choose what I’m cooking for lunch. Yesterday I spotted gorgeous veal steak at the local butcher; I grilled that with eggplant and roasted potatoes with fresh thyme from my terrace. Not a bad lunch.I paired all that with a Portuguese red. You can get a bold and beautiful red here for four euros.

I like leftovers for dinner. Something I prepared for lunch the day before or frozen leftovers. I also occasionally prepare a charcuterie plate with Portuguese cured meats, cheeses, some sort of fig or honey spread, olives, and toasted baguette (there is a French bakery in Tavira, a few towns over, where I buy my bread and rolls and freeze them). French bread will always be my absolute favorite. When I travel to France, I buy a fresh baguette almost everyday. A French pastry as well; they’re hard to resist.

Kitchen gadgets are the best. I splurge on good pots & pans and all of my kitchen appliances are high-end. Try to sell me the most expensive jeans or sneakers; fat chance.

Beer, Wine, Soda and Spirits

I hated beer until later in my 30s. I would only have a beer with pizza or a burger. I dated a Spaniard who loved beer and that changed everything. I started trying beer from all over the world and now I have to say that I like it almost as much as I like spirits . . . almost as much.

I couldn’t drink white wine until five years ago (stomach issue); now I drink it all the time. However, red wine is my true love. I enrolled in a couple of wine courses at the FCI, but I have a lot to learn (that part is fun). I would have to say a good French Bordeaux is my favorite, followed by Italian Amarone, Spanish Rioja, California Cabernet, Portuguese Alentejo and South African Syrahs. There are dozens of other wines and grape varieties I love to drink. Pair a great wine with excellent cuisine and you have heaven on earth.

Spirits make me happy, but there are a few I favor: Kentucky bourbon, French armagnac, Russian vodka, Cuban rum, brandy, and Swedish aquavit (snaps).

I often concoct my own crazy cocktails, I make homemade limoncello, and I have a fairly nice collection of wines (the wine refrigerator helps). I am not a connoisseur of anything. I know very little and I like what I like.

Sweet Versus Savory

I will leave it at this: a good savory dish will always be my first choice, but I love dessert and I enjoy baking. Tollhouse chocolate chip cookies with walnuts are my all-time, absolute favorite sweet.

Famous People I Knew (know)

My position at the French Culinary Institute and my involvement with the James Beard Foundation, afforded me the opportunity to work with, dine with, party with and/or meet, the following famous people (yes, I am name dropping): Julia Child, Anthony Bourdain, Isabella Rossellini, Larry Kramer, Joan Rivers, Christo and Jeanne-Claude, John Lithgow, Rosemary Clooney, Samuel Jackson, Joan Allen, Jacques Pepin, Andrew Soltner, Al Franken, Star Jones, Christine Baranski, Brooke Shields, Paul Bocuse, Lidia Bastianich, Alice Waters, Marcella Hazan, Joan Nathan, Barbara Fairchild, Massimo Bottura, Dana Cowan, Bobby Flay, Emeril Lagasse, José Andrés, Eric Ripert, Daniel Boulud, Aarón Sánchez, Ferran Adria, Bette Midler (30 seconds of bliss), Marcus Samuelsson, Al Roker, Anne Burrell, Ina Garten, and others. They were not all nice people, but I like to think I held my own around them. Several of the people I named were gracious and lovely; a few became friends.

Food is and will always be the greatest love of my life; Alejandro a close second.

“There is no sincere love than the love of food.”

— George Bernard Shaw

A Handful of recent food and beverage choices:

Upcoming Travel

Liverpool in two weeks to see a friend and Beatles sights/attractions. Toulouse in April, Berlin and Amsterdam, end of April and May, Geneva in June, Milan in July, Nantes and Pomic in August, and a Northern Europe Norwegian Line Cruise in October. I’m cutting back, so that I can be home more with Paco and the country I have come to love. I’ll write about some of it and keep other parts to myself.

**Julia Child**, **Jacques Pepin, Leah Stewart and me. This was a good day.**

Posted on November 1, 2020November 1, 2020 by CP · 12 Comments

A 2020 Update On Life In Portugal

I wrote a blog about moving to Portugal three weeks into my relocation (May 2018) and thought it would be fun to make some revisions and add new observations (as updates):

The view from the Hotel Faro, my favorite watering hole (was, see update)

Update: It is no longer true that Hotel Faro is my favorite spot in town for a cocktail. I’ve discovered Columbus Cocktail & Wine Bar, not far from Hotel Faro, you still get the view of the marina, but unfortunately you’re on the ground level. Cocktails are creative, delicious, and reasonable. Great indoor and outdoor seating. If you’re coming from a big city in the U.S., the UK, Italy, Australia, etc., you’ll be getting a bargain at 8 Euros a pop.

Whoever said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff,” did not live in Portugal. I knew some things would be different and in fact, I looked forward to change. In truth, I haven’t even been here three weeks and I hesitate to start complaining, but heck, it’s my nature to piss and moan so why wait.

I purposely decided not to purchase a vehicle for several reasons: 1) I wanted to reduce my carbon footprint, 2) I was hoping I’d get more exercise by walking, and finally, 3) I figured I could save a little money (more in the bank for food). I’ve spent quite a bit of time studying the Faro bus schedule. It’s complicated, convoluted and I have no idea where buses end up in the city. There are at least 10 different bus lines very close to my building, but I can’t figure out how to get from A to B. So I decided to go to the mall Saturday. The schedule clearly said that the number 5 goes to Forum every 30 minutes on Saturday. I took my time and meandered over to the bus stop; there I sat for over an hour. You guessed it, no bus. The good news is that Uber is cheap and a car arrived in minutes to whisk me off to the mall.

Update: I continue to be frustrated by a limited bus and train schedule; however, I’m still committed to reducing my carbon footprint; now more than ever in fact. I have finally figured out the schedules, and I’m using Bolt and Uber more often. I figure it’s a compromise and it gets me there most of the time. I am renting a car for the month of November in order to do some things that I have not been able to do without a car. For example, I rented a little place on the beach and I’ll need a car to make it work. I’m more excited about having wheels than I should be.

Intervalo is intermission in Portuguese and if you love film, be prepared. I recall now that this same thing did happen to me in Spain a number of years ago, but frankly, I wasn’t expecting it and I was startled. I was watching a dumb American film at the mall last week and the film stopped mid-scene for an “intervalo.” Although it is clearly a minor issue, I have several problems with it:

If you’re going to have an intermission, why do it in the middle of a scene?
Part of the excitement of a film is anticipating what is coming next and I’d rather not have interruptions. Holding it in because the film is that good, is a good thing. It’s two hours and easy to prepare for, no?
Because I had time to kill, I felt compelled to purchase a snack and although candy at the movies is a lot less expensive in Portugal (1.25 Euros or $1.55 for a pack of M & Ms), I don’t need the calories.
I’d rather not be thinking, “I like the way we do it in the States better.”

I guess I needed the comfort of an American film as part of my adjustment to a new home abroad. It worked, I felt better, and I don’t see it happening again anytime soon. Update: COVID-19 has changed the way we live and the intervalo has gone away. I guess they’d prefer you stayed seated and not have everyone getting up at the same time. I kind of got used to it, but I’m hoping it’s gone for good. The mid-scene break was annoying.

The good people of Portugal do not pick up their dog’s poop! I’m serious, I have to look down everywhere I go. After living in Maine where you rarely see poop on the ground, this has been difficult to deal with. Poop bags are on every other lamp-post and they still don’t pick it up. What makes this insane is that the Portuguese recycle everything. There is a bin for just about every kind of trash and people are psychotic about sorting it, but they leave the dog shit right there on the sidewalk. If it kills me I’m going to be THAT guy that calls out every pet owner in Faro who doesn’t pick up their dog’s poop. Update: Nothing has changed and I’m even more frustrated by it. I step in poop at least once a month. I think this is my 10th blog on this shitty subject.

Gyms don’t open until 9:00 a.m. and they’re closed on weekends; now how silly is that? People here do not workout before work. Back home, gyms were full by 6:00 a.m., and how can they be closed on weekends? Isn’t that when you catch up on workouts you may have missed during the week? Perhaps it’s when you extend your workout a bit? I’m a big believer is providing employees a good quality of life, but as far as I’m concerned, if choose to be employed in a gym, you should expect to work weekends; sort of like restaurants and grocery stores. Update: Well over a year ago I was touring a new gym close to my home. I was unhappy with the set-up; there was very little cardio equipment and not a lot of free weights. It was the kind of gym where you mainly work with a trainer — expensive and not for me. I left the gym and a young Portuguese man who had also done a tour, spoke to me in English. He told me that he could tell that I was unhappy with the gym’s set-up. He shared his thoughts on Centro de Ferro, a gym I had not heard of (gyms do not advertise here). I went to check it out that very day and I’ve been a member ever since; just renewed recently for 80 Euros less than last year and it was already reasonable. They open at 6:30 a.m. and they are open everyday except Sunday. It’s large and clean and for the most part, I like the clientele. All of this makes a huge difference in my life. This gym has been open since the end of the lockdown, however, my old gym never reopened. Had that Portuguese fella not told me about Centro de Ferro, I’m not sure I would have ever found it. This is why “they” say there are no coincidences — Nuno (his name) does not represent or work at Centro, he was just being helpful. I’ve thanked him many times.

Shocked, stunned, bewildered, and frustrated, that I have not received a single piece of Portuguese mail in my mailbox. I’m getting packages from Amazon and even a couple of forwarded pieces of mail from the U.S.; however, no Portuguese mail. Perhaps the post office knows I can’t read the mail anyway. My bank here will not allow me to change my U.S. address until I show them an official piece of mail with my new Portugal address. Considering I have owned my condo for over four months, it doesn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon. I never thought I’d say this, but I miss my AARP junk mail. And by the way, I don’t have a U.S. address Mr. Banker. Update: Since writing this, I do receive Portuguese mail, however, not much of it. There are occasional flyers for stores, but for the most part, the Portuguese do not do junk mail; perhaps businesses are not permitted or maybe, it’s just too expensive. Either way, I like it this way.

So what I am about to share is very embarrassing: my attorney contacted me and said, “Have you checked your mailbox?”

I was extremely insulted and fired back, “Yes, of course I checked my mailbox.”

I was shown my mailbox on move-in day and used my key and the mailbox opened. I thought, “Good the key works,” and I have been checking the mailbox everyday since; as I shared earlier, no mail. Last night I met the head of the condo association in the lobby.

She said, “I will put all this in your mailbox,” and looked to her right.

I thought that was odd because my mailbox was on the left. Well, today I went to the mailbox she sort of turned to and alas, it was my mailbox. I have been checking the wrong mailbox for three weeks. How my key worked on another person’s mailbox, I haven’t a clue. Further, how is it that my neighbor has not gotten any mail? So now you know what it might be like living overseas. Update: I’m still embarrassed that this happened.

My quest to find San Marzano tomatoes has begun. I started cooking with these delicious Italian canned tomatoes over 25 years ago after taking a cooking class with Grace Balducci in New York City. They’ve been readily available to me throughout the years — that is until I moved to Portugal. It doesn’t make sense being that I am so much closer to Italy than I have ever been. I’m sure it has something to do with Italian migration to the United States and other countries. I know that I am fussy about ingredients, but if I have to take a train to Italy to find my tomatoes, then that’s what I’ll do. If you’re reading this and you know a place in or around Faro (75 kilometer radius) that sells these tomatoes, I’d be happy to end my search. Better yet, it’s a good excuse to travel to Italy soon. Update: A French grocery chain took over two of the main grocery stores in Faro. The canned tomatoes they sell are not San Marzano (the absolute best); however, they are a close second. The only time I can truly tell the difference is when I make pizza. I also use the beautiful fresh tomatoes grown in Portugal whenever possible (still not as good as San Marzano). A fact is fact.

There are no Walmart stores in Portugal, however, we do have Chinese discount stores. You can expect to find just about anything other than food (save for American candy) at these stores and they are everywhere — like Rite Aid in the U.S.. You have to be a discerning shopper, because no doubt, some products will fall apart before you take them out of your shopping bag. If I’m going to be honest, most products I have purchased at these stores are a great value. For example aluminum foil: most of it is crap no matter where you buy it — the brand I always purchased in the States is not available here — our local grocery store has a decent size roll for a little over four euros. Four euros is a lot of cash for foil and that’s why a one euro roll of foil at the Chinese dime store works for me. I double it up and still save money. And this is how I spend my time. Update: I have since found decent foil at a decent price at the French supermarket. I love Auchan (the supermarket) and I’ve become hooked on many of the products. If you don’t shower or bathe with French soap you’re missing out — less than a Euro a bar, oh, la, la.

Martinis are hands down my favorite cocktail. It’s the combination of the amount of alcohol, the three olive garnish (considered a snack), and the classic martini glass it’s served in. I’ve been ordering martinis since it was legal for me to imbibe. Well, it’s a bit of a problem in my new home country. The Portuguese drink an aperitif bottled by Martini, Martini is a brand of Italian vermouth, named after the Martini & Rossi Distilleria Nazionale di Spirito di Vino, in Turin. I ordered a Martini straight up on two occasions and I was served this vermouth chilled — not what I wanted. I have found a couple of places that serve it just the way I like it; however, I’m still looking for a bar with the glassware I prefer. These are the things in life that truly matter and I am not above bringing my own glass to a bar.

Pictured: the perfect martini!

Update: Hotel Faro makes a great martini, in the correct glass, and you get a great view of the marina as well. I believe I pay eight Euros. It will do just fine.

Finally, life in Portugal has far exceeded all of my expectations. I will probably mention this often, but the people are welcoming and wonderful, the weather would be hard to beat and the food is in some ways, almost too good. I love knowing the differences one experiences when living somewhere abroad; hence my reason for sharing.

Update: I have been exploring Portugal as a resident for three years now. There are so few negatives to being here that I think it’s more important to focus on the positive (not necessarily most positive to least positive):

Travel — Being in Europe positions me closer to many countries making travel easier and more affordable. Budget airlines such as RyanAir and EasyJet are normally (sans COVID-19) easy to book and if you can travel light, very inexpensive. TAP (Portuguese airline) is an excellent way to travel to and from the U.S. and all over Europe.
Value — It seems more like products are priced according to their true value. I’m fairly certain less money is spent on marketing and distribution. I hesitate to state this, however, sometimes I feel like the quality is superior (e.g., Portuguese cotton, ceramic tiles). Conversely, there are non-American made products here that are poorly manufactured. If you’re a good shopper, you can get the best of just about anything.
People — I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating: Portuguese people are lovely in just about every way — sorry I will be generalizing. I love how they treat people; I love how they care for their elderly; I think the decriminalization of drug use is humane and compassionate; social democracy works and is embraced; people like their privacy and do not get in your business; they are usually calm; riots are few and far between; crime rates are extremely low; “live and let live” is the cultural norm. Since I’m keeping my notes to the positive, I won’t talk about gay men here.
Food — fresh, beautiful, affordable food at the markets (all markets). Portuguese restaurant menus can be tired and ordinary. The traditional dishes are good, however, most of them are not very complex and way too easy to make. There are a few excellent Portuguese restaurants, but you have to look for them and sometimes travel quite far to experience them. I’ve been here almost three years and I would say that I now know of a dozen exceptional Portuguese restaurants in Portugal. Unfortunately, Portuguese people enjoy their own food; therefore, finding variety outside of Lisbon or Porto, can be difficult. There are very beautiful seaport towns here that can use some ethnic variety in their offerings. Faro now has a good ramen restaurant and an excellent burger spot. I’m waiting for Korean, Thai, Moroccan (it’s so close), African variety (also so close), Malaysian, etc. If you live practically anywhere in the U.S. these days, you are accustomed to variety and excellence.
Safety — I have never felt safer in my life and I mean that in every way. I have been very impressed with the handling of COVID-19 and although you do not see police officers everywhere, you know they are close by and keeping you safe.
Weather — the Algarve weather is near perfect, nearly all year round. Winters are mild, spring is pleasant and the air is fragrant, summer is warm but dry, and autumn is cooler and breezier. With 300 or more days of sunshine a year and no tornadoes or hurricanes, it would be ridiculous to complain.
My apartment — It didn’t cost me an arm and a leg and I have a magnificent view of the Ria Formosa: Classified as a Natural Park in 1987, Ria Formosa encompasses an area of about 18 000 hectares, and is protected from the sea by 5 barrier-islands and 2 peninsulas: the Peninsula of Ancão that the locals call Ilha de Faro, the Barreta Island also known as Ilha Deserta, the Culatra Island (where the lighthouse of Santa Maria is located), the Island of Armona, the Island of Tavira, Cabanas Island and, finally, the Peninsula of Cacela. This awesome area extends along the leeward coast of the Algarve through the municipalities of Loulé, Faro, Olhão, Tavira and Vila Real de Santo António. The Atlantic ocean can be seen just beyond the Ria. The view out of the back of my apartment are beautiful homes, gardens, and mountains. I live on a wide, tree-lined cobblestone avenue; filled with gorgeous architecture. I have a public park across the street from my building (for Paco), numerous cafés and restaurants, schools, a dog run, churches, and a magnificent convent with breathtaking grounds. Why would I ever leave?
No vehicle — Reducing my carbon footprint has been my personal crusade. I know I can only do so much to save the planet, but I have to do something. I walk more more because I don’t have a car and I am burning calories and saving money. Admittedly, it’s not always convenient; however, convenience is overrated and the lazier option. I miss having a car, but I do not miss looking for parking or paying for gas. I’m a stubborn fella; sleeping with less guilt is essential for my peace of mind.

Admittedly, I am tempted to provide a list of my favorite places in Portugal to visit. I have blogged about many of these cities and towns and you can access these blogs (see table of contents). There are “top of my list” spots that a traveler should not miss: Lisbon, Madeira, Porto and the Algarve. There you will find natural beauty, history, excellent cuisine, vineyards, great architecture, value, and something for everyone. As with everything in Portugal, people are extremely humble and the country is only minimally promoted to the rest of the world; perhaps it’s intentional.

The shrimp here are really THAT BIG

Photos, starting at the top of the blog and up to here:

Sitting on the roof deck of Hotel Faro in the marina (Old Town). It has become my favorite watering hole.
The view from the bus stop outside my apartment — Avenida 5 de Outubro. Strangely there is a good deal of exotic vegetation on this avenue, but you don’t see any of it in this photo. Palm trees, succulents, etc. This is a roundabout which saves me from hearing honking horns and keeps the traffic moving. A large public park is on the other side of the avenue.
The back of a ceramic tile shop in Olhao. I met the ceramic artist after purchasing a tile wall piece I’m excited to have plastered to one of my walls. I’ll post a photo when it’s done.
Shrimp and octopus right out of the Algarve Atlantic (click for Chefe Branco). Dinner with Brenda Athanus; I need to go back soon
Caprese salad at L’Osteria, an Italian restaurant way too close to home.
The foliage outside my building which I referred to in #2. The tops of the trees come right up to my floor (5th floor). Well in Europe it’s the 4th floor because the first floor is zero — go figure.
My condominium — built in the 60s and built to last.

See Instagram, cpapagni (linked) for additional photos.

Some random recent shots: