memoirs, art and fragments by Thomas Milner

12. 12. 12.

Today, coinciding with the unusual and lucky configuration of numbers in the date, has been our annual Xmas «feast»

I’ve lived in Portugal for about a generation but I still can’t completely get my head around the (almost Pavlovian) excitement surrounding the prospect of the traditional fare of boiled cod, boiled potatoes and boiled cabbage.

Albeit somewhat alleviated with either onion-sauce or, for the purists, olive oil, this dish doesn’t do anything particularly for me (apart the excellent nourishment it provides of course).

Part of life’s rich tapestry

And above all, kindly meant

It takes all sorts to make a world, doesn’t it?

Or, as the French put it more succinctly

Chacun son goût

CHACUN SON GOÛT

CHACUN SON GOÛT

Comments on: "12. 12. 12." (1)

  1. I had reason to attend a Portuguese Christmas affair a few years running, and I too was a little in awe of the ‘salivating’ both within and without in regard to this much loved dish…
    Ah well, each to his own I say….! 😉

    Like

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