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
