First, a quick update for those of you who haven’t slept since last week. The tyre mechanic, true to his word, phoned on Tuesday morning, and, within an hour, he had changed the tyre, balanced the wheel and fitted it, and all was happily resolved. I am now armed with photographs of the gash in the old tyre and a tax receipt, both of which we shall be presenting to Europcar, more in hope than expectation.

Speaking of Europcar, while walking and driving round the village this past week we have several times seen Europcar vans whizzing around. We are very tempted to stop one and ask what they are so busy doing, since it clearly isn’t serving their customers!

This week’s blog offering is a bit of a gallimaufry – or, if you prefer, a potpourri, mishmash, hodgepodge or, indeed, salmagundi – of various bits and pieces of things we have done or noticed on this trip. From this collection of interesting synonyms for a miscellany, I chose salmagundi to use in the title, for the simple reason that this post was born on a Monday. (Salma Gundi, Born on a Monday? Perhaps not!)

Here, incidentally, is a typical (and typically generous) 18^th-Century recipe for the varied dish that is salmagundi:

To make a Cold Hash, or Salad-Magundy. TAKE a cold Turkey, two cold Chickens, or, if you have neither, a piece of fine white Veal will do; cut the Breasts of these Fowls into fair dices, and Mince all the rest; to the Quantity of two Chickens you must take eight or ten large Anchovies, wash and bone them, eight large pickled Oysters, ten or twelve fine green pickled Cucumbers, shred the Oysters, the Anchovies, the Cucumbers, and one whole Lemon small, mix them with the shred Meat, lay it in the middle of the Dish, lay the Dices of the white part round the Dish, with halv’d Anchovies, whole pickled Oysters, quarter’d Cucumbers, sliced Lemon, whole pickled Mushrooms, Capers or any Pickle you like; cut also some fine Lettice, and lay round among the Garnish, but put not Oil and Vinegar to the Minced Meat, till it comes to Table.

Personally, I think I’d prefer the Jamaican dish where the original name is corrupted to Solomon Gundy: a dish made of salt herring and spices.

The first ingredient in our particular salmagundi is something Bernice and I saw on our drive from Lisbon to Penamacor. As we were cruising at 120kph on the motorway, I spotted a road hazard sign ahead. I was initially puzzled, because it seemed to be taking us rather a long time to reach it. I eventually realised that the sign was on the back of a slow-moving road maintenance van travelling on the hard shoulder. As we approached it, I saw that the sign was indicating that the outside lane was closed ahead, and was instructing traffic to move into the middle lane. I commented to Bernice that it was rather confusing to load the sign on the van so that it was visible, because drivers would assume that the outside lane was indeed closed, rather than realising that the sign was just being transported to its destination.

A little further on, we passed another road maintenance van, travelling very slowly in the outside lane, collecting traffic cones from the road. We then realised that the two vehicles were travelling in convoy, and the road sign was indeed ‘active’. Not for the first time, when comparing Portugal’s traffic control practices with Israel’s, we both agreed: What a clever idea!  

Speaking of invidious comparisons, time was when visitors to Israel would enthuse about the fresh fruit and vegetables. In recent years, the quality, particularly of fruit, in our local Rami Levi supermarket has been getting steadily worse. However, we needed to come to Portugal to realise just how much worse. Here, we are enjoying a variety of different apples, all crisp and full-flavoured, some sweet, others sharp, and delicious, and firm but succulent pears. This is in addition to the start of the citrus season, grapes, melons, bananas, mangoes, and, in the Fundao supermarket at least, plums, kiwi, and, to our surprise, pomegranates.

Nuts are also popular here, and we are all indulging our taste for fresh peanuts (yes, I know they are not nuts) in their shells, and, thanks to Tslil’s recent discovery of a grove of trees in the forest, enough chestnuts to satisfy her appetite and mine. Thankfully, neither Bernice nor Micha’el likes them, which means that we even have enough to pickle and thread some for playing conkers, if we ever decide we want to.

However, the chestniuts are far from being Tslil’s major culinary contribution on this trip. The last time we were here, I baked bread for the house. When we flew back, I left the sourdough starter that I had grown, in the hope that Micha’el and Tslil would keep it alive and be able to use it. Returning now, I discover that Tslil, who was always appreciative of my baking, has carried on where I left off, and, indeed, with the help of YouTube tutorials and various podcasts, has taken her bread baking to a level far above mine. She usually bakes once a week, and her two loaves last her family the week.

And what loaves! A really crisp and crunchy crust, a wonderful springy but firm crumb with holes just large enough for butter to fill without falling through, and the kind of flavour that you can only get by leaving your starter out on the kitchen counter, feeding it every day, and using the surplus to make sourdough pancakes, crackers and other goodies. (At home, I lock my starter in the fridge and feed it once a week, only letting it out to wake it up before use. The result is good, but nowhere near as complex and rich as Tslil’s.)

While we are here, I am supplementing these loaves with challot for shabbat, as well as beigels and platzels that can be frozen and defrosted individually. I have been baking three challot a week, and we (all but) finish two at the shabbat table, which leaves one to be toasted, or French toasted, for the next day or so.

Defrosting individual rolls is now very easy because, on our trip to Castello in our first week, Bernice and I bought a microwave, at the large electrical and electronic retail chain Worten. This was the shop where, on our first trip, we bought an oven, hob and washing machine to replace the barely functioning machines that came with the house, and a tumble dryer to make life easier for young parents who were then struggling with nappies and a family wash during a wet and cold winter. The microwave was Worten’s in-house brand, and represented good value. So far, it meets our needs, which are basically defrosting rolls, cooking salmon, and reheating cups of tea that have cooled to below a drinkable temperature, which one or other of us does roughly every 45 minutes through the day.

Let’s talk now about some of the changes Bernice and I have noticed since we were last here, 19 months ago. Obviously, the biggest change is in Tao, but, since the kids were staying with us for 5 weeks in the summer, this is not as dramatic as it would otherwise be.

The other big change (and I do mean big) is Lua, the puppy the kids adopted in March. She is now 10 months old, acquired to be a guard dog on the land. I’m not sure she quite understands that she is supposed to be a guard dog, being very placid and a real softie. Unfortunately, she really needs to be on the land, or at least in a house considerably wider than ours. When she is stretched out on the salon floor, she tends to derail toy trains, demolish Duplo houses, and block any adult’s passage to the kitchen. However, she is so adorable that nobody could take offence at any of that.

A less pleasant change for the two of us is that, since our last visit, the local authority appears to have increased the gradient of the street we live in. Walking back from the local corner shop, the park and playground or the bank, particularly with a bag of shopping and pushing Tao in his buggy, which to the best of our memory was an excellent aerobic exercise last time, is now an excellent anaerobic exercise, and, we suspect, will, at some point in the not-too-distant future, become an insurmountable challenge. Fortunately, a large car park in front of the Town Hall is conveniently situated a short walk from the shops, park and bank. If, at some point, we are reduced to that, then so be it.

Another change, much more welcome, is that, despite Covid-19, the steady flow of new arrivals to the area, seeking an alternative and healthier lifestyle, has continued, and Micha’el and Tslil have, since our last visit, acquired a circle of friends, Israelis, other Europeans, and some locals, many of whom have children around Tao’s age. Tao now has organised activities with other children twice a week, as well as a weekly playdate with one friend. In addition, Micha’el has started a music chug for young kids, which meets, theoretically at least, every week.

In addition, Tslil is out today with a women’s group that meets monthly. They both went out for an evening with friends last week while we officially babysat. Micha’el spent another evening with friends and has one as-yet-unexplored offer of a jam session. I must confess that we were initially a little concerned about the potential lack of opportunities for a social life for all three of them, but both Micha’el and Tslil have proved proactive in making this happen.

From the sublime to the ridiculous. While browsing in our favourite China shop last week, Bernice and I discovered butter knives, as well as fish cutlery. Clearly, dining in Portugal is a more formal experience than in Israel, and matches the world we grew up in. We shall be stocking up before we return to Israel.

As you can see, our life here is not action-packed, but then, of course, that’s not the object of the exercise. Just settling into a daily routine centred on Tao has been all that we wanted. The kids have managed to get to the land more than they might otherwise have been able to, as well as occasionally being able to sleep on later in the morning or have an evening out. And Bernice and I have been able to overdose on grandparenthood. Let me tell you, if you haven’t lain in bed at 5:30 in the morning telling your rapt grandson a story that you are making up as you tell it, about a digger and a dumper truck, then you haven’t known true happiness.