Eating My Way Across Azorean Sao Miguel

For one week, I went without mobile phone and the internet, and it was lovely.

I spent that time driving a tiny rental car in standard gear around an island in the middle of the Azorean Atlantic.

I interviewed restaurant owners who had been cooking practically seven days a week for forty years.

I balanced on a ladder in the trees of my deceased grandparents’ garden, collecting a fruit for which we have no equivalent and I still don’t know how to spell.

I ate an incredible amount of fish, and fresh beef, and fruit, and drank more wine labeled “Red Table” than I would have though existed.

I found a vineyard behind a green tin wall.

I explored a pineapple plantation and questioned a fifth-generation pottery maker.

I held the last uncle of my grandfather’s generation so tightly.  His highly controversial political essays are still being published in the Azorean papers.

This weekend, a Foodbuzz 24×24 supper party and a Milk Bar Mondays Cinnamon Bun Pie adaptation, as well as interviews with Per Se’s Chef de Cuisine and one or two other chef names you may recognize.

Life is a juggling game, a balance.  I’m just trying to keep it all as delicious as possible.

Until my post on Sunday,

Jacqueline