THE STEADY PULSE OF ALENTEJO -Alentejos ruhiger Puls
as the cheerfully smiling server sets a platter before me. A platter upon which whimsical little black stubby things are piled, as if they had fallen out of the prop closet in the funhouse at a carnival. Percebes, as I learn from the waiter, are gooseneck barnacles (Pollicipes pollicepes and the like), a rare delicacy. Which I am about to eat. And apparently, eat with my fingers. It’s
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© Fotos: Odile Hein
Even the term ‘wild and romantic’ seems to me inadequate to describe the landscape that emerges, punctuated by the craggy and truly steep coastal cliffs of dark slate or bright sandstone. It is such a luxury to choose among the many almost totally 1. The West Coast deserted little patches of shoreline – BurBeach, Samouqueira Bay, EspinRough and bumpy little roadways lead me rinho gardeiro Beach, to reveal just a couple of past grand panoramas. Leaving a cloud of the names... dust behind me I visit isolated little coves, which here are a part of reality rather than Sitting atop a rocky crag with my legs swinphotos from a travel & tourism advert. ging freely, I allow myself to be hypnotised by the waves of the Atlantic as they roll without rest onto the shore. Another glance off into the distance, then I scramble down to the beach and run into the water. Not the least chance that I could master this monster of the tides – no matter how vigorously I hurl myself against the waves, they wash me back spinning onto the shore. Doing this means that I work up an appetite... I read the word ‘Percebes’ on a signboard in front of a rustic restaurant, and I see a price posted that leads me to think that here there must be something special to be had. This seems right on time to me, and without further ado I place my order for this surprise. ‘You have only yourself to blame’, I think, © Fotos: Odile Hein
© Fotos: Odile Hein
It is indeed hard work, he says, and continues that it also demands a great deal of sensitivity, with carefully-aimed strokes of the axe and skilful hand-technique, in order to remove the bark whole from the tree without breaking it to pieces – and above all without harming the tree. More curious workers continue to join us; one can see the hard work in their hands and on their faces. But they are proud of the work they do – and most likely happy to have a job.
too late for the question, if I even want to touch them... So I pull on the softer part and disengage it from the black husk and Having learned a couple new words in Porfrom its shell-like hard end, which looks tuguese, I hit the trail in the direction of Evora. This city – the one like a claw. that everybody enthuses And I get squirted – ap‘YOU HAVE over so much – already coparently I have done soONLY YOURSELF ming to the conclusion that mething wrong. But it TO BLAME’ I just won’t get there on this seems that nobody else has visit... noticed. They taste really good! With the second bite, I forget everything and nothing further in- There are just too many lovely spots along tervenes between me and the pleasure of the way, and the temptation of devoting the flavour. Percebes have a firm texture, more time to these inviting little stopoperhaps best compared with prawns. I taste vers is simply too great. Now, for exampfreshness and I taste salt – this particularly le, a house with green tiles that stands out among buildings with whitewashed walls fine flavour of fresh shellfish. arouses my curiosity. We are in Ourique, 2. The Lay of the Land a charming place with benches clustered around a small fountain – the church and Thusly fortified and one experience the the town hall; everything is nestled close richer, I head into the interior. One more together. So the tour would not have taken little bit of civilisation lies behind me with so long had I not stumbled over a pair of every metre of the gravel track my trusty legs sticking out from underneath a parked
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Portugal’s Highway 268, Estrada Nacional, is lined with pine trees, and the drive provides me with a brilliant transition into travel mode, travel mood... I have left the Algarve behind me; in my travel bag is a ham from a black pig, the local porker bred in Alentejo. The choice of travel-sustenance lifts my already buoyant spirits even higher and I feel sorry for all vegetarians – who choose to miss out on this experience – and take a good bite out of the ham sandwich I just fixed myself.
I follow my instinct and it serves me well: stopping at a snack bar on the side of the road I meet with João, a cork harvester, who reacts to my curious glances and explains to me with hands and feet and above all with a great deal of patience about what exactly is involved with peeling off the bark. Accompanied by a glass of the local firewater – homemade aguardiente – I learn that the cork oaks live to a monumental age and can only be decorticated once every nine years.
TASTE MEDITERR ANEAN
TASTE MEDITERR ANEAN
he sun greets me with a warm embrace. I flew into Faro, so I could travel from south to north through the heartland of the Portuguese interior, country as yet unknown to me, through Alentejo.
auto puts away under its wheels, as I snake my way through seemingly endless fields. The cork oaks, their bark conspicuously peeled away, stand evenly distributed in the gently rolling landscape. Where does this lead?