A Yellow Portuguese Saturday

As opposed to all the previous winter Saturdays, which were grey.

On our way to our cabrito lunch.

One of the constant uncertainties of writing about my experience is whether it’s remotely interesting to anyone but me. Often I’ll draft a post and then put it away because I can’t tell if it’s worth sharing.

This is one of those posts. I wrote it on a Saturday in late January and then put it away.

Now it’s March and I’ve stumbled on it again, and it feels like it might be worth reading.

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One of the hardest things to get used to since moving to Portugal has been the weather.

This winter, Northern Portugal has made up for its previous two-year drought - in just three months - by raining constantly. Like, make-Seattle-proud constantly. And when it’s not raining, it’s usually grey.

But we’ve been promised an honest-to-goodness break; the next two weeks are supposed to be pure sunshine.

We woke up to sunshine day #1 this morning. It felt really, really good. It’s amazing how much of a mood-booster sunshine is.

J and I had been invited to lunch by a new-but-already-dear friend. She’d heard me say I wanted to try cabrito (roasted goat, a Portuguese specialty) since moving here and knew exactly where to take us. I’d heard other Americans raving about it and it seemed like an essential food experience to have, but goat shot up in price this year and I hadn’t seen it on a menu anywhere.

So today was the day. Tia Isabel is a traditional Portuguese restaurant that is beautiful and elegant and muito popular; while it was empty at 12pm when we arrived, their dining room was packed at 2:45 when we left.

Who wants a detailed description of what someone else ate for lunch? Probably not you. But I have to say a little: cabrito is tender, flavorful, delicate, and reminiscent of duck meat - like the tender dark meat of poultry. It’s roasted on the bone and with the fat, and this particular cabrito was surrounded by little potatoes that had soaked up the juices. We shared a bottle of red wine from the Alentejo region of Portugal (all the wine we drink is from Portugal because - did you know? - a TON of wine is produced in several regions across Portugal and it is all fantastic.).

After our leisurely lunch, our friend came home with us for an afternoon espresso and a chance to pet the cats. We lounged around, chatting and sipping coffee, and then she and I wandered to the historic center to visit a couple of antique shops. J stayed home to work on his recording project, and I used his need for quiet as an excuse to stop at the mercado food hall on the way home for a snack and reading time.

Now it’s dark and time to make a dinner of the sea bass I bought at the fish market this morning.

This was an idyllic Saturday, and not typical for us most of the time. But here’s why it’s made me so happy, and why I’m writing about it:

This luxurious Saturday is a big part of what we love about living here. The chance to take things more slowly, wander and eat and visit with friends, and enjoy the sunshine while we have it.

We could’ve done a version of this in the U.S., probably. But it was so much harder for some reason. There were things to accomplish and errands to run, and we had to coordinate schedules and drive to where we would meet friends and be much more intentional about plans.

It’s noticeably easier to do this here - on a whim, even - where it’s standard to enjoy good food, drinks, and the company of friends for a long, relaxed stretch of time.

In case you’re thinking otherwise, our life was not suddenly filled with cafe-sitting and journal-writing when we moved to Europe. Just because relaxed weekends are normal here does not mean that we’ve learned to do relaxed weekends. We’re still working on time management and boundaries around work and getting all the stuff done.

But days like this are possible now - and are lovely moments that remind us of why we made the choices we did.

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