K is for Kiwi Fruit
I’m going to make myself unpopular with my fellow Personal A to Z of Portugal bloggers by doing two posts using the letter K, which isn’t the easiest letter to find a topic for. Nevertheless, the abundance of kiwi fruit in Portugal means I’ve got something to say about them and a couple of scrummy recipes to share so I thought I’d combine them into this post.
Kiwis are a prime example of why it’s best not to judge by appearance. They may be ugly, brown and hairy on the outside, but slice them open and you get a feast for the eyes with their jade green flesh and uneven ring of tiny black seeds. When ripe, they’re deliciously juicy and sweet but if you try eating them before they’re quite ready, they can be a bit tart.
photo by Craig Damlo on Flickr.com
When I lived in the UK, kiwi fruit were always an exotic treat to me. I had no idea what the plants looked like, only the fruit. The plants are climbers and in Portugal they are often trained up and over trellises to provide shade from the summer sun. The fruit dangle and ripen until they’re ready for harvest around November. Fruit shopping in Portugal is heavily influenced by the seasons so all of a sudden, mountains of kiwis appear in the supermarkets.
We haven’t had to buy any kiwis at all this season because generous friends and neighbours gave us more than we knew what to do with. I’ve named one of them ‘the Guimarães kiwi’ because it’s shaped like the logo for the European Capital of Culture for 2012.
This excess of kiwis forced me to look out for recipes and I’ve found two that are well worth sharing. One is for kiwi sorbet which I’ve given a Portuguese twist by adding Licor Beirão. Unfortunately, I didn’t think quickly enough to take photos before we scoffed the lot so you’ll have to use your imagination.
Kiwi sorbet with Licor Beirão
serves 4 (it’s quite rich so you don’t need huge helpings)
Ingredients
5 kiwi fruit, peeled and sliced
2 tablespoons of Licor Beirão
100g soft light brown sugar
1 egg white
- Put the kiwi fruit, Licor Beirão and sugar in a blender and whizz until smooth. Pour this into a freezer-proof bowl and freeze for two hours.
- Remove it from the freezer and break up the crystals. Beat the egg white until it forms stiff peaks then gently combine it with the fruit. Pour the mixture into a decorative, freezer-proof dish and freeze.
- Take it out of the freezer to soften for a few minutes before serving.
The other recipe is for kiwi crumble, which is the next best thing to rhubarb crumble so if you’re a Brit pining for rhubarb, give this a go.
This post forms part of my Personal A to Z of Portugal. Just in case you’ve missed them, my previous A to Z posts include:
H is for Handkerchiefs of Love
And there are other plenty of other Personal A to Zs of Portugal by other bloggers to enjoy.
The fun doesn’t stop there, though. Bloggers from around the world have joined in My Personal A to Z Challenge about other countries and topics so I’ve set up a hub site with information, posts and links - why don’t you check it out?
If you enjoyed reading this, why not sign up to receive future posts by email?
Like this:
K is for Kissing in Portugal
Who exactly should you kiss in Portugal? When should you kiss them? I don’t mean full on romantic smooches, which are obviously reserved for very special people. I’m talking about the friendly greeting kisses, one on each side of the face. Although it’s an integral part of life here, I’m afraid social kissing in Portugal is something I still haven’t worked out properly.
After almost eight years of living in countries where kisses form part of social greetings, you’d think I’d have sussed out who I should and shouldn’t kiss but sadly, I’m still confused. I get that when you see friends and family, it’s normal to kiss each cheek to say hello, and I even do this with some of my British friends when we meet up.
Blowing kisses by Anita Barreto on Flickr.com
Beyond my immediate circle, however, I’m at a loss. I either hold back when I probably shouldn’t, or dish out kisses like they’re going out of fashion. I’ve ended up kissing the builder on a few occasions – he’s also a neighbour so the boundaries are a bit blurry – but now that he’s not working at our house and we see him very rarely, it feels awkward and inappropriate to kiss him when we do meet so I’ve gone back to just saying hello.
Even that feels weird though, as though we’ve dropped back from a level of intimacy that should never have been there. Don’t get me wrong, there was never any hint of ‘intimate’ relations, and I have no idea what his thoughts are on this. Hopefully, it’s just me that feels slightly uncomfortable at perhaps having overstepped the boundaries and then retreated. Hopefully, if he’s even noticed, he’ll have put it down to the fact that I’m foreign and don’t know any better.
It’s not just the builder that I have problems with. I teach English as a foreign language and Parents’ Day is fraught with uncomfortable situations. Most parents are content to play along with the ‘Britishness’ of a handshake as a greeting but some lean in for the kissy business.
It took quite a while for me to work out which side of the face to aim for to avoid awkward clashes, and to be honest, I couldn’t tell you which one it is. That’s partly because I am left / right dyslexic, which leads to frantic pointing across the windscreen when I’m navigating as in “Go that way,” and partly because I’ve taken a Zen approach to choosing a side, which seems to be working well.
The problem with kissing parents, I’ve found, is knowing what level of physical contact is appropriate. Am I supposed to air kiss, or lightly brush each cheek? Do I touch their shoulder or arm or just keep my hands to myself? Any advice is more than welcome!
In some ways, the kissing dilemma is worse with the students. In the UK, there’s no way a teacher would kiss a student. It would be grounds for dismissal in the land of Child Protection Laws. So it’s difficult, especially at the start of the first term, trying to evade the lips of the eight and nine-year-olds who want to kiss me goodbye after class.
Sometimes their parents bring them along to Parents’ Day meetings and when the children offer their cheeks up for a kiss, I oblige. But only in front of their parents. Back in the classroom I’m not going there!
So help me out, please. If you can tell me who, when and how I should be kissing socially in Portugal, please leave a comment.
This post forms part of my Personal A to Z of Portugal.
If you’ve missed them, my previous A to Z posts include:
H is for Handkerchiefs of Love
I’m not the only one doing a Personal A to Z. To find other bloggers doing My Personal A to Z Challenge, visit the hub site and follow the links to them or click on the links to other Personal A to Zs of Portugal on the right of this post.
If you enjoyed reading this, why not sign up to receive future posts by email?
Like this:
Hi, I'm Julie, a British expat living in central Portugal. I blog about my experiences of living in Portugal and travelling around this diverse and beautiful country. Whether you're thinking about moving to Portugal, looking for some out-of-the-ordinary trips within Portugal or just fancy a spot of armchair travelling, read on and enjoy.
