Portugal: Of Kale, Cod, and Carnations
Portugal: Of Kale, Cod, and Carnations
Situated at the rugged edge of Europe- a rocky shore perpetually battered the Atlantic- Portugal had no choice but to throw its fate to the sea. The Portuguese became the vanguard of an era ripe with exploration and discovery, their caravels stitching together continents. While spices and riches galore returned with these ships, the kitchens of the Portuguese people told a different story. Salt cod, sardines, sausages, kale. These are the foods Portugal is known for, food built to survive, not dazzle. (Though with 365 ways to prepare salt cod, who needed glamour?)
Of course, these industrious and no-nonsense people built a global empire, one that by the turn of the 20th century was topheavy, and poor. Monarchy gave way to a Republic, which by the late 1920s had given way to a dictatorship. The dictatorship, dubbed the Ditadura Nacional (National Dictatorship), and later the “Estado Novo” (New State) came about by a coup d’etat of military officers who were looking to stabilize the Portuguese Republic, which was racked by economic problems and instability. The figure who emerged at the helm, Antonio Salazar, would set about creating a society which he viewed as stable and devoid of the problems a democratic society brought. While similar to other fascist governments of the era, Portugal’s Estado Novo was noteworthy as it was much more traditionalist and much more Catholic. These weren’t people who were trying to adopt the program of a political party. These authoritarians were strictly opposed to political parties. The Estado Novo would ban strikes and all political parties, trying to quash even the notion of class conflict. Even after World War II, the regime would persist, and hold on to Portugal’s colonies with an iron fist as other European nations gave in to the wave of decolonization.
However, by 1974, this all came crashing down in one of the most fascinating Revolutions in recent history. The Carnation Revolution (4/25/74) was a seminal event in World Working Class History, and today is its 51st Anniversary. So, as usual, we will be using food as the lens to explore the history of working class resistance, resilience, and power throughout the world, and today brings us a very special example.
We will explore how a marinated pork sandwich helped cloak whispered plots against the regime, frustrating the ever-watchful eyes of the secret police, we will learn how brave fisherman munching on salt cod gave a giant black eye to the regime. We’ll travel to the Azores, where left wing military officers would plan how to return Portugal to the people- in between bites of grilled sardine, and we will relive Revolution itself, when kale and chouriço soup was ladled out to revolutionaries by triumphant people in the streets.
So pour yourself a glass of vinho branco, cue up Grandola, and join us on this journey of resistance, resilience, and revolution- Portuguese style.
Bifana: Secrets Smothered in Garlic
The Bifana is as working class a staple as you can get. A simple sandwich made on a hinged papos seco roll, with flattened pork marinated over night and simmered in a sauce consisting of garlic, wine, and onions, often with piri piri sauce and mustard smothered on top. Its most often associated with a town about an hour east of Lisbon, the town of Vendas Novas, which started spreading the sandwich throughout the country in the early 1960s. They were first adopted by tascas, simple pubs with no frills food and a community atmosphere.
Another thing was spreading throughout Portugal in the early 1960s, and that was discontent with the Estado Novo regime. A feeling of decolonization was gripping the world, but Portugal’s government was stubbornly holding onto them with an iron fist. The pressures of decolonization came to Portugal in 1961 with an uprising in Angola. Thus began Portugal’s Colonial War, a 13 year conflict where Portugal’s Estado Novo would seek to both fight gravity and refuse to read the room by maintaining total war conditions to hold onto the Portuguese African colonies of Mozambique, Angola, and Portuguese Guinea (Now Guinea-Bissau).
The Estado Novo regime would focus all of the fading empire’s resources on maintaining control of its colonies, redirecting foodstuffs, gasoline, and other important resources. This would create strain within the armed forces, and in the homeland. A dramatic escalation of these pressures happened in 1961, with a military officer named Henrique Galvão hijacking a Portuguese passenger liner named the Santa Maria with Portuguese (and Spanish) dissidents, and began broadcasting messages to the Iberian Peninsula tearing into Salazar’s Estado Novo regime and Francisco Franco’s Falangist regime in Spain. While not successful in their goal of bringing the cruise to Angola and freeing the colony, this event certainly lit a fire in a people who had enough.
The Colonial War continued to escalate, and so did the regime’s oppressive responses to it. Mandatory conscription was introduced, with every adult male required to serve 3 years in the military, which meant going to fight in the colonies. They also would enact food rationing, taking a cut of cod, sardine, and pork production. The universities, hotbeds of independent thought, would begin to see regular demonstrations. The regime responded with a vast network of secret police, the PIDE to crush dissent. They would harass students, mark them as dissidents, and prevent them from taking part in professional society.
In November of 1962, an even more dramatic event happened. An anti-government activist, Hermínio da Palma Inácio, would hijack a Portuguese airliner, with the intent of dropping leaflets over Portugal’s major cities. The pilot complied, and thousands of leaflets calling for an end to dictatorship were dropped over Lisbon, Barreiro, and other cities. They eventually claimed political asylum in Morocco. The opponents of the regime, up to this point silent, were beginning to see cracks forming.
Lisbon’s tascas became a safe place to take the leaflets and talk about them. Certain tascas opened themselves up to become a meeting place for socialists, communists, liberals, and dissident students to discuss the leaflets, organize distribution, and further actions against the regime. The bifana proved a perfect cover. Pro-dissident tascas would cut up so much garlic, ostensibly for bifanas, that PIDE would leave without snooping too long, like the fascist vampires they were, while dissidents found the eye-watering amount of garlic to be a sign that they were welcome at that tasca.
While the Estado Novo regime was a long way from falling, these early underground tasca meetings, with dissidents speaking in hushed tones over simple garlic-smothered bifanas, would become an important step in toppling the regime, and restoring the people’s rule in Portugal.
For myself, the bifana had a surprisingly complex taste for such a simple sandwich. I personally used extra garlic in honor of secret tasca meetings, hoping to keep any prying eyes away, and I made my own piri-piri sauce to add to the pork marinade and sandwich sauce. I kept the papas seco hinged, and that made the sandwich both easier to eat, and kept the flavors and toppings locked in. How much spice can you handle? That is the real question.
Bifana
Serves: 3–4
Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus 2–4 hours marinating)
Cook Time: 25 minutes
Total Time: 45 minutes (excluding marinating)
Ingredients
1 lb (450g) pork cutlets, thick-cut
6 garlic cloves, minced
1 tsp Piri-Piri sauce (for marinade, see recipe below)
¾ tsp Piri-Piri sauce (for sauce)
¾ cup (180ml) dry white wine
2 tbsp white wine vinegar
3 tbsp butter
⅓ cup (80ml) pork or chicken broth
3–4 papo seco rolls
1½ tbsp yellow mustard
¾ tsp smoked paprika
1 bay leaf
1 small onion, thinly sliced
1½ tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
¾ tsp salt
⅓ tsp black pepper, freshly cracked
Instructions
Pound pork cutlets to ¼-inch thickness. Combine garlic, 1 tsp Piri-Piri sauce, wine, vinegar, ½ tsp salt, and ¼ tsp pepper in a bowl. Add pork, coat, cover, and refrigerate 2–4 hours.
Slice papo seco rolls, keeping hinged. If stale, sprinkle with water and heat at 350°F for 3 minutes.
Drain pork, reserving marinade, and pat dry. Heat 1½ tbsp butter in a skillet over medium-high heat. Fry pork in batches, 2–3 minutes per side, until golden. Remove from skillet.
Add 1½ tbsp butter and onion to skillet; cook 3–4 minutes until soft. Add reserved marinade, broth, bay leaf, paprika, and ¾ tsp Piri-Piri sauce. Simmer 10–12 minutes until slightly thickened.
Slice pork into ½-inch strips. Return to skillet and simmer 3–5 minutes. Adjust with broth if too thick or reduce if too thin.
Warm rolls in skillet for 30 seconds. Fill with pork, spoon sauce over, and add ½ tbsp mustard per roll. Top with onion and parsley.
Serve sandwiches hot with extra bread on the side.
Notes
Use papo seco rolls, often labeled “Portuguese rolls” at stores.
Substitute Dijon mustard if Colman’s is unavailable.
Marinate overnight for stronger flavor. Store leftovers in the refrigerator for 2 days; reheat gently with sauce separate.
Pairing
Drink: Licor Beirão over ice with tonic water and lemon juice.
Side: Pickled peppers or carrots
Piri-Piri Sauce
Yield: ¾ cup
Prep Time: 15 minutes
Cook Time: 5 minutes
Total Time: 20 minutes
Ingredients
8–10 red bird’s eye chiles (or 12–15 African devil chiles, or 8–10 Thai chiles)
3 garlic cloves, smashed
⅓ cup (80ml) extra-virgin olive oil
2 tbsp white wine vinegar
¾ tsp coarse sea salt
¾ tsp smoked paprika
⅓ tsp dried oregano
Juice of ⅓ lemon
Instructions
Cook chiles in a dry skillet over high heat for 3–4 minutes until blistered. Transfer to a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and let sit 10 minutes.
Peel chile skins if desired for smoother texture.
Blend chiles, garlic, vinegar, salt, paprika, and oregano until chunky. Slowly add olive oil while blending until smooth.
Stir in lemon juice. Adjust seasoning if needed.
Store in a jar and refrigerate.
Notes
Bird’s eye chiles are moderately hot; use African devil chiles or ¾ tsp cayenne for more heat, or Thai chiles with extra paprika for color.
Sauce is very spicy. Store in the refrigerator for up to 1 month; stir before use.
Bacalhau à Brás: Salty Fishermen
If Portugal were to have a national dish, it would almost certainly be Bacalhau, or salt cod. Portuguese maritime culture meant large amounts of code being salted for the long voyages that sailors would go on, and that trickled down to the general populace. There’s a saying that there are 365 ways to prepare it in Portugal, and one of the most popular is Bacalhau à Brás. This simple pile of salt cod, shredded fried potatoes, eggs, and olives is one of the most popular Portuguese foods worldwide, and most likely originated in the early 1800s prepared by a tavern owner named Braz. By the early 1900s, it showed up in cookbooks throughout the whole country. Which of course meant that if someone were to start rationing cod, you would be messing with the very fabric of Portuguese national culture.
A decade of Colonial War was tumultuous in Portugal, to say the least. Antonio Salazar died in 1968, after 30+ years of iron fisted rule. He was replaced by a bloodless fascist functionary by the name Marcelo Caetano, who kept the zombie regime running and the war machine pumping. The expanding war would require more resources, and rationing of food increased. Of course, production needed to increase as well, with workers being worked to the bone while being forced to increase production. Just north of Portugal’s second largest city Porto, lie one of the countries most vital fishing ports, Matosinhos. This area was the backbone of Portugal’s fishing industry, and fishermen were working overtime. Of course the rationing meant, that the cod they were fishing would not find its way onto their plates. Wracked by hunger and long hours, in 1973, the fishermen did something unheard of in the Estado Novo era of Portugal, they went on strike.
Denied the cultural staple of bacalhau à brás while fishing for that much cod, the fishermen laid down their nets and went on strike for more pay and better working conditions. You may recall that labor strikes were banned in the early days of the Estado Novo regime, and one task of the government was to do away with class strife completely. Of course, when the regime itself is redirecting food from the working class to maintain control of overseas colonies, it begins to look like they are the ones initiating the class war. The hypocrisy of the regime that was based around nationalistic pride that couldn’t even provide salt cod for its own people was beginning to be laid bare.
Leave it to clear-eyed salt of the earth fishermen to strike the first blow on an entrenched nationalistic regime. Dreaming of piles of bacalhau à brás steaming on their plate, the fishermen were not the first to strike. The PIDE tried to suppress news of the strike, but unlike other labor actions in the early 70s, the fishermen were very visible and had a very immediate impact on the country. The strikes then spread throughout the country, including the manufacturing sector.
It seemed as though the once unassailable regime was losing its grip. The Estado Novo once was able to ban independent labor organizing completely. The fact that several strikes were able to happen was indicative of a regime running on fumes. Dissidents watched, took note, and started plotting.
I found Bacalhau à Brás to be one of the most interesting dishes I ever made. There were multiple times while cooking where I said to myself “no way this is going to come out right”. Of course, it did, and the eggs mix well with the cod, and the olives add a nice briny taste. I used an airfryer to get the matchsticks. If I was to do it differently next time, I may add piri-piri sauce. Maybe we can try one of the other 364 ways to cook salted cod next time.Bacalhau à Brás
Serves: 3–4
Prep Time: 30 minutes (plus 24–36 hours for cod soaking)
Cook Time: 20 minutes
Total Time: 50 minutes (excluding soak)
Ingredients
½ lb (225g) salt cod (soaked 24–36 hours, water changed 3–4 times)
2 cups (300g) potatoes, matchstick-cut (fresh or frozen shoestrings)
1 medium yellow onion (100g), thinly sliced
4 large eggs, beaten
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
4–8 black olives (Kalamata or Portuguese)
2 tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
⅓ tsp black pepper, freshly cracked
Pinch of sea salt
Lemon wedges, for serving
1 tsp neutral oil (if using fresh potatoes)
Instructions
Rinse salt cod and soak in water in the refrigerator for 24–36 hours, changing water every 6–8 hours. Drain and pat dry.
For fresh potatoes, peel and cut into 1/8-inch matchsticks, soak in water for 10 minutes, then toss with 1 tsp neutral oil and a pinch of salt. For frozen potatoes, proceed directly. Air fry at 400°F for 10–15 minutes, flipping halfway, until golden and crispy.
Boil cod in fresh water for 5–7 minutes until flaky. Drain, cool, and shred by hand, removing large bones.
Heat 1½ tbsp olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Cook onion for 4–5 minutes until soft. Add garlic for 30 seconds.
Add shredded cod and air-fried potatoes to the skillet. Cook for 3–4 minutes, stirring gently.
Reduce heat to medium-low. Add eggs and stir for 2–3 minutes until creamy and slightly loose.
Remove from heat. Add parsley, pepper, and a pinch of salt if needed. Top with 1–2 olives per serving and drizzle with ½ tbsp olive oil.
Serve hot with lemon wedges and crusty bread.
Notes
Ensure cod is soaked thoroughly to reduce saltiness.
Check air fryer frequently, as models vary.
Store leftovers in the refrigerator for 2 days; reheat gently.
Sardinhas Assadas: School of Fish
If salted cod is Portugal’s national dish, grilled sardines are a close runner up. Enjoyed for summer festivals, especially the June Feast of St. Anthony, most often piled on charcoal grills. They are often brushed with oil and seasoned with salt, with the natural flavors of the fish doing the rest. This love of Sardines extends to Portugal’s island outposts of Madeira and the Azores, isolated jewels in the Atlantic that were Portugal’s first prize in the Age of Discovery. Here, seafood like fresh tuna and sardines are so plentiful they are caught and cooked with the same ease as picking berries from a bush. While these volcanic islands might seem remote, they held a significant strategic position in the Atlantic, serving as a vital link between Africa and Europe. Notably, the island of Terceira was home to Lajes Field, a major NATO airbase operated jointly by Portugal and the United States. This of course, meant it was a crucial staging area for Portugal’s Colonial Wars in Africa.
The amount of manpower required to fight all out wars in three major colonies meant that all of Portugal’s young men were drafted. This meant not only die hard nationalists, but left wing university students as well. Here, they got a front seat view to the grim realities of war, imperialism, and the tenuous hold that the Estado Novo had over Portugal’s colonies. They frequently were transferred from Africa to a posting in the Azores prior to being sent back to the Mainland, disillusioned and hungry for change. The constant flow of disillusioned young officers through the Azores, coupled with the unique environment of Lajes Field where the PIDE’s reach was somewhat limited, created an unexpected breeding ground for dissent.
One such place they spoke freely was at churrascos, or barbeques, where the military would grill sardines freshly fished from the waters of the Azores. As they shared this humble meal, washed down perhaps with local wine, they would dissect the failures of the war, the injustices of the Estado Novo, and dare to dream of a new Portugal. These ideas may not have flowed as freely when the sardines weren’t involved, but they certainly stayed with the young military men.
Upon return to the mainland, a group of socialist, communist, and other dissident military officers began more serious planning. They formed the Movimento das Forças Armadas, MFA or Armed Forces Movement, a movement of disillusioned officers who were intent on back pay, an end to the PIDE, and an immediate end to the Colonial War. However, history would thrust them into a role even more far-reaching than they could have possibly have imagined.
I did not have a charcoal grill, so I used an electric griddle. I was still able to enjoy the sardinhas all the same. If you buy frozen whole sardines, like I did, you WILL have to gut the fish. Make sure you score them so the flavor penetrates. To give it a nice azores flair, I marinated in spicy pimenta moida. Washing down with some vinho branco, I must say the nice salty taste really makes the gutting worth it.
Sardinhas Assadas
Serves: 3–4
Prep Time: 15 minutes (plus 10 minutes for cleaning fish)
Cook Time: 10 minutes
Total Time: 35 minutes
Ingredients
1½ lbs (680g) fresh sardines, whole, gutted (9–12 fish; frozen, thawed)
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
¾ tbsp lemon juice
1½ tbsp Pimenta Moida (see recipe below)
¾ tsp Coarse sea salt
2 garlic cloves, minced
¾ tbsp fresh parsley, chopped
Lemon wedges, for serving
Crusty bread
Instructions
Rinse sardines, pat dry, and remove scales. Cut a slit in the belly and remove guts. Score diagonal slits on both sides.
Mix Pimenta Moida, 1½ tbsp olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, and ½ tsp salt. Rub over sardines and let sit for 10 minutes.
Heat grill or griddle to 400°F. Brush with 1 tsp oil. Grill sardines for 3–4 minutes per side until skin is blistered and flesh is opaque.
Place sardines on a platter. Drizzle with ½ tbsp olive oil, sprinkle with ¼ tsp salt and parsley, and serve with lemon wedges, extra Pimenta Moida, and bread.
Notes
Ask a fishmonger to gut sardines, or use kitchen shears for easier prep.
Store leftovers in the refrigerator for 2 days; reheat gently.
Homemade Pimenta Moida
Yield: ¾ cup
Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus 10 minutes steaming)
Cook Time: 10 minutes
Total Time: 40 minutes (plus 1 day resting)
Ingredients
8–10 red Fresno or jalapeño peppers (or 5–6 spicier red chiles, like cayenne)
3 garlic cloves, smashed
¾ tbsp white wine vinegar (or cider vinegar)
¾ tsp coarse sea salt
¾ tsp smoked paprika
⅓ tsp ground cumin
3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
Instructions
Cook peppers in a dry skillet over medium-high heat for 8–10 minutes until blackened. Steam in a covered bowl for 10 minutes, then peel skins if desired.
Blend peppers, garlic, vinegar, salt, paprika, and cumin until smooth. Add olive oil while blending.
Store in a jar and refrigerate for at least 1 day before serving.
Notes
Adjust chile type for desired heat; Fresno is milder, cayenne is hotter.
Store in the refrigerator for up to 1 month; check for spoilage after 2 weeks.
Caldo Verde: Simmering Hope
Caldo Verde (Green broth) may not be Portugal’s most well known dish, but it may be its ultimate comfort food. First being created in the far north of the country in the province of Minho, it was a stew easily afforded and accessible to the rural poor, consisting of Onions, potatoes, garlic, greens (Kale or collared greens), and sometimes chorizo. It became a staple of the rural regions of Portugal, providing warmth as the cold ocean winds brought waves that battered the rocky shores of the North. It soon spread throughout the entire country and became a staple, the creamy potato broth taking on a green hue. Caldo Verde was so associated with the simple, rural life of Portugal’s great “silent majority”, that the Estado Novo regime frequently featured Caldo Verde in its propaganda, to paint the picture of the stability and sensibility of the nice simple rural Portuguese life.
The irony was of course, that the regime was rationing chorizo and potatoes for use in the Colonial Wars that Portugal was badly losing. The people of Portugal were sick of rationing, sick of war, and sick of the Estado Novo regime. Marcelo Caetano presented a far less charismatic face of the regime than Antonio Salazar, and the public’s support was wavering even amongst the demographics that were Estado Novo’s biggest supporters. Labor strikes were becoming increasingly more common. Unknown to him, military officers had been plotting under his very nose. In an attempt to prop up the failing regime, Caetano introduced some reforms, including a token “opposition”, and loosening of press controls. However, the main albatross around his neck, the ongoing unpopular war, remained.
The churrasco conversations of military officers had evolved to a full blown movement. The goal evolved. The military officers no longer just wanted back pay, but in the context of the unrest around the country, believed they could actually topple the Estado Novo regime. MFA officers plotted out exactly how they would make their move, with plans to take military strategic locations under the cover of surprise, and swiftly topple the 48 year old regime.
In the late evening of April 24th, 1974, a banned song started playing on the local Lisbon radio station, “E Depois do Adeus”, which was a signal to MFA military officers to begin mobilizing. By the morning of April 25th, a much more triumphant song, one associated with the Portuguese anti-fascist resistance, “Grândola, Vila Morena”, was playing, signifying that the revolution was underway. MFA forces quietly took up positions in military headquarters, radio and television stations, government buildings, and airports to maintain control of the country.
As the revolution became visible, with left wing military forces taking to the streets, civilians came out to cheer them on. Many made quick pots of caldo verde, ladling soup to passing military members. The most enduring image, though, was civilians putting red carnations in the barrels of the passing soldiers' guns. From that image, the revolution was named “The Carnation Revolution”.
Marcello Caetano would take his last stand at the National military barracks, quickly surrounded by MFA forces, carnations in their guns and crocks of caldo verde in hand. It was not long before he stepped down, and handed over control of the country to the General of the military, ending 48 years of Estado Novo rule. Within 2 years, Portugal had democratic elections, and a Republic that has lasted to this very day, and one which is unique among western democracies, as it establishes socialism as a foundational ethos within its constitution.
Caldo Verde is hearty, easy to make, and tastes great. Make sure you mash the potatoes well once they are finished cooking, and before adding the kale and chorizo. The broth will become nice and creamy at that point. Kale is deceptively large before it cooks, so don’t fear if you feel you have so much. I was worried at the mashing stage, as I was worried the soup would be too thick, but the cooking of the sausage and kale quickly calmed my nerves.
Caldo Verde
Serves: 4–6
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 40 minutes
Total Time: 1 hour
Ingredients
1 lb (450g) Yukon Gold potatoes, peeled, cubed
⅓ lb (150g) couve-galega or kale, stems stripped, sliced thinly
¾ lb (340g) chouriço sausage, sliced ¼-inch thick
1 medium yellow onion, diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
6 cups (1.5L) water or low-sodium chicken broth
2 bay leaves
¾ tsp smoked paprika
1 tsp salt
⅓ tsp black pepper, freshly cracked
Crusty bread
Instructions
Combine potatoes, onion, bay leaves, and water or broth in a pot. Bring to a boil, then simmer for 20 minutes until potatoes are soft.
Remove bay leaves. Mash potatoes in the pot until thick but not smooth.
Add garlic, ¾ tbsp olive oil, and half the chouriço slices. Simmer for 5 minutes.
Add kale and simmer for 5–7 minutes until tender.
Season with salt and pepper to taste.
Heat ¾ tbsp olive oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Fry remaining chouriço slices for 2–3 minutes per side until crispy. Drain on paper towels.
Ladle soup into bowls, top with crispy chouriço, drizzle with ½ tbsp olive oil, and serve with bread.
Notes
Slice kale thinly for better texture.
If blending, cool broth slightly and blend in batches for safety.
Store leftovers in the refrigerator for 3 days or freeze for 1 month; reheat gently.
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