The Unveiled Portuguese Taste
Classic Portuguese and Mediterranean Cuisines with Contemporary Influence
Nonfiction, Food & Drink
| Author: | Fernando Rio | ISBN: | 9781477161722 |
| Publisher: | Xlibris US | Publication: | March 30, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Xlibris US | Language: | English |
| Author: | Fernando Rio |
| ISBN: | 9781477161722 |
| Publisher: | Xlibris US |
| Publication: | March 30, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Xlibris US |
| Language: | English |
I was born in Lisbon, Portugal on April 5, 1951. The tradition of Portuguese cooking is in my blood. Ever since I can remember, my favorite spot in the house has always been the kitchen. Growing up, my grandparents on my mothers side (along with several aunts and uncles) all had personal chefs who taught them their culinary expertise. In fact, one of my aunts Tia Madon, who was originally from Belgium, was very knowledgeable in the art of cooking and wrote a culinary book from which some of my recipes are based. As a little boy, I remember visiting my uncle Fernandos farm "Quinta da Amieira" in the Ribatejo province of Portugal. I would wake up early in the morning to the sound of horseshoes clicking on cobblestone roads. I would get up to find the cook churning butter, using cream from the cows that were milked that morning. Rustic bread was baked in an outdoor clay oven, and we would spread the fresh butter on warm slices of bread for breakfast. Really, is there anything better than this? I can still remember the smell and taste of it like it was yesterday. One particular day on the farm, I was running around playing in the kitchen (where else?), when I accidentally grabbed a red-hot iron rod from between the fire logs in the wood oven. That same iron rod, which burned my hands, would later be used to caramelize the sugar atop the crme brles we enjoyed for dessert.
I was born in Lisbon, Portugal on April 5, 1951. The tradition of Portuguese cooking is in my blood. Ever since I can remember, my favorite spot in the house has always been the kitchen. Growing up, my grandparents on my mothers side (along with several aunts and uncles) all had personal chefs who taught them their culinary expertise. In fact, one of my aunts Tia Madon, who was originally from Belgium, was very knowledgeable in the art of cooking and wrote a culinary book from which some of my recipes are based. As a little boy, I remember visiting my uncle Fernandos farm "Quinta da Amieira" in the Ribatejo province of Portugal. I would wake up early in the morning to the sound of horseshoes clicking on cobblestone roads. I would get up to find the cook churning butter, using cream from the cows that were milked that morning. Rustic bread was baked in an outdoor clay oven, and we would spread the fresh butter on warm slices of bread for breakfast. Really, is there anything better than this? I can still remember the smell and taste of it like it was yesterday. One particular day on the farm, I was running around playing in the kitchen (where else?), when I accidentally grabbed a red-hot iron rod from between the fire logs in the wood oven. That same iron rod, which burned my hands, would later be used to caramelize the sugar atop the crme brles we enjoyed for dessert.
