Zaalouk was not on my radar at all until a Moroccan neighbor brought a container of it to a block party a few summers ago, tucked in next to a tray of my own...

Filhós are the grand matriarchs of the Portuguese Christmas fry-up: pillowy rounds of orange-and-brandy scented dough, stretched thin by hand, fried in olive oil and showered with cinnamon sugar. In my grandmother’s village, the...

Arroz de feijão malandrinho — “naughty” bean rice — is the soupy, soulful rice that Portuguese home cooking cannot function without: red beans and rice simmered loose in a tomato refogado until every grain...

My husband ordered a poncha on our first night in Funchal thinking it would taste like sangria with a funny name, and about ten minutes later he was telling our waiter his entire life...

This is the soup with the story, and in this house the story is half the reason we make it. A hungry friar walks into a village in Almeirim with nothing but a stone...

I cannot believe it has taken me this many years on the blog to finally write down a proper pastéis de nata recipe. It feels almost backwards, like writing a novel and forgetting to...

Rabanadas are the smell of a Portuguese Christmas Eve: thick slices of day-old bread soaked in warm cinnamon-lemon milk, dipped in egg, fried golden and rolled in cinnamon sugar. French toast’s older, wiser Iberian...

The bifana is Portugal’s greatest sandwich and one of its proudest street foods: paper-thin pork cutlets simmered in a garlicky wine-and-paprika sauce, piled into a crusty papo seco (roll recipe on the site) with...

We stumbled into ful medames almost by accident, at a tiny Middle Eastern deli near us that Lucas insisted on trying because he liked the sound of the name. Lucas is my self-appointed savory...

By August our garden is embarrassingly overrun with tomatoes and cucumbers, more than any one family should reasonably need, and fattoush has become my answer to that particular problem. The kids fight over the...