My husband has a theory that every region of Portugal is quietly convinced its pork is the best pork, and after eating my way through a friend's family kitchen in Braga a few years...

Come July, my husband treats our backyard grill the way other people treat a church, and Lucas hovers nearby narrating everything like a sports announcer. These ribs are the reason. They disappear off the...

Sofia went through a phase last year where she wanted to make every doce conventual she'd ever heard of, in order, starting with the ones with the strangest names. Trouxas de ovos, or little...

Pica-pau means woodpecker, which makes perfect sense the first time you watch a table full of people peck at these little beef cubes with toothpicks. It's a fixture of Portuguese tascas, the small neighborhood...

My husband spent a summer working in Nice long before I met him, and he still brings up pissaladière the way some people bring up an old girlfriend, unprompted and a little wistfully. I...

Somewhere around the third heat wave of every summer, I stop making our usual pot of coffee and switch us all over to frappé instead, mostly to stop myself from complaining about the weather...

If you've made my Febras Grelhadas (recipe on the site) or the Rojoes a Moda do Minho (recipe on the site) from this site, you've already met massa de pimentao without knowing its name....

Lisbon in August is not a gentle place to be outdoors, and mazagran is the local answer to that problem: strong coffee, lemon, sugar, and ice, served in a tall glass at a cafe...

The Alentejo is sheep country, rolling and golden and about as far from the green mountains of Tras-os-Montes as you can get and still be in the same small country. My husband's family has...

Every Portuguese seaside town has some version of a grill going within sight of the water, and squid is one of the things that hits it most often, whole, scored, marinated in nothing more...