Food has always been an expression of love in my family. We’re all great cooks, so making food for each other is a testament to time, effort, and care. It has also been through food that I have felt most deeply connected to my Portuguese heritage. Our favorite staple for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack, any meal is linguiça, a Portuguese pork sausage. We eat it in soup, in potato hash, with bread, or just on its own. It’s a necessity at any family event and a special treat for weekend breakfast. When I moved away from home for the first time, I searched everywhere and but was unable to find a store near me that sold linguiça. I realized, whenever I craved linguiça, I was missing home.
During Fat Tuesday (Terça-feira Gorda in Portuguese,) the Catholic feast before the beginning of Lent, also commonly known as Mardi Gras or Carnival, my family and friends would gather together enjoying a Portuguese feast of. Lent is a season of fasting, so the day before it begins, we feast in celebration. This year, missing home, family, and Portuguese food, I decided to try to make pastéis de nata. Pastéis de nata are quintessentially Portuguese egg tarts, one of the most popular and widely recognized foods in the country. Pastéis de nata is made up of two basic components: pastry (or pastéis in Portuguese) and cream or custard (nata).
As a college student who has limited time and resources, I had to opt for a simpler recipe. I didn’t have the foresight or stamina to spend hours making dough, so I substituted it with pre-made puff pastry. This decision truly wracked me with guilt, as I felt I was sacrificing authenticity for decreased effort. I had to stop and remind myself that this was only my first try. I have plenty of opportunities in the future to make my own dough.
Somehow, nothing about this recipe went as I expected. I doubled the recipe because the number of servings listed seemed too low, and I ended up with over a dozen pastries and an abundance of leftover custard. The pastries had to bake for more than twice as long as the recipe suggested and didn’t end up browning enough on top. I was frustrated and anxious, worried that all my effort and anticipation would be for nothing. Without these pastries, how would I ease my homesickness, my craving for Portuguese food and community?
Too excited to wait any longer, I took a bite before the pastéis had even cooled. Even with a burnt tongue, they tasted amazing. The flakey puff pastry held the sweet vanilla cream to create the perfect bite. Eating my homemade pastéis de nata, I felt I was there, in Portugal. I felt at home. In one bite, instantly, I was transported to the streets of Lisbon, rediscovering the land I wanted to know again and again; bread baking, olives, rosemary, salt, and sweet filling the air as the breeze from the Tagus River wafts a new scent with each step. I began to long for more than pastéis de nata, but as I remembered my current place (in my humble studio apartment,) far from the land of my ancestors, I realized the newfound warmth, and love brought to life with my own hands.
It’s amazing how food can so strongly connect us to ourselves, places, and people. As I was preparing the pastéis de nata, I felt the need to invite my friends to live the experience and hear the stories of my family. Through this act of sharing love through baking, I am building community with myself and with my friends. The pastries weren’t perfect, but they satisfied my hunger for connection, comfort, and sustenance.
Is there a dish you make that takes you “home?”
Keira Cruikshank