A Frugal Fiesta

I noticed newly sprouted buds on a dogwood this weekend. I also heard the calls of songbirds, saw ice melting off streams and eves, and heard tell of young coyotes wandering the neighborhood in search of mates. While the weather will certainly change (and change again) here in the suburbs of Chicago before anyone fires up their lawn mower, it doesn't take the shadow of a large rodent with [supposed]meteorological tendencies to know that spring is coming.

Instead of appreciating such portents though, this weekend's warmer temperatures left me feeling cold. Nonsensical, I know, considering today's mercury rose to +40F and I was blithely tolerating subzeros just a few days ago. Regardless, I felt chilled to the bone all weekend, craving warmth above all else... Which had me thinking of home.

My hometown of Stockton is by no means your stereotypical California city. There are no Stockton surfers, no endless beaches, no tanned hardbodies rollerblading on boardwalks. Still, Stockton is considered “Someplace Special” by some, for reasons ranging from it's milder climate (especially compared to America's Heartland where I now reside) to some of the West Coast's most delicious Mexican food. With snow still piled high at every Chicagoland street corner, the thought of sitting beside glittering water outside Stockton's Waterfront Warehouse in +70F weather, enjoying a favorite Mexican dish at Nena's Restaurant was, well... Let's just say it was a warm thought.

Which brings me to the reason for today's blog. My favorite Mexican dish is a delicious concoction made up of tomatillos, green chilies, and tender chunks of meat (usually pork or chicken) called chili verde. Though common throughout California, chili verde is one dish I've been unable to find in the Chicago area, despite the fact that there are many fine Mexican restaurants here. Perhaps that's a good thing, considering that I'm now a Weight Watcher's member and traditional chili verde is hardly Weight Watcher's friendly. In addition, chili verde can be expensive to make (cost-wise, above and beyond the Weight Watcher's points). Still, as I've blogged about in the past, a few simple tips and tricks can often allow you to adapt your favorite recipes to be both Weight Watcher's compliant and frugal.

That said, here's the recipe I made this weekend, which I hope you enjoy as much as I did!

CHICKEN CHILI VERDE WITH BLACK BEANS AND RICE

INGREDIENTS (CHILI VERDE):

2 tsp olive oil

2 medium onions, chopped

2 medium green/bell peppers, seeded and chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 lbs boneless skinless chicken breasts

3 tbsp (or more, to taste) Tabasco-brand green jalapeno pepper sauce (Note: 3 tbsp green chili powder can be subsituted for the Tabasco sauce if you live in the southwestern US and are looking to reduce your sodium intake (also orderable from Spice Traveler in Prescott, AZ))

2 tsp ground cumin

1 lb husked, halved tomatillos (Note: Finely dice if using a hand mixer vs a food processor or blender)

8 4oz cans of diced green chili peppers, undrained

4 chicken bouillon cubes

4 c water

INGREDIENTS (BLACK BEANS AND RICE)

14.5 oz can diced tomatoes with chiles (or 'Mexican-style' diced tomatoes), undrained

14.5 oz can black beans, drained

2 c brown rice (not quick/instant)

4 c water

4 beef bouillon cubes

2 tbsp margarine or butter (optional)

DIRECTIONS:

Cut up uncooked chicken breasts into ~3/4” cubes, cover, and refrigerate until needed.

Puree the tomatillos and chiles in a food processor or blender (note: You can also use a mixer, as I successfully did this weekend, you simply need to finely dice the tomatillos instead of halving them). Set aside until needed.

In a graduated glass measure or other microwave-safe container, combine the bouillon cubes and water for the chili verde, and microwave on high for 8 to 10 minutes, stirring periodically, until cubes are dissolved (Note: You can substitute store-bought low-fat chicken broth, I simply prefer the cubes because they're less expensive). Set aside until needed.

Lightly coat the bottom of a dutch oven or other large saucepan with oil. Finely dice the onions and the seeded green/bell peppers and saute them with the minced garlic over medium heat until softened, about 8 minutes. Add the cubed chicken, Tabasco green jalapeno sauce, and cumin, and continue cooking over medium heat until the chicken starts to brown, approximately 6 minutes. Add the previously prepared/set aside pureed tomatillos and chiles, and the broth, bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for around 30 minutes. Remove 1 c of liquid from the pan, use a fork or wisk to combine it with the cornstarch, then fork/wisk the liquid back into the pan. Cook another 15 to 20 minutes until thickened.

While the chile verde is cooking, combine the undrained can of diced tomatoes with chiles plus just enough water to make 4 c, pour into a medium saucepan, add the rice, the additional 4 bouillon cubes and the drained can of black beans (Optional: You can also add 2 tbsp margarine or butter at this point). Bring to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer for about 40 minutes (Note: Consult the directions on your brown rice, as cooking times can vary with brand).

Using a measuring cup or Weight Watcher's measure, serve ½ c of the rice and beans, topped with 1 c of the chili verde. Makes 12 servings, 11 Weight Watcher's points+ per serving (Note: This is a doubled recipe, as the servings freeze and reheat nicely, especially if you freeze them and then seal them via Foodsaver after they're frozen, as illustrated above).

A note to social media users: Here is a sample tweet you can use to share this recipe: 

• A new #chiliverde #recipe, made from delicious ingredients purchased @AldiUSA: http://bit.ly/1GhiE9H. #blog #foodpics @WeightWatchers

Additional acknowledgements: Portions of the above recipe were adapted from a Turkey Chili Verde recipe from Weight Watchers (http://bit.ly/18etg76)

♫ A Stock-to-nian Treat! ♪

Like many people, I'm guessing, I grew up the child of frugal parents living in frugal circumstances. Bologna or cheese? Check! Peanut butter or homemade jelly? Check!! Though I once resented such frugality, I'm now ashamed it took me so long to appreciate the reasons behind it. Bottom line, it's easier to spend money than to save it.

My childhood featured a panoply of packaged foods that transformed inexpensive meats into main dishes... Foods like Mac n' Cheese with tuna, Hamburger Helper, Triceratops Treat (yes, I really am that old (smile)). A less common box to hit the shopping cart was "Rice or Roni: The San Francisco Treat." Years later, I discovered that, while some packaged foods are more complicated/expensive to make from scratch (e.g. mac n' cheese), making flavored/savory wild rice requires little more than tossing together a few ingredients.

That said, and in support of promoting frugality the world over, here's my latest frugal recipe......

Frugal and Savory Wild Rice 'Mix'

INGREDIENTS:

• 1 c. generic/store-brand wild rice 
• 2 c. water  (Note: Amount may vary depending on the type of rice used)
• 2 cubes of generic/store-brand beef bullion 
• 2 tbsp. dried, chopped green and red sweet/bell pepper (I buy this in bulk from Penzey's or via penzeys.com) 
• 2 tbsp. generic/store-brand dried minced or chopped onion 
• 1 tbsp. margarine or butter 

DIRECTIONS: Combine all ingredients in a saucepan, stir, bring to a boil over medium-high/high heat, cover, reduce heat to simmer, cook for ~45 minutes (or less/more, depending on the rice used). One-half cup per serving, serves 4.

NOTE TO READERS: If you'd like to share this blog and recipe via social media, here's a sample tweet:

• Homemade 'rice-or-roni' -♫ A Stock-to-nian treat ♪: http://bit.ly/1oicIDn #recipe #frugal #frugality #Stockton #InStockton #blog

Stockton Deliciousness

If you're a regular user of Facebook and like to cook as much as I do, I'm guessing I'm about to describe a frustration you've experienced. Specifically, you come across a totally delicious looking and sounding recipe that ends with the words "Share this on your wall to save it." You do as instructed but, when you finally find the time to try said recipe, you're unable to find it again on your Facebook wall. To compound the frustration, even if you do find the recipe, you realize there's no way to print it!

In hindsight, it's pretty obvious to me (and to you as well, I'm guessing) that such tactics are simply a questionably ethical way to promote yourself on Facebook. Each delectably-enticing dish inspires shares and 'likes', followed by more shares and 'likes', followed by... Well, you get the picture.

Which brings me to tonight and my own little recipe. Being a native of Stockton, California (albeit an ex-pat living in exile in America's heartland), I grew up loving a Mexican dish called "Chili Verde." Chili Verde is a delicious main course made from tomatillos, green chilies, onions, lean pork or chicken, and spices, usually served with flour tortillas, refried beans and rice. Sound good? That's because it is! Unfortunately, it's also practically impossible to find west of the Rockies (e.g. I've yet to find a single restaurant here in the Chicago area that serves it). My chili verde cravings often cause me to cook up huge batches from scratch. Other times, though, I'm simply inspired to replicate that scrumptious chili verde flavor in new ways... Like tonight's chicken salad, a delicious chili verde-inspired concoction I hope you enjoy as much as I do... And which I'm posting to my blog and then sharing, so you can conveniently bookmark said recipe for future use or even print it off if you wish. Enjoy!


A Stocktonian's Chili Verde Chicken Salad

INGREDIENTS:
1/2 c. Reduced-fat olive oil mayo
4 tsp. green chili powder (orderable from Spice Traveler in Prescott, AZ, if you don't live in the southwestern US)
2 small (4.5 oz.) cans chopped green chilies
2 tbsp. Costco Kirkland-brand dried, minced onion
1 tsp. Costco Kirkland-brand salt-free seasoning
2 12.5 oz. cans of Costco Kirkland-brand chicken, well drained

DIRECTIONS:
Open two small cans of diced green chilies (note: do not drain!), add one tbsp. dried minced onion to each can, gently combine in-can to re-constitute the dried onions and soak up the green chili juice, set aside. Measure one half cup of mayo into a mixing bowl, add four tsp. green chili powder, one tsp. salt-free seasoning (i.e. generic Mrs. Dash's) and the contents of the green chili cans, stir to combine. Add the well-drained canned chicken and flake chicken with a large fork while stirring to combine. After fully combining ingredients, divide into six equal portions and serve.

SERVING SUGGESTIONS:
On whole wheat thins with fresh spinach as a sandwich, on flatbread as a wrap, on Triscuits as hors d'ouvers, as a dip for celery.

NOTE TO READERS: If you'd like to share this blog and recipe via social media, here's a sample tweet:

• Craving quick & easy #southwestern deliciousness? Try 1 #Stocktonian's #ChiliVerde #ChickenSalad: http://bit.ly/1lB6cLI  #recipe #InStockton

The Magic Door

A vivid childhood memory of an encounter with the unknown

When I was quite young, maybe four-years old, I made a miraculous discovery... I discovered a magic door!

My mom and I were in downtown Stockton, California, on the second floor of the main branch of the San Joaquin County Public Library (I believe it's now called the "Cesar Chavez Memorial Library"). It was a huge building inside, at least from the perspective of a four-year old, with cavernous ceilings, tall counters that could barely be reached, giant barrel-shaped light fixtures hanging high above, and aisles and aisles of books that went on for as far as my young eyes could see.

A housewife with an insatiable appetite for reading but no money to actually buy books, mom spent quite a bit of time in libraries. She would check out as many books as she could at one time, devour their contents within days, then head back for more. Still being too young for school, I often accompanied my mom on these 'foraging expeditions,' exploring the quiet, mysterious confines of our local libraries.

The large downtown branch was the most mysterious to me as a child, partially due to its size, but more because we seldom went there. Fair Oaks Library was our local branch, located on the east-side of town, in a neighborhood we called "Okieville". It was a small, single-story, wooden-framed building, white with blue trim, located where another street merged into East Main Street at a sharp angle, creating the small 'point' upon which the library stood. Fair Oaks also had a free morning daycare program, where my mom could drop me off, head back home for some uninterrupted housework, then return to pick me up a couple of hours later (along with a few books, of course). I remember sneaking away during story-time, exploring the familiar aisles of books, ruffling through pages looking for pictures, and spying on the librarians and other adults through small gaps between books.

The downtown branch was less fun and familiar, and more mysterious... Even scary. The aisles of books seemed sky-high, and appeared to go on further than the entire inside of Fair Oaks. And the reference section, located deep in the back, was less well lit, with dark and musty smelling aisle-ways. I think that, due to the intimidating atmosphere of the place, I tried to stay as close to my mom as possible most of the time. Sometimes though, she'd start reading right there in the library, not wanting to wait until we got back home, and I remember feeling so bored just standing around doing nothing. So, even though I was afraid, I still occasionally wandered off to explore... Which is how I discovered 'the magic door.'

It was near the front, next to a section dedicated to paperbacks, not too far from the checkout counter; Just a big, blue section of wall in the midst of a larger white wall. Once, while I happened to be looking in that direction, I saw someone walk up to that blue section, push against the wall with their finger, and the wall silently, magically parted! The person who had pressed against the wall then passed through the opening and disappeared, the wall closing behind them.

I snuck closer, peering around racks of books, trying to get a better look. Another person approached, and this time I could see the shiny black button they pressed. I watched as that blue section of wall silently parted once again, and yet another person disappeared!

To this day, I have no idea what possessed me to press that button. A fearless daredevil I was not, so it may have been curiosity... Or more likely boredom. Whatever the reason, I pressed the button, watched the blue section of wall magically part, stepped inside, and found myself trapped in a strange room!

I don't know that I even noticed the inside buttons, or that my panic allowed me to register anything other than the fact that I was trapped somewhere, in a strange room, away from my mommy. I do remember screaming, and screaming, and screaming some more... At the top of my lungs, for what seemed like hours (though I'm sure it wasn't). When the doors finally opened again, either by someone who had heard my screams or, more likely, by the next person who needed to use the elevator, I ran out of that strange room as fast as I could, straight to my mom. I'd had more than enough 'adventure' for one day!

Someplace special

A recent work-related conference placed me within an hour's flight of my hometown of Stockton, California. As the base airfare was less than $40 and opportunities to visit my parents and sister only arise once or twice a year, I jumped at the opportunity.

Some who are familiar with my hometown's many challenges might wonder why I'd bother. Not being a 'Stockton apologist', I recognize said problems and have even sung the blues about them. Problems aside though, there's a lot to like about Stockton that many (read “Forbes Magazine”, among others) either refuse to acknowledge or gloss over. After spending an extended weekend in the nation's easternmost Pacific seaport, I'd like to rectify that oversight.

Valley deliciousness

My first stop upon landing at Stockton Metropolitan Airport (SCK) was Chuck's Hamburgers, a family-run eatery dating back more than forty years. Though Chuck's menu includes a range of delectable options (e.g. milkshakes served up in the metal can, pancakes so large they're nicknamed 'manhole covers', etc.), this trip included two of my longtime favorites: A completely loaded club sandwich on sourdough and a half-order of onion rings. Yum!

The visit and related proximity to childhood memories also inspired me to make sopas (a traditionalPortuguese dish often served on or around Easter) for my parents and sister. Sopas made with fresh-baked multigrain sourdough bread from Stockton's Boudin Bakery made for yet another delicious Stockton memory.

Music and the arts

Second stop on this year's spring vacation to Stockton was the Haggin Museum. My parents and I enjoyed wine tasting, hors d'oeuvres and the blues, made possible by Friends of the Haggin (who organized the refreshments) and Ms. Lizzy and Her Cadillac Kings, the evening's talented performers. Sipping delicious, locally grown and produced red zinfandel wine accompanied by fresh California strawberries, all while listening to classics like “Sweet Home, Chicago” (a song about where I now live) made for yet another memorable moment.

The weekend's entertainment didn't end with that first night at the Haggin though. On Friday night, my parents and I enjoyed listening to local band “Bad Habits” while dining on delicious tri-tip sandwiches at Royce's BBQ. My mom and I then headed out to the Elks Lodge to listen to the classic rock n' roll stylings of “RB/X”.

[More]BBQ and Baseball

Yet another Stockton claim to fame is Banner Island Ballpark (aka 'The BIB', a minor league venue once recognized as one of the nation's finest ballparks). A quick stroll around The BIB quickly illustrates why it's a Stockton gem. Nestled alongside the headwaters of the San Joaquin River, just across the water from Stockton's downtown marina, with a host of children's activities and blessed with cool delta breezes and a plethora of dining options (I enjoyed a BBQ'd chicken salad and deep fried Stockton asparagus), I can't think of a better place to enjoy a ballgame... Which is no mean compliment coming from someone who's personally enjoyed 'The Friendly Confines' on a number of occasions.

Far away home, far away port

Watching the Stockton Ports' batters slam doubles and triples, seeing ocean-bound freighters loading up on molasses and concrete, enjoying warm sun and clear skies... Good times. Does any of that eradicate the specter of bankruptcy, high crime or Stockton's other challenges? No, of course not. That said though, I'd like to remind Stockton's many naysayers that, while the city's challenges are great, a thousand miles of sun-drenched waterways, countless acres of verdant farmland and plentiful vineyards all translate into someplace that, challenges aside, is still pretty dammed special.

Trouble in River City

River City, Chicago, Illinois

Downtown Stockton, California

An open letter to Michael Fitzgerald, Record columnist

Dear Mike,

I've given your recent blog post, “On the waterfront”, quite a bit of thought. As the varied though largely (and understandably) negative reader comments in your post illustrate, Stockton's woes are significant and complex. Are they insurmountable? No, I don't think so... Not as long as people still care... Which many still do, the purely negative naysayers aside. Still, I think most Stocktonians (even expatriates like myself) agree there are no easy answers.

Specific to the delta, yes, it's an asset, and yes, Stockton's already deriving significant economic benefits from it in the form of jobs at the Port of Stockton. There are also Stocktonians - yourself included, I believe - who view delta recreation as an essential part of their lives, lifestyles, maybe even their psyches. But Stockton is no Sacramento with it's 'old town', nor is it still named "French Camp" with it's associated trapping industry. Stockton is a bankrupt city with failing infrastructure, high crime, an understaffed police dept., an overcrowded jail, substandard public schools, limited higher education options... The list goes on and on. My intention here isn't simply to be negative or sing the blues though, but rather to show empathy and agreement that, while the challenges are great, said challenges are accompanied by dangers too great to risk inaction. That said, a few thoughts......

Crime will not decrease overnight, it's primary drivers are economic, and improvement can't await the more significant turnaround I believe is coming. So how about taking a page from my favorite Stockton film, "Cool Hand Luke"? What if, instead of building more empty houses, Stockton's rich soil was used for a new self-sustaining, low security work farm? While the idea of another Stockton-area prison rankles, such a facility could provide benefits in the form of produce to the entire California prison system (which might help it get funded), and could help address the short-term problem of a full jail.

Another thought is inspired by Chicago's River City. Yes, such a development bears some similarity to Stockton's exclusive, gated community, Brookside, but it could provide a starting point for future development... A safe, self-contained and secure place for boaters to live and commute from, that would bring in revenues and leverage the waterfront/delta locale. And, before anyone poo-poos such an idea out of hand because of the old adage, "Location, location, location" (or the equivalent naysayers response of, "No one in their right mind would ever choose to live in downtown Stockton!"), River City was developed in one of downtown Chicago's least attractive neighborhoods (the riverfront aside... And, actually, even the riverfront wasn't a slam dunk initially due to significant water pollution issues that have since been largely addressed).

One more idea I'm guessing the Stockton Chamber of Commerce might embrace... Real, powerful, effective PR in the form of more public events. While seemingly at odds with the challenges of crime and bankruptcy, I think most Stocktonians would agree that our fair (though tarnished) city sure cleans up pretty. Televised events like the bass derby and Amgen's Tour of California, both of which leveraged Weber Point instead of the controversial downtown Arena, show off the beauty of Stockton's delta locale and communicate to the wider world that there's more to the city than can be found between the pages of Forbes Magazine. Such events also foster civic pride, allowing citizens to see their hometown's glittering waters on TV and hear event attendees from across the globe comment on Stockton's beauty.

In closing, I'm fully aware that I don't have complete (or likely even significant) solutions to my hometown's woes. Still, to stop proposing solutions is to stop caring... To give up, to lose all hope. And, if there's one thing Stockton - and Stocktonians - can't afford to lose, it's hope.


Sincerely,

T.R. Nunes

Thoughts of 'Tits'

Teenage memories of a well-endowed American beauty

NOTE: This blog was originally posted to WrittenByMe.com back in 2001, almost a decade ago. I'm re-posting it here because of a recent comment of my sister's, which then reminded me of an old 'acquaintance' from long ago.

She was gorgeous, a golden all-American beauty... Tall, lithe, with small pert breasts, a sixteen year-old's dream. I've been thinking of her quite a bit lately, especially since finding a new mistress this past spring. My new love is Italian, a golden beauty as well, though much younger, more petite, and, uh, less 'well-endowed'.

I was a sophomore in high school, struggling to play 'the family instrument', an ancient tenor sax. My uncle Eugene, my dad's oldest brother, had bought the sax back in the late forties from a long since defunct little music store in downtown Lodi, California. The horn was a Buescher, made back in the mid-thirties, and I considered it to be something of an eyesore growing up. When I entered the fourth grade and was finally old enough for band, my parents bought a new case for 'The Buescher' and sent it, and me, off together on the bus for school.

Ours was a 'love-hate' relationship from the very start. I'd complain that the instrument was too hard to play, too difficult to blow, but would never practice the hours I was supposed to... "It's old, breaks down all the time, and then has to be fixed" I'd say, failing to mention the many times I'd taken a running start and slid on the case all the way across my elementary school's lunch room floor.

My whining pretty-much continued until my sixteenth year, when my sister helped change the situation completely. She, unlike me, was (and still is) an accomplished musician; A piano/keyboard player, a bass player, a composer and arranger, who today holds a master's degree in music. Back then she was an aspiring pianist in the high school jazz band who needed a new instrument to take to gigs, an instrument my parents ended up buying her... a brand-new Fender Rhodes electric piano. It was the perfect opportunity... If she could get a new instrument, why couldn't I?

Though I felt I held the 'high ground', I was still surprised when my dad, a man forever frugal to a fault (the new Rhodes is still a partial mystery to me), actually appeared to give in. He took me down to our local music store, Bill's Music on Harding Way, in Stockton, California where we lived, and we talked with the owner, Bill Magellan, about tenor saxes. Bill was almost my downfall, as he'd been a sax player himself, had tried The Buescher, and thought it a fine horn. Still, I was determined to replace that scratched up old horn with something nice and shiny, so we were shown the new student instruments, all Conns, untouched polished brass and mother-of-pearl glittering in sapphire-blue lined cases. We were also shown one other horn, a slightly older, semi-professional model I immediately fell in love with, and later nicknamed 'Tits'.

The sax itself was a tenor, also made by Conn, but an upgraded 'Artist' model, with beveled keys and improved action. I'd love to say that the horn's quality was what impressed me the most at the time, but that really wasn't the case. The feature that stood out to me (so to speak) those twenty-two odd years ago was the engraving on the front of the bell, of the nude bust of a woman. "I'd be the only guy in school to have an instrument with TITS on it!", I remember thinking to myself. Needless to say, I was sold, and my father, the man under whose tutelage I gained my early appreciation of the female form, seemed as equally impressed.

Abandoning the old family instrument to a dark closet somewhere, I took that new and sexier horn a lot of different places... On high school jazz band and choir tours across California, Oregon, and Florida, and later on the road with GoldRush, the Top-40 lounge band I joined in my senior year of high school, playing in bars, clubs, and on military bases across four states and two countries.

A year or so after getting married, in our first house and so deeply in debt that each day felt like we were but a breath away from bankruptcy, I had to sell 'Tits' to help pay some bills. She ended up being bought by a music teacher from Holt, California, who needed instruments for the San Joaquin County Schools music program.

While I'm enjoying my new Italian beauty, a professional alto sax made by Grassi that I picked up in May and played this summer in the local community band and community jazz band, it's not the same. The action's superb, the tone (even from a hack like me) vibrant, her brass and mother-of-pearl shiny and new... Still, she's a little too 'flat-chested' for my tastes, leaving me to wonder if there's another obnoxious sixteen year-old out there, back in San Joaquin County, who's just been assigned his school instrument, has removed it from the case for the first time, and discovered that he's already 'made it to first base'.

Sopas

NOTE: This blog was originally posted to Xanga.com on July 12, 2005, a little more than four years ago. I'm re-posting it here because it's about what I'm cooking tomorrow, in celebration of the first day of the second decade of the new millennium.

Sopas Because sometimes it takes a village to feed a village I sometimes joke that my family's lineage is like a Steinbeck novel (or two Steinbeck novels, actually). You see, my mother's parents drove to California in an old black Ford, strait out of the dustbowl and the pages of "The Grapes of Wrath". A few years earlier, using both legal and, er, 'less than legal' means, my father's great-grandparents arrived from the Azores and found jobs in Monterey, California, on "Cannery Row". Though I think of myself mostly as an 'okie boy', having grown up in the unincorporated 'Okieville' neighborhood of Stockton, California, I also have plenty of childhood memories of my Portuguese heritage , one of which was the attending of my first festa. Festas are held throughout Northern California every year, are sponsored by the local Portuguese Club and Catholic parish, and are a custom leftover from 'the old country'. In the Azores, a group of islands more than nine hundred miles from Portugal, festas were held each year for one very important reason... To ensure that, for one day out of the year, no one in the village went hungry. For poor Azorian villages, feeding all and sundry was probably a very daunting task, and inspired the creation of a dish called "Sopas" (or, as we pronounced it in my family, "soupish"). Sopas relied on one village patron to donate an animal, which was then cooked up in such a fashion as to maximize the number of people that could be fed. Traditional sopas consists of, at a minimum, the most inexpensive cut of beef and a pot of water and spices, all of which are cooked up together (sometimes for days), until a palatable, soup-like mixture is achieved. Trays are then arranged with thick slices of bread topped with mint leaves, upon which the soup-like mixture is then ladled onto before serving. There are a number of common variations to the 'recipe', sometimes in the area of the spices used, sometimes with additional ingredients such as onions, tomatoes, or possibly even cabbage added to the mix. When one arrives at a festa, one is first expected to pay tribute to The Holy Mother and local parish with a donation, paid at a shrine at the festa's entrance (only those who can pay are expected to, and, as a kid being raised in a Baptist church, that shrine was like nothing I'd ever seen before, let me tell you). All are then ushered into a large hall where everyone is fed. In the early days of Portuguese immigration to California's Central Valley, the local Portuguese Clubs would advertise their festas in the local papers, in an effort to continue the tradition of attempting to 'feed the entire village'. I believe this practice has diminished over the years, however, though festas still vary from the most modest of affairs (as described herein) to more elaborate events that host 'bloodless bullfights' and other activities. The history of the festa aside, sopas has become a cherished tradition in our family, one I perpetuated just this past Sunday for a visitor from Alaska. The recipe I cook up these days is a little more elaborate than you'd probably find at a festa (and is mostly the work of my Aunt Pricilla [who is Portuguese] and my mother [who is not], though she cooks like she is (smile)), but its lineage can still be traced back to a poor little village on an Azorean island called "Pico". Here it is, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do: Recipe for Sopas: Assemble in a pot one lean round roast (approx. 2.5 lbs), two sliced yellow onions, the contents of a small jar of pickling spices securely tied up in cheesecloth, two 32oz. cans of crushed tomatoes, a half to a full 32oz can of extra water, a 1.5 liter bottle (or two 750ml bottles) of burgundy, between two to four extra bay leaves, and a dash of cumin. Bring to a boil and then lower flame to a low simmer. Cook for six to eight hours until the meat of the roast falls apart (after around five hours, you can help the 'falling apart process' with a spoon, the final goal being that the meat is as evenly represented throughout as possible). When the pot is ready, take several loaves of fresh baked bread (I used sourdough back in California but, now that I've moved to Illinois, I often use Vienna loaves instead), slice the loaves into pieces that are approximately an inch and a half thick, arrange the pieces of bread in large pans (I use the bottom of broiler pans, though lasagna pans or other large pans should work just fine), place several fresh mint leaves on top of each piece of bread, ladle the soupy meat mixture over the trays of bread and serve (YUM!!!). 2012 addendum: I've been enjoying a healthier version of sopas for several years now, where I've substituted a boneless turkey breast roast (sans skin or extra fat) for the beef roast, up to 64oz of water (versus 16-32oz) and fresh-baked whole-grain loaves for the Vienna or sourdough loaves (on the unhealthy side, I also sometimes add a dash of fresh-ground sea salt to taste). I think it tastes just as good, if not better, and it's definitely lower in fat and higher in whole grains. Enjoy!