Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, they say. And on the other end of the spectrum, there are people who practice intermittent fasting, so they don’t eat anything for 16 hours after their last meal of the day.
They then do keto, and certainly not coffee with chocolate cake
I’m in between. Sixteen hours seems a bit long, and my stomach completely agrees. The rest of my internal organization too, by the way. I can wake up in the morning thinking, “Did I defrost a bolo (Portuguese cake)? Oh no, forgot. I guess I’ll just have oatmeal then – it’s very healthy, they say…”
Today I was lucky. A brigadeiro, a chocolate cake with chocolate sprinkles on top.
Left behind by unexpected passers-by. “We were there 5 years ago,” says the man of the couple while the woman of the couple hides behind the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, yes, um …” I answer, a bit confused, because I am just supervising a volunteer behind the kitchen with a container of plaster. That took all my attention for the moment.
“Do you live around here?” I guessed, but no: “We’re staying nearby, and we’re on our way back now, so we thought: we’ll take a cake with us and have a nice cup of coffee in the Termas.” Oh, a chat with coffee and chocolate cake… that would be lovely, but unfortunately I’m stuck with that cup of plaster.
In case you don’t know, dear readers, plaster is a quick-drying substance, and if you’re not careful, you won’t even be able to pronounce this while the plaster hardens. We are talking about 10 minutes max. So I sincerely hope that the volunteer continues to apply the stuff, otherwise we will be left with yet another hardened cup of plaster. That way the gap will never close. Patiência…
Plaster-related stress is the worst there is
“Oh, well, that’s okay, if you don’t have time…” and with that my guilt shoots up like a skittish bird, and we sit in a mutual murmur of how it doesn’t matter… , and we dropped by unexpectedly… , and that I would like to serve a cup of coffee, but that plaster…, after which the man pushes the box into my hands with the words: “Here look, eat it in good health, we bought it for you. We’ll do the coffee next time then – we come this way regularly …”
My guilt is now out of the atmosphere, but yes, that damn cup of plaster…
Before I know it, they’re gone again, and I’m standing with a seductive brigadeiro in my hands. If you like sweets, dear readers, then you should really come to Portugal. There are so many different cakes, tarts and tartelettes that you can sink your teeth into for breakfast – unless you’re on keto, you’ll feel like you’re in heaven.
Lovely people, good cake, bad timing. If you read this: sorry! And thank you!
I still feel like a very bad hostess, but I really enjoyed your brigadeiro.
We moved here in 2000 from Rotterdam, Holland to the Termas-da-Azenha, Portugal.
A big step, especially with two small children.
You’ll find mosaics and paintings everywhere.
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