River and Lake Food

Heading home with my Holy High salad, I bumped into one of my students outside the apartments we were both staying at.  I remember from class he’d said he’ enjoyed Shanghai but was ready to go home.  "Where are you heading after things are done? " "Back home to Portugal. I can’t wait.  I can’t wait for sea food.  They have it here but it doesn’t taste the same."

I thought about “sea food” in Shanghai.  Or at least river and lake food.  A poached perch, a hairy river crab, plates of black snails the size of marbles, these are the iconic “sea” food bits spring to mind off the local menu.  Of course you can get anything these days, and China’s long plucked things from the ocean for the table as well.  But I could see what he had in mind.  Or at least I could imagine it. 

There is a photo that spins up from time to time of a glass enclosed, ice strewn showcase for the catches of the day I'd snapped in Portugal.  An enormous red grouper with pursed lips and five other handsome dead fish with forlorn eyes, staring off from the ice.  This was a beach side restaurant we ambled into in the Algarve one day.  It is a nice memory.  Our greater family was all together.  Everyone ate well and marvelled at whatever it was they had.  I suspected my student had something like that tray in his mind. 

“Yeah.  I can’t wait to have seafood.  Real seafood.”  I ran through the different stops on that trip.  Sintra, which Byron had fallen in love with and Porto which tumbles down to the river front.  I couldn’t remember the names of the two medieval towns we visited near the Algarve, but they are clear in my mind, punctuated by a carpet I bought in one and a plate in another.  I imagined him there in the Algarve in a few days time and I envied him for a moment.  I wanted to taste that food again, just for a night.  I turned and headed back upstairs with my salad.

Friday, 7/28/17