AZORES GALORE
BUDDING CHEF ADAM POSTANS SAMPLES THE A-PEEL OF THE AZORES
IT was a tough decision. But in the end I played it safe. “I’m on carrots, chef!” I told Henrique, our lunchtime host in the Portuguese midatlantic island chain of the Azores, as I brandished my weapon of choice – a blunt scraper.
We’d been told we’d be making our own dinner for later, a local speciality called Cozido das Furnas. But the truth was we were glorified vegetable peelers.
Cozido is a one-pot stew, but what makes it unique is the cooking method – they bury it in the ground on the shores of a lake and let the natural volcanic heat do its stuff over seven hours before hauling it out with iron rods and serving it at the restaurant.
So there I was at my culinary work station, a one-man kitchen nightmare in an apron and chef’s hat. And given the option of peeling either a carrot or an impenetrable-looking yam, I went for the easy pickings.
It was clearly a good decision. Having made swift work of the veg under Henrique’s steely gaze, he offered me a job in the kitchen there and then.
Only the laughter of the staff, the wiping of tears and the elbowing made me think it wasn’t entirely genuine. Either way, it was clear I’d made an invaluable contribution to “the brotherhood of the pot”.
In went the spuds, sweet potatoes, cabbage, chicken, blood sausage, chorizo and great big butcher’s cuts of beef shin, pig’s foot, pig’s snout and pig’s ear.
And what did you have? A pig’s ear, if it had been left entirely to me.
But fortunately it hadn’t. The packed metal pot was wrapped in a bedsheet, the “brotherhood” (clueless tourists) signed with a marker pen and off we went to lower it into a geothermal culinary graveyard.
The result was sensational. You should have tried the carrots.
There can’t be many places where a hole in the ground is the highlight. Unless you’re a golfer. Or a caver. Or an undertaker on a busman’s holiday. But the Azores is an extraordinary place of prehistoric wonder and natural beauty.
From deep below the primordial soup in the town of Furnas, volcanic pools bubble and hiss, steam hangs heavy in the air and the unmistakable aroma of sulphur is an assault on the senses. But it’s quite the experience.
I was on the largest of the farflung archipelago’s nine islands, São Miguel, nicknamed the Green Island, 1,000 miles from the mainland.
The first thing to say about the Azores is that it is not a sunseeker’s paradise. When it rains, it RAINS. And it rains A LOT.
But the mild, temperate climate makes it a year-round destination for nature lovers, hikers, wellness seekers and suckers for great scenery, food and culture… in fact anyone whose goal isn’t to lie on the beach for two weeks.
And if inhaling sulphur isn’t your thing, I’ve good news. The picture-postcard images you’ll see in guidebooks are the pick of an embarrassment of riches from stunning lakes in craters of extinct volcanoes to jagged landscapes carved by the elements.
It’s like someone has taken a god-like giant claw to South Wales’ most rugged coastline and plonked it in the middle of the ocean, removed the steelworks and added stuff like whale-watching.
We went out on a rib and, although searching for whales was a wild goose chase, we came across three separate pods of dolphins – who, let’s face it, are far more fun anyway – surfing the waves, crisscrossing the bow and belly-slapping the surface. Generally
informing us they’re having a much better time than humans.
Then it was off for lunch at the pick of a fine selection of restaurants during our stay, Meia Nau at the Pedras do Mar Resort (try the shrimp with garlic and lemon starter and the green tea crème brûlée dessert).
How better to let a four-course meal go down than with a relaxing chill by the pool?
We, however, were herded into a 4x4 for a breakneck jeep tour on a loop of unkept roads where potholes go to die, around the 15-mile crater rim of Sete Cidades lake.
It’s actually two lakes that, legend has it, were formed by the tears of a forbidden love between a princess and a shepherd.
Our guide Eduardo is a walking encyclopaedia with a flurry of local facts and trivia.
“This volcano was formed by a Plinian eruption, whereas that one was Strombolian.”
“Tom Hanks’ and Katy Perry’s grandparents were from here.”
And this humdinger: “Of the 800 brass bands in Portugal, 110 are in the Azores.”
São Miguel also has Europe’s only tea plantations and we visited Gorreana, which remains a family business since it was founded in 1883.
You can walk among the plants on 32 hectares sloping down to the coast and even watch as women in the factory sort the tea by hand.
Next stop was the Pico do Ferro viewpoint above Lake Furnas where we’d soon be revolutionising the culinary world. Stroll safely along the walkway among dramatic fumaroles and boiling springs.
Next up was Terra Nostra Garden, which has 2,000 species of trees and plants, but is most famous for its iron-rich thermal pool. A walk through Furnas village took us to a square where they’ve made a seamless feature of the volcanic vents.
And, with that, “the brotherhood of the pot” were back at À Terra, Octant Furnas restaurant to sample the fruits of our labour and the next day flew to Lisbon for a stay at the five-star Vila Galé Collection Palácio dos Arcos hotel – all of us too tired from our exploits of what felt like a week’s worth of tourism in two full-on days to discover the Portuguese capital. So did I fall in love with the Azores? No. Not love. I liked it very much. And I’ll always have Cozido das Furnas. I might even brave the yams next time.
The Azores is an extraordinary place of prehistoric wonder and natural beauty