The Making of Portuguese Risois

Cesar and I have been married for ten years. For ten years I have been enjoying my mother-in-laws risois. She has offered to teach me countless times. Sometimes Cesar and I were rushing out the door to run errands. Sometimes I wanted to sleep in. Sometimes I always assumed that there would always be another sometime. I must admit that I never missed an opportunity to fill my belly with as many of the risois as I possibly could. They are truly a marvelous food because they are delicious piping hot out of the pot, warm as strays on the serving platter, and even yummy all forgotten and cold. There have been times when I took her up on her offer to teach me. I'd stand back and watch over her shoulder. I have learned that true Portuguese cooks don't use cookbooks. Nothing is written down. Nothing is measured. All dishes are a little bit of this and some of that. A big help in becoming a Portuguese cook is to be taught that nearly all dishes begin with a little olive oil in the pot followed by garlic and onion. Risois also begin this way. This past Thanksgiving I made up my mind that I would finally learn to make risois. Now, I should admit here to attempting to make risois round about six years ago. I was confident of the simple instructions, I had taken the most careful notes. I was so sure of myself that I invited friends over. It was a disaster. Well, I suppose I may be exaggerating somewhat. They were edible but they were not risois. It was disappointing. So the day after Thanksgiving I told my mother-in-law that I was ready, and to please, please teach me. She did. I have discovered that besides loving to eat risois I now love to make risois.