Portuguese soup

Shoot: I forgot to blog today. Calda verde, Gaye called it: as Lindsey pointed out, rather like bollito misto. Linguiça, beef, potatoes, collards, kale. Tell you the rest tomorrow.

Eastside Road, January 3, 2010 —

WELL, IT WAS like this: our old friend Gaye, I've known her well over fifty years, she was Lindsey's college roomate, and introduced Lindsey and me to one another — her mother was Portuguese, from the Azores, and Portuguese cuisine is in her blood. As is the concept of family. Holidays mean a lot to her. Also, Sunday midday dinner is part of her heritage.
I like supper in the middle of the day, but on workdays it's rarely possible, because neither of us thinks getting supper on the table is rightly the morning's work. So when Gaye invited us yesterday we jumped.
She'd boiled the beef — brisket, I think — then removed it to a platter and cooked the collard greens and kale, about equal amounts, in the bouillon, made the day before with marrow-bones. She flavored the soup with pickling spices, extra cinnamon and bay, and, at the end, some fresh mint.
On the side she fried up some linguiça with some onions, I imagine. A piece of bread in the bottom of the bowl, then the greens and bouillon on top. Later, the platter of beef and boiled potatoes; still later, green salad; last of all, some delicious caramels Lindsey'd made.

Salice Salentino, Epicurio (Sicily), nv; Pinot Noir, Sonoma Oaks, 2007