Favas com Chouriço

When the first favas appear at the market, you know winter is finally over. In Portugal, this is cause for celebration. In the Azores, it's practically a holiday.

My grandmother didn't grow favas in Alentejo (too hot, too dry), but I learned this dish from the Azorean grandmothers I've documented. Every May 1st, Labour Day, families gather around bowls of favas com chouriço. The workers' holiday. The spring holiday. The kind of cooking that says: we made it through another winter, and now we feast on what the earth gives us.

The technique is simple because it has to be. A slow refogado of onion and garlic. The chouriço goes in early so its smoky fat flavors everything. Then the favas, a splash of water, and patience. You're not cooking here so much as coaxing. Low heat. No rushing. The beans should turn creamy but hold their shape.

At Mesa da Avó, we serve this in the center of the table with a basket of bread and nothing else. The bread is not decoration. It's for soaking in that broth, that red-tinged liquid that tastes like smoke and spring and comfort. This is petisco eating at its finest: shared plates, torn bread, conversation that goes longer than planned.