Fritada de Chouriço e Batata

This is the kind of cooking that fed Portugal's workers. Field hands and factory workers. Fishermen heading out before dawn. Grandmothers who knew that a fritada made the night before would feed a family through a long morning.

Avó Leonor made fritadas when there was chouriço to use and eggs from the neighbors' chickens. She'd slice it into thick wedges, wrap them in waxed paper, and send my uncles off with something substantial in their pockets. No fancy brunch. No avocado toast. Just eggs, potatoes, and good chouriço doing honest work.

The technique is simple but not careless. You cook the potatoes until they have golden edges. You render the chouriço until the fat runs red with paprika and smoke. You build the layers and let the eggs do the rest. The oven finishes what the stovetop started.

This is make-ahead food at its finest. Bake it Sunday night, slice it cold Monday morning. It tastes better the second day, when the flavors have had time to settle. The chouriço perfumes everything. The potatoes soften just slightly but keep their shape. This is who we are: practical, economical, and never willing to waste anything good.