Ovos Mexidos com Chouriço

This is breakfast the way it should be. No rush. No complication. Just eggs, good chouriço, and the patience to cook them properly.

I learned this standing at Avó Leonor's stove on cold winter mornings in Alentejo. She'd crumble the chouriço into the pan before I was fully awake, and by the time the kitchen filled with that smoky, paprika smell, I was ready to eat. She never measured anything. A handful of sausage, a few eggs, a knob of butter. The proportions were in her hands.

The secret is in the fat. You render the chouriço slowly until its smoky oils perfume everything. Then you cook the eggs in that fat, low and slow, folding them gently until they form soft curds stained orange from the paprika. Stop before they look done. They'll finish on the plate.

At Mesa da Avó, I serve this for our brunch pop-ups. People expect something complicated, and I give them eggs and sausage. Then they taste it and understand. This is what happens when you respect simple ingredients. This is what happens when you don't rush. A cozinha é memória, and this dish tastes like every morning I spent in my grandmother's kitchen.