Sopa de Peixe

This is what happens when fishermen come home and their wives make do with what the sea gave that day. No recipe, really. Just the refogado that starts everything, whatever fish was too battered to sell, some potatoes, and bread waiting in the bowl.

Avó Leonor didn't cook much fish (Alentejo is landlocked, after all), but when we'd visit cousins in Setúbal, their grandmother made this soup. I remember standing in her kitchen watching her build the refogado with the patience of someone who understood that this step was everything. Cebola, alho, tomate. Onion, garlic, tomato. Low heat. No rushing. The tomatoes had to collapse completely before she added water.

The fish goes in at the end. This is important. Overcooked fish turns to mush and disappears into the broth. You want pieces you can see, tender but holding their shape. And you want variety: a firm white fish for texture, something oilier for richness. The boats didn't bring one perfect fillet. They brought whatever they had.

The bread is not a side dish here. Tear it into chunks and put it in the bowl before you ladle the soup. The bread drinks the broth. That's the point. That's why day-old bread exists in Portuguese cooking: not because we were too poor for fresh bread, but because stale bread does things fresh bread cannot.