Antonio Tabucchi - Requiem - A Hallucination

We had reached the restaurant. Senhor Casimiro was leaning in the doorway, a white apron covering his enormous belly. Good afternoon, Senhor Casimiro, Tadeus said in greeting, I’ve got a surprise for you, do you recognise this man? you don’t remember him, eh? Well he’s an old friend come back from the void on this blazing hot day, he’s come to see me again before I go to the devil once and for all, and I’ve invited him to eat sarrabulho. Senhor Casimiro solicitously opened the door for us and let us pass. An excellent idea, excellent, he exclaimed, waddling after us into the large empty room, where would you like to sit? today you have the whole restaurant at your disposal. Tadeus chose a table in a corner, beneath the fan. Senhor Casimiro’s restaurant was lovely. The floor was laid with black and white slabs of marble, the walls lined with blue and white tiles from the early part of the century. In the opposite corner of the room, near the kitchen, was a parrot on a perch, who every now and then let out a cry: Just as well! Senhor Casimiro arrived bearing bread, butter and olives. With sarrabulbo you really ought to drink red wine, he said, but I don’t know if your friend would like that, I have a Reguengos in the cellar that I can heartily recommend. The Reguengos is fine by me, said Tadeus. I nodded and sighed: All right, but it’ll finish me off.

The sarrabulho was served in an earthenware dish, the traditional type, terracotta with yellow flowers painted on it in relief. At first glance, it looked revolting. In the middle of the dish were the potatoes, roasted in fat, surrounded by chunks of pork and tripe. The whole thing was drenched in a brown sauce that was probably made from wine or cooked blood, I hadn’t the slightest idea which. It’s the first time I’ve ever eaten anything like this, I said, I’ve been coming to Portugal for years and years, I’ve travelled the country from north to south and I’ve never felt brave enough to eat this, today will be the death of me, I’ll get food poisoning. You won’t regret it, Tadeus said, serving me, eat up, my fearful friend, and stop talking nonsense. I stuck a fork into a bit of pork, almost closing my eyes to do so, and raised it to my lips. It was delicious, it had the subtlest of flavours. Tadeus saw this and looked delighted, his eyes shining. It’s wonderful, I said, you’re right, it’s one of the most delicious things I’ve eaten in my whole life. Just as well! croaked the parrot. I second the parrot, said Tadeus, and poured me a glass of Reguengos. We ate in silence. Now, my fearful friend, said Tadeus, why have you come? I’ve already told you, I replied, because of that note you’ll write to me before you die, because I’m obsessed by those words, Tadeus, and I want to live in peace, I want you to rest in peace too, I want peace for all of us, Tadeus, that’s why I’m here, but I’m here too because of another idea that obsesses me, because of Isabel, but I’ll tell you about that later. All right, said Tadeus, and he made a sign to Senhor Casimiro. Senhor Casimiro must call his wife, said Tadeus, we must offer her our congratulations. Senhor Casimiro disappeared into the kitchen and shortly afterwards a woman in a white overall came out. She was plump and had a faint moustache. Did you enjoy it? she asked, looking embarrassed. We adored it, said Tadeus, my friend says it’s the best thing he’s eaten in his entire life. He looked at me and said: Tell her, my friend. I told Senhor Casimiro’s Wife and she looked even more embarrassed. They’re just simple dishes, she said, things people in my village used to cook, it was my mother who taught me. Simple my eye, replied Tadeus, don’t talk nonsense, Casimira, there’s nothing simple about this, it’s a work of art. Senhor Tadeus will have his little joke, said Senhor Casimiro’s Wife, and I’ve already told you not to call me Casimira, my name’s Maria da Conceição. But Casimiro’s wife should be called Casimira, said Tadeus, I’m sorry Casimira, but that’s decided, and now explain to this young man how you make sarrabulho à moda do Douro , so that he can return to his own country and make it at home, because where he lives they only ever eat spaghetti. Really? asked Senhor Casimiro’s Wife. Absolutely, said Tadeus, they eat nothing but spaghetti. No, no, said Senhor Casimiro’s Wife, even more embarrassed, I didn’t mean that, I meant does your friend really want to know how to make sarrabulbo . Of course I do, I said, I’d love to know the recipe, if you don’t mind telling me that is. First, you’ll have to forgive me, sir, said Senhor Casimiro’s Wife, because where I come from, the real sarrabulho is served with polenta , but I didn’t have any maize flour today so I used potatoes, but anyway I’ll tell you the ingredients for a real sarrabulho, I never measure anything, I do everything by eye, anyway, you need loin of pork, fat, lard, pig’s liver, tripe, a bowl of cooked blood, a whole bulb of garlic, a glass of white wine, an onion, oil, salt, pepper and cumin. Sit down, Casimira, said Tadeus, and have a little glass of this Reguengos de Monsaraz, it’ll help you to explain even better. Senhor Casimiro’s Wife thanked Tadeus, sat down and accepted the glass of wine he offered her. Right, said Senhor Casimiro’s Wife, if you want to make a good sarrabulho you have to prepare the meat the night before, cut the pork into cubes and marinate it with the chopped garlic, wine, salt, pepper and cumin, by the next day the meat will be really tender and will smell delicious, next you take an earthenware dish and add the chopped up fat from the folhos , that’s what the fat joining the intestines together is called, and let it melt over a low flame, brown the cubed pork in the lard over a high flame and then leave to cook slowly. When the meat is almost done, pour over the marinade from the night before and let it boil off. Meanwhile, cut up the tripe and the liver and fry it all in the lard until it’s nicely browned. Then fry the chopped onion in the oil and add it to the bowl of cooked blood. Then mix everything together in the earthenware dish and the sarrabulho is ready, flavour with more cumin if you want and serve with potatoes, polenta or rice, as I said I prefer polenta because that’s how they serve it where I come from, but that’s entirely up to you.

Senhor Casimiro’s Wife gave an exhausted sigh and placed a hand on her heaving bosom. And there you are, she said, after that your stomach does all the work, you just have to eat it up. Bravo! exclaimed Tadeus, applauding, do you know what that’s called, Casimira? it’s called a first-class lesson in material culture, I’ve always preferred the material to the imaginary, or rather, I’ve always preferred to inflame the imagination with the material, the imagination should be handled with care, even the collective imagination, someone should have told Herr Jung that food always comes before the imagination. I don’t understand a word you’re saying, said Senhor Casimiro’s confused Wife, I haven’t studied like you have, I was brought up in a village and never got beyond primary school. It’s very simple, Casimira, said Tadeus, all I mean is that I’m a materialist, but entirely non-dialectic, which is what distinguishes me from the Marxists, the fact that I’m not a dialectical materialist. You’re certainly “dialectical”, replied Senhor Casimiro’s Wife shyly, you always have been, ever since I’ve known you. That’s a good one, laughed Tadeus, slapping his knee with the palm of his hand, Casimira deserves another glass of Reguengos for that! No, said Senhor Casimiro’s Wife, you don’t want to get me drunk, do you? That’s precisely what you should do, said Tadeus, I bet you’ve never been drunk in your life, have you? You ought to drink half a bottle of Reguengos before going to bed with Senhor Casimiro, you’d be in seventh heaven, you and your husband. Senhor Casimiro’s Wife lowered her eyes and blushed. Look, Senhor Tadeus, she said, it doesn’t matter to me if you choose to make fun of me, you’re an educated man and I’m just an ignorant woman, but making indecent remarks is another matter altogether, if you don’t treat me with more respect I’ll tell my husband. Senhor Casimiro doesn’t mind, replied Tadeus, he’s just a dirty old man, come on now, don’t be angry, Casimira, have another little drink and then bring us the dessert or whatever you’ve prepared today, we have absolute confidence in your desserts.