Royally Claimed - By Marie Donovan Page 0,43
calcium or salt content, because it left a crystal-white coating that looked like snow or icicles depending on where it dripped. A pool of water lay below the walkway they traveled, and Julia was careful to watch her step and stay well back from the railing.
An older woman with short black hair shot with gray sat nearby with husked corn on the cob and small brown potatoes in a basket on the path just past the walkway. Frank asked her a question in Portuguese and she replied, pointing at the water.
He grinned and handed her a few euros. “She says it’s almost ready.”
Julia knew what was coming when the woman hauled on a rope to pull up a steaming hot mesh bag from the spring itself. The vendor carefully drained most of the water and opened the bag into a battered metal colander. Cobs and potatoes tumbled out, and the woman tossed one of each into two rectangular carry-out trays. “Bom appetito.”
“Thank you.” They walked along the path for a few minutes. Julia blew on the golden corn cob and debated how to eat the potato without any utensils. The corn cooled faster, and she decided to try that first, nibbling along it.
Frank took a bite of his, as well. “Well, what do you think?” he asked, once they were done chewing.
“It does taste different—but not bad. Almost pre-salted.” She ate another row, getting used to the different flavor. The corn grown here probably tasted different in the first place due to the volcanic soil, a huge contrast from the sandy and sometimes swampy Massachusetts ground.
He picked up his potato and bit into it like an apple. “Needs butter,” he mumbled, the unadorned root vegetable starch obviously a challenge for him.
“Want me to find some water for you to wash that down?” she asked sweetly, guessing that any taps here in the park were probably just as odiferous as the first one.
He gave her a sidelong glance that promised retribution later and finally swallowed. “No, thank you.”
Julia laughed and finished her corn. It actually was quite flavorful and juicy. The spring probably cooked it quickly. Frank abandoned his potato and switched to the corn. She consented to taking a small bite of potato just for the flavor experience but he was right—it did need butter.
“Lunch will be much more flavorful, I promise.” Frank took the paper trays and pitched the remnants into a garbage can.
“More of that chunky fish stew?” He had cooked that for her a few days ago, and it had been delicious.
“Not today.” He took her hand. “Benedito’s cousin lives nearby, and they are having us to lunch today for the local specialty—cozido.”
“I’ve never heard of that dish.”
He grinned as if holding a big secret. “It’s very local. You can’t find it anywhere else in the world.”
Julia grimaced slightly. She was always leery of claims like that, especially on islands where truly odd bits of seafood or meat could be claimed as delicacies. “We’re not eating cod brains or pig’s private parts, are we?”
He roared in laughter. “If you’ve lived around the world like I have, you’d be worried, too,” she retorted. “My father is a very adventurous eater and my mother is always hovering over him to make sure he hasn’t caught some rare parasite.”
He caught her hand and they walked along the path. The trees were green and lush, and she had the same disjointed feeling she’d always had in the Azores. Portuguese, but not Mediterranean. Atlantic seacoast, but not American. Tropical oranges, pineapples, even tea plantations, but not hot and sunny.
“My French friend Jack worked in all sorts of bad conditions, and he finally got sick last year. I had worried about that for years, but you can’t tell a doctor anything.”
She snickered in agreement, knowing many more doctors than Frank. “Is he okay now? What did he catch?”
“Dysentery.”
“Oh.” Julia groaned. She’d only seen a couple cases of that but knew it was a nasty, possibly fatal disease if not treated properly.
“He’s okay now, but he needed several months to recover. In a fortunate twist of fate, he met Lily, an American travel writer, as he was traveling home to Provence. He was planning to sit in the sun to recuperate but instead wound up falling in love. He and Lily just got married last summer and now they are having a baby.” His smile was heartfelt, but maybe a bit wistful.
“How exciting! Oh, look at that hot spring. The water looks almost silver.”