The fish and the soup

“Everything is relative,” I said at the dinner table, referring to what, I can’t remember.

What I do remember is one of the little humans asking what ‘everything is relative’ meant.

Clearing my throat in what I hoped was a scholarly way, I then embarked on such a garbled explanation, I didn’t make sense, even to my own ears.

Having had time to think about it though, I have something a little more… digestible, by way of explanation.

By saying everything is relative, basically the way you see the world depends on your point of view and context – perspective, if you will. What is beautiful to you, might not be beautiful to me.

What is spicy for you, may not be spicy for me. Ultimately with there is no black and white, only a personal perspective.

This week I am once again considering perspective and context and personal taste, having returned from a holiday in Portugal. If you’ve ever visited you’ll know that the Portuguese love their seafood – so much so, that extensive fish options adorn each and every menu.

In comparative terms with Ireland for example, two countries with long shorelines whipped by the North Atlantic, the Portuguese eat WAY more fish than we do.

In fact, Portugal is Europe’s leading consumer of fish and third in the world, only topped by Iceland and Japan. An average Portuguese eats a whopping 59kg of fish per year – around 130lbs worth. That’s a lot of fish.

Which was why, as soon as our Jet2 flight touched down in the Algarve, I was eager to sate my fishy appetite.

From tuna belly to tuna steaks; from Pollock tacos to salted and dried cod; from grilled sardines with lemon to jumbo prawns in piri piri sauce (so good they named it twice), I was in peixe heaven.

It wasn’t that I was trying to eat fish every day, but rather I thought, I won’t be getting such fresh options when I return home, and so I might as well make hay when the sun shines and boy, was it shining.

Even a trip to the supermarket was an eye-opening experience, such was the range of fish on offer.

At one point, I started counting the various types of frozen octopus for sale and then gave up; there was even a fresh Moray Eel curled among the ice in the catch-of-the-day section.

Of course, being a certified greedy gut, I returned home with a whole swag-bag of tinned fish.

I bought the cheapest option of sardines in olive oil that I could find, straight through to cans of tuna fillets escabeche at almost five yoyos a pop.

And it is at this juncture that we return to everything being relative.

During one foray into a supermarket, I discovered a tin of expensive food that I wouldn’t have taken had they been giving it away for free.

Heinz Tomato Soup (as you can see from the photo) was proudly displayed in the ‘international section’ and with the exorbitant price of 3.65 yoyos.

“Who in under good God is buying that and at that price?” I wondered aloud, picking up a tin to see if it might sing me a song. It didn’t.

And then I remembered…

From my perspective, the tin of soup might work as an emergency winter evening’s supper, if there’s nothing else in the cupboard that tickled my fancy. Then again, there’s no hope I’d be paying that kind of money.

However for a discerning Portuguese looking for a taste of somewhere else (maybe once upon a time they enjoyed a mugful in a café on a chilly autumn night in Dublin), they might savour the bland quasi-synthetic tomato-y taste.

Perhaps, as tuna fillets escabeche strike me as rare and exotic, perhaps expensive tins of tomato soup are rare and exotic to someone in the Argarve.

Everything is relative, after all.

Also, there is no accounting for taste.

The end.