Todos os Nomes…………José Saramago

Everywhere in the world we see lower division clerks attached to some Public Office struggling to make ends meet, eking out a living which means living a frugal life, which is what Senhor Jose, a fifty year old bachelor does. He has the job of a lower division clerk at the Central Registry of Births and Deaths; his is the lowermost rung in the carefully, structured hierarchy, with the Conservador at the peak of the triangle. The meagre salary forces him to lead a parsimonious existence with hardly any luxuries. But Senhor Jose, like all people having limited resources has a hobby that makes his lonely evenings not only bearable but pleasurable. Senhor Jose, collects famous people, he very assiduously collects cuttings of the lives of actors, actresses, even bishops. As Senhor Jose lives in a world of hierarchy, he has tiers and rungs for his personages, actors with their very colourful lives occupying the topmost rungs. Here he was updating his collection one fine day, when he gets this tremendous idea. 'Why not add all those details which are so often hidden from the press and the general public, but which are so easy for me to get’.  All it took was some midnight excursions to the bowels of the Registry deep in the night. By some good fortune Senhor Jose lived in a tiny house attached like a limpet to the massive Registry and best of all he has the connecting key to the Registry. The sense of adventure, after his frugal meal he sets off on these midnight excursions, a twist of the key and there he is inside that colossal edifice, climbing that tall ladder (he is afraid of heights) in search of documents to embellish his collection, oh the fright, cobwebs brushing  and stickily clinging to his face. Senhor Jose lives for his midnight adventures. For once in his 26 years of impeccable service, Senhor Jose is distracted and shoddy in appearance, gets pulled up for inferior performance but is he bothered? No way, things are interesting, moving on well, the nuggets he gleans enrich his collection beyond belief.

Until by chance he picks up the file of the Unknown Woman. Who is this Woman? Is it destiny that her file just gets tagged on to the file of a famous personality and that Senhor Jose just picks up her file? Senhor Jose is filled with a deep sense of adventure, a quest to find the life of the Unknown Woman. His commitment leads him to do things he had never done before, which is what adventure is all about, he forges credentials, visits the Unknown Woman’s apartment where he meets the Lady on the Ground Floor to the Right. Now the Lady on the Ground Floor to the Right tells him that she is the Godmother of the Unknown Woman and in her youth was involved in an affair with the Unknown Woman's father, sadly she no longer keeps in touch with the Unknown Woman, not surprising is it? On with the quest, he now visits the Unknown Woman's school, breaks a window to enter, robs her photographs and her file. Senhor Jose is now completely involved in his character of an adventurer. He relishes the idea of a night in spent in the School, robs food and sleeps on the sofa. And then when at work, he stumbles upon the Unknown Woman's Death Certificate. What should he do? Should he give up? Not at all, he decides to go in search of her grave, sadly it turns out that the Unknown Woman has committed suicide. Why? Could it be that the Unknown Woman has committed suicide because Senhor Jose was prying in her life so very much and she just could take it no longer? Senhor Jose is not very concerned with the cause of her death by now his only concern is the quest.

The quest for the Unknown Woman, uncovers facets of Senhor Jose’s life that he himself never knew existed. He does things that he has never done before; it makes him wonder at himself. He meets people who go on to become his friends. He gets out of his staid life of 26 years and rediscovers another Senhor Jose hidden deep within himself.  Now he has a life, forgotten is his collection of famous people.

He has his life full of adventure, why be a voyeur of others lives.

Did you think that all that Nuns did was pray?

Did you think that all that Nuns did was pray?

The Abbess D. Isabel Nascimento was concerned.

As the Abbess of the prestigious Real Mosteiro de Santa Clara de Vila do Conde she had much to do, much to worry about.  

Looking over the broad expanse of the kitchen gardens which were magnificent, she cast her mind back to when she had joined the Convent at seventeen.

She smiled at the memory, how sad she had been, she had never wanted to join the Cloister. Who would have wanted to relinquish freedom for these walls?

Fate she decided had not dealt her a good hand; she was plain, very intelligent but plain, as her shrewd Father put it to her,

 ‘Isabel you are intelligent but men like to marry meek and beautiful girls’.

So Convent it was for her Isabel, her Father had paid a large dowry and as he put it with a wry laugh,

‘Even to marry Jesus you need a Dowry. One would have thought that after all His preaching; Jesus would not mind a poor bride!’

Of course she had never wanted to be a Bride of Christ; she had wanted a man of flesh, blood coursing through his veins, a man who would keep her warm during those long winter nights.

But she was a woman of principles; she would not neglect her duties, she would make her life a success. And she had done just that, through sheer determination and astuteness she was now the Abbess of the Real Mosteiro de Santa Clara.

She sometimes she lacked the patience needed to console young girls who joined the Convent sometimes forced by their parents, sometimes a jilted young girl.  

Now that young girl Teresa pampered and spoiled by her doting old father. The Abbess knew Teresa had lost her mother and was very lonely and sad, now she imagined herself in love with that lout Simão.

The Abbess loathed Teresa when she wept, when she yearned for ‘her’ Simão.

However, her astute mind never forgot that Teresa was rich, very rich indeed, the only pampered daughter of an old father. It was for this reason alone that the Abbess tolerated her weeping.

Look at that other girl, thought the Abbess, weeding the garden. The Abbess admired this girl; she had pluck, Joanna the daughter of the King of Portugal. The Abbess could never figure out Joanna. She never displayed her inner turmoil.

Was she here of her own free will as the King had explained to the Abbess?

Or was it that Joana like the Abbess herself, had failed to find a husband?

Whatever the reason, Joanna never let her feelings show; she was calm, very hard working and had wonderful sense of humor too.

But the Abbess was not thinking of the girls, their virtues or their failings. She was worried about the terrible waste in the kitchen.

The Abbess loved good food, loved celebrating all feasts, but wasting anything was not tolerated. The other Nuns called her the ‘Miser’, ‘the Plebeian’.   

The Aristocratic Nuns were aware that the Abbess was a Plebeian; that she came from the Trader Class, that she had brought a fabulous dowry.  But, they also knew her to be a very astute business person, just like her Trader Papa. 

 ‘Is she not the person who takes our dowries and lends it at high rates of interest?’ the Aristocrats mumbled

‘And that allows us to have a good life,’ retorted the other Nuns.  

Everyone knew that the convent produced hundreds of eggs; hundreds of egg whites were sold to clarify wines, egg whites were also used for preparing the hosts used in the Holy Mass, besides the nun’s habits were starched with egg whites. Oh yes, egg whites were an extremely lucrative business for the Abbey.

But what worried the Abbess dreadfully, were the hundreds of egg yolks going waste. The pigs were fed these egg yolks, but they ate a lot of kitchen scraps and did not need such rich food.

 ‘How do I solve this terrible waste?’ ‘Oh how do I tackle this immense problem worried the Abbess... ‘

The Abbess was a woman of action.

‘A meeting…’ ‘Ideas, fresh ideas not musty well worn out practices’.

‘What can be done with these hundreds of yolks?’

‘Sister Ursula, do not… please do not tell me we are feeding the pigs with them.’

The discussion went back and forth.

Suddenly, when everyone least expected it, Teresa said in a quavering voice.

‘Why don’t we cook these yolks with sugar?’

The Abbess was thunderstruck, here was Teresa actually thinking of something else besides that oaf Simão.

‘Tell us more, Teresa, tell us more’ she urged.

It turned out that the one thing Teresa actually liked was cooking.

It was then decided to make a ‘Doçe-de-ovos’, a simple dessert, all you did was cook the yolks in sugar. The nuns were not ignorant about sweets and desserts, but they had always used honey as a sweetener. Since the XV Century however, sugar was abundant in Portugal, its uses versatile. Convents were rich and could afford large quantities of sugar.

What excitement pervaded the Abbey, the kitchen smelled delicious, what discussions, so much laughter.  But nothing was as simple as they had thought; sugar although adaptable was tricky, it had its drawbacks. It charred and blackened at the slightest provocation.

A long time later, three basic recipes were formulated, the ‘core’ of the ‘doçaria conventual .’ Ovos-moles, fios de ovos and capas de ovos.

For a more refined and sophisticated taste large quantities of almonds were added, these were the ‘Queijinhos de amêndoa’ moulded into any shape you desired.

With this as a base or the ‘core’, new recipes were devised with great success. These new culinary ideas were a breath of fresh air that blew through all the Convents and Abbeys in Portugal.

In Goa our very Bebimca, the addition of coconut juice to the ‘core’ produced an entirely new flavour.