Another day, another de nata.
So simple, so heavenly – this soft, unctuous, pillowy love language that beckons brightly from every bakery window here in Porto, enveloped by a crunchy, flaky, get-it-all-over-your-lips-or-you’re-not-doing-it-right pastry dream.
Despite these seductive pastéis being my temporary daily church alongside seafood platters and buckets of wine, my blood sugars on this little trip have been pretty smooth – my type 1 diabetes just seems to compliment the Mediterranean way. (Yes I know I’m on the Atlantic coast but don’t interrupt my love story with such nonsense as geographical accuracy, please and thank you).
The walking (Porto! Your hills!) is helping, and slow mornings of perusing and meandering with coffee that coats my soul as well as my senses mean I’m ‘only’ having two (decadent) meals a day. When dining out is this this ridiculously delicious I’m just riding those carbohydrate guesstimates and trusting myself to figure the insulin doses out as I go.
And you know what? It’s fine.
Delighting in a destination’s food is pretty much the main joy (and main cost) of any holiday for me, and having type 1 diabetes has never taken away from that. Regional delicacies, authentic side-street gems buzzing with local folk and simple, high quality ingredients combined with love, care and attention is where I get my kicks and dribbles.
There is space for carbs of course – I’ve more than dabbled in the bread basket and devoured a bowl of monkfish stewed rice with childlike glee, but saving my main gluttony for seafood, oils, salads and cheeses is where I’m happiest. I’m not one for desserts (although this photo would suggest otherwise) or constant grazing, and there’s no doubt that the relaxed holiday state of being also helps to reduce insulin requirements. No my sugars haven’t been perfect, but no less perfect than any other week staying afloat with type 1 diabetes.
And do I care, while the sun shines and the church bells ring and the scooters beep along the cobbles and the old ladies fervently chatter and I go in for another bite of this food of the Portuguese gods on this quaintly tired but entirely beautiful rooftop as the city bustles below?
Nata bit.
No Comments