a longing & a calling

Born in Colorado, bred Portuguese. Creative by nature and seeking to preserve a legacy.

You may have heard of the term “Saudade”, a feeling of longing, melancholy, and nostalgia that is quintessentially Portuguese. I grew up very closely with my grandparents, Avô and Avó, who were from small towns on the island of São Miguel, Açores. I spent many hours listening to stories from the old country while I ate from my Avó’s kitchen. There was always a strong sense of belonging with my Portuguese culture, but only recently did I get the chance to visit São Miguel. While seeing my family’s homeland, I was hit with an immense sense of nostalgia that has never left my bones since. It was here that Figment Saudade was born.

It took years to articulate, but I finally landed on these two words.

Figment Saudade: The longing for something that I have never possessed. Like a figment of imagination, or a fleeting dream.

It is the ache for a homeland and way of life that feels ingrained in my bones, though I never experienced life on the islands. Small quintals and casas, each with a garden and some chickens, surrounded by livestock and hydrangeas in a lush countryside balancing on the edge of volcanic cliffs. Reminiscent of Hobbits and Cottagecore, but much more than that.

Visiting Cha Gorreana, the tea plantation where my Bisavó used to work

Deeper than an aesthetic, this is how my ancestors used to live. Destitute, starving, and oppressed as they were under a harsh communist regime, they could not fully enjoy the simplicity and beauty around them. They came to America seeking a better life, sacrificing everything to benefit their children and grandchildren. They had to reuse, be frugal, and make the most of everything that they had. But still, the richness of that old world remained, and I find myself grasping after the understanding of what makes my soul come alive there.

Figment Saudade is the effort to grab hold and to carry on the traditions, practice, and essence of deep Azorean roots. It may be clumsy, coming from a girl who grew up in Colorado. But there are memories, phrases, traditions. A cheap plastic ladel that Avó used to scoop out my favorite caldo verde. A corell butter dish that was always stocked and ready to spread onto fresh pão. Breading sardinhas with my Avó, and learning how to make my favorite batatas escuadas. So so many memories, and a legacy that should not be forgotten. I’m just along for the ride.

Cooking fish with Avó