Oh dear.
As much as the Portuguese have the culinary skills of your average Mongolian Yak herder, it is sad to read anything about food critisism from the likes of the average three-hundred pound, circumferentially challenged Baptwit who has likely never been far enough out of their home town to even grasp the difference between a honey-glazed donut and their daughter's face after the local barn dance.
Considering that they view bacon fat as food group and are generally allergic to both logic and vegetables (they don't eat them out of some kind of professional courtesy), it is hilarious to those of us in Rome who have long appreciated the health and social benefits of fine dining to see such a display of artery clogging nonsense and language butchery.
Yes, the Portuguese are primarily Catholic (like the US Supreme Court) but this has little to do with the arrested development of their cooking skills. Their problem is an ongoing envy of all things Spanish when it comes to food or decent painters but these earthly shortcomings will not keep them from Heaven whereas your typical LandRover Babtwit is doomed to eternal Hellfire for their ecclesiastical misinterpretations and overall lack of commitment to the true word of the Lord as brought to one and all by the very Church of Jesus... and you know who I am talking about here!
I suggest the outraged folks of Portugal take some solace in reminding themselves that a place beside Jesus is their final reward while Baptwits will be staring up from Hell asking if they can get out for a weekend to catch the latest deal at Denny's... their idea of a Michelin bistro.
Bless you, my rotund rumbledethumpers,
Father Mo
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