In Brazilian cuisine, mistura is the nourishing, filling food. A home where you find mistura is a home where meals are plentiful, whole. Otherwise, the feeling is there is no food at all, or that there is something missing. Like when we look into a closet filled with clothes and still feel like we have nothing to wear. So much so that those who climb the social ladder make a point of “enhancing” the mistura – because they spent their whole lives trying to stretch out a given portion of whichever meat.
In fact, many classic dishes came out of this need to “stretch out” the mistura. It’s the case of the Maria Isabel and carreteiro rices, which make use of the meat while “swelling” the dish with the added rice. To stretching out the mistura with “sustância” (nourishment) is to make sure there is no lack of protein – and this is almost a matter of national pride.
But the idea of meat as the only fundamental part of a meal has been reviewed with time. Nowadays, there is “mistura” with legumes, potatoes, squashes, manioc, and other vegetable foods that are rich in vitamins and minerals. And no one dares to say that those are not “hearty” foods.
I realized the importance of the mistura when I collected the recipes for the most iconic dishes of Brazilian cuisine. This chapter occupies more than a third of the whole book. It’s the outcome of more than fifteen years of travels across the country, gathering recipes and tales about the eating habits of Brazilians such as myself.
Ok, Ana, that’s all very nice, but where did the term “mistura” come from? I’ve found that this word is more frequent in the countryside of São Paulo, in Rio Grande do Sul, and in some regions of the Northeast. If I close my eyes, I can still see my father, looking inquisitively into the kitchen and asking, “What’s the mistura for today?”