Wednesday, May 6, 2026
Mario de Queiroz
- In early December, large advertising hoardings went up in Portuguese cities, depicting a group of turkeys saying “Thank you, Norwegian cod! You saved our lives again this year!”
Paid for by importers of cod from Norway, the ads are humorous. But they also reflect a serious side of culture in Portugal, where millions of people are addicted to this dry, salty, strong-smelling fish on special occasions like Christmas.
In most countries in the world where Christmas and New Year are celebrated, the traditional dish on these feast days is a succulent turkey. But Portuguese and Brazilian people choose to cook North Sea cod, known for centuries as “the faithful friend”, in one of the 1,001 ways in which, according to the experts, it can be prepared.
Strong in flavour and aroma, cod is sure to be the centrepiece on both Portuguese and Brazilian tables, even though prices rise by 15 percent each December. Consumption also goes up, by 30 percent, in December, falling back to normal in January.
“Money might be short, but we will definitely have cod. We can save on other things, like those plastic toys that only last for a day,” bricklayer Carlos Antunes told IPS emphatically. “Traditions have to be kept up, the way they always have been.”
A survey carried out by the Lisbon newspaper “Público” Tuesday indicated that on Christmas Eve, 89 percent of Portuguese families will be eating cod, maintaining a tradition that is over five centuries old.
According to the Cod Industry Association, cod consumption in Portugal goes back to the era of maritime expansion in the early 15th century. Easily preserved, with a high nutritional value and low wastage, as the fish is 85 percent edible, it was a highly suitable food provision for long sailing journeys to parts of the world unknown to Europe.
However, cod fishing using Portugal’s own fishing fleet was short-lived. In 1580 the country became part of the Spanish Empire for six decades. Loss of independence made fishing difficult and dangerous because of the frequent wars of France and England against their enemy, Spain.
The fishing industry died out, and ever since Portugal has imported this cold-water fish, found throughout the North Atlantic.
Historians assert that cod first appeared in Portugal through contacts with Viking navigators, who are considered the pioneers of cod preservation. Ninth century manuscripts in the Oslo Museum describe a system for drying cod in what are now Iceland and Norway, before the people there discovered the use of salt.
A century later it was thanks to the Basques, living on both sides of the Pyrenees in what are now parts of Spain and France, that cod trading began in Europe. The Basques used salt and the records show that in the year 1000 A.D. they were trading in salt and dried cod. They dried the fish on rocks in the open air to maximise preservation.
Nowadays Brazil is the world’s foremost consumer of cod, thanks to its population of 180 million. But the 10.2 million people of Portugal have the highest per capita rate of consumption, collectively tucking into 180,000 tons a year.
In Brazil the custom of eating cod began the moment that Pedro Alvares Cabral reached Porto Seguro in 1500, but it was when the royal court of Portugal transferred to Rio de Janeiro in the early 19th century, to escape the Napoleonic invasions, that the custom really began to take hold. Norwegian cod was first imported to Brazil – by then independent of Portugal – in 1843. But it is in Portugal that cod became an intrinsic part of popular culture, one of its main traditions, whose importance is even felt in the field of politics. The recent European Union decision to limit cod catches generated radio programmes on the issue that were flooded with calls by people angry at the “bureaucrats in Brussels.” Some callers went so far as to suggest that Portugal pull out of the 25-member bloc if cod fishing was banned.
The cuts and the crackdown on illegal fishing of the endangered species have already begun to be felt in Portugal.
Norway found that catches in the Barents Sea were at least 20 percent above the established limit. The total cod quota for 2007 in the European North Atlantic, the only area where Portuguese vessels have access to cod, will be reduced by 47,000 tons.
However, the fleet of “bacalhoeiros” (Portuguese cod-fishing vessels) only catch 3,900 tons a year – a tiny fraction of the 180,000 tons that are consumed annually in this southern European country.
In 1992, Canada banned cod fishing in its exclusive economic zones off the coasts of Newfoundland and Labrador, a region that had depended on cod for the past five centuries. Hit especially hard were the powerful Spanish fleet and Portugal, which had to turn to the waters off Norway, Russia and Iceland.
Prices began to climb, and the situation was aggravated even further when Norway and Russia signed a bilateral accord setting an annual quota of 424,000 tons of cod in their waters.
This year, Norway was only able to catch 219,000 tons, and the limit will go down to 198,000 tons in 2007.
Meanwhile, EU scientific studies recommend a complete ban on cod fishing in the North Sea.
The overfishing of cod in the North Atlantic in the 1960s and 1970s, especially by the so-called floating factories of the then Soviet Union, led to a plunge in stocks until the species was dangerously close to extinction.
A ban on fishing cod within 200 miles of the shoreline, adopted by many countries that followed Canada’s example, was an attempt to save the species. But 14 years later, no recovery has been seen.
A ban would also be a tragedy for many Brazilians. Over the years, cod has become a key part of Brazilian culture, and it is offered in fancy restaurants and popular bars alike.
In Portugal and some parts of the Brazilian population, cod is so popular that the most celebrated recipes carry the names of the chefs who invented them, and posh restaurants provide small biographies of their creators.
“Bacalhau à Gomes de Sá” was created in the early 20th century by José Luiz Gomes de Sá Júnior, a chef in the Restaurante Lisbonense, while “Bacalhau João do Buraco” was the creation of João Pereira.
In a recent interview in the Lisbon weekly “O Independente” on foreigners’ views of Portugal, Rumanian academic Corneliu Poppa said he was “happy to live in this warm, welcoming country, but sometimes I find it difficult to understand the excessive devotion to cod, that foul-smelling fish.”