You're going to hate me for this, but as I write these very words, I’m sitting on my balcony looking out over a wonderful bird-filled lake in Quinta Do Lago on the Algarve.

There has barely been a cloud in the sky, and although the nights are cool, I can see from my occasional glimpses at the news back home that the weather in Yorkshire has not been brilliant.

It will no doubt further infuriate you that I am angry at missing the snow. I do so love the views out over the Pennines when they’re enrobed in a thick white blanket.

As it is, we are unwinding in our apartment down by the sea, where the wildlife is extraordinary; oystercatchers, storks and dozens of other coastal birds jostle for space amid the dunes and the wooded cliff-tops.

The peace and quiet is only occasionally broken by the gentle thwack of a golf ball (we’re also indulging in our annual golfing frenzy) or the bark of a happy dog whizzing along the sand.

Here, also, we’ve met with old family friends from both Oporto and the Alentejo region, and enjoyed their company at several meals.

Portugal has some wonderful cooking to explore, and the wine is exceptional. It’s a million years away from the rather unimpressive offerings of the 1970s when Mateus ruled the roost (it’s still here, and I still have a little hankering for a glass occasionally, for old times’ sake) and Vinho Verde was like fizzy green battery acid.

Mateus Rose

Nowadays even the entry-level wines are crisp and pleasant, and when you go up the scale, there are some truly exceptional bottles, especially from the relative newcomer, the Alentejo region.

Similarly, the food is gaining in quality and style. Portuguese cooking has never been a vast repertoire, but what they do well is excellent - the pigs of the north provide amazing hams and pork. The centre produces amazing beef, game and poultry.

The chicken, more precisely, the rooster (known as the Galo De Barcelos) is the national bird, after all, and almost everywhere you go are ‘Frango’ restaurants, whacking out platefuls of spicy, salty piri-piri chicken and mountains of rustling shoestring fries.

On the coast, the seas still teem with great fish - oh, how the Portuguese can fish! Even the smallest supermarket has a fresh fish counter one has to stand before, mouth agape.

From the smallest elvers to huge slabs of swordfish and giant tuna, all of the sea is on display. Huge octopus legs, deep iridescent purple in colour, sit next to ice-white ‘steaks’ of squid meat. Little sardines, sparkling like bubbles in champagne, are set alongside evil-looking jet black eels, with their horrorshow fangs and obsidian eyes.

There are clams and oysters, and special counters solely devoted to bacalão, the famous salt cod.

Lying in piles like dusty planks, these rock hard salt-dried sides of cod are sawn by machine into manageable chunks before being taken to family homes, soaked in fresh water, and put to use in soups, stews and what have you.

It’s incredible stuff, and the love of bacalão is deep within every Portuguese. It is their roast beef, their pot of tea, their culture defined by the simplest ingredient.

With this much on offer its hard not to pull off a ticket and get stuck into the delights of the fish counter, so this week, I’m combining the freshest fish and seafood with another Portuguese favourite, the piri-piri pepper (essentially a bird’s-eye chili). Add this to some rice, and you have a dish that’s popular along the coast in endless variations.

Piri-piri pepper

It originates, perhaps, somewhere back in time in Mozambique or Angola, when Portugal occupied these countries, pilfering their recipes and adapting them at home.

It makes for a lovely, fragrant supper, especially with a good crisp salad and a glass of something a little further up the scale than Mateus!

You may be interested to know that this article marks my 400th for the Examiner, so I thought I’d dedicate this week’s recipe to a lovely lady who wrote me the most charming letter a few months ago saying how she looked forward to my article each week.

She had rung the café to ask me about how to cook risotto, and unfortunately I wasn’t there, but Tracy obliged, and notes were taken.

So, by way of apologising for my absence that day, and now you know all about risotto, this recipe is especially for you, Mrs Ann Rice.

I hope you enjoy making it.

Ingredients:

1 onion, finely chopped

3 garlic cloves, finely minced

1 red pepper, finely diced

100g chorizo sausage, diced

4 tbsps extra-virgin olive oil

400g risotto rice

A splash of dry white wine or vermouth

1 tin chopped plum tomatoes

A few teaspoons tomato purée

1 litre fish or vegetable stock

1 tsp smoked paprika

2 bay leaves

Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper

1 small bunch flat leaf parsley, chopped

A little dried oregano

The juice of a lemon

600g monkfish, skinned and cut into chunks

8 large prawns, unpeeled

1 large squid, cleaned and cut into thin slices

Extras:

Piri-piri hot sauce (optional)

Method:

Heat half of the oil in a deep frying pan and gently sweat the onion and garlic until soft and golden.

Add the pepper and diced chorizo and cook for a further 10 minutes, stirring well.

Add the smoked paprika and cook for a few minutes to release all the flavour.

Deglaze the pan with a little white wine or vermouth.

Add the tomatoes, tomato purée and stock, and bring the liquid to the boil.

Stir in the rice, bay leaves and dried oregano, then reduce the heat to a low simmer, cover the pan with a lid and bubble gently for 20-25 minutes, until the rice is cooked.

The mixture should still be mid-way between soup and risotto, texturally. Add more stock if necessary.

Just before the rice is ready, in a separate pan, quickly cook the monkfish and prawns in a little olive oil, and add to the rice.

Quickly flash-fry the squid next, and add this to the pan, along with the chopped parsley and the lemon juice. Cook for a few minutes until the monkfish is tender. Test quickly for taste and consistency, and spoon into warmed bowls.

Serve with plenty of good bread and butter, and a bottle of fiery piri-piri sauce for those who like their rice to sizzle.