Back in the 1400s, young Prince Henry of Portugal stared at the ocean. He had the time. Third in line to the throne, he was neither the buffed and groomed heir apparent, nor was he the pampered and protected spare. He was given make-work projects overseeing non-sexy portfolios such as prisons and agriculture.
But what Henry really wanted to do was explore the world. Not the one he knew, but the one that lay somewhere across the water. So he set out to map the west coast of Africa and sent his crew of navigators further a-sea. In 1427, far into the Atlantic, they discovered a string of islands they dubbed the Azores. Within a few years, the islands were populated by colonists, creating a vital stopping point for Portuguese explorers.
For centuries, sailors would stop in and trade tales of their Portuguese homeland, as well as goods and stories of exotic ports. Many an Azorean longed to travel with the ships, and many signed on for seafaring adventures. A few centuries later, John and Isabel Da Costa followed a well-worn Azorean path to Canada, eventually making their way to the landlocked province of Alberta and the city of Calgary. Once here, the islanders planted roots, raised two daughters, Flavia and Carla, and in 1984 opened a restaurant named Mimo.
It’s been more than 25 years since Mimo first opened as a bar with a restaurant in the back and a bakery on the side. The bakery is long gone, the bar is in the back now and the restaurant has moved out front. But the menu has changed remarkably little over the years: sardines and salty bacalau (cod) for hardcore Portuguese fans; Azorean piri-piri-sauced mussels and calamari for seafood lovers; barbecued chicken and beef for the carnivores; crisp salads and oil-fried potatoes for the vegetarians. Good food all around, tinged with Azorean flavours.
Which in many cases includes the aforementioned piri-piri sauce, composed of Portuguese azeite* oil, hot chilies (preferably the smoking-hot piri-piri ones), garlic and a few secret spices. It’s a sauce found in many former Portuguese colonies around the world, from Africa and India to South America, and is made differently in each port. At Mimo, Isabel’s piri-piri is hot, but balanced by the fruitiness of the chilies. She has cured her thick, oily base sauce for years, adding more chilies and oil to the mix as needed. Her sauce adds a richness and heat that is seldom seen in milder mainland-Portuguese cuisine, and it’s a flavour that calls Mimo fans back again and again.
Other devotees long for John’s presunto, a salty-nutty, dry-cured ham similar to prosciutto. The Da Costas were making their own cured meats decades before house-cured charcuterie became such a hot food item. The food here is served fresh and hot, filling the plate as much as it fills the innards. Isabel wouldn’t have it any other way. When leftovers return to her kitchen, Isabel worries the customer didn’t like it; when plates come back empty, she’s equally concerned she didn’t serve enough. You can taste her mothering qualities in the food; it’s cooked with love and care.
Customers are often tempted to indulge in a dessert of flan, Azores style. Here, the flan is caramelized into a dark, almost-blackened state. It reveals a smoky-sweet flavour that makes all other flans pale in comparison. Served with an espresso, its strength makes you slow down and savour it. Sided with Port, one can easily slide into sweet, sweet dreams.
All the while, the sad, soulful fado music of Portugal plays in the background, and it almost seems the surf can be heard outside. Reality, though, tells you it’s the traffic on 17th Avenue S.E. As you leave and peer out over Mimo’s parking lot, there’s not a drop of water in sight. We wonder what Henry might have thought of this view.
Mimo is located at 203, 4909 17 Ave. S.E. in Little Saigon Plaza, 403-235-3377.
*Azeite oil is pressed from olives that have ripened until they split open. This style of olive oil is enjoyed for its spiciness. It is said that the heat of the sun inhabits good azeite.
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