You close your eyes. Your cell phone has been in your pocket, silent for twenty minutes. You hear water—a stream you can't see, but you know it's there, somewhere among the ash trees. The earthen and shale ground creaks beneath your feet.

Imagine waking up on a farm in Trás-os-Montes without an alarm clock. The light streams in through the soft, golden stone window. Outside, the silence is so complete you can hear the wind rustling through the olive trees.

The short answer: there is no bad time. Each season offers something different. The long answer — that one is worth reading.

You are not in Italy. You are not in Greece. You are in Trás-os-Montes. And what you have in front of you is literally the Mediterranean diet — not the magazine cover version, not the fourteen-day meal plan, not the nutrition chart. The real version. The one that has always existed in this territory, before any name, before any certificate.