I RECENTLY FOUND myself descending what looked like subway stairs into a dark underground parking garage. All alone, on the Portuguese island of São Miguel, in the city of Ponta Delgada—if you can even call it a city—I stumbled upon a veritable wonderland of baby pineapples, passion fruit, and magnificent clusters of tiny bananas. Wheels of soft sheep’s milk cheese adorned one stall. The salty stench of dried fish wafted from some distant corridor.
The Azores are smack dab
