Trying Escargot alla Portuguese, in Portugal

Caracóis, commonly known as Escargot to the French or snails to those of English-speaking descent, are a common summertime gastronomic dish offered throughout Portugal. Served up religiously starting in June, the gastropods can be found as cheap items on most restaurant menus. Surprisingly to most foreigners, popularity sees the tiny slimy shelled-suckers take pride of place on and off the menu. Subsequently, they stand – or rather stick - staunchly alongside several other key dishes as a national favourite.  Here's what you need to know about trying escargot in Portugal. 

Traditional Ways of Preparation

Traditionally, the tiny snails – much smaller than their French cousins – are cooked and then served in their petite shells. They are boiled while still alive, much to the displeasure of animal-loving foodies. Suffering is short-lived, however, as the water must be boiling to ensure the mucus lining their tiny bodies – the juice that prevents desiccation in normal circumstances – is expelled. There are multiple variations to the recipe, however it generally includes most of the following ingredients: oregano-infused broth, thyme, onion, garlic, salt and pepper, chilli powder and olive oil.

Diners, come summertime, can be found gorging copious bowls of the no-longer-slimy little suckers. Satiety is slow to occur as each body – cooked to tender perfection in brothy goodness – must be removed by means of a toothpick. It requires patience, particularly when each bite apparently leaves the tastebuds titillated and yearning for the next. Crusty bread is then soaked in the broth that lurks below and consumed voraciously.

Sensory Repugnance (at First)

After only a few days in Portugal, my best friend Jorge – with whom I’d planned the trip – escorted me to his cousin’s dining room table. Replete with a sumptuous feast, my eyes darted from dish to dish until they fixated on the central item: a heaped bowl almost overflowing with caracóis. My heart skipped a beat, particularly when Jorge questioned, “Do you like snails?”

In a desperate attempt to avoid causing offence - after having divulged tales of food adventurism I’d undertaken in other parts of the world, I gritted my teeth and nervously replied, “of course.”

The thought of putting a snail on my tongue made me want to run from the apartment, hands in the air, screaming like a madman. They looked like snails. At least chicken, in its white deliciousness, doesn’t resemble the Rhode Island Red found scratching in the roost in the neighbour’s backyard.

Jorge’s cousin Teresa had chosen a traditional mode of preparation, with a notable aroma of garlic wafting from the bowl. Sitting at the table – a banquet laid before me, there was notable dissension between my nostrils and my mind. The flavoursome aroma wafting from the pile of squirmy bodies that had been heaped on my plate was inviting. Nevertheless, my brain continued to repudiate the notion of what I was about to eat: snails!

The First Taste of Caracóis

As the fork - on which I’d hesitantly pronged a single caracóis after removing it from its shell – inched towards my mouth, I shut my eyes. Salivation commenced, further confounding the discord between thought and smell. With great trepidation, I clenched the tiny snail-body between my teeth, dabbed it with my tongue and stopped, surprised: externally, it was delicious. The delicate yet carefully selected blend of herbs and garlic in which it had been cooked exploded within my mouth. The texture, much like chewy mushroom, wasn’t repulsive. After chewing momentarily, I swallowed defiantly and gave off a hearty smile to the eyes that had eagerly been watching from around the table. We relaxed, laughed a little and I followed suit – filling my fork with a few snails, then going in for a second scoop from the glass bowl.

Truly Delicious Portuguese Escargot

The experience of eating caracóis in a Portuguese home taught me two very valuable lessons: firstly, garlic can make any food taste pleasant; secondly, cultural immersion can be derived by lifting ourselves outside of our often-impenetrable travel bubbles and comfort zones. Forcing myself to explore culinary opportunities added a new dimension to my Portuguese adventure. 

Caracóis, ergo, when visiting Portugal, is a must-try menu item.

Per advice from Ana, a Portuguese friend who lives near Lisbon, there are restaurants scattered around the city in traditional neighbourhoods that are frequented mostly by locals.  Why? Simply put, there is “good food and attractive prices,” says Ana. 

In fact, in Alfama, Bairro Alto and Catarina, you can’t take 10 steps without finding delicious food.  Ana loves “A Muralha and Novo Conceito in Alfama. I usually go there at least once a week (when I’m working).” 

She advises visitors to trust establishments in which you see Portuguese eating.  They may be small “and have a modest presentation, but if you see locals there then you can trust that the food is good.”

In Augusta, Prata and Aurea streets, Ana recommends “avoiding all restaurants except Casa Chinesa.”

Here you have the list personally curated by a Lisbon native:

• Restaurante A Muralha - Rua Jardim do Tabaco, Alfama


• Restaurante Novo Conceito - Rua Jardim do Tabaco, Alfama


• Taberna Sal Grosso - Calçada do Forte 22, Alfama


• Café Portas do Sol - Rua de São Tomé, near Castelo de São Jorge 


• Restaurante Crisfama - Rua Cruz de Santa Apolónia 58, Alfama


• Eurico Casa de Pasto - Rua de São Cristóvão 3, near Castelo de São Jorge


• Restaurante Zapata - Rua Poço dos Negros, São Bento


• Restaurante A Floresta da Estefânia - Rua Cidade da Horta 39, Arroios


• Cantinho do Bem Estar - Rua do Norte, Bairro Alto


• Jardim das Cerejas - Calçada Sacramento 36, near Chiado


• Restaurante Rosa da Rua - Rua da Rosa 265, Bairro Alto


• Restaurante Cultura do Hamburguer - Rua Salgadeiras 38, Bairro Alto


• A Taberna Portuguesa - Calçada do Combro 115, Bairro Alto (near one of the best sights of Lisbon, Miradouro de Santa Catarina)


• Restaurante Principe do Calhariz - Calçada do Combro 28, Bairro Alto 


• Restaurante Papa Migas - Rua da Atalaia 57, Bairro Alto


• Mercado da Ribeira - Avenida 24 de Julho, Cais do Sodré

Many of the photographs exhibited throughout this article are courtesy of Jorge Pereira.