
Chef Margarida
Azevias de Grão
The Christmas turnovers of Alentejo, where humble chickpeas become something miraculous inside a crispy shell. Proof that Portuguese grandmothers could turn anything into celebration.
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The sand cookies of Cascais, where three simple ingredients become something that melts on your tongue and sparkles like the beach at sunset. Butter, flour, sugar. That's all. That's enough.
These cookies taught me that simplicity is the hardest thing to get right. Three ingredients. No eggs. No leavening. Nothing to hide behind. Just butter, flour, and sugar, transformed into something that crumbles on your tongue and leaves you reaching for another before you've finished swallowing the first.
Avó Leonor didn't make these. They're coastal cookies, from Cascais, that elegant fishing village turned resort town where Lisboetas escape the summer heat. But I learned them from Dona Fernanda, a grandmother I met while documenting recipes along the Estoril coast. She'd been making areias for sixty years, rolling each one by hand, coating them in sugar that catches the light like sand on the beach. That's where the name comes from. Areia. Sand.
The secret isn't a secret at all. It's good butter, properly softened. It's knowing when to stop mixing. It's understanding that these cookies don't want to be fussed over. They want to be simple, honest, and made with respect for what they are.
At Mesa da Avó, I serve these with coffee at the end of the meal. People expect something elaborate after a traditional dinner. Instead they get a cookie that tastes like butter and sugar and childhood. They always ask for the recipe. They never believe it's this easy. But the best things usually are.
Areias emerged from the padarias and home kitchens of Cascais, a fishing village that became a fashionable resort after the Portuguese royal family began summering there in the 1870s. The cookies likely descend from older butter biscuit traditions, but the distinctive sugar coating that mimics sand is pure Cascais invention, a playful nod to the beaches that draw visitors to this stretch of coast. They remain a specialty of the region's bakeries today.
Quantity
250g
at room temperature
Quantity
100g
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon or zest of 1 lemon
Quantity
300g
Quantity
150g
for coating
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| unsalted butterat room temperature | 250g |
| granulated sugar | 100g |
| fine sea salt | 1/2 teaspoon |
| vanilla extract or lemon zest | 1 teaspoon or zest of 1 lemon |
| all-purpose flour | 300g |
| coarse sugarfor coating | 150g |
In a large bowl, beat the soft butter with the granulated sugar until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes by hand or 2 minutes with a mixer. The butter should look almost white, airy and light. Add the salt and vanilla (or lemon zest) and beat until combined. This is your foundation. Don't rush it.
Add the flour all at once and mix with a wooden spoon or your hands until just combined. The dough will look crumbly at first, then come together into a soft, slightly sandy mass. Stop the moment it holds together. Overworking makes the cookies tough instead of tender.
Pour the coarse sugar into a shallow bowl. Pinch off pieces of dough about the size of a walnut and roll them between your palms into balls. Drop each ball into the sugar and roll to coat completely, pressing gently so the crystals stick. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet, spacing them about 3cm apart. They spread slightly but not much.
Refrigerate the shaped cookies for at least 15 minutes. This helps them hold their round shape in the oven and keeps that sugar crust intact. While they chill, preheat your oven to 170°C (340°F).
Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until the bottoms are lightly golden and the tops are still pale with just a hint of color at the edges. The cookies will feel soft when you touch them. This is correct. They firm up as they cool. Remove from the oven and let them rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack.
Let the cookies cool completely before eating. I know. It's difficult. But the texture transforms as they rest. They become sandy, crumbly, melting on your tongue the way a proper areia should. Store in a tin and they'll keep for a week. They won't last that long.
1 serving (about 22g)
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