
Chef Margarida
Chouriço Assado na Brasa
Chouriço set ablaze with aguardente, cooked by fire until the casing splits and the paprika-rich fat pools in the dish. Tear the bread. Press it into the fat. This is how we've always done it.
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What Portuguese grandmothers make when there's no time but still a need to eat well. Three eggs, good presunto, a little cheese, and the patience to let it set without rushing.
This is the breakfast Avó Leonor made when mornings were busy but she refused to send anyone out the door unfed. Three eggs cracked into a bowl, beaten just enough, poured into a pan with butter still foaming. Thin slices of presunto laid across the center. A handful of cheese. Fold, slide, eat.
There's no secret here. No technique that takes years to master. Just eggs cooked with attention instead of haste. The mistake people make is rushing. They crank up the heat because they're late, and they end up with something brown and rubbery that squeaks when you cut it. An omelet should be golden on the outside and barely set within. Still trembling when it hits the plate.
The presunto matters. Not Spanish jamón, not Italian prosciutto, but Portuguese presunto. Ours is smoked, slightly sweeter, with a different cure. If you can find presunto from the Alentejo or Trás-os-Montes, you'll taste the difference. If you can't, use the best cured ham available to you, but know what you're aiming for.
At my Mesa da Avó breakfasts, I serve these omelets with crusty bread, strong coffee, and time. That last ingredient is the hardest to find. But even five minutes of standing at the stove, watching eggs set slowly, is a kind of meditation. A cozinha é memória. Even a quick breakfast can be made with care.
The omelet arrived in Portugal through French culinary influence in the 18th and 19th centuries, but Portuguese cooks quickly made it their own by filling it with local presunto. Presunto production in Portugal dates back to Roman times, with the curing traditions of Trás-os-Montes and Alentejo remaining largely unchanged for centuries.
Quantity
3 large
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
60g
sliced thin
Quantity
40g
grated or sliced thin
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
freshly ground, to taste
Quantity
small handful
chopped
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| eggs | 3 large |
| butter | 1 tablespoon |
| presuntosliced thin | 60g |
| queijo flamengo or queijo da ilhagrated or sliced thin | 40g |
| sea salt | pinch |
| black pepper | freshly ground, to taste |
| fresh parsley (optional)chopped | small handful |
Crack the eggs into a bowl and beat them with a fork until the yolks and whites are just combined. You're not making a meringue. A few streaks of white remaining is fine. Season with a small pinch of salt (remember, the presunto brings salt) and a grind of pepper.
Place a 20-22cm nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. Add the butter and let it melt, swirling so it coats the bottom. Wait until the foam subsides but before the butter browns. This is the moment.
Pour in the beaten eggs. Let them sit for 20 seconds without touching. Then, using a spatula, gently push the edges toward the center while tilting the pan so uncooked egg flows to the edges. Repeat this two or three times. The bottom should set while the top remains slightly wet.
When the eggs are mostly set but the surface still glistens, lay the presunto slices across one half of the omelet. Scatter the cheese over the presunto. The residual heat will warm the ham and melt the cheese. No need to cook the presunto separately.
Using the spatula, fold the empty half of the omelet over the filled half. Let it sit in the pan for just 10 seconds more. Slide it onto a warm plate, seam-side down. The omelet should be golden outside, soft within, with the cheese just melted. Scatter parsley over if you like. Serve immediately with crusty bread and strong coffee.
1 serving (about 265g)
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