
Chef Margarida
Açorda de Camarão
The peasant bread soup of Alentejo dressed for company, sweet pink prawns swimming in a broth of garlic, coentros, and golden azeite. Humble origins, elegant result. This is who we are.
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Fried pork cubes from the taverns of Minho, marinated in vinho verde with cumin and paprika, golden outside and tender within. This is what you eat when you want to feel like you've been somewhere.
If you want to understand the Minho, you start with the pig. This is verdant country, green hills and granite villages, the kind of land where pigs have been raised for centuries. Rojões is what happens when you take good pork, marinate it in the local wine, and fry it until the edges go golden and crispy.
I first had this dish in a tasca outside Braga, sitting at a wooden table sticky with use, surrounded by men who'd been eating there for forty years. The rojões came in a clay dish, glistening with fat, surrounded by potatoes that had been roasted until their skins cracked. No garnish. No presentation. Just pork and potatoes and a carafe of vinho verde so cold it sweated on the table.
This is not diet food. This is not wellness food. This is the kind of cooking that sustained farmers and workers, food that puts heat in your bones and sends you back to the fields with energy to spare. The cumin is essential, that earthy warmth that distinguishes Minho pork dishes from everywhere else in Portugal. Some say it came from the Moors. Some say it's always been there. Either way, rojões without cumin isn't rojões.
At Mesa da Avó, I serve this with the story of the grandmother in Guimarães who taught me her version. She'd been making it for sixty years. The marinade was in her hands, not a recipe. A splash of this, a pinch of that. I watched and measured and wrote it down because someone has to.
Rojões date back centuries in the Minho and Trás-os-Montes regions, born from the annual matança do porco (pig slaughter) that sustained rural families through winter. The dish was originally made during the matança itself, when fresh pork was abundant. The vinho verde marinade reflects the region's wine production, while the cumin points to Moorish influence that persisted in northern cooking long after the Reconquista.
Quantity
800g
cut into 3cm cubes
Quantity
4
smashed
Quantity
2
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
freshly ground
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
for garnish
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| boneless pork leg or shouldercut into 3cm cubes | 800g |
| garlic clovessmashed | 4 |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| vinho verde or dry white wine | 1 cup |
| ground cumin (cominhos) | 1 teaspoon |
| sweet paprika (colorau doce) | 1 teaspoon |
| hot paprika or piri-piri (optional) | 1/2 teaspoon |
| coarse sea salt | 1 teaspoon |
| black pepperfreshly ground | 1/2 teaspoon |
| lard or extra virgin olive oil | 3 tablespoons |
| white wine vinegar | 1 tablespoon |
| fresh flat-leaf parsley | for garnish |
In a large bowl, combine the pork cubes with the smashed garlic, bay leaves, wine, cumin, both paprikas, salt, and pepper. Mix well with your hands, making sure every piece is coated. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, overnight is better. The wine tenderizes the meat while the cumin and paprika work their way in. This step is not optional. Unmarinated rojões are just fried pork. Marinated rojões are Minho on a plate.
Remove the pork from the marinade and pat the cubes completely dry with paper towels. Reserve the marinade liquid but discard the garlic and bay leaves. Wet meat will steam instead of fry, and you need these cubes golden and crispy. Take your time here. Every surface should be dry to the touch.
Heat the lard in a large heavy skillet over high heat until shimmering. Working in batches so you don't crowd the pan, add the pork cubes in a single layer. Let them sit undisturbed for 2 to 3 minutes until deeply golden on the bottom. Turn and brown all sides, about 8 minutes total per batch. The cubes should be golden and crispy outside, juicy within. Transfer to a warm plate as each batch finishes.
Pour off most of the fat from the pan, leaving about a tablespoon. Return the pan to medium heat. Add about half the reserved marinade liquid and the vinegar. Let it bubble and reduce by half, scraping up the golden bits stuck to the bottom. These bits are flavor. Don't waste them.
Return all the pork to the pan and toss to coat with the reduced sauce. The liquid should glaze the meat, not drown it. Transfer to a warm serving dish, scatter with parsley, and bring to the table immediately. In Minho, this comes with batatas a murro (punched potatoes) or arroz de sarrabulho. At home, crispy roasted potatoes work beautifully. Bread is mandatory. You'll want something to drag through what's left on the plate.
1 serving (about 200g)
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