
Chef Margarida
Cenouras à Algarvia
The marinated carrots of the Algarve, where garlic, paprika, and good azeite transform a humble root into something you'll make every week. Proof that the south knows how to treat vegetables.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by
Slow-braised pig's ears sliced thin and dressed with garlic, vinegar, and good azeite. Tasca cooking, nose-to-tail eating, proof that the Portuguese waste nothing and turn everything into something worth eating.
This is the dish that separates the tourists from the locals. Walk into any proper tasca in Lisbon or Porto, and there it is behind the glass counter: pale ribbons of braised pig's ear glistening with olive oil, studded with raw onion and flecked with parsley. Most people walk past. Their loss.
I learned to love orelha de porco at my uncle's house in Portalegre, near the Spanish border. He raised pigs, and at the matança every December, nothing was wasted. The blood became morcela. The fat became banha. And the ears, well, the ears became this. Sliced thin, dressed simply, eaten with bread and wine while the men played cards and argued about football.
This is peasant cooking at its finest. The ears are mostly cartilage, which sounds unappetizing until you braise them for hours and that cartilage turns silky, almost gelatinous, with a texture unlike anything else. The dressing is sharp: raw garlic, good vinegar, your best azeite. It needs that brightness to balance the richness.
At Mesa da Avó, I serve this as a petisco, and I watch people's faces. First the hesitation, then the first bite, then the realization. This is who we are. We use everything. We waste nothing. And somehow, we turn the humble parts into something better than the prized ones.
Salada de orelha belongs to Portugal's deep tradition of nose-to-tail cooking, born from rural communities where the annual matança (pig slaughter) was both survival and celebration. Every part was used: blood for sausages, fat for cooking, ears and trotters for salads and stews. The dish remains a fixture in tascas across Portugal, particularly in Alentejo and Trás-os-Montes, where pig farming has shaped the cuisine for centuries.
Quantity
4 (about 600g total)
cleaned and singed
Quantity
1 medium
halved
Quantity
2
Quantity
6
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 small
sliced paper-thin
Quantity
4 cloves
minced
Quantity
1/2 cup
Quantity
3 tablespoons
Quantity
1 small bunch
chopped
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| pig's earscleaned and singed | 4 (about 600g total) |
| onionhalved | 1 medium |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| black peppercorns | 6 |
| coarse salt | 1 tablespoon |
| white onionsliced paper-thin | 1 small |
| garlicminced | 4 cloves |
| extra virgin olive oil (azeite) | 1/2 cup |
| white wine vinegar | 3 tablespoons |
| flat-leaf parsleychopped | 1 small bunch |
| flaky sea salt | to taste |
| black pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| piri-piri or crushed red pepper flakes (optional) | to taste |
Examine the pig's ears carefully. If there's any remaining hair, singe it off over a gas flame or with a kitchen torch. Scrub them thoroughly under cold running water. They should be completely clean, pale, and smooth. This matters. Nobody wants to find a stray bristle.
Place the ears in a large pot and cover with cold water by about 5 centimeters. Add the halved onion, bay leaves, peppercorns, and coarse salt. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a gentle simmer. Cook uncovered for 2 to 2 1/2 hours, until a knife slides through the thickest part without resistance. The cartilage should be soft, almost gelatinous, but the ear should still hold its shape. Top up with hot water if needed during cooking.
Remove the ears from the cooking liquid (save that broth for caldo or beans, there's flavor there). Let them cool just enough to handle, about 10 minutes. While still warm, slice them into very thin strips, about 3mm wide. Work against the natural curl of the ear. The strips should be almost like ribbons. This is easier while the collagen is still warm and supple.
In a small bowl, whisk together the olive oil, white wine vinegar, and minced garlic. Season with salt and pepper. Taste it. The dressing should be bright and assertive. It needs to stand up to the richness of the ears.
Transfer the warm ear strips to a serving bowl. Add the paper-thin onion slices. Pour the dressing over everything and toss gently but thoroughly. The ears will absorb the garlic and vinegar as they cool. This is the moment when the dish comes together. Let it sit at room temperature for at least 30 minutes, tossing occasionally.
Just before serving, scatter the parsley over the top. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Add a pinch of piri-piri if you want heat. Serve at room temperature with plenty of crusty bread to soak up the garlicky dressing. This is tasca food. It's meant to be eaten standing at the counter or sitting at a small table with a glass of red wine in hand.
1 serving (about 115g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Margarida
The marinated carrots of the Algarve, where garlic, paprika, and good azeite transform a humble root into something you'll make every week. Proof that the south knows how to treat vegetables.

Chef Margarida
The dish that taught me Lisbon's tascas were universities of flavor. Salt cod and chickpeas, roughly tossed, never fussed over. The name means 'half undone' because that's exactly how you make it.

Chef Margarida
Pig's ears braised until silky, then dressed in garlic, vinegar, and bright handfuls of coentros. Alentejo's disappearing bar snack that deserves a place at your table.

Chef Margarida
The name comes from the action: vigorous mixing with your fists until raw bacalhau, onion, and olive oil become something silky and unified. Punchy, raw, utterly Portuguese.