Portugese Aletejana: A Bold Dish of Pork & Clams

As melodious food pairing names go, "pork and clams" just doesn't have the same ring as, say, "champagne and caviar," "wine and cheese," or even "peanut butter and jelly." But don't be put off.  The poetry on the plate that results when these two ingredients come together in one dish more than makes up for its slightly clunky name.


I first had this traditional Portugese dish - Aletejana, as it's more lyrically called in that language - on my recent trip to Lisbon, at a comfy, unfussy neighborhood spot called Churrascaria Gaucha:

What I loved about it was the aggressive use of salt (a theme in Portugese cooking, I found) and heavy hand with the application of paprika and cilantro. There were no half measures in this plate of food, and the almost-sweet pork and briny clams were all the better for it. Not pretty, but very memorable:

Carb overload: the ubiquitous fries on the side, here with rice

This was a dish, I knew from the first bite, that I would need to recreate at home. I believe that the easy (and sensible) route when it comes to this sort of thing is to look up established recipes and then, you know, follow them, but I am more perverse that that and like to make things difficult.

So I had a little chat with the server to confirm the ingredients I detected - paprika (pimenton, really), cilantro, garlic - and ascertain those I didn't - white wine, butter. My notes, from which I made the dish, read as follows:

BOLD w/salt
BOLD w/paprika
LOTS of cilantro
Smash loads of garlic, fry in butter, remove. Fry meat in olive oil, add white wine, cook. Add paprika and cilantro. Simmer.  Serve. [Not in my notes: Add the clams just at the end, and discard any that don't open.]

And that - along with a fair bit of tasting along the way -   led to this:

A big yes. My only changes: I added some of the garlic back in, and used little neck clams, as that is what I had available. And I really hope it goes without saying that you need to simmer the thing until the pork is cooked.

The lesson here (if I am going to be didactic/annoying and insist that all cooking and/or eating must, or should, teach us something relatable to the greater world) is that one must never, ever be afraid to be bold.