top of page
LVT LOGO - 221225P2 (11).png

Portugal’s Answer to ’Nduja

Sep 21
4 min read

Updated: Oct 13

Portuguese pork and chili
traditions inspiring a premium
spreadable charcuterie product


Some of the most successful food products are not built around the most prestigious cut.


They are built around transformation.


In Calabria, ’nduja is a remarkable example. Pork, fat and a generous amount of local chile are transformed through seasoning, fermentation and curing into something completely different from a conventional salami: intensely red, spicy, fatty and, above all, spreadable.


Once a humble way of making use of the pig, ’nduja has become an internationally recognized ingredient. It has escaped the charcuterie board and entered the kitchen.


That made me wonder:


Why doesn't Portugal, with its extraordinary pork tradition, have something similar?


It turns out the better question may be:


What if Portugal already has most of the answer?


Manteiga de Grilo


I recently came across a product from Alentejo called Manteiga de Grilo.

The version produced by Casa Cravinho is remarkably simple: Porco Alentejano fat, pimentão, garlic, salt, wine and bay leaf.


No flour. No complicated ingredient list.


And no meat.


The product is essentially seasoned Porco Alentejano fat transformed into a spread.


Suddenly, the distance between Portuguese tradition and the logic of ’nduja becomes much smaller.


Portugal already has the concept of combining pork fat, pepper and garlic into something spreadable. What it doesn't appear to have is the meat-rich, chile-forward version.


And Then There Is Farinheira


Farinheira provides another piece of the puzzle.


Farinheira de Estremoz e Borba IGP combines Alentejano pork fat with wheat

flour, massa de pimentão, garlic, salt and water, producing its characteristic soft-to-pasty texture.


Put these traditions next to each other and an interesting picture emerges.

Farinheira: pork fat + flour + pimentão + garlic.


Manteiga de Grilo: pork fat + pimentão + garlic + wine + bay.


And then imagine:


Porco Alentejano meat + its fat + Portuguese red pepper + Portuguese hot

pepper + garlic + salt + time.


The product begins to feel less like an imitation of Calabria and more like a natural

evolution of Portuguese traditions that already exist.


Pepper Should Become an Ingredient


There is still one major lesson to take from Calabria.


In good ’nduja, chile isn't simply seasoning.


It is one of the protagonists.


It contributes heat, fruitiness, color and character. It is also responsible for that

unmistakable deep crimson appearance.


A Portuguese interpretation therefore shouldn't simply be chouriço made softer.


Nor should it become an orange pork pâté with some pimentão added for color.


Portugal has its own traditions of pimentão, malagueta, piripíri and regional pepper pastes. The opportunity would be to find the right balance between a flavorful Portuguese red pepper and a genuinely characterful Portuguese hot pepper.


The visual benchmark matters too:


Deep red, not orange. Coarse and glossy, not homogenized like pâté. Spreadable, not sliceable.


Not Portuguese ’Nduja


Copying Calabria would miss the point.


Portugal doesn't need another Italian product made in Portugal.


Porco Alentejano provides something genuinely different. Its fat isn't simply a

technical ingredient; it is one of the reasons the animal is so gastronomically

interesting in the first place.


And Manteiga de Grilo demonstrates that there is already a Portuguese tradition of treating that fat as something worthy of being eaten in its own right.


Perhaps the opportunity is to take that tradition one step further.


Add Porco Alentejano meat.


Make pepper a protagonist.


Develop the curing and fermentation around spreadability rather than sliceability.


And allow the pork, fat and pepper to remain visible rather than homogenizing

everything into pâté.


From Enchido to Ingredient


There is another lesson from ’nduja that may be even more important than its recipe.


’Nduja escaped the charcuterie board.


It became an ingredient.


This is also what has always fascinated me about ’nduja personally. I use it far beyond bread or pizza—from pasta and seafood to red meat dishes and even Brussels sprouts. A small amount can completely change the flavor profile of a dish, adding not only heat but richness, depth and umami.


That versatility is precisely its strength.


Imagine a Portuguese spreadable enchido doing the same.


A spoonful into tomato sauce.


Melted over grilled vegetables.


With eggs.


Into beans.


Alongside seafood.


Or simply spread onto good bread.


Suddenly Porco Alentejano enters many more eating occasions than presunto or

conventional enchidos alone can provide.


From the Montado to the Jar The


international premium story of Iberian pork remains heavily concentrated around presunto and other cured whole-muscle products.


They deserve that status.


But they are expensive, slow to produce and tied to relatively specific consumption occasions.


A small jar or casing of spreadable Porco Alentejano would work differently.

It could enter the kitchen.


It could enter restaurants as an ingredient.


It could sit alongside premium conservas, cheeses and condiments in specialty retail.


And it could introduce someone to Porco Alentejano without asking them to purchase an entire presunto or even a premium sliced pack.


Most importantly, it could create additional value from parts of the animal that will never become presunto.


Perhaps the Innovation Is Already in the Tradition


The most interesting part of discovering Manteiga de Grilo is that it changes the

question.


Maybe Portugal doesn't need to invent its answer to ’nduja.


The building blocks are already here.


Porco Alentejano. Its remarkable fat. Manteiga de Grilo. Farinheira. Pimentão.

Portuguese hot peppers. Garlic. Centuries of enchido-making.


The opportunity may simply be to bring these traditions together differently.


Not Portuguese ’nduja.


Not spreadable chouriço.


Not pâté.


Something with its own name, its own identity and eventually perhaps even its own regional tradition.


Portugal may already have all the ingredients for its great spreadable enchido. It

just hasn't put them together yet.



About LVT Global

LVT Global elevates premium agri-food brands through strategic insight, market-entry expertise, and powerful storytelling.

 
 
bottom of page