Apple snails are large (compared to their more tasty counterparts) mollusks that survive--and actually take over the flora--in tropical and subtropical parts of Australia and Mexico, but mostly in East and Pacific Asia where they were raised for their abundance in protein and calcium. As such, they tend to be cooked with the flavors indigenous to those regions in soups, salads, and stews.
I'm not going to lie; I saw that Hawaiians call apple snails "pupu" and instantly wanted to make some. The word reminded me of when my mom would take my siblings and me to Chinese restaurants in Mississippi (the absolute pinnacle of Asian cuisine in America) as a kid and order us the pupu platter because we got a kick out of the word. High wit, huh? In retrospect, it was probably to get us to shut up while she enjoyed her hot and sour soup in peace rather than any huge appreciation of scatological humor.
Stuff probably looks better on the way out, huh?
I realized I've been making an abundance of Asian-influenced dishes, so I decided to switch it up from my original idea of pupu. That, and there was an earthy odor (to put it very mildly) emanating from the snails that I could only hope indicated an abundance of umami and which I hoped to mask in a thick sauce.
Snail Spaghetti
1 lb. package thin spaghetti
1 28 oz. can San Marzano tomatoes, whole
2 small handfuls of precooked apple snails, diced (about 2/3 C)
1/2 large yellow onion, small diced
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 carrot, peeled and grated
1/2 6 oz. can tomato paste
1/3 C red wine (Port works very well also)
1/2 C chicken stock
1/3 C mixed julienned herbs (thyme, oregano, basil, parsley)
1 tsp. crushed red chili flakes (or more to taste)
1 bay leaf
pinch sugar
1/2 C fresh grated Parmesan and mozzarella
kosher salt and fresh-cracked black pepper, to taste
Extra-virgin olive oil, as needed
Heat a Dutch oven/pot over medium-high heat as you bring a pot of well-salted water to a boil for the pasta. Add about 1 T of extra-virgin olive oil to your sauce pot. When it's shimmering in the bottom of the pot, add the onions and sweat them for two minutes with a pinch of salt. Add the garlic and chili flakes and sweat them out for another minute. Add the tomato paste. When the color becomes rusty after 1-2 minutes, add the remaining ingredients other than the snails and cheese, making sure to crushed up the tomatoes by hand or in a food mill. Bring to a boil and let simmer for 20 minutes. If the sauce becomes too thick, add a little more stock. When the pasta (cooked per manufacturer's directions) is nearly al dente, reserve 1/2 C of pasta water, pour it in the sauce, strain the spaghetti, and add the snails and stir. Add the pasta back to the sauce with fresh cracked black pepper and about 1 T of good-quality extra-virgin olive oil. Stir and cook the spaghetti until incorporated about 30 seconds to a minute. Add the cheese and season. Let the pasta rest for a good 2-3 minutes before serving, as it will continue to come together. Grate fresh cheese and sprinkle fresh herbs over top.
Not your average Chef Boyardee.
The risk run with buying cooked snails is that they can be almost rubbery when you recook them. Of course, the risk run with buying apple snails uncooked is the threat of Angiostrongylus cantonensis, a parasitic nematode that causes Angiostrongliasis, which then leads to eosiniphilic meningitis, a condition that causes damage to the central nervous system and/or death. Still hungry? Me too. The snails do contain an earthy punch and chewiness not unlike a hen of the woods mushroom. A really, really tough hen of the woods mushroom. I'm not sure any amount of braising would have soften these little suckers up, but I'm always game to try. Be advised that this sauce goes great with sausage/bacon/any meat, but my suggestion for eating snails is to stick with that delicious plate of buttery escargot.
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