To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall,
The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall,
As if he grew there, house and all
                                                 Together.
Within that house secure he hides,
When danger imminent betides
Of storm, or other harm besides
                                                Of weather.
Give but his horns the slightest touch,
His self-collecting power is such,
He shrinks into his house, with much
                                                Displeasure.
Where’er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own
                                             Whole treasure.
Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one, only feeds
                                                The faster.
Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
(He and his house are so combin’d)
If, finding it, he fails to find
                                                Its master.

The Snail by William Cowper (1731-1800)

Introduzione

The beautiful poetry of Cowper expresses the pleasant charm that this small inhabitant of our gardens instills. I have always been fascinated by this gastropod, to the point that it was one of my favorite invertebrates for my amateur naturalistic observations. Furthermore, I still recall with pleasure and nostalgia the collection of those called ‘ciammaruchelle‘ in the Ciociaro dialect, which are small snails. These were gathered by the handful in the wheat fields after the harvest. It was one of the various culinary traditions that involved my entire family every year and were carried out with constant devotion. The collection was organized with careful timing, locations, and weather conditions to increase the likelihood of success. Usually, we would return home with a rich and tasty haul, but not without difficulties, as the little snails would climb onto the thistle plants (Cynara cardunculus L., 1753) where they would hide among the thorns to protect themselves from predators. Unfortunately for them, the predator Homo Sapiens Sapiens Frusinenses, equipped with keen eyesight and great tenacity, did not easily give up its prey!

The collected species was a variety of the snail Eobania vermiculata, commonly known as “rigatella,” which is very common in Mediterranean regions. The snails were gathered in woven baskets and, once back home, they were enclosed in circular cages with fine mesh walls for several days to purge their intestines. They were then cooked for a few hours in a tomato base spiced with mint (Clinopodium nepeta), following an ancient recipe. The dish was consumed with fresh or, even better, baked bread to make it crispy. It was a vibrant celebration of scents, flavors, and colors, with the sound of slurping as they tried to empty the succulent contents of their shells. A delicate feast of aromas and flavors: the scent of tomato infused with snail meat and mint, combined with the red color of the snails’ shells adorned with white-brown stripes.

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