Gavdos: Snails on a Greek Desert Island

In 1990, I agreed to accompany my boyfriend to the island of Gavdos, a desert island whose only claim to fame is being the southernmost point of Greece and Europe. My boyfriend, who later became my husband, was fulfilling an obligation that all Greek doctors have, which is to work in a rural area of Greece before opening a practice. The island was desperate for a doctor and he said he would go if I would go with him. Unaware of the hardships we would face, we set off with stars in our eyes on an unforgettable adventure of modern day survival.

As the Doc and I came to terms with our new lifestyle which was void of any modern conveniences, we realized that canned corned beef and macaroni gets old real quick. Besides canned tomato paste, canned squid and sardines, these were the only things available from the "mini-market" that were edible. Provisions, ordered via the one telephone available to us, were slow in getting to the island even when the weather was good. If the sea was too rough, the little mail boat might not sail for weeks. We were craving variety in our diet and set out to do some good old fashioned hunting and gathering.

When the weather is dry, snails will hibernate and wait for any kind of moisture, be it rain or heavy dew or mist. When it's dark, they'll wander around having a drink and eating whatever foliage is available. So, the best time to go snail hunting is before dawn on a wet night after a considerable dry spell. We smelled rain on the way and made plans to get up early.

Luckily, the rain had stopped by the time we rolled out of bed at about 4am. We groped around for our flashlights and went out with plastic bags and high expectations. Doc, having been raised in a mountain village, had more experience with this kind of thing, so his bag started filling a bit more quickly than mine. It might also have had something to do with him not being so careful about keeping his fingers from touching any of the icky slimy bits.

The snails we found must have been there for a long time, because they were big and juicy. The Doc was salivating talking about the great feast we would have later that week. We would stew them with onions and tomato paste with the usual salt, pepper, garlic and oregano for seasonings. They would be great over spaghetti. He said we should also set some aside to steam so we could take them from the shell and dip them in olive oil with garlic and oregano. I was actually starting to like the idea of having something different to eat for a change when i stepped on one of the critters and felt the crunchy shell push into the rubbery body. I couldn't look at it. I just had to move on.

When Doc's bag was full, he traded bags with me and quickly finished filling mine so we could get back to our room for a hot cup of Greek coffee. The bags were tied securely so the snails couldn't crawl away and left outside for us to deal with later.

I didn't realize there was so much preparation before we could pop these shelled morsels into the pot. I was a bit surprised to see the Doc setting up a cage for them using a plastic crate and mesh bags that had previously held potatoes. He carefully poured the two bags of snails into the crate and added a handful of flour and about half a package of uncooked spaghetti. He was careful to tie up the end of the mesh bag before standing back to admire his work.

He explained that the snails had been eating whatever they picked up from the ground, including dirt, so their digestive tracts needed to be cleaned out. Being a doctor, what other way would he explain this? The snails had already started eating the flour and the spaghetti, which would make their inner contents acceptable and non-gritty. I wonder if we had fed them garlic if they would've been garlic flavored snails.

We left the snails in their cage outside the front of the doctor's office, where we were forced to stay until the school teacher vacated the official doctor's residence. We had only seen "our" house from the outside, but knew it had one large room and a smaller room that was a kitchen. I was quite eager to have my little propane stove top inside the house after cooking outside under the covered hallway between the Mayor's office and the Doctor's office. We had yet to see the Mayor. He lived on Crete, a 4 hour boat ride away, and was the captain of one of the tourist boats on the south side of that island.

The next morning, following my usual routine, I opened the office door to go out to the hall to fix our coffee and stopped in my tracks. There were about 5 - 6 snails on the wall in front of me. I went to check the snail cage and gasped. The snails, under the cover of darkness, had found a hole in the mesh potato bag and had escaped! They had started climbing the whitewashed walls and were scooting across the cement walkway along the front of the building, which now looked like it had broken out in freckles during the night.

Doc came out looking for his coffee and we had a good laugh. I had already started picking them off the walls, but he told me not to worry about them going too far and fix the coffee first. We collected all the escaped snails and deposited them back in the plastic crate with more flour and spaghetti, but this time the crate was double bagged and double checked for holes.

We thought the jail break had escaped notice, but before noon, quite a few of the islanders had stopped by to have a second look around and chuckle about our snail farming techniques. They were quite impressed with the large number of snails we'd collected and I sensed that some were wanting to join in when the snails were ready to be served. They're quite a delicacy and eaten in greater quantities than the French escargot. They are also eaten with a great deal more sucking and slurping noises than is acceptable in most social circles.

It starts with a tap of the fork on the side of the shell where the very center of the spiral sticks out. The hole caused by the tap lets air into the shell and releases the suction so the snail can be pulled out with a toothpick or just sucked out with the mouth. The Greeks find the latter most efficient as they're saving a step, but like I said, it's a bit odd to be sitting at the dinner table with everyone making these slurping noises as if it were the most natural thing to do.

After a while, it was all normal eating etiquette to me. We enjoyed the wine, the laughter, the food, and most of all, the company of the islanders who were quickly becoming our friends.