Beurre d'Escargot (Garlic-and-Herb "Escargot" Butter)

When I was four, my parents took me to Paris. Somehow, they had the confidence that their preschooler would be patient enough to endure a tour of Notre Dame, museum visits, and all the French delicacies the city had to offer. I loved every minute of it.

It was on this trip that my parents introduced me to escargots, the French snails most classically baked in a garlicky, herby butter. I have a distinct memory of the escargots, nestled in their shells, arriving at the table. My parents handed me an odd contraption—a pair of tongs with rounded ends to hold the shells—and a petite two-pronged fork for pulling the snails out. Enticed by the fragrant garlic butter, I dug in, undaunted. And so began my love affair with escargots.

To this day, I still order escargots whenever I see them on a menu. Though the snails themselves are delicious—plush, meaty, and savory—it's the herb-and-garlic sauce that I look forward to most. At restaurants, I hold onto the dish long after I've finished the snails themselves (frustrating for the waiters who keep trying to clear the table, I'm sure), so I can take the time to mop up every single ounce of butter. 

I love the sauce so much that I decided to recreate it at home. Many versions of beurre d'escargot exist—some call for paddling the butter and aromatics together with a mixer, others for mixing by hand, and still others for using a food processor. Some cooks eschew shallots, while others incorporate them. I eventually landed on a straightforward version that comes together easily in the food processor: a garlic compound butter with subtle sweetness from shallots and a vivid green color from fresh flat-leaf parsley.

I keep a jar of the butter in my fridge at all times, and it's become my go-to sauce for a variety of vegetables and starches, including blanched green beans, roasted mushrooms, and crisp potatoes. It's also wonderful dolloped on a piece of hot roast chicken or pan-seared fish, or tossed with plain pasta and showered with a hefty grating of Parmigiano-Reggiano. It's my lazy method for upgrading dinner: It instantly gives dishes an irresistibly sweet, savory garlic flavor.

Five ingredients and five minutes are all you need to make the compound butter. Though I like to use a food processor, which makes light work of chopping the garlic, shallots, and parsley and ensures the butter is cohesive and well-blended, you can easily make this by hand. Just be sure to chop the alliums and herbs finely so you don't find yourself with large chunks of garlic when you use the butter.

If you're preparing the garlic butter by hand, it may be tempting to use a rasp grater, such as a Microplane, but, as former Serious Eats editor Sho noted in his story on how to tame garlic's pungent flavor, that can result in a purée "so intense that it could conceivably be weaponized." I recommend sticking with a knife, unless you want your breath to smell like garlic forever. As for the butter, it should be room temperature, which will ensure your compound butter is as cohesive as possible. Start with cold butter, and you'll struggle to incorporate the alliums and herbs, even if you're using a food processor. 

I may not be in Paris, but cooking with this garlicky butter makes me feel like I'm sitting in a French bistro. And who could say no to that?