The Art of the Anchovy

The artistry lies in the ability to delicately flavour a dish while remaining anonymous. Of all the times I’ve slipped anchovies or anchovy paste into a pasta sauce or dressing nary a soul has been able to attribute the slightly salty zing. This is probably a good thing. People seem to have issues with anchovies. I agree. An elongated worm-like purple stretch of a fish with spiky hair follicles is not perhaps the most appetizing presentation but their magic works. They add such an incredible depth of flavour to the simplest recipe they are worth tricking even your loved ones.

I confuse sardines and anchovies. I know biologically they are different species. And I know sardines come in cans where you pull the lid back and they are basked in oil whole. Anchovies are always in fillets (the ones I buy anyway), usually salted, and in a brine or oil. I wouldn’t substitute sardines for anchovies in any of my recipes because sardines aren’t particularly welcome at the dinner table but in Europe I saw many more sardine dishes than I did anchovy ones.

In 1993 my friend Virginia and I traveled from Paris through Spain and Portugal by train. For the most part, we spent our days exploring and then either took an overnight train where we tried to catch up on some sleep or else we bunked up with a local family. I was not yet convinced of the safety of this second arrangement when we arrived in the Algarve and Virginia immediately sidled up to an older man and starting walking up a remote hillside in silence with him heading out of the village. I trudged along behind cursing that we were never going to get out of Portugal with all of our appendages intact (if you’ve ever been to Lima you’ll notice that quite a lot of that city’s population aren’t equipped with all of their flailing limbs. Did you ever wonder why?). Anyway it all worked out just fine. We slept in a double bed on the rooftop of this man’s house. We watched the stars and ate cookies in bed while writing by oil lamp in our journals. We were also awoken at the first sign of daylight to the smell of frying fish. The Portuguese love their sardines. And they seem to cook them all day long. If they weren’t being cooked over an open fire directly under the rooftop we slept on then they were certainly being cooked in every one else’s open fire within shared air space. To this day you couldn’t get me to eat a fried sardine but I love a good anchovy.

This take on a salsa verde comes courtesy of my mother. We served it over a plateful of asparagus as dinner. The asparagus was so thick and so hearty it had the consistency of what we think of as meat. Served with an array of cheeses and breads and a green salad this was dinner. Fait complet.

Salsa Verde
1/3 cup olive oil
2 tsp lemon juice
1 tsp lemon rind
2 Tbsp chopped shallots (or a combination of chopped shallots and green onions)
2 tsp chopped capers (well rinsed, the salted kind the better variety, but the bottled okay too)
3 anchovy fillets, chopped (or 1 Tbsp anchovy paste)
1/4 cup chopped parsley

Combine all the ingredients together in a small bowl and using a spoon ladle over top of hot asparagus. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Comments

[Jennifer]

I would assume that the Portugese love their Sardines as much as the Scots love their herring...breakfast lunch and dinner there is bound to be fried herring in one fashion or another.

[ChovyChap]

A charming tale there Daphne. When it comes to a choice between sardine or anchovy, I agree - anchovies win every time! Thanks for your mums salsa recipe too. Looks worth a try...