Extra Bites

Considering the anchovy

This week on Cooking the Books, Sudi Pigott considers the tastes and traditions around one of the most unsung heroes of the seas, the anchovy.

Here she shares one of the stories that didn’t make the final cut, and the recipe for one of her food moments from the book.

A JOURNEY IN PURSUIT OF THE LITTLE FISH WITH THE BIG FLAVOUR by

I’ve lost count of how many times well-meaning friends and colleagues have told me about a gorgeously packaged conservas tin they’ve come across or some stylish merch I might like to add to my growing kitchen and wardrobe homage to the anchovy, before I realise they’re actually talking sardines. Often, they’re just back from Portugal.

Although Portugal is synonymous with sardines, I discovered that they have as long a tradition of anchovy conserving as Spain (that is right back to the Iron Age), it’s just that they often get confused.

North Atlantic caught Portuguese anchovies are generally smaller and leaner than those caught in the Cantabrian Sea. From my experience, they pack a punchy, intensely briny and robust more fish forward than buttery flavour, better for cooking than eating naked. The best brand is Tricana made by Conserveira de Lisboa whose joyfully vibrant shop in Lisbon I long to visit.

Adding another layer to the conundrum, since writing ‘Consider the Anchovy,’ Mitch Tonks, chef-owner of Rockfish restaurants and ambassador for the MSC (Marine Stewardship Council) has launched ‘Plymouth Anchovies’ in his Rockfish canned fish range.

These rare early Autumn anchovies are caught as a bycatch with sardines around the South Devon coast, landed at Plymouth. Mitch says last year, the anchovy catch amounted to just over 1.5 tonnes, which sounds a lot, but is tiddly. The anchovies are flash frozen. Some are served fried at the Rockfish restaurants.

The rest of the anchovies are transported to Asturias in Spain - not as far as you might think, about the same distance as Dartmouth to Aberdeen. As Mitch says,there is no way he could import the centuries old canning craft of northern Spain to Devon, let alone bring over sobadores to hand fillet anchovies in time honoured fashion passed down through generations. In Asturias, the Devon caught anchovies are cooked in salt water like sardines and preserved whole (yet headless) in olive oil in peak condition, still gleaming white, firm, lightly oily with a seductive sweetness.

Bagna Cauda

I adore bagna cauda which I first had in Turin when visiting Slow Food’s Salone del Gusto with the late great chef/restau-rateur/mushroom lover Antonio Carluccio. It is synonymous with Piemonte where they love anchovies, despite being so distant from the sea. Every family and chef has their own bagna cauda recipe. This is the best recipe I have tried, and is a take on the bagna cauda served with partridge and polenta at a collaboration dinner at Bocca di Lupo, in London’s Soho, with Italian food specialist Rachel Roddy. Bagna requires extreme patience in emulsifying to a sensuous silkiness, though it is worth it.

Serve bagna cauda with cardoon (its most traditional accompaniment); fennel; radicchio; carrots; radishes; crusty bread; steamed new potatoes and cauliflower. I find leftover bagna cauda delicious cold the next day to eat with more raw vegetables.

Ideally, dig out your old fondue set to set the bagna cauda over a flame to keep warm, but I couldn’t find mine and it seemed to stay warm long enough.

6-8 cloves of garlic 80g of milk

100g of anchovies 40g butter

125 ml double cream

Lemon zest from half a lemon

100 ml extra-virgin olive oil/groundnut oil. I use a 50:50 ratio

Freshly ground black pepper

Pre-soak the peeled garlic cloves in milk.

Chop the anchovies.

Put the garlic, milk and butter in a bowl over a bain-marie – a pan of simmering water. Cook slowly, stirring often until the garlic has melted to a sticky paste.

Add the anchovies, cream, lemon zest and plenty of black pepper and cook slowly in the bain-marie on a very low heat for an hour so that all the flavours properly infuse.

Add the oil, a 50:50 ratio of groundnut oil and evo is best, very slowly, patience is rewarded as the idea is for the bagna cauda to emulsify rather like a hollandaise. If it gets too thick, add a little water, very gradually.

If, despite your best efforts, it splits, just put the bagna cauda in a blender, and whizz up until it is smooth.

Keep the bagna cauda warm in the bain-marie over barely sim-mering water until you are ready to serve.

Stir occasionally to stop the bagna cauda separating.

The bagna cauda can be made ahead, refrigerated and slowly reheated in a bain-marie over simmering water. Add a little more cream to thicken if needed.