Attempting to make lunch for a friend today, I discovered I had run out of anchovies – even though I always have some in stock: tins and jars of the salted variety in oil, tubs of boquerones in vinegar, and, lurking in the back of the fridge, a tube of anchovy paste. I was bordering on hysterical as I made my way to the local supermarket, only to find they too had run out. I instantly went online and ordered a massive tray of the salted ones that last forever to ensure this never happens again – though I know it will, because I use them all the time.
One of the numerous uses for anchovies is as an integral part of a dressing for Caesar salad. Without it, the entire salad is a flop. And for me, it would be unthinkable to slow-roast a shoulder of lamb without a few of the salted variety mashed into the fat to add some essential, rich, umami flavour to an otherwise fairly sweet meat.
Yet anchovies have been disliked for decades. In 2020, they were voted the most hated food in the UK – alongside olives, oysters, liver and marzipan. In 2022, they came in at number one again, beating haggis, beetroot, tofu and sushi.
There are over 140 species of these tiny fish, found in Europe, California, Peru, Mexico, the western Atlantic, Japan, Australia, Indonesia and elsewhere. The salted types are very strong in flavour, and the texture of both the fresh and the pickled varieties can be challenging.
For those who say they hate anchovies, I get it. When I’m cooking for people I don’t know well and ask if there’s anything they dislike, I’m often told: anchovies. When this happens, I will avoid serving them brazenly in a salad, alongside red onion, tomatoes and capers (totally delicious). But I will still include them – stealthily – in a seasoning or as a relish. No one ever notices, except in the form of praise for my flavours and seasoning.
Anchovies are a key ingredient in Worcestershire sauce, which most people will add to tomato juice. They perk up a ragu and are essential in a rich tomato and basil sauce for spaghetti. Used like this, anchovies add something no other seasoning can – and don’t make the dish taste fishy at all.
For those who say they hate anchovies, I get it
Or how about anchovy butter, served with roast chicken and hispi cabbage, or melted into olive oil and mashed with roast garlic? Another favourite is linguini with garlic, cabbage, anchovies and breadcrumbs. Salted anchovy is also the backbone of a perfect fish sauce – which can be used on every savoury dish imaginable, from stir-fry to beans on toast.
My favourite preserved brand is Ortiz – more expensive, but excellent (I also favour their preserved tuna, which I think is far superior to the fresh variety). Anchovies that come in jars and tins have been filleted and cleaned before being cured in salt. But the others, fresh out of the water, need to be gutted and soaked in milk before you cook with or eat them.
I appreciate fresh anchovies in many ways: on toast with a little garlic mayonnaise, or the pickled type as a lovely addition to fish stew, added right at the end to give the sauce more pungency. The best I have ever eaten was in the world-famous tapas bar in Barcelona, Cal Pep. They came dressed with parsley and garlic, their tiny heads poking above shavings of fennel and lemon zest. The thing about anchovies is that they are at their very best when – like a good waiter, maître d’ or DJ – you neither know of nor notice their presence.
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