Anchovies and anchoiade courtesy of Robert Carrier

We have guests for dinner on Saturday, and we seem to be moving towards a barbecue and so I was trying to find a good recipe for my pork. I remembered Robert Carrier had a section on barbecues in his original Robert Carrier Cookbook so I got it out and was flipping through it when I came across the following passage in which he waxed lyrical about anchovies.

"if I were marooned in one of the little fishing ports along the coast of sunny Provence, with a Provençal anchovy salad, made with salted anchovies, wine and olive oil, and spiked with fresh herbs and thin lemon slices. The whole is marinated until the anchovies are tender and soft, and the essence of the lemon and herbs has permeated the flesh of these delicious fish.

In Britain we can get salted anchovies by the piece or the quarter pound from little specialty shops in Soho, or buy them in large cans and use them as the occasion warrants. It is an easy task to wash away the salt in which they are packed and to snip off the heads and tails, and gently prise the rose-tinted fillets from their bones. It is simplicity itself to place these fillets carefully in a bowl, and douse them in equal quantities of olive oil and red wine. They are then flavoured, as the spirit moves you, with finely chopped shallots, onions or garlic, or a hint of all three, and a judicious sprinkling of finely chopped fresh parsley, chives or basil and, of course, several thin rounds of lemon."

Now I love anchovies - maybe it's the salty taste - I suspect I'm slightly addicted to salt in the same way that David is addicted to sugar. Can't have pizza without anchovies. And I did like this rather purple passage. There's the romance of Provence again, and all the usual vocabulary of food porn, if you can call it that, though used in a slightly posher and more old-fashioned way. If it was Jamie Oliver talking he would sort of say the same things but in a slightly different way.

The other thing that struck me about the passage (the book was published in 1965) was the fact that he talks about sourcing anchovies in Soho - were there really none elsewhere? Nowadays your local supermarket has them in flat tins or round jars, but without doing a survey I think most of them still come from somewhere around the Mediterranean. You do need to go to a specialist shop to get the white anchovies that you can buy in France and Italy. I think these are fresh and not so salty. Personally I do not soak them to rid them of salt, but then as I said, I'm possibly addicted to salt. I also seem to be buying the jars these days, but that's probably a price thing.

Nice salad recipe too. Maybe I'll do that instead of the anchoïade.

I'm also thinking of a variety of nibbly things as my first course, so this got me thinking about anchoïade - which I also love and decided me on sticking to anchoïade and not really investigating everything else you can do with anchovies. Robert Carrier describes it as the "essential secret ingredient that gives so many other Provençal dishes their authentic rustic savour."

In his book Feasts of Provence he has quite a lengthy section on the dish. So I shall quote again (sorry but he says it all so much better than I could):

"In its purest form anchoïade is basically a sauce - or paste - made of anchovies, garlic and olive oil. Some cooks add a few capers or pounded tuna and/or a few drops of lemon juice, cognac or marc de Provence to bring out the potent flavour. I personally add a final dollop of red wine vinegar and a sprinkling of dried herbs de Provence to the mix, as I was taught when I first came to Provence at the tender age of twenty-two."

He then goes on to say that one of the founders of modern French cookery - Austin de Croze went truly over the top in his version:

"[it] must be the ultimate in exaggeration: a sumptuous poetic, slightly mad version of the basically simple peasant dish which has always been a comforting and elegant snack when spread on crusty farm bread and toasted over an open fire. De Croze's wildly imaginative version includes pounded almonds, dried figs, finely chopped onion and fines herbs, hot red pepper and a dash of orange flower water for a spectacular anchoïade which he termed a 'quintuple essence' of all things Provençal"

And on the next page he gives the recipe, which I won't, but interestingly he immediately follows that passage with a much simpler recipe from another grand old man of French food, René Nouveau. I don't know if this is a subtle hint that the exaggerated version is rubbish. Here is the simpler version:

"Take a [salted] anchovy or two per person' wash them, remove the backbones and put them in a platet d'Aubagne [heat-proof glazed earthenware dish]; moisten them with good olive oil and a good vinegar and leave them on the corner of the stove [over a very low heat] until all the ingredients have melted and formed a sauce."

Perhaps this is slightly akin to the fermented fish sauce that the Romans used to make from anchovies.

Elizabeth David too talks about the variations - well it's a classic and basic peasant dish and so there are bound to be countless variations aren't there? You could probably find enough to write a whole book on the subject if you wanted to. This is what she says:

"all sorts of things can be added, such as black olives, a few drops of cognac, a pounded tomato, or a little concentrated tomato paste. ... It is by no means an everyday dish, but like so many dishes which one forgets about for months at a time, when one wants it one feels that nothing else will quite do."

Which is sort of how I feel about it now. Think I'll make some tomorrow for Saturday's hors d'œuvres, although one guest can't eat garlic, so maybe not. Anyway here are both of their recipes. Not quite sure which one I shall choose although they are virtually identical, which is interesting.

ROBERT CARRIER'S VERSION

1 50g can anchovy fillets in oil

1 large clove garlic , crushed

1 tablespoon olive oil

Few drops lemon juice, cognac or red wine vinegar

1 tablespoon softened butter

Pinch dried herbes de Provence

Ground black pepper

4-6 thick slices white bread

Combine the anchovy fillets, crushed garlic, olive oil and softened butter in a mortar, and pound to a smooth paste. Season to taste with a few drops of lemon juice or cognac and a little freshly ground black pepper, or a dollop of red wine vinegar and pinch of dried herbes de Provence.

Slice the bread in half; toast on one side only and while still hot, spread anchoïade paste on the untested side, pressing the paste well into the bread. Toast in a hot over or under the grill for a few minutes just before serving.

ELIZABETH DAVID'S VERSION

Pound 2 cloves of garlic in a mortar, then add the contents of two 50g tins of flat anchovies in olive oil, and pound them to a rough paste. Thin with olive oil, about a tablespoon, added gradually, and a few drops of vinegar. Toast a rather thick slice of bread on one side only. While it is still hot spread the anchovy paste on the untested died with a fork, pressing it well down into the bread. Heat in a fast oven for 3 or 4 minutes.

OK - I can't help myself. Delia has a slightly more complicated but maybe tastier and more refined version?

6 anchovy fillets, drained

oil

freshly milled black pepper

1 clove of garlic, crushed

6 black olives, stoned and finely chopped

½ small onion, finely chopped

1 ripe tomato, skinned and chopped, or use 1 tablespoon tinned chopped Italian tomatoes

1 heaped dessertspoon fresh chopped parsley

1 heaped teaspoon tomato purée

couple of drops of wine vinegar

Start off by pounding the anchovy fillets to a pulp, either by using a pestle and mortar or else by putting them in a basin and crushing them with the end of a rolling pin.

Then spoon them out into a bowl, and add the garlic, chopped olives and onion, and the tomato and parsley.

Now sprinkle in the oregano and a seasoning of pepper, and add the tomato purée, vinegar and a few drops of oil. Use a fork to mash everything together until thoroughly combined.

Next heat up the grill, and slice the French bread in half horizontally. Place both pieces under the grill, crust-side up, to crisp them a little (but not brown them).

Then spread half the anchoïade mixture on each of the slices – on the untoasted side – bringing the topping right up to the edges of the bread.

Put them back under the grill with a little drizzling of oil on each piece, to heat through for 5 minutes.

Then serve.

She also has a slightly different version which adds goat's cheese to the finished product.

Jamie Oliver doesn't do anchoïade - which is also interesting.

And one more thing. It seems there is a plague of a certain kind of jellyfish that has invaded the Adriatic and wiped out virtually all the anchovies. So eat anchoïade while you can!