This anchoiade is thick, almost like a mayonnaise, it is salty, unctuous and completely addictive. I can eat it straight, however more traditionally it is served with crudités (radishes, cherry tomatoes, carrots, hard boiled eggs and heart of celery).
Elizabeth David suggests you serve it on toast as an aperitif: grill one side of the bread in the oven, turn it over, cover with anchoiade and grill until it is just beginning to brown. I can vouch for this … it works particularly well with a soft boiled egg (think anchoiade soldiers in place of the Aussie version with vegemite … a scrape is enough.)
4 whole anchovies preserved in salt, or 16 anchovy fillets preserved in oil
1 small bulb of garlic, peeled
½ teaspoon of capers (rinsed if salted)
½ cup olive oil (or use a combination of olive and vegetable if you find the flavour of olive oil overwhelming)
For whole anchovies in salt: cover with cold water and leave for 10 minutes. One by one, separate the two halves and remove the spine and tail and place in a fresh bowl of water. Leave for another 10 minutes and then empty the water and refill … do this at least 3 times.
For anchovies in oil: place the fillets in a small bowl with half milk and half water, leave for at least15 minutes (leave them a little longer if they are really salty), then drain.
Using the side of your knife, squash the garlic clove and anchovies together until you have a consistent soft paste (you could do this in a mortar and pestle or a food processor, but with such small quantities I find the side of my knife the most effective).
Finely chop the capers and add to the mix (I like to leave them with a little texture).
Place this mixture into a small bowl. Twist a tea-towel lengthways (as if you were planning to whip someone with it) and fashion it into a small crown that will hold your bowl. This will stop the bowl swinging around as you are whisking.
Drop by drop … and I mean drop by drop* … add the olive oil, whisking all the time (normally, for example with a mayonnaise, you would have the aid of an egg yolk to emulsify with the oil, in this scenario you are relying on the anchovy to provide the protein, it is a very delicate task … made much easier in large quantities, but we’re not about that).
As the mix begins to thicken and turn pale you can begin to add the olive oil a bit more liberally, but never much more than a fine stream. Taste it. If the olive oil is too pungent for your taste switch to vegetable oil. You can also add some ground pepper or a squeeze of lemon juice.
*In Provence they make little oil pourers that make this job easier, only dispersing the tiniest amount of oil at a time.
My current culinary addiction is anchoiade. This recipe comes from my local butcher in Le Rayol-Canadel in the South of France. It is run by a lovely couple, Madame et Monsieur Peyrelade. In France your butcher sells much more than just raw meat and the Peyrelade’s have an exquisite variety of terrines, patés and prepared dishes such as pissaladier, quiche and stuffed courgettes. On the counter top there are three dips: two olive tapenades (one black, one green) and this, the most divine anchoiade I have ever tasted.