Incognito Anchovies

I have developed this theory: the number of people I met here in the US that affirm they do not like anchovies is inversely proportional to the one of those I know in Italy who say they love them. I wonder why.

I am an anchovy's fan, a real one. I truly am. But I understand that we are not talking about an "easy" food here. Their flavor is strong and salty and fishy. And delicious.

One of the reasons for people to not liking them much must be their flavor audacity, but possibly also the way they are used in cooking. My husband is one of those who do not get along too much with them. I recently found out, though, that his first encounter with anchovies was on top of a pizza and the main thing he remembers about that flavor experience was SALT. Clearly the high heat to which they are exposed with no mercy when baked over a pizza does not leave room to any subtle hints: the salty trait is mostly all you perceive.

But there is more to them than just salt and definitely more than the role of pizza topping. They perform greatly even (if not especially) when they are not the main star of the movie. So, in case you are among the distrustful ones, try approaching them when they hide, rather than when they are in the spotlight, at least at the beginning of what, I bet, could be a mutually satisfactory relationship.

I made two different pestos with anchovies, in the past few days. One of them was for a sauce for homemade tomato and mozzarella filled ravioli. The pesto sauce was made with shallot, garlic, capers and pine seeds. An orchestra of flavors playing some tasty mediterranean music. You would have not known the anchovies were there but I promise you we would have missed them if they were not!

The other was made with anchovies (of course), parsley, garlic and olive oil to make a dressing for some baked sliced bell peppers. Come on, it’s really difficult not to like them that way: they dissolve into a savory sauce that enhances the peppers. These vegetables are certainly not weak in flavor and therefore need some daring sauce to go with them. There it was: my anchovy dressing. Bold, yes, but complex. Not just salty.

I still like anchovies a lot as they are, no masks on or hidden in anything. To me they are elegant even when naked. I remember one time, back in Italy, when a friend brought a can of spanish oil-packed anchovies to a party I went to. We had them over bread and butter, nothing else. For a while you could not hear a word. Just sighs of pleasure.

But, again, f you want to use them as ONE of the ingredients for other preparations, well the sky is the limit and sometimes you can hide them so well (still benefiting from their contribution to the recipe) that even the most convinced detractors would appreciate them.