The Lonely Anchovy

The anchovy is a food that would divide the world: those who swear by the little fish, and those who detest its very existence. 

A flavor-packed tiny morsel, an anchovy tastes of the sea in all its glory. Salty, a tinge of brine on the tongue -- this is truly an acquired taste. Anchovies often accompany caesar salads, antipasto plates, pastas and other Mediterranean salads, and can be found at the most authentic tapas bars, sitting lightly on a toast point with a bit of cheese or oil.

I am a fan of the anchovy, and find particular sadness when the Lonely Anchovy manifests at a meal. The Lonely Anchovy is the sad little fishie I imagine in the kitchen of a fine restaurant, lonely because a non-believer in the dining room has requested anchovies not touch his caesar salad. Scores of anchovies must go unopened in kitchens, just waiting for the wandering anchovy lover to grace the restaurant. 

My good friend Tory McPhail uses white anchovies (a particularly tasty variety) in his Parmesan Crusted Oyster Salad at Commander’s Palace. In fact, it was this salad that turned me on to the amazing little fish. I admit it... I was a non-believer in my non-foodie days. Oh, the tragedy of all the Lonely Anchovies I created in my ignorance!  

Imagine this lovely meal: fresh romaine lettuce, crispy fried oysters, roasted red peppers, generous slices of Roma tomatoes, olives, sea salt + cracked pepper, Parmesan cheese, and tiny little white anchovies gracing the plate, drizzled in a creamy buttermilk dressing. This recipe is included in Tory’s new book, and I had the pleasure of being present during the food styling and photography for this dish. 

I promise, I do not own anchovy stock, but I feel as though this little delight gets a bad rap among non-foodies and foodies alike. Won’t you join me in the campaign against the Lonely Anchovy?