RECIPE: Sudi Piggot’s anchovy, parmesan, pecorino and Aleppo pepper shortbreads
Sudi Piggot, aged about 18 months, holding the hand of her mother Brenda with (from left), her grandma Simmy, great-grandma Sarah and great aunt Lily (Picture: Sudi Piggot)[Missing Credit]
In the opening lines of the book, she explains that it was her “racy, harpsichord-playing, chocolates-in-bed-indulging great aunt Lily” who first introduced her to the fish, regularly serving them for afternoon tea – either finely chopped and mixed into the “slightly fudgy” filling of her devilled eggs, or placed whole as the finishing flourish atop bridge rolls smothered with egg mayonnaise.
“My aunt quite liked to show off with her food when we went around,” she tells me, explaining that her epicurean tendencies are inherited from this side of her family. “Both my grandma's on my mum's side were really, really into food and were quite experimental,” she says. “They had lots and lots of cookery books, and I would go and study them and make notes when I went round to their houses.”
Later, explaining where her great aunt Lily and grandma Simmy’s love of food came from, she tells me: “They were fortunate, because their dad who came over from Russian Lithuania was quite canny when it came to property and he did quite well, so they travelled quite a lot. When they were young teenagers they went on cruises, which was terribly decadent, and so they got this interest in more Mediterranean foods, and were both really adventurous.”
Women (known as sobadoras) cleaning anchovies by hand at Angelachu in Santoña, Spain (Photo: Sudi Piggot)[Missing Credit]
As for the anchovies origin story, the book begins in Athens with Piggot tracking their journey through the writings of some of history’s greatest thinkers, such as Aristotle to Pliny the Elder. From there, she travels in delicious detail through Italy, Spain and France, arriving some 200 pages later for a ‘whistle-stop tour of the anchovy in the UK’, before briefly exploring their presence in the rest of the world, and finally, the US.
Even if, like me, you’ve never stopped to consider the anchovy before, the book makes for captivating reading. I’m particularly interested in Piggot’s thesis that they are a food for the future – packed full of Omega-3 fatty acids and sustainable too – and when we talk, I’m excited to hear about the key role women play in the anchovy industry, not only in the careful hand-filleting, but often as company owners too.
At points, it’s also a surprisingly racy read. Just four pages in, Piggot is considering (via the writings of Casanova) whether the anchovy “might equally be considered good for ‘getting it up’ and feeling sexy!”. Although I’m more interested in the sexual proclivities of the anchovies themselves, who Piggot explains “circulate nutrients, oxygen and greenhouse gases around different layers of the ocean, helping to sustain its biodiversity” during their mass spawning rituals.
RECIPE: Sudi Piggot’s riff on pissaladière
Fresh menaide anchovies at Hotel Caruso on the Amalfi coast (Picture: Sudi Piggot)[Missing Credit]
As for a Jewish connection, that comes courtesy of Rome’s ancient Jewish community. As I discovered earlier this year while interviewing Rome-born JC recipe writer Silvia Nacamulli, anchovies became a key part of Roman-Jewish cuisine following a Papal bull in 1555. Aimed at ‘incentivising’ Jews to convert to Christianity, it included severe restrictions on which fish the community was allowed to eat – a fact which Piggot says she was “totally fascinated and more than a little appalled” to learn.
Are there any other Jewish connections to the fish? Piggot isn’t sure, but later follows up with an email confirming: “I've done a bit more digging and it seems that the Sephardic Jewish coastal communities in Spain are accredited as first preparing boquerones en vinagre,” adding: “argh didn't mention this in my book.”
Our time together is coming to an end, but I can’t let Piggot go without asking for her expert tips for buying and eating anchovies. No sooner have I asked then she is up and rummaging in her fridge – returning minutes later with a selection of high-end jars and tins for a gastronomic show-and-tell.
Piggot explains that like chocolate and olive oil, price is a good indication of quality, “because you do have to pay more for something that's been properly sourced and prepared,” and says that Ortiz anchovies – which retail for around £7 a tin – are a good entry-level buy.
DISCOVER: Sudi Piggot’s recipes on The JC
Consider the Anchovy is out now (Picture: Headline Home)[Missing Credit]
“They should be whole, have a really lovely kind of pinky-brown minky colour, and be really beautifully formed and quite velvety and supple,” she explains, adding: “cheaper anchovies tend to be quite scraggly, and often there are bones and bloody bits, which just means they’ve not been prepared very carefully.”
As for her favourite way to eat them, she doesn’t hesitate: “draped on some really really good bread, and really lovely, sweet butter”, which she instructs should be applied in “thin slabs, so you can see the tooth mark in it.”
As for anchovy sceptics, Piggot is convinced that “many who claim not to like anchovies have not tasted and appreciated good quality, well-balanced ones.” But then, as the self-appointed anchovy evangelist, I guess that’s what you’d expect.
Consider the Anchovy: A journey in pursuit of the little fish with the big flavour is out now (Headline Home)
For more information on Sudi Piggot’s work, including upcoming speaking events and dinners, go to sudifoodie.com
