Jane Grigson's Fish Book Part 3

Now omble-chevalier omble-chevalier, or arctic char, isn't likely to come our way very often, but there is no reason why the exquisite sauce shouldn't be served with trout of various kinds (including salmon trout), other char, and grayling, which have been poached in a white wine court bouillon.

150 g (5 oz) sh.e.l.led walnuts1 dessertspoon caster sugar2 tablespoons white breadcrumbs300 ml (10 fl oz) double creampinch of salt1 dessertspoon lemon juice or or wine vinegar wine vinegar150 g (5 oz) grated horseradish If you have been able to buy fresh walnuts, you will find that the pale skin is easily removed; older walnuts need to have boiling water poured over them before the darkened skins can be rubbed off. This sounds a fiddly business, but it is worth doing because the sauce will taste much more delicate without the slight bitterness one can get from walnuts. Chop them finely, and mix with the sugar, breadcrumbs, cream, salt and part of the lemon juice or wine vinegar. Now add the horseradish slowly, to taste (if you have no fresh horseradish, use one of the prepared brands again to taste), and the rest of the lemon juice or vinegar, as necessary. The sauce can be made in the blender. For ways of using horseradish with hot fish, see see Poached turbot with horseradish, Poached turbot with horseradish, p. 435 p. 435, and Carpe au bleu with horseradish sauce, p. 70 p. 70.

ROUILLE.

A fiery sauce of Mediterranean origin, which is served with Bouillabaisse fish soups and stews, or with fish in a large mixture such as ailloli garni. Here are two recipes: 1. Pound in a mortar 2 cloves of garlic and the flesh of 2 small red chilli peppers. Add the liver of bream or red mullet, if they are appearing in the final dish.

Squeeze out a thick, crustless slice of white bread in a little fish stock. Add to the garlic and pepper. Stir in gradually, as if you were making a mayonnaise, 3 tablespoons of olive oil and a little fish stock, or the juices from cooking the fish in foil.

2. If a richer sauce is required, pound 3 cloves of garlic with the 2 red peppers. Beat in 2 egg yolks, then gradually add 250 ml (8 fl oz) olive oil, and season with French mustard, salt and pepper. This is excellent with salt cod or cod fritters.

SAFFRON SAUCE.

This beautiful sauce for fish was given to me by Tom Hearne when he was at the Hole in the Wall restaurant in Bath. It is for steaks of pike, hake, turbot, halibut or ba.s.s, baked in the oven with a little fish stock.

Serves 4generous pinch of saffron600 ml (1 pt) fish stock*, heated heated125 g (4 oz) b.u.t.ter60 g (2 oz) plain flour1 small red and 1 small green pepper, seeded and cut into strips1 clove garlic, crushed and chopped150 ml (5 fl oz) cream2 tablespoons Madeiralemon juice Dissolve the saffron in the stock (this should be made with some dry white wine and a splash of vinegar). Make a roux with half the b.u.t.ter and the flour: moisten it with stock. Cook down to the consistency of double cream.

Meanwhile, soften the peppers with the garlic in the remaining b.u.t.ter over a low heat. When they are soft, add this mixture to the sauce and simmer for 10 minutes. Pour in the cream, Madeira and lemon juice to taste. Add the juices, much reduced, from the fish.

Arrange the fish on a serving plate or individual plates. Carefully pour the sauce round it, and arrange the pepper strips on top.

SKORDALIA.

This is the Greek equivalent to the Provencal ailloli, made without egg yolks as it is a sauce eaten by tradition in Lent, with slices of aubergine and courgette, dusted with flour and fried, and with boiled beetroot and potatoes. On Clean Monday in Greece, the Monday after the last day of the Carnival, when everyone ate themselves to a stupor, it was served with salt cod soaked and deep fried in batter. Nowadays, skordalia often appears on Greek menus with all kinds of fish fried in batter. It is an improver of white fish in general, served hot or cold.

See p. 232 p. 232 for recipes. for recipes.

TAHINA CREAM SALADS.

In cooking, as in much else, one homes continually on the Middle East as the central knot of our world. So in Claudia Roden's A Book of Middle Eastern Food A Book of Middle Eastern Food, one finds the ancestors of Escoffier's walnut and horseradish sauce in the tarator sauce below, or in these sesame meal salads. I give her proportions.

13 cloves garlicsalt, about teaspoon150 ml (5 fl oz) lemon juice or juice of at least 2 lemons150 ml (5 fl oz) tahina (sesame seed) paste teaspoon ground c.u.min (optional)6 tablespoons chopped parsley or or 2 only, to garnish 2 only, to garnishsliced hard-boiled eggs, to garnish Mix first five ingredients in an electric blender or with a beater. Parsley in quant.i.ty can be mixed into the salad, or else the smaller amount can be used as a garnish with the egg.

Serve with baked fish or cold fish. Or serve on its own as an hors d'oeuvre, mixed with a tin of chopped, well-drained anchovies.

1 clove garlicsalt, about teaspoon150 ml (5 fl oz) lemon juice or or juice of at least 2 lemons juice of at least 2 lemons150 ml (5 fl oz) tahina paste5 tablespoons ground almonds5 blanched almonds to garnish Mix first five ingredients in a blender or with a beater, using a little water to soften the mixture if necessary for creaminess. Turn into a bowl, and decorate with a daisy of whole almonds.

Serve with cold fish: John Dory, turbot, sole, cod.

125 g (4 oz) walnuts2 cloves garlicsalt, about teaspoon34 tablespoons tahina pastejuice of 2 lemonsa little water if necessary4 tablespoons chopped parsley Mix as above, folding parsley in at the end.

Serve with fried mussels, baked fish or cold fish.

TARATOR SAUCE FROM THE MIDDLE EAST.

I usually make this recipe from Claudia Roden's book with walnuts, in the Turkish style. This is because we bring them home by the kilo, every autumn, from our neighbour's tree in France. After the hard work of the vintage is over, he finds walnut picking a pleasant job. The tree grows at the foot of a steep slope, and one suddenly sees his head, and the heads of nephews, cousins, and friends, popping out of the leaves like Jacks in the Green. Down below wife and children bash at the branches with sticks, and the nuts come raining to the ground. We munch steadily for days, walnuts with the new wine, walnuts with new bread, walnuts fried with apples to go with boudins noirs boudins noirs. And when I get back to England and electricity, we drink walnut soup and enjoy this sauce with fish; with the ba.s.s, bream or John Dory, mussels, or cod steaks to liven them up.

If your abundance happens to be hazelnuts, almonds or pine kernels, they can be used instead of walnuts.

2 slices white bread, crusts removed125 g (4 oz) nuts150 ml (5 fl oz) olive oil34 tablespoons wine vinegar12 cloves garlic, crushedsalt, pepper Dip the bread in water and squeeze it dry. Crumble roughly and add to the nuts, which should have been finely ground. Mix in the olive oil gradually, beating all the time, then the vinegar and garlic. Season with salt and pepper.

The simplest way is to put all the ingredients, except salt and pepper, into the liquidizer, and whirl at top speed until you have a smooth sauce. Finally season to taste.

VINAIGRETTE OR FRENCH DRESSING.

Basic cookery books give the ingredients for this sauce as three tablespoons of oil to one tablespoon of wine vinegar, but I find this far too strong. Five to one is a better proportion, at least to start with, although the final quant.i.ties will depend on the oil and vinegar used and the opinion of the person who is making it.

The usual seasonings, beyond salt and pepper, are garlic, a hint of sugar, perhaps mustard, and plenty of chopped green herbs such as parsley and chives, with tarragon and basil to add a different note from time to time.

For a plain green salad, or a salad of one vegetable (cooked or raw), olive oil is the best choice. Olive oils vary as much in flavour as wines, but as there is only a limited variety on sale in this country choice is not too bewildering. My own preferences are for the green oils of Tuscany, Umbria and Greece (Minerva brand usually), and for the golden oils of Beaumes-de-Venise in Provence. Walnut oil I use for certain salads, on special occasions. A tasteless oil is good for mixed salads.

Take care with wine vinegar. The best is made in Orleans still. I go for Martin-Pouret brands as I have seen the way they are matured in casks in the old-fas.h.i.+oned manner which give their virtues a chance to develop.

Malt vinegar is not suitable for a sauce deriving from wine-growing countries.

For a green salad, mix the dressing in the bowl; cross the salad servers over it to make a platform for the rinsed and dried salad green. Chill if you like, but do not turn the salad until you are ready to eat it or the softer greenery will collapse unpleasantly.

ABALONE see see A FEW WORDS ABOUT... A FEW WORDS ABOUT... ABALONE ABALONE ALLIS SHAD see see A FEW WORDS ABOUT... A FEW WORDS ABOUT... SHAD SHAD AMERICAN SHAD see see A FEW WORDS ABOUT... A FEW WORDS ABOUT... SHAD SHAD

ANCHOVY Engraulis encrasicholus [image]

The other day, the fishmonger gave me a handful of fresh anchovies, a rare occurrence in England (and in the States, too; although there are plenty of them, no one bothers to catch them. The Mediterranean is the place where the art of the anchovy is practised). They had come, muddled into a load of sprats, from Brixham which quite often happens in winter months and were the same length. The heads have a more pointed appearance: the bodies are slimmer, and rounded. We grilled them and ate them with rye bread and b.u.t.ter, and a seasoning of lemon juice. They were not so fat as sprats, nor so finely flavoured as herrings or the fresh sardines we buy in France.

I suspect that they should be eaten straight from the sea as they are in Italy. On Ischia, they are boned and baked in olive oil, flavoured with oregano; lemon juice is squeezed over them just before serving. Sometimes they are laid on a bed of breadcrumbs, covered with a 'piecrust' of crumbs and cheese bound together with olive oil, and seasoned with garlic, capers and olives. Rather like some of the baked sardine recipes (p. 330).

It seems, too, that absolute freshness is necessary for good anchovy preserving, because they disappear quickly from the docks after a catch is landed, presumably carried straight off to be processed. There are small businesses in the various ports, each with its own 'secret' variation of the recipe. If you are on holiday in the Mediterranean, in Spain, Italy and France particularly, it is worth seeking out the local anchovies. One of the best presents I have ever had was a large tin of whole, salted anchovies which my sister brought back from Collioure near Perpignan. The small picturesque port don't trip over the easels is mainly devoted to anchovy, sardine and tuna fis.h.i.+ng. Similar anchovies in salt sometimes may be bought from Italian delicatessen stores (the best ones come from Gorgona, an island off the Tuscan coast at Leghorn) and some Greek-Cypriot grocers. Before use, they have to be filleted and soaked for several hours, but the flavour is delicious. The oblong tins of anchovies on sale here are more convenient, but tiny; it is pleasing to have a bottomless pit of anchovies in the larder for a change. (Incidentally, 'Norwegian anchovies' are really sprats, put down in salt and bay leaves.) The antiquity of the trade pleases me. It goes back to the ancient Greeks and Romans who relied heavily on a sauce called garum garum or or liquamen liquamen ( (garon is Greek for shrimp, but many other fish were used, including the anchovy). The intestines, liver and blood were pickled in salt, the superb Mediterranean sea salt which still makes a moon landscape of s.h.i.+ning white on many parts of the coast. After weeks in the hot sun, a dark rich essence was produced and sold in trademarked bottles. I read recently that a similar product was used in Turkey, for marinading fish, until the last century. is Greek for shrimp, but many other fish were used, including the anchovy). The intestines, liver and blood were pickled in salt, the superb Mediterranean sea salt which still makes a moon landscape of s.h.i.+ning white on many parts of the coast. After weeks in the hot sun, a dark rich essence was produced and sold in trademarked bottles. I read recently that a similar product was used in Turkey, for marinading fish, until the last century.

Anyone who has looked at Rosemary Brissenden's or Sri Owen's or Jennifer Brennan's books of South-East Asian cookery will notice the ubiquity of fish sauce in Thai cooking. It seems the precise equivalent of garum garum. So does the Nuoc Mam of Vietnam and the blachan blachan and and trasi trasi used all over South-East Asia, made from prawns or shrimps, salted, dried, pounded and rotten, then formed into cakes. Right back to fifth century Athens. All these fishy sauces were and are used to enhance meat dishes, rather as the Chinese use soy sauce. used all over South-East Asia, made from prawns or shrimps, salted, dried, pounded and rotten, then formed into cakes. Right back to fifth century Athens. All these fishy sauces were and are used to enhance meat dishes, rather as the Chinese use soy sauce.

I trust this will encourage you to believe me when I suggest that anchovies and anchovy essence can enrich our own meat cookery. If you have ever eaten pork pies from the Melton Mowbray area, you were not I expect aware that they were probably seasoned with anchovy essence. Try it to flavour a steak and kidney stew or pie. (Subst.i.tute it for oysters, which are now too expensive to be used recklessly as a seasoning, as they once were.) If you have no wine, anchovy essence wonderfully improves a s.h.i.+n of beef stew. Anchovy mayonnaise (p. 54) goes well with cold beef and baked potatoes. In the past legs of lamb were stuck with slivers of anchovy as well as garlic.

With vegetables, less persuasion is needed. Most people know and like cauliflower boiled in the usual way, then dressed with anchovies, melted b.u.t.ter and breadcrumbs (or chicory, or Florentine fennel, or celery). The finest of such dishes comes from Piedmont.

ANCHOVY b.u.t.tER.

Add 68 anchovy fillets, well mashed, to 125 g (4 oz) unsalted b.u.t.ter.

ANCHOVY, GARLIC AND CAPER SAUCE.

An eighteenth-century sauce that goes beautifully with hard-boiled eggs halve them across, spread the sauce on a dish and put the eggs, cut side down in neat rows on top. Allow 69 eggs. Serve it with cooked haricot beans, salt cod and grilled white fish, or tuna.

Serves 61012 large cloves garlic, in their skins810 anchovy fillets2 tablespoons small capersdash of wine vinegarsalt, pepperabout 12 tablespoons olive oil Simmer the garlic in water to cover for 7 minutes. Cool under the tap, remove their skins and put them into a blender (better than a processor for this kind of sauce) with the anchovies, capers, vinegar and a little seasoning. Whizz to a puree, then slowly add the oil to make a sauce of mayonnaise consistency. Taste and adjust seasonings.

This is a strong sauce you could use half sunflower or safflower oil and half olive oil to make it blander.

ANCHOVY SAUCE.

Liquidize 6 anchovy fillets with 3 tablespoons of unsalted b.u.t.ter. Reheat this mixture and stir into the bechamel sauce* just before serving.

NOTE I much prefer a simpler anchovy sauce for fish, particularly for white fish of the cod type which can do with a little a.s.sistance. Melt 125 g (4 oz) unsalted b.u.t.ter and add a finely chopped clove of garlic; simmer slowly for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, crush 6 to 8 fillets of anchovy. Stir them into the melted b.u.t.ter, keeping on a low heat until the anchovies have disintegrated into the sauce. Check the seasoning, and add some freshly ground black pepper. This is excellent with Crostini alla provatura, I much prefer a simpler anchovy sauce for fish, particularly for white fish of the cod type which can do with a little a.s.sistance. Melt 125 g (4 oz) unsalted b.u.t.ter and add a finely chopped clove of garlic; simmer slowly for 5 minutes. Meanwhile, crush 6 to 8 fillets of anchovy. Stir them into the melted b.u.t.ter, keeping on a low heat until the anchovies have disintegrated into the sauce. Check the seasoning, and add some freshly ground black pepper. This is excellent with Crostini alla provatura, p. 53 p. 53.

ANCHOVY AND MUSHROOM SAUCE.

Sliced mushrooms, both cultivated and wild, fried in b.u.t.ter, go well with many fish. I'm not so sure about mushroom sauce. The bechamel seems to dull the savour. One day, though, I found a Swedish recipe in which anchovies were used to season mushrooms, and I took the hint. A surprising combination, but it works well. The flavour of each ingredient, clear and piquant, raises bechamel sauce to the most interesting deliciousness.

450 ml (15 fl oz) bechamel sauce*175 g (6 oz) mushrooms, chopped clove garlic, crushed3 tablespoons b.u.t.ter tin (45 fillets) anchovies150 ml (5fl oz) double creamsalt, black pepperchopped dill weed or or parsley parsley As the bechamel sauce simmers, fry mushrooms and garlic gently in the b.u.t.ter. After about 10 minutes, add the roughly chopped anchovy fillets. Stir well, and add the cream, which should bubble down to make a thickish sauce. Tip the mushroom mixture into the bechamel, season and leave to simmer together for 10 minutes or so until you are ready to serve the fish. Add the chopped herbs at the last minute.

Excellent with all the firm white fish, and with mullet, huss, snapper, and so on.

BAGNA CAUDA.

One late November, we were invited to join a truffle hunt in Piedmont. White truffles, in those parts. The hotel smelled of them since the owner was also a truffle dealer. We ate them for dinner, went to bed in a haze of truffled air, woke up to them, ate breakfast in their pervading presence. As the splendid meals arrived, truffles were shaved fast and furious on to our plates, priceless morsels showering off in all directions in a fine spray to the floor from the edge of the special graters while the large flakes fell generously over the pasta or game before us. In the snowy morning, we were taken off to watch the dogs of Alba working in the woods. They leapt on the leash, thin and ravenous, like medieval hounds on a tapestry, finding truffles with such ease that we felt they had been planted there in advance for our benefit.

At midday we were taken off to a vast barn, out of the way of truffles, to a great spread of vegetables encircling a pot of gently bubbling anchovy sauce, a bagna cauda. We dug in with stalks of celery and cardoon, slices of Florentine fennel, chicory, peppers, carrots and Calabrese, stirring up the garlicky salt brew.

Next night we had bagna cauda again, this time in special little pots with nightlights underneath. It was served at the Belvedere restaurant at La Morra, and to honour the occasion truffles were sliced into the sauce. This is the recipe they gave us, and I have used it ever since though minus truffles, I am afraid.

Serves 618 plump cloves garlic, skinned, slicedmilk18 large salted anchovies, soaked, filleted, chopped or or 3 50 g (1 oz) tins anchovy fillets in oil 3 50 g (1 oz) tins anchovy fillets in oil60 g (2 oz) unsalted b.u.t.ter250 ml (8 fl oz) olive oil6 eggs (optional)12 white truffles (optional)a variety of raw vegetables, cut in handy piecesgrissini or bread sticks bread sticks or or long bread 'soldiers' long bread 'soldiers'

In a small pan, simmer the garlic in enough milk just to cover it. The milk should gradually reduce in the 710 minutes it takes for the garlic to become tender watch it, or the pan will catch. Put in the anchovies, cut in pieces, with their oil if they are tinned. Crush them down over a very low heat, using a pestle or potato masher. Work in the b.u.t.ter, then the oil gradually. The sauce will become thick and brown, with the oil separating out. This can be done in advance.

Put the eggs and truffles, if used, into a basket. Prepare the vegetables and arrange them in another shallow basket, or put pieces on individual plates which will eventually hold small pots of sauce. Put the bread into a jar.

Just before the meal, bring the anchovy sauce back to simmering point. Pour it into six warm pots, preferably the special kind for bagna cauda with little lights beneath them. Put a pot on each plate to serve. At table, grate a little truffle into the sauce and then each person dips pieces of vegetable into their pot, stirring up the piquant sediment into the oil. When the sauce is almost gone, break an egg into the remains and stir it round fast so that it scrambles in the warmth. Eat the egg with the sticks of bread.

If you don't have the appropriate pots, you might do better to have one central fondue pot over a nightlight, with everyone dipping into it. It is more difficult, then, to manage the eggs, but they are hardly necessary if the bagna cauda is providing the first course of a meal, rather than the meal itself.

PAUL BAILEY'S ANCHOVY SALAD This anchovy salad of Paul Bailey's has a dark rich appearance, and a clean savoury taste, that make it an ideal start to a meal. Guests look furtively round the table, serving spoon in hand, as they count heads, trying to work out just how much they can decently help themselves to. Mainly Paul uses dried tomatoes put up in olive oil by the Italian firm of Carapelli: they are particularly soft and luscious. Dried tomatoes, sold by weight, can also be used: if they are very dry, soak them in a little very hot water before putting them into the salad.

Serves 684 large red peppers, roasted or grilled and skinned5 small tins anchovy fillets in olive oil, 50 g (1 oz) sizeabout jar dried tomatoespepper, basil leaves, olive oil Make this salad several hours before the meal, if possible. This gives everything a chance to settle down well together.

Cut the peppers into strips, discarding the seeds. Split the anchovy fillets longways. Arrange both in a shallow bowl with the tomatoes, add pepper to each layer and display the various pieces to make an appetizing streaky effect of colour. Scatter in some torn up basil leaves. Pour in the oil out of the anchovy tins, plus enough extra olive oil to come almost to the top. Just before serving, scatter the top with torn basil leaves and extra coa.r.s.ely-ground pepper.

Serve with a coa.r.s.e country bread without too positive a flavour.

CANAPeS a LA CReME.

Serves 11 round of breadb.u.t.ter34 anchovy fillets1 tablespoon clotted cream Take the round of bread from a slice 1 cm ( inch) thick, with a large scone cutter. Fry it pale brown in b.u.t.ter (clarified is best). Quickly arrange anchovies on top and place on a very very hot dish. Cover with clotted cream and serve immediately. The contrast between hot crisp bread, sharp anchovy, and cold grainy cream is excellent whipped cream does not give the same result at all.

CROSTINI ALLA PROVATURA.

An Italian rarebit, improved by anchovies spectacularly improved.

Provatura was a cheese made from buffalo's milk which has, according to Elizabeth David's Italian Food Italian Food, almost disappeared from the market. Even in Rome, this dish is now usually made with mozzarella cheese. Other subst.i.tutes are bel paese, Gruyere, and provolone originally another buffalo milk cheese, though in fact it is now usually made from cow's milk, like mozzarella, and is much less tasty in consequence.

The general point of the recipe is to improve cheese-on-toast with a sauce of anchovies melted in b.u.t.ter. Mrs David's recipe suggests putting slices of cheese nice thick slices on rounds of French bread. These are then arranged, slightly overlapping each other, in an ovenproof dish, and put into a fairly hot oven until the bread is crisp and the cheese melted but not runny. For the sauce for 6 to 8 crostini, soak 4 or 5 fillets of anchovies in warm water for 10 minutes. Heat them in 60 g (2 oz) of b.u.t.ter, having chopped them up first. Pour over the crostini and serve immediately.

Ada Boni, this century's Mrs Beeton of Italian cookery, has alternating chunks of cheese and bread on skewers, cooked over a wood fire or in a fairly hot oven (gas 6, 200C/400F). The sauce is similar, but the proportion of b.u.t.ter to anchovies is higher.

Incidentally, this sauce is excellent with veal or pork tenderloin escalopes, or on vegetables, or slightly dull white fish. Remember that leg of veal to be boiled for vitello tonnato vitello tonnato is often larded with anchovy fillets. This was common practice in the past, in England, with beef, too. is often larded with anchovy fillets. This was common practice in the past, in England, with beef, too.

HARICOTS a L'ANCHOIADE This is an example of the agreeable southern French habit of eating garlicky mayonnaise sauces with hot food, such as soup, vegetables and fish. Anchoiade is often served with boiled salt cod and boiled potatoes. It can also be stirred into fish and tomato soup or fish and saffron soup, instead of a peppery rouille*. Try it with hard-boiled eggs, instead of the usual mayonnaise. Delicious. Or with baked potatoes and cold beef.

Serves 6500 g (1 lb) haricot beanssalt910 anchovy fillets23 cloves garlic1 large egg yolk150 ml (5 fl oz) olive oilchopped parsley Soak and boil the beans in unsalted water in the usual way. Add salt when the beans are just cooked, and give them another 5 minutes.

In the meantime pound anchovies, garlic, and the egg yolk to a paste. Add the oil (which must be olive oil) gradually, as if you were making a mayonnaise*. If you use a blender, include some of the egg white when the anchovies, garlic and yolk are being whirled to a paste.

When everyone is ready for the meal, drain the beans and fold in the anchoiade. Sprinkle with parsley. Serve immediately. The dish can be eaten cold, but the flavours are clearer and lighter when hot.

ANCHOIADE DE CROZE A splendid elaboration of the simple anchoiade of Provence, which was given in A splendid elaboration of the simple anchoiade of Provence, which was given in Les Plats regionaux de France Les Plats regionaux de France by Count Austin de Croze. In the twenties, he was one of the leaders, with Curnonsky, of the new interest in the food of France outside Paris, and the grand restaurants of the haute cuisine. by Count Austin de Croze. In the twenties, he was one of the leaders, with Curnonsky, of the new interest in the food of France outside Paris, and the grand restaurants of the haute cuisine.

Serves 1260 g ( (2 oz) finely chopped parsley, chives, tarragon finely chopped parsley, chives, tarragon2 good sprigs green fennel leaves, finely chopped2 cloves garlic, finely chopped1 small onion, finely chopped3 dried figs, finely chopped1 small dried red pepper12 blanched almonds12 anchovies in oil or or 12 anchovies in brine, washed 12 anchovies in brine, washed4 or more tablespoons olive oillemon juice1 tablespoon orange-flower water12 brioches, bridge rolls or finger rollsblack olives Mix the ingredients up to and including the figs. Pound the next four together to a paste. Combine the two mixtures. Add lemon juice to taste, and then the orange-flower water go slowly because it has a surprisingly dominating flavour. (If you want to do the chopping and pounding in a blender, you will need more olive oil.) Open the brioches, or rolls. Spread the top side with the anchoiade, and brush the bottom side of the cut with olive oil. Close the rolls, and heat for 510 minutes at gas 67, 200220C (400425F). Serve surrounded by black olives.

JANSSON'S TEMPTATION The name of this dish is an incitement to culinary myth-making. For instance: 'Eric Janson, the Swedish religious reformer who founded Bishop Hill, Illinois, in 1846, preached rigorous asceticism to his followers, no liquor and a diet that barely sustained life. One day, according to legend a zealous Jansonist discovered the prophet feasting...' But as Jansson is a Swedish equivalent of Smith or Jones, why look any further for a meaning than 'Everyone's Temptation'? A gloss which is perfectly convincing when one has tasted this piquant gratin of potatoes, onions, anchovy and cream. Don't use milk instead of cream, as many Swedes do these days, or the beauty of the t.i.tle will escape you.

Norwegian 'anchovies' should be used but they are tricky to find.

Serves 63 large onions1 kg (2 lb) potatoes3 tins anchoviesfreshly ground black pepper300 ml (10 fl oz) double or or whipping cream whipping cream60 g (2 oz) b.u.t.ter Peel and thinly slice the onions. Peel the potatoes and cut them into matchstick strips (a mandolin cutter saves time). Grease a shallow oval gratin dish with a b.u.t.ter paper. Arrange about half the potato strips in an even layer, then make a lattice of the anchovies on top. Cover with the onions and the rest of the potatoes. Season well with pepper only. Pour over the oil from the anchovy tins and half the cream. Dot with the b.u.t.ter and bake in a hot oven (gas 7, 220 C/ 425 F) for half an hour. When the potatoes begin to look appetizingly brown, lower the heat and pour over the rest of the cream. Taste the cooking juices and add salt if necessary. Return to the oven until the potatoes are cooked.

A lunchtime dish, to be followed, prudently, by no more than a salad and some fruit.

NOTE The amount of cream can be varied in quant.i.ty (upwards) and type (mix in some single cream). The amount of cream can be varied in quant.i.ty (upwards) and type (mix in some single cream).

p.i.s.sALADIeRE.

If you are a cook living in the Mediterranean, the sun does half the work for you. Tomatoes and onions have acquired a concentration of sweet richness: olive oil, olives and anchovies flavour them to perfection. This combination is known to us all in the form of the pizza which has sadly become a cliche I have even seen it described as an American national dish and, to be fair, people like Alice Waters have turned it into an elegant creation of the most skilful cooking. Mostly, though, it is plain awful, unless you find yourself in Naples where it all began and where in some pizzerie pizzerie you will find the real original rustic sort of dish, baked in the right sort of oven. you will find the real original rustic sort of dish, baked in the right sort of oven.

At home you will do better with the p.i.s.saladiere no connection, in spite of the similar sounds. Pizza means pie. p.i.s.saladiere takes its name from p.i.s.sala p.i.s.sala, the modern descendant of those vigorous Roman confections known as garum garum and and liquamen liquamen ( (see Anchovy Introduction). It can have a little tomato flavouring Italian influence but really it is an onion tart. You can make it on a bread base, like a pizza, but the contrast of a crisp sort of pastry, Anchovy Introduction). It can have a little tomato flavouring Italian influence but really it is an onion tart. You can make it on a bread base, like a pizza, but the contrast of a crisp sort of pastry, pate brisee pate brisee or shortcrust is really more agreeable. (It may be heresy to admit this.) or shortcrust is really more agreeable. (It may be heresy to admit this.) Serves 62 kg (4 lb) onions, sliced3 cloves garlic, finely choppedolive oil1 large bay leaf teaspoon thymesalt, pepper2 tablespoons tomato concentrate or or well-reduced puree (optional) well-reduced puree (optional)2528-cm (1011-inch) pastry case, baked blind23 teaspoons p.i.s.sala or or about 9 anchovy fillets, soaked about 9 anchovy fillets, soaked60 g (2 oz) black olives, preferably the tiny nicois kind Cook the onions and garlic slowly in a little olive oil, with the bay leaf and thyme. Cover the pan to begin with, then remove it so that the mixture does not become watery. Season, having regard to the anchovies and olives, and mix in the tomato if used. Spread the pastry with p.i.s.sala, if that is what you are using. Put the onions on top evenly. Dispose the anchovy fillets and olives on top of them.

Pour over a little olive oil and bake in a fairly hot oven, gas 6, 200 C (400 F) for 20 minutes or so, until the pastry is properly cooked and the olives are beginning to wrinkle.

Eat hot or warm with a gla.s.s of red wine splendid picnic food.

SALADE NIcOISE.

When Mediterranean dishes are taken up by northerners, they become a kind of dustbin. Pizza is a sad example. We lose all sense of the basic austerity of the south. Salade nicoise was once the simple food of a none too wealthy community. Tuna fish has, for instance, been far too much of a luxury to be included until recently. To us, on the other hand, tiny broad beans and young violet-leaved artichokes and basil are luxuries. They are what give the salad its special character, along with tiny black nicois olives. Don't spoil it with cooked French beans and potatoes. If you can't get broad beans or artichokes young and tender enough to eat raw, steam or boil them lightly before adding them to the salad.

Serves 46500 g (1 lb) tomatoes, quartered, skinnedsalt clove garlic3 hard-boiled eggs, quartered1 cuc.u.mber, peeled, thinly sliced2 small green peppers, seeded, thinly sliced6 spring onions, sliced175 g (6 oz) sh.e.l.led small broad beans or or 8 small, trimmed violet-leaved artichokes, thinly sliced 8 small, trimmed violet-leaved artichokes, thinly sliced12 salted anchovy fillets, soaked, cut in 4 or or about 300 g (10 oz) cooked or canned tuna, flaked about 300 g (10 oz) cooked or canned tuna, flaked100 g (3 oz) small black olivesolive oil, large basil leaves, black pepper Sprinkle the cut sides of the tomatoes with a little salt and drain them in a colander.

Rub the salad bowl with the cut clove of garlic, then discard it. Salt the pieces of egg lightly. Arrange the vegetables in the bowl, and put the tomatoes with them. On top, scatter the eggs, anchovy or tuna and olives. Pour over about 4 tablespoons of olive oil and tear the basil leaves over everything. Pepper well and chill for about half an hour.

Salade nicoise is served as a first course very often, or as lunch with plenty of bread. If you are going on a picnic, slice a shallow round loaf of bread across, remove most of the crumb and brush it with olive oil vinaigrette. Pack it with the salad ingredients, wrap it in cling film and chill under a light weight. This wonderful snack is known as pan bagna pan bagna.

SCOTCH WOODc.o.c.k.

I am not keen on names which give an affected impression of the reality rock turbot and rock salmon are two flagrant examples, however hallowed they may be by antique regional use. Scotch woodc.o.c.k is another. In extenuation, I suppose that woodc.o.c.k has become as legendary as the phoenix, except to millionaires and game-keepers: one can hardly be angry at a comparison one is never likely to be able to make.