Bagna Cauda Piemontese

Bagna cauda means 'hot bath,' and this is precisely what you are making: a warm, fragrant bath of anchovy and garlic into which you dip vegetables. It is Piedmont's answer to fondue, though far older and, to my taste, far more interesting. This is not a dish you eat alone. It requires a table of people, good wine, and the willingness to reach across each other.

Now, before you protest about the garlic, understand that bagna cauda contains what appears to be an alarming quantity. This is correct. But the garlic is simmered slowly in milk until it becomes soft, sweet, and utterly transformed. What emerges has none of the harshness that makes raw garlic so difficult. The milk performs a kind of alchemy. Trust it.

The anchovies must be good ones, salt-packed if you can find them, rinsed and filleted with care. They dissolve into the warm fat until you cannot see them, only taste their depth. The vegetables are the vehicle: raw, crisp, cold against the warm sauce. In Piedmont they use cardoons, which are nearly impossible to find elsewhere. Use what you have. The ritual matters more than the specifics.