
Chef Thomas
Anchovy Sauce
A proper white sauce sharpened with pounded anchovy, the old Georgian trick for waking up a piece of poached fish or a slice of roast lamb on a Sunday in spring.
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Created by Chef Thomas
A proper white sauce shot through with capers and a squeeze of lemon, the old companion to boiled mutton and salt beef, quietly waiting for someone to remember what it can do.
This is a sauce for the cold months. The kind of thing your grandmother might have made without thinking, ladled over a piece of boiled mutton on a Sunday in February when the windows had gone opaque from the cooking. It's been out of fashion for decades, which is most of the reason I'm writing about it. Some things deserve to come back.
Caper sauce is a white sauce with capers in it. That's the whole idea. But the description undersells what happens when the sharp, briny pop of the capers hits the soft, buttery weight of the sauce, with a squeeze of lemon to wake it up and a handful of parsley to keep it honest. It transforms a plain piece of boiled meat into something you actually want to eat. It rescues a poached fish from politeness. Spoon it over a head of steamed cauliflower and you have dinner.
The trick, if there is one, is the cooking liquor. A spoonful of the water the meat was cooked in, or the broth from a poached fish, ties the sauce to the dish in a way that plain milk never quite manages. This is old cookery thinking. Use what's already in the pan. Don't waste what's already flavoured.
I wrote it down in the notebook the first time I made it for someone who'd never tried it: caper sauce, mutton, late January, snow on the back step. They asked for the recipe before they'd finished their plate. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, and this one has been having the same quiet conversation for two hundred years.
Quantity
50g
Quantity
40g
Quantity
500ml
warmed
Quantity
150ml
or extra warm milk
Quantity
3 tablespoons
drained
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
a squeeze
Quantity
small handful
finely chopped
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| unsalted butter | 50g |
| plain flour | 40g |
| whole milkwarmed | 500ml |
| cooking liquor from the meat or fishor extra warm milk | 150ml |
| capers in brinedrained | 3 tablespoons |
| caper brine from the jar | 1 tablespoon |
| double cream (optional) | 1 tablespoon |
| lemon juice | a squeeze |
| flat-leaf parsleyfinely chopped | small handful |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| white pepper | to taste |
Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over a gentle heat. When it has fully melted and is just beginning to foam, scatter in the flour and stir it through with a wooden spoon. You'll have a pale, sandy paste. Cook it for two minutes, stirring constantly. It should smell faintly biscuity, not raw, and stay the colour of fresh cream. No browning. This is a white sauce, and it wants to stay white.
Take the pan off the heat for a moment. Pour in a splash of the warm milk and whisk it hard into the roux until smooth. Add another splash, whisk again. Keep going, a little at a time, until you have a loose paste, then begin adding the milk in larger pours. Once all the milk is in, return to a gentle heat and whisk steadily as it comes up to a quiet simmer. It will thicken suddenly and coat the back of the spoon. That's the moment.
Stir in the cooking liquor from whatever you're going to serve the sauce with. Mutton water, salt beef stock, the poaching liquid from a piece of fish. This is where the sauce stops being generic and starts belonging to the meal. If you've nothing of the sort, use more warm milk and a touch more salt. Let it bubble gently for five minutes to cook out the flour and settle into itself. Stir often. It should be the consistency of pouring cream, just thick enough to cling.
Take the pan off the heat. Tip in the drained capers and the spoonful of brine from the jar. If you're using cream, add it now. Stir it all through. The capers will perfume the whole pan with that sharp, briny, slightly floral note that makes the sauce make sense. Add a squeeze of lemon, the chopped parsley, and a grind of white pepper.
Now taste it. Properly. The capers and brine bring their own salt, so go easy with the seasoning at first. It should taste bright, savoury, faintly tart, with the capers popping against the soft white background of the sauce. Adjust until it makes you want another spoonful. Pour over boiled mutton, salt beef, a piece of poached fish, or a head of cauliflower steamed until just yielding. Serve straight from the pan, while it's still warm and glossy.
1 serving (about 150g)
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