
Chef Ally
Anchoïade with Seasonal Crudités
A pungent, silky Provençal dip of pounded anchovies and garlic, surrounded by whatever crisp vegetables the market offered that morning. Simple food that rewards good sourcing.
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A bold, briny spread from the hills of Provence where sun-ripened olives, salt-cured capers, and anchovies are pounded together into something greater than their parts, begging for crusty bread and good company.
Start with the olives. Not the canned California kind, but the small, wrinkled olives cured in brine or oil, the ones that taste like the Mediterranean sun and rocky hillsides. Niçoise olives are traditional. Kalamata will do beautifully. What matters is that they have character, that faint bitterness balanced by richness, and the kind of depth that only time and salt can create.
Tapenade is one of those preparations that proves my point about perfect ingredients needing almost nothing done to them. You pound olives with capers and anchovies. You add good olive oil. That is essentially the whole recipe. The technique is nearly invisible because the ingredients carry everything.
This spread has been made in Provence for centuries, long before anyone called it tapenade (the word comes from tapeno, Provençal for caper). Fishermen and farmers ate it smeared on bread, and so should you. Every meal is a meaningful choice. When you buy olives cured by someone who cares, when you seek out capers packed in salt rather than vinegar, you are voting for a food system worth preserving.
Quantity
1 cup (about 6 ounces)
preferably Niçoise or Kalamata
Quantity
3 tablespoons
drained and rinsed
Quantity
4
packed in oil, drained
Quantity
1 small
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
1/4 cup, plus more for serving
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
to taste
freshly ground
Quantity
for serving
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| pitted black olivespreferably Niçoise or Kalamata | 1 cup (about 6 ounces) |
| capersdrained and rinsed | 3 tablespoons |
| anchovy filletspacked in oil, drained | 4 |
| garlic clove | 1 small |
| fresh thyme leaves (optional) | 1 teaspoon |
| extra-virgin olive oil | 1/4 cup, plus more for serving |
| fresh lemon juice | 1 teaspoon |
| black pepperfreshly ground | to taste |
| crusty bread | for serving |
If your olives still have pits, remove them by pressing each olive firmly with the flat side of a knife until the pit pops free. Taste one. Good olives should be briny and rich, with a slight fruity bitterness. If they taste tinny or flat, seek better olives. The tapenade can only be as good as what goes into it.
Place the capers in a small strainer and rinse under cold water. If using salt-packed capers, soak them in cold water for ten minutes first, then rinse. This removes excess salt without washing away flavor. Pat them dry. Capers should add pops of brightness, not a salt bomb.
If you have a mortar and pestle, use it. Drop in the garlic and pound to a paste. Add the anchovies and capers, crushing until no large pieces remain. Add the olives in batches, pounding until you have a rough, textured spread. The mortar gives you control over the final texture, and the slow process releases oils that a blade cannot.
Drizzle in the olive oil slowly, stirring or pounding to incorporate. The oil should loosen the paste and give it sheen, not make it greasy. Add the thyme if using, the lemon juice, and several grinds of black pepper. Taste. The anchovies and capers provide salt, so you likely will not need more. Adjust the lemon if you want brightness.
Transfer to a bowl and let the tapenade sit at room temperature for at least fifteen minutes before serving. The flavors need time to marry. Drizzle with a little more olive oil, and serve with thick slices of crusty bread. The bread should be good enough to eat on its own. The tapenade will make it unforgettable.
1 serving (about 23g)
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