
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 vivid green sauce of peppery watercress wilted into cream and sharpened with lemon, the kind of thing you pour from a jug over grilled fish on an evening that wants something a little better than ordinary.
Watercress is at its best in spring, when the chalk streams of Hampshire and Dorset are running cold and the leaves come up dark, glossy, and properly peppery. That's the moment for this sauce. Not the bagged stuff in November that tastes of nothing and bruises in the fridge. The real thing, in season, with a bite to it.
This is a sauce for a dinner party where you want to do something a little better than ordinary without making a fuss. A piece of grilled sea trout, a seared steak, a fillet of plaice barely coloured in butter. Pour the sauce around it from a small jug at the table. The colour alone does most of the work. A vivid, almost shocking green, the kind of green that makes people lean forward.
The method is barely a method. You soften a shallot, reduce some wine, add cream, wilt the watercress, blend. The whole thing takes less time than it takes to grill the fish you're serving it with. The trick, if there is one, is to wilt the watercress fast and blend it faster. Heat is the enemy of that colour. Get it in the jug while it's still singing.
A recipe is a conversation, not a contract. If you've got a bit of tarragon to throw in at the end, do it. If you want to swap the cream for crème fraîche for something sharper, that works too. We're only making dinner.
Quantity
200g
thick stems trimmed
Quantity
1 small
finely chopped
Quantity
20g
Quantity
100ml
Quantity
200ml
Quantity
half
for juice
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
small grating
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| watercressthick stems trimmed | 200g |
| shallotfinely chopped | 1 small |
| unsalted butter | 20g |
| dry white wine | 100ml |
| double cream | 200ml |
| lemonfor juice | half |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| nutmeg (optional) | small grating |
Tip the watercress into a sink of cold water and swish it around. Lift it out, leaving any grit behind. Pick through it, pulling off the thickest, woodiest stems but keeping the tender ones, they carry most of the pepper. Shake it dry in a clean tea towel. You don't need it bone dry, just not dripping.
Melt the butter in a small saucepan over a gentle heat. Add the chopped shallot with a pinch of salt and let it soften slowly. You want it translucent and sweet, not coloured. If it starts to catch or turn golden, the heat is too high. This takes about five minutes. Don't rush it.
Pour in the wine and let it bubble away until almost nothing is left in the pan, just a glossy, syrupy puddle around the shallot. This is where the sauce gets its backbone. The acidity of the wine cuts through the cream that's coming and stops the whole thing from feeling heavy.
Pour in the cream and bring it to a gentle simmer. Let it bubble quietly for two or three minutes, until it has thickened just enough to coat the back of a spoon when you lift it out. Not double-thick. Just enough to feel like a sauce.
Tip the watercress into the pan all at once. It will look like far too much. Stir it through the cream for thirty seconds, no more. The leaves should collapse and turn a deep, glossy green. The moment they do, take the pan off the heat. Any longer and the colour starts to fade and the pepper goes with it.
Tip the lot into a blender, or use a stick blender in a tall jug, and blitz until smooth and vivid green. Push it through a sieve if you want it silkier, though I rarely bother. Squeeze in the lemon juice, taste, add salt and pepper, taste again. A small grating of nutmeg if the mood takes you. It should taste fresh, peppery, faintly grassy, and properly seasoned. Pour into a warm jug and take it to the table.
1 serving (about 125g)
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