Kim James 
There are many methods to eat anchovy butter, but I am especially keen on four of them – the primary being unfold on toast. At the beginning of her Sunday Night Book, Rosie Sykes describes her circle of relatives “toast Sundays”: a huge pile plonked within the middle of the desk, in conjunction with knives and treats, including her recipe beneath for anchovy butter, to spread on top. I revel in considering this scene of crossing fingers and beneficiant spreading. Without being overly pedantic about what is essentially an unfussy meal, the temperature of the toast is critical; you want it not so hot that the butter melts and escapes off the rims, nor so cool that it stays opaque, but rather somewhere within the middle, where it’s heat sufficient for the butter to sink in, but now not away.
The 2d way with this butter is alongside broccoli. Like the Judas trees on Via Galvani and the famous person jasmine on our leaky terrace, the broccoli family is bursting into flowers. “It’s the end of the season,” the person at the fruit and vegetable save at the piazza tells me, pointing to the final crates of tree-like calabrese, sprouting broccoli and broccoli, which look like mad, leafy sprouting broccoli, however, are, in fact, turnip tops.
He explains that the tiny yellow plant life beautifying the florets like daisies inside the grass isn’t the most effective fit for human consumption, however gentle and sweet. Then there may be a macabre flip that is an acquainted a part of Roman food purchasing when he tells me the eventual seeds can be lethal whilst handing me a bunch of broccoli with flowers. I take that to intend they are nevertheless tender and sweet.
In Sunday suppers of my formative years, there was always roast hen and green greens with a slick of butter at the red waxed tablecloth with a “tack tack” feel. When the butter is anchovy butter, this at ease combination is given superpowers, with the wealthy, umami sear of the anchovy, the heat from the chili, and the lemon zest giving just sufficient acidity for the perfect melted accomplice.
There is equilibrium, too, with the third way; stirring spoonfuls into drained, steaming warm pasta – spaghetti, linguine, and specifically thick ribbons of clean egg pappardelle, which appears designed to wear a coat of wealthy butter and anchovy sauce, a flick of which necessarily ends up in your garments.
Last, however now not least, the fourth manner is the usage of anchovy butter to make breadcrumbs. Put a massive spoonful in a frying pan over medium-low heat and, once melted and frothing at the edges, upload a handful of breadcrumbs from the coronary heart of a white loaf and let them sizzle until golden, scraggy, crisp, and deeply flavored.
Sicilians once in a while refer to breadcrumbs as the parmesan of the terrible; that is ironic right here because having absorbed a lot of flavors and fried almost golden, they appearance and flavor something but poor. Again, broccoli works right here: a handful of crumbs offers an extraordinary and captivating contrast to the fleshy stems and gentle inexperienced florets. Alternatively, spring greens, pasta and tomato sauce, or pasta with broccoli are all stepped forward with the aid of these crisp crumbs. ; sAnd, for extra riches, positioned 1/2 a jar of anchovy butter in the refrigerator for some other day.
For Rosie’s anchovy butter, discover a 50g tin of anchovies, garlic cloves, pink chili flakes, the zest and juice of an unwaxed lemon, and 150g butter. You may need salt, and you will need broccoli, pasta, or breadcrumbs (or all 3). Make the anchovy butter: drain the oil from the tin of anchovies and pulse or pound in a meals processor or mortar with the garlic, a pinch of crimson chili flakes, and the lemon zest till you have got a sludgy paste. Then melt the butter in a small pan, pour it directly into the food processor, and pulse again or upload to the mortar. Taste and add lemon juice and salt if you assume it desires it. Add a large spoonful to steamed or boiled (and properly-drained) broccoli. Pour the rest right into a jar with a lid and kick back until it sets firm – and becomes a company favorite.
