You know that butter you get in a seafood restaurant to dip your crab legs or lobster in? That butter that is somehow the epitome of butter, and of the concept of butteriness? Well, today I discovered how to make it. No, it's not just melted butter. And no, it's definitely not vegetarian. But it's great on anything!
1 stick of butter
1 clove of garlic, minced
3 anchovy filets, drained and patted dry (I didn't pat mine, but I guess you could)
Melt the butter in a small saucepan. Once it's all melted and also stopped foaming for the most part (only a few seconds after it finishes melting), toss in the minced garlic and let it sizzle for a few seconds. Then, remove the butter from the heat and throw in the anchovy filets. Mash them up as much as you can, prefereably with a wooden spoon.
________
That's it. I served it over cooked cauliflower today and I couldn't get enough of it. Not that I dislike cauliflower to begin with. I am an adult and buy my own groceries, so I don't have to eat cauliflower if I didn't like it. Which I do, and I did. But that was some of the most badass cauliflower I've ever eaten. This sauce was also poured over hot cooked spaghetti or linguine by Great-grandmom Canduci, and while I can't recall ever having it, my mom liked it so much that, despite not even liking anchovies, she still remembers that pasta and how delicious it was. The secret is that you can't taste the anchovies, at least not in the traditional sense. They are definitely the "secret ingredient", but the end product is not fishy or even oily. Just buttery. So deliciously buttery!
Grand-grandmom Canduci was a card. I got reminded of some good stories about her when I was putting up the broccoli rabe post, and decided I would share them.
Gardening: see "How to Get a Free Trip to the Grocery Store"
Great-grandmom was a wiley and resourceful old fox and, according to her children, a wiley and resourceful young fox too. Great-grandmom's method of getting stuff done around the house that she needed to delegate or just didn't want to do herself was to rope the unsuspecting bystander (read: family member) in with a statement something along the lines of "Hey, can you come help me with this?" Who's to turn down a sweet old Italian lady? HAH! Inevitably you would look up from pulling weeds or whatever it was you were "helping her" with and she would be gone! She even did this to me with the crab grass in her front walk, and she died when I was about 8 years old so I know I must have been a fairly small child at the time. Wiley indeed! To pull her tricks even with a little child! I remember the deep sense of irritation I felt.
This is also the method Great-grandmom used when, in her later years, she needed a ride to the grocery store. "Can you give me ride? Is on the way!" she would ask innocently. "Of course!" was the only allowable answer-- remember, this is the woman who smacked her own adult sons with the wooden spoon she was cooking with for failing to compliment her cooking. (FYI: the answer is always "Oh, it is so delicious," to an Italian woman. Otherwise: smacking.) So, the driver in question would load up Great-grandmom and drive over the the Acme ("Ack-em-mah") and she would then turn to them and say, innocently, "Oh, can you help me carry groceries? Is only a few things. Short trip." So, the driver would get out of the car (remember, at this point she or he has been promised that it will be "short trip" that is "on the way", meaning the driver still has other business to attend to) and become more and more incredulous as Great-grandmom worked her way through the entire grocery and at least one full cartload. It's obvious that her victims (read: family members) were truly fooled only a few times. But what are you going to say to Great-grandmom? No? No. In fact, you beat her at her own game, if you could, by claiming to have a strict appointment that you were running late for, or almost out of gas. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
1 stick of butter
1 clove of garlic, minced
3 anchovy filets, drained and patted dry (I didn't pat mine, but I guess you could)
Melt the butter in a small saucepan. Once it's all melted and also stopped foaming for the most part (only a few seconds after it finishes melting), toss in the minced garlic and let it sizzle for a few seconds. Then, remove the butter from the heat and throw in the anchovy filets. Mash them up as much as you can, prefereably with a wooden spoon.
________
That's it. I served it over cooked cauliflower today and I couldn't get enough of it. Not that I dislike cauliflower to begin with. I am an adult and buy my own groceries, so I don't have to eat cauliflower if I didn't like it. Which I do, and I did. But that was some of the most badass cauliflower I've ever eaten. This sauce was also poured over hot cooked spaghetti or linguine by Great-grandmom Canduci, and while I can't recall ever having it, my mom liked it so much that, despite not even liking anchovies, she still remembers that pasta and how delicious it was. The secret is that you can't taste the anchovies, at least not in the traditional sense. They are definitely the "secret ingredient", but the end product is not fishy or even oily. Just buttery. So deliciously buttery!
Grand-grandmom Canduci was a card. I got reminded of some good stories about her when I was putting up the broccoli rabe post, and decided I would share them.
Gardening: see "How to Get a Free Trip to the Grocery Store"
Great-grandmom was a wiley and resourceful old fox and, according to her children, a wiley and resourceful young fox too. Great-grandmom's method of getting stuff done around the house that she needed to delegate or just didn't want to do herself was to rope the unsuspecting bystander (read: family member) in with a statement something along the lines of "Hey, can you come help me with this?" Who's to turn down a sweet old Italian lady? HAH! Inevitably you would look up from pulling weeds or whatever it was you were "helping her" with and she would be gone! She even did this to me with the crab grass in her front walk, and she died when I was about 8 years old so I know I must have been a fairly small child at the time. Wiley indeed! To pull her tricks even with a little child! I remember the deep sense of irritation I felt.
This is also the method Great-grandmom used when, in her later years, she needed a ride to the grocery store. "Can you give me ride? Is on the way!" she would ask innocently. "Of course!" was the only allowable answer-- remember, this is the woman who smacked her own adult sons with the wooden spoon she was cooking with for failing to compliment her cooking. (FYI: the answer is always "Oh, it is so delicious," to an Italian woman. Otherwise: smacking.) So, the driver in question would load up Great-grandmom and drive over the the Acme ("Ack-em-mah") and she would then turn to them and say, innocently, "Oh, can you help me carry groceries? Is only a few things. Short trip." So, the driver would get out of the car (remember, at this point she or he has been promised that it will be "short trip" that is "on the way", meaning the driver still has other business to attend to) and become more and more incredulous as Great-grandmom worked her way through the entire grocery and at least one full cartload. It's obvious that her victims (read: family members) were truly fooled only a few times. But what are you going to say to Great-grandmom? No? No. In fact, you beat her at her own game, if you could, by claiming to have a strict appointment that you were running late for, or almost out of gas. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't.
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