Butterflied, Crisp-Fried Fresh Anchovies- A Suprisingly Glamorous Tuesday Lunch.

The anchovy is such an elegant fish- svelte, firm, clean-scented. They are very nearly scaleless, tight silver skin glinting beguilingly. In this case, like in so many others, elegance has no relation to cost; these are always the least expensive fish in our part of the Mediterranean. 

A fishless week is happily a rare thing in our house- specifically, an anchovyless week. It's easy to think of anchovies- salt-cured to rich dark suppleness- as a vital and transformative condiment rather than a food- a decisive element of Caesar Salads, Pizza. Fresh ones, lighter on the umami mystique, lighter on the palate, make an ideal fish fry. I never set out to get them, but nearly always do- they are usually 2 euroes a kilo, crisp like apples in the fall- always the freshest of the fish on offer. The light taste of sea never gets tiresome. Cleaning them is surprisingly not at all disgusting; it's satisfying in a primal, visceral sort of way. Short work, too- the guts generally come right out cleanly attached to the head when you cut it off. The blood smells cool and fresh. Owing to their price, freshness and availability, they are a common dish in many homes. So common that, although beloved and delicious, they are not usually thought particularly special. Taking the extra step of butterflying them changes this.

For a generous plate of fried fish, we will need:

A kilo of fresh anchovies

salt

a few handfuls of flour

good oil for frying- one finger-width deep

lemon

maybe some vinegar

Have a newspaper beside the sink, toss in the fish (they will bounce if they are nice and fresh!), and, holding the fish in one hand and a small paring knife in the other, remove the head, pulling the guts out along with it, leaving them on the newspaper. Put the fish in a bowl. A kilo yields about 75 fish. Of these, 5 or 10 may have some scales. They are easily taken off with a knife, drawing the blade from tail to head.

When all the fish are clean and in the bowl, run them under the tap, filling the bowl with water, massaging the fish gently, and changing the water- which will be cloudy and silver at first- until it is very nearly clear. Shake out handfuls of fish to remove most of the water and put them in a smaller bowl.

There are two things that can be done with them:

I. If they are to be fried up whole- which is really just fine and certainly the easiest thing to do- season them with salt and squeeze a lemon over them, leaving the lemon nestled among the fish. Refrigerate until you are ready to fry them, giving them at least a half an hour. The flavors of salt and lemon continue to build- if you plan to leave them long before frying, season them more gently. The bones can be eaten, or very easily removed at the table.

2. If you are of a mind to spoil everyone, you can butterfly them, loosening the spine from the flesh with your fingertips and removing it. 

This is not difficult, and slightly easier if you leave the fish in vinegar for a short time- as if you were making boquerones but more briefly. The flesh will become whiter and more opaque, like a cevice, and the bone will be easier to remove. The fish will take on some liveliness of the vinegar- much more than a half an hour, and they may take on more flavor than you would like for a simple fish fry. When they have been deboned, put them all in a strainer and salt them, tossing the fish abut so the salt gets everywhere. These are now ready for frying (and ready for making a magnificent en Saor- to be enjoyed for days from the refrigerator as a mezze or substantial cocktail snack).

Either way, when ready to fry, put on a large pan of oil (the depth of a finger) on high heat, toss the fish in a fine mesh strainer, dredge them in flour, and give them a vigorous shake to remove the excess before laying them individually in the hot oil so they do not clump together. Whole or filleted, they will need to be turned. The fillets are ready in a flash- they will be done before you need to turn down the oil. For the whole fish, you may need to adjust the temperature if they begin quickly to blacken. You may also find you need to change the oil after two or three batches- much as you may shake the excess flour off, some will fall into the oil, continuing to brown with each new batch. When golden, take them out with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels. This makes a beautiful heaping tangle of fish, worth the very little trouble and even less money.

I have found that serving fish for Tuesday lunch sets a fine tone for the week, so fine that it covers for the eventuality of less elaborate meals later on.