One of the classic ways of conserving seasonal food, especially in rural Italy, is to preserve food in jars ‘sott’ olio’ or under oil. Usually vegetables, such as peppers, artichokes, eggplant and mushrooms, are partially cooked, grilled or brined beforehand, then covered completely in oil. The oil excludes air and acts as a seal against deterioration. The shelf life of these country treasures is shorter than other foods preserved using the bottling or ‘canning’ method, and once opened, they should be stored in the fridge.
One of the most enticing treats done in this way is anchovies under oil. I have vivid memories of the first time I tried anchovies conserved in this way. It was February 1993 and I was living in Siena for a month to attend a language course in Italian at the Scuola di Dante Alighieri per Stranieri, a short course wedged between my first and second year Italian studies at university. The course was demanding, with daily classes from 8 am to 1 pm, with a short coffee break in between. This left the afternoon free to explore the countryside or to wander the streets of Siena before returning home for a wine, a snack and more homework. One lunchtime, a fellow student and his wife invited me to lunch- he was, like me, an older student and was studying Italian to enhance his wine writing career. He recommended a little osteria, a simple place, with an appealing array of antipasti dishes displayed at the front counter. And there they were, sitting neatly in a rectangular glass dish, acciughe sott’olio, pink tender fillets of anchovy glistening under golden olive oil, carpeted above in finely chopped parsley. I ordered a large scoop, along with some other bits and pieces and a panino. Anchovies have never been the same for me since that day. When in Italy, I always order a small container of acciughe sott’olio from an alimentari: they taste nothing like the jarred or tinned variety.
Last Wednesday as I was trawling the fish market at Preston, a big shiny pile of fresh anchovies caught my eye. I could barely contain my excitement, largely because in all the years I’ve been frequenting fish markets around Melbourne, I’ve never seen them offered for sale. I bought one kilo, raced back home and spent the next hour, with some help from Mr T, de-heading and gutting hundreds of these tiny fish: no bigger than my little finger, this was a real labour of love, the anticipation of eating the finished product inspiring me to gut neatly and well. The following recipe is for those who might come across fresh anchovies in their travels and who don’t mind some tedious gutting. The gutting becomes quite easy once you get a rhythm going. Once gutted, they are easy to brine and conserve. Don’t confuse fresh anchovies with sardines- they are two quite distinct species: anchovies are much smaller and look and taste completely different.
Fresh anchovies preserved under oil. Acciughe sott’olio.
- 1 kilo fresh anchovies
- course salt
- red wine vinegar
- EV olive oil.
- garlic
- herbs
First of all, wash the fish a few times in a large colander to remove some of the blood. Then start the de-heading and gutting process, well armed with a strong wooden cutting board and newspaper for the scraps ( perfectly fine sent to the compost heap). As you cut off head, push down against the board and drag it away from the body- you’ll find that the guts come out with the head in one simple movement. If the anchovy separates into two parts, pull out the backbone: if not, leave it there, to be removed later.
Once prepared, lay in a glass or ceramic container – I used a large earthenware gratin dish. Liberally sprinkle with course salt, lifting the little fillets through the salt, then arrange them neatly in the dish. How much salt? Quanto basta, as they say in Italian recipes, q.b. for short, which means as much as you think they need. Cover with red wine vinegar. Cover the dish, and put it in the fridge for 24 hours.
The next day, sterilise two medium sized jars for the anchovies. Drain the brine from the fish, remove their fine backbones, which will pull out very easily, then pop into jars, layering them with a little finely chopped garlic and some oregano if you wish. Don’t overdo the extra flavours as they may come to overwhelm the fish over time. Fill the jars with olive oil, knock the jars against the bench a few times to remove air-pockets, then top up with more oil as needed. The contents must be covered. Put on lids tightly then store in the fridge. Leave for around five days before eating. As olive oil turns cloudy when cold, remove the anchovies a few minutes before serving and place in a small bowl. The oil with clear in no time in a warm room.
As the flavoured oil is a component of this antipasto dish, you want to use good tasting oil, but perhaps not a top notch one. I used Cobram Australian Extra Virgin olive oil, a good quality everyday oil and one that tastes quite good too.
Serve as part of an antipasto selection, or simply place them on top of good sourdough bread, along with parsley and black pepper, and eat them when the mood takes you.

The recipe was inspired by a post by Debi who wrote about finding fresh anchovies in Greece, around one year ago. I remember that post well, thinking that I would never see the fresh species land in my local fish market.
I will treasure this recipe in the event I ever encounter fresh anchovies. I use tinned and bottled as a flavour layer in cooking but just can’t eat them as is since I had them fresh… where and when escapes me which is unusual as my food location memory is usually very good, however the taste and texture memory is deliciously clear.
Btw… big fish little fish swimming in the water is still swimming around my head.
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Haha, sorry for that earworm. Although I have known that song for ages, I had never watched the video till recently. I was entranced by her fishy hand movements. It’s dark but catchy.
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It’s a great video clip… the fishy movements kept me watching until the end.
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You can’t imagine how delicious that looks to someone (me) who lives over 1000 miles from the ocean. Anchovies are too perishable to make that trip unless they are already preserved. So I can only imagine how good they are!
best… mae at maefood.blogspot.com
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I really admire your dedication, to head and gut all those little fishies shows how excited you were! I am not a lover of anchovies, although I imagine I am thinking of the very commercial, mass produced types.
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They are very nice done this way though if you’re not an anchovy fan, they might be a bit challenging. As I don’t eat meat, but do eat fish, sometimes a little spoon of these will be enough to satisfy my craving for a umami taste.
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Hmph! My yesterday’s attempt at reaching you having failed I hope for better luck this morning! Perhaps I was jumping up and down too much since you were writing so fabulously about probably my favourite fish ! Yes, I also am lucky in having had them often in oil and in Italy . . . love your simple recipe and two of my Sydney gfs have already been threatened with mayhem if they did not visit the Sydney Fish Market with their detective hats on ere next trip south 🙂 ! Shall follow your instructions exactly . . . . yet you probably realize I grew up on the North European version – pickled and jarred with both heads and guts still part od the scene ! Indeed one of the first lessons any small child gets in the use of knife and fork up ‘my way’ is in doing a neat job of beheading and disembowelling the wonderful critters . . . then so go on a hard-boiled egg on black bread sandwich for breakfast . . . . oh, yummy !!
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So nice on top of hard boiled eggs. The other day I had some leftover baked pumpkin, so squashed it onto some croutons, and slathered a few of these anchovies on top. Lunch done.
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Hey Francesca .. I can only imagine how wonderful these taste! Bet we would never be able to buy those fresh in NZ ..
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