The Lonely Life of the Anchovy Lover

Long ago, as a tiny child, I was a picky eater, a veritable anomaly in my Italian family.  Even then, I ate anchovies with enthusiastic, wild abandon.  To me, those salty little fish were a savory delicacy, a taste treat that Mom put on her homemade thick-sliced pizza and mixed with angel hair pasta for Christmas Eve.  I didn’t realize then that there were people out there who didn’t like anchovies.

I grew up and ventured out into the world where the anchovy haters were waiting for me.  While I had also grown to be a largely indiscriminate eater I retained a healthy loathing for mushrooms. 

Let’s face it.  To function in society on even the most fundamental level, sometimes you just have to eat pizza with other people.  This is the one constant in life.  My affinity for anchovies coupled with my hatred of mushrooms complicated this bonding ritual for me.

I learned quickly that other people also feel very strongly about anchovies and mushrooms, but not in the same way that I do.  When eating pizza with someone else for the first time, I would always dread the inevitable inquiry:  “What do you like on your pizza?” I have learned not to even mention the anchovies.  “Oh, anything but mushrooms or olives,” I answer cheerfully.
  

I take the anti-anchovy tirades and the pro-mushroom arguments with a grain of salt, the same way I like my anchovies.  I live and let live – continuing to thoroughly enjoy my anchovies (when I can) and avoiding mushrooms, but not begrudging others their preferences. 

But then the haters went a little too far. My husband shared an article from the online magazine Slate with me entitled, “Why Do Pizzerias Offer Anchovies? Almost no one likes them,” by Brian Palmer. Palmer explains that his article is in response to this random question from a reader, “Why does virtually every pizzeria offer anchovies, even though no one ever orders them?”

Palmer offered a very interesting historical explanation of how anchovies came to be served on pizza, and said that they continued to be offered not due to their popularity, quoting a New York area pizza seller that sells about 18,000 pizzas a week, only 50 of which have anchovies on them [math is not my forte, but I think that’s 2600 pies a year]. However, they are cheap and keep well in storage. http://www.slate.com/articles/life/explainer/2012/03/why_do_pizzerias_offer_anchovies_.htm

Seriously, random Slate reader, are you actually starting a campaign against allowing the availability of anchovies to other people at pizzerias? Why does it bother you so much if I like my pizza with anchovies? I'm not hurting anyone, and I'm not forcing you to eat anchovies.  Is this a police state where the majority gets to tell the minority what to eat?

I am mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore! I am not “no one” and I will eat anchovies on my pizza, and in Caesar salads, and in pasta and sometimes straight out of the jar, if I so choose. While I am at it, I just want to say to any of you misguided mushroom eaters out there that you can stop trying to trick me into eating mushrooms, presuming that I only think that I don't like mushrooms.  I KNOW that I don't like mushrooms, and...portobello mushrooms do NOT taste like steak – they taste like big, huge, disgusting mushrooms.

You know, I hate to be so militant, but sometimes you have to stand up for your rights. God bless America… and anchovies.

Carol of the Smelts

It’s Christmas Eve, and today my family will gather together for our very own Feast of the Three Fishes. Yes, yes, I know that it is supposed to be Seven Fishes, and while we celebrate many other fish in our hearts, on Christmas Eve we only eat three-anchovies, smelts and shrimp.

You don’t have to be Italian to love anchovies, but it helps. My mouth is watering just thinking about the anchovies that will be prepared with oil in angel hair pasta, a long time traditional family dish that my husband has been refining and fine-tuning each year. I have never met anyone who is neutral about anchovies – you either love ‘em or hate ‘em. Despite the controversy, the anchovy has found its way into the menus of fine gourmet restaurants – it is an ingredient in the most traditional Caesar salads.

Not so the lowly smelt. It is often referred to as a salmon-like or “salmonoid” fish, but I don’t see the similarity. It doesn’t look or taste like salmon, and in fact the only relationship I can see is the fact that smelts are food to the salmon. Salmon is a favorite menu item in restaurants, but you will very rarely find a smelt dish on that same menu. I only enjoy smelts on Christmas Eve, but I look forward to having them all year. Despite all this, at our Christmas Eve celebration the smelts have been the subject of more thought, care and planning than any other item.

My husband, who nows whips up the best fried smelts in the world for my family each Christmas Eve, inherently understood and embraced the significance of the smelt in our family tradition. To celebrate that tradition, he penned “Carol of the Smelts,” sung to the tune of “Carol of the Bells.” He and I sing this for the family every year before we eat our Christmas Eve meal, whether they like it or not.

I give you "Carol of the Smelts":

Let's get the smelts
Let's buy the smelts
Gotta find smelts
Who sells the smelts?

We got the smelts
Let's clean the smelts
Season the smelts
Fry up the smelts

We cannot stand the
Smelts; they're too bland. The
Oil isn't hot, the
Hell! Why the bother?

Smelts are very, very, very yummy
They're a special present for the tummy!

Oh, let's just eat,
Smelts are a treat.
It's Christmas time.
These smelts are fine.

Dine, dine, dine - gone!