Anchovy Pasta: Three Ways
Anchovy Pasta: Three Ways
There is a version of anchovy pasta most people know and probably love, and then there are two others worth adding to the repertoire. All three share the same foundation: good anchovies that dissolve into the heat of a pan and disappear as a solid ingredient while leaving behind everything that makes them worth cooking with — salt, depth, and a particular umami intensity that no other tinned fish provides in quite the same way.
The quality of the anchovy matters here more than in almost any other recipe. A cheap tin produces a flat, one-dimensional result. A Cantabrian anchovy — cured for months in salt and packed in good olive oil — produces a sauce with genuine complexity from almost no effort. Yurrita's Cantabrian anchovy fillets, hand-packed in Getaria on the Bay of Biscay, are the ones we reach for for all three of the following.
The full anchovy collection is here if you want to compare what's in.
1. The simple one: anchovy and garlic spaghetti
This is the version to learn first — a spaghetti aglio e olio built on anchovy rather than garlic alone. Cook spaghetti to al dente, reserving a large mug of pasta water. In a wide pan, warm a generous pour of good olive oil over a low heat and add three garlic cloves, sliced thin. Before the garlic colours, add four to six anchovy fillets and press them gently with a wooden spoon. Within a minute they will dissolve entirely into the oil.
Add a pinch of dried chilli flakes, then the drained pasta and a good splash of cooking water. Toss vigorously until the sauce coats every strand. Finish with flat-leaf parsley, a squeeze of lemon, and nothing else.
The oil from the anchovy tin goes in with the fillets. It is part of the sauce.
2. The classic one: puttanesca
Puttanesca is one of the best things to make on a weeknight — loud, briny, and deeply satisfying in a way that tastes like considerably more effort than it involves. The anchovy disappears as it does in the first recipe, but here it dissolves into a tomato base that carries olives and capers into something greater than any of its parts.
Soften two sliced garlic cloves in olive oil over a medium heat. Add six anchovy fillets and let them dissolve. Add a tin of good chopped tomatoes, a large handful of stoned black olives — kalamata are correct here — two tablespoons of small capers, and a pinch of dried chilli. Simmer for ten minutes until the sauce tightens. Cook rigatoni or spaghetti separately, toss into the sauce with a splash of pasta water, and finish with a little more olive oil drizzled over the top.
No parmesan with puttanesca. The dish does not need it and the combination, in Naples, would be quietly disapproved of.
3. The surprising one: anchovy butter pasta
The least well-known of the three and the one that converts the most sceptics. Put four anchovy fillets and 40g of good unsalted butter into a cold pan and warm gently together, pressing the anchovies as they soften until you have a smooth, golden sauce with no visible fish remaining. Cook linguine to al dente, add to the pan with a splash of pasta cooking water, and toss until the butter emulsifies into a glossy, even coating. Finish with finely grated parmesan and coarsely ground black pepper.
This is rich, quiet, and unexpectedly elegant. The anchovy is entirely invisible — in flavour and appearance — to anyone who might claim not to like it.
On which anchovy to use
All three recipes rely on the anchovy dissolving, which means the fillet needs to be properly cured — soft enough to break down in heat and saturated with the flavour that months of salting produces. Cantabrian anchovies from Spain's Bay of Biscay are the benchmark: larger, oilier, and more complex than cheaper alternatives. For a recipe where the anchovy is both the seasoning and the soul of the dish, it is not a place to economise.
Browse the full anchovy collection — including Yurrita and other producers from the Cantabrian coast — to find the tin that suits how often you cook with them.