One Ingredient: Eight-Anchovy Dressing (and how to serve it with just about everything)
Photos by Michael Piazza / Styled by Catrine Kelty
Last November, following our loss at the IACP Awards to the GOAT herself, famed culinary historian Dr. Jessica B. Harris, I ate the best salad of my life.
I’d traveled to New York with longtime Edible contributor Claudia Catalano, whose wonderful story on homemade ricotta was recognized as one of three finalists in the Best Column category; we hadn’t expected to win, but it was such an honor to have been included in such extraordinary company. The IACP (International Association of Culinary Professionals) is a veritable Who’s Who of the culinary-literary world, and merely attending the awards ceremony was a privilege, as was meeting some of our own food writing heroes in person.
It was a Wednesday night, unseasonably warm in the city, and after a long evening spent traversing faraway neighborhoods in taxicabs and traffic, we tucked into a cozy little prix-fixe restaurant in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. It was well past 9 when we finally sat down to what we discovered was Burger Night—an unusually late supper for two middle-aged suburban ladies, and not exactly what we would have ordered had we been given the choice. But what came out was just what we needed: a bitter radicchio salad lashed in a spicy, creamy, almost fruity dressing—Caesar-like but so much better—showered in a copious amount of finely grated Parmigiano and crunchy toasted crumbs; then two juicy, cheddar-laden burgers with oven-baked fries and a vanilla-hazelnut semifreddo to finish. The burgers were lovely and I’ll always adore a semifreddo, but it was the salad—and especially its dressing—that stayed with me, even weeks later. I had to find a way to re-create it at home.
My first few attempts to replicate this “super-Caesar” came out fine, but it wasn’t quite the same. Not as punchy, not as umami-rich, not nearly as moreish as the one in Brooklyn. What I’d assumed was a classic Caesar with a bit of added spice—a whole egg, lemon juice and olive oil, a single clove of garlic and a pair of oil-cured anchovies, plus loads of parm and a pinch of dried chili flakes—felt a bit wan and boring compared to the now-idealized perfect dressing. It needed more sweetness, more savory, more everything, really. And so the next time I made it I really went to town, adding the full can of anchovies for extra umami (all eight, hence the name of the recipe), the zest of the lemon for fragrance, some honey for sweetness, Dijon to aid in emulsification, a splash of champagne vinegar for acidity and—this is where everything came together just as I’d remembered—a full teaspoon of Calabrian chili paste, the fieriest red chilies submerged in a vinegar-oil blend. And there it was: a golden, butter-yellow sauce with all the spice and punch I needed. It was perfect.
I’ve spent the half year since making a jar of this dressing every single week and serving it not just on salad greens with cheese and crumbs, but with just about everything else we’ve eaten: on bitter greens like endive and curly frisée; as a spread for sandwiches; on soft boiled eggs; as a marinade for meats and fish; to bind barely steamed broccoli, cauliflower and kale; I even used it to dress a warm potato salad with parsley and fried capers. So even though we didn’t take home the big prize at the IACP, I got this excellent dressing out of the experience, which in my book is a win in itself.
As summer nears, I’m already imagining the ways I’ll use up my weekly jar. When July rolls around and it’s too hot to cook, all I need is a grill, a farmers market and a fresh batch of Eight-Anchovy Dressing. None of the following recipes is particularly innovative or original, but they’re classic combinations of summertime ingredients that take advantage of the best produce season of the year, all topped off with a tangy, tasty dressing.
EIGHT-ANCHOVY DRESSING
Feel free to use fewer anchovies in your dressing, but don’t leave them out altogether. They’re integral to the big umami flavor, and they don’t make the dressing “fishy” in the slightest, especially if you use good anchovies like Rizzoli from Italy, or Fishwives or Ortiz from Spain. Building and blending the dressing in a 32-ounce wide-mouth jar makes cleanup and storage simple, but if you don’t have an immersion blender, a regular blender or food processor will work just fine.
Makes about a pint of dressing
1 organic lemon, zested and juiced
¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
½ teaspoon Diamond kosher salt
2 egg yolks
½ teaspoon honey
2 cloves garlic, grated
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon Calabrian chili paste
8 anchovies, preferably Cantabrian and packed in extra virgin olive oil (use fewer if you like)
1 teaspoon champagne or white wine vinegar
1 cup freshly grated Parmigiano Reggiano (about 30 grams)
1 cup extra virgin olive oil
In the bottom of a 32-ounce mason jar, add the lemon juice and zest, pepper, salt, yolks, honey, garlic, mustard, chili, anchovies, vinegar and cheese. Pour the olive oil over the top. Insert an immersion blender into the jar and make sure it’s touching the bottom of the glass. Blend, slowly moving the blade up and down, until the dressing emulsifies and becomes thick and creamy. Taste for seasoning and add salt or pepper or more chili or honey to taste. Store in the jar in the fridge for up to 2 weeks. Use it on everything until it’s gone, and if the last 2 tablespoons or so seem pretty thick, whisk in a few drops of water to thin it out.
For “the best salad of your life,” use this dressing on a mix of spicy local greens and/or radicchio and other bitter endive-style leaves. Fry some breadcrumbs in extra virgin olive oil, toss with the salad and dressing and shave or grate copious amounts of Parmigiano Reggiano on top.
RECIPES
This recipe story appeared in the Summer 2026 issue.
