Marinated courgettes with mint and garlic

For the past 10 years, some of my best cookbook purchases have been from Oxfam on London’s Marylebone High Street and the Mercatino dell’Usato in Monteverde in Rome. I visit both as often as possible, always feeling the same high on book-buying endorphins as I make a beeline for the cookery shelves.

Oxfam is relatively small: you have only to walk a few steps, passing mostly women’s coats and Fairtrade chocolate, to get from the front door to the cookbook section. It’s harder at the Mercatino, which is a warehouse; a tetris of antiques and junk, 80-piece crockery sets, novelty ashtrays, designer furniture and old electric guitars. My cookbook endorphin, though, is stronger than the one for Apulian plates and mannequins, even though I am sure a mannequin would come in useful. Will the shelves be exactly the same as the last time, or will there be new arrivals? Has that first edition of A Feast of Floyd been bought? Has someone recently donated a recently passed relative’s entire cookery book collection?

After a period in which the shelves in both places stayed more or less the same, a fresh batch of books arrived in both places – at least two dozen in each, the nature of which suggested someone had either downsized or died. While new books smell crisp and inky, secondhand books smell like old wardrobes and vanilla, and come with a history: the immediately obvious one, a name inscribed inside the cover, scribbles in the margin or a fringe of Post-it notes; but also the clues that make you feel like a detective – the folds and creases, a smudge of sauce or oily print. Patricia Wells’ Bistro Cooking (one of a five-book haul from Oxfam) belonged to Siobhan in 1993: there are Post-its marking bagna cauda, tartelettes aux pommes and mon gateau au chocolat which, according to the margin notes, is “v good”, “needs 35 mins” and to “see Gary Rhodes page 233”. The mark in a €1 copy of La Cucina Napoletana by Jeanne Caròla Francesconi is both less and more obvious – it simply fell open on page 196, at a recipe for zucchine a “scapece”.

Alla scapece, like saor in Venice and carpione in the north of Italy, is a technique of cooking fish or vegetables by first frying and then covering them in a marinade of vinegar, aromatics and herbs. The origin of the word is Spanish – escabeche – a reminder of the Spanish influence in Italian cooking, and dishes cooked alla scapece are often typical of port towns in which this influence first arrived with hungry merchant sailors.

The zucchine a scapece of Naples is pretty much the recipe I learned in Rome. Like the stuffed courgettes I wrote about a couple of weeks ago, the mint is vital, like a breath of fresh air up against the soft, oily courgette, vinegar rasp and heat of the chilli. With bread, salami, olives and cheese, zucchine a scapece are one of the greatest antipasti, but also excellent with fish or stuffed into a sandwich. The book suggests a 24-hour wait, but a few hours will do, and I have noted that in the margin of my copy.

Zucchine a ‘Scapece’: marinated courgettes with mint and garlic

Prep 30 min

Marinate at least 1 hr – preferably overnight

Cook 10 min

Serves 4

1kg courgettes

Oil, for frying (olive or vegetable)

1 handful mint or mentuccia

150ml red wine vinegar

150ml water

2 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced

1 small, dried red chilli, crumbled

Slice the courgettes into rounds roughly 3mm thick. If you have time, spread them on a clean cloth and leave them to sit – ideally in the sun, otherwise any dry place – for an hour, turning after 30 minutes.

In a medium frying pan, heat a couple of thumbs of oil and then, working in batches, fry the rounds until lightly golden. Using a slotted spoon, lift the courgettes on to a kitchen towel to blot.

When drained, layer the courgettes in a bowl, sprinkling salt and tucking ripped mint between each layer and in the gaps.

In a small pan, bring the vinegar, water, garlic and chilli to the boil, and continue to boil for five minutes.

Pour the vinegar mixture over the courgettes, along with three tablespoons of olive oil, either from the frying pan or the bottle. Toss the courgettes, cover, and leave to sit for at least an hour – ideally 24 hours. Taste before serving.