The Italian green sauce can be relied on to add zing to almost any dish and is infinitely tweakable – just don’t hold back on the anchovies

Sometimes, someone says something so perfectly that it’s pointless to try and put it any better yourself. Nigel Slater’s love letter to “a sausage in the pan” in Real Food has stuck with me for almost two decades, and it’s recently been joined by Rachel Roddy’s description of salsa verde: “A gorgeous green goddess of a sauce that precipitates a number of adjectives you could be fined for overusing: grassy, peppery, warm, musty, briny, fishy, oily, brilliant.”

That’s it in a perfectly formed nutshell: a piquant, aromatic condiment traditionally relied upon to bring a little zing to poached meats or fish, but which is also perfectly delicious with everything from roasted cauliflower to scrambled eggs. Like so many Italian classics, salsa verde boasts countless regional variations, all of which are claimed to be the only true version. But where’s the best place to start?

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Salsa verde from Rachel Roddy’s book Five Quarters. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

The herbs

Parsley is non-negotiable in salsa verde – as with tabbouleh, it’s the backbone of the dish, so I’m slightly surprised to discover that the Silver Spoon’s recipe calls for a single sprig, “leaves only”. After making it even with a very generously endowed stem, I decide something must have been lost in translation for the seminal Italian cook book, given they use no other herbs – presumably a single bunch was intended.

Roddy uses equal parts of parsley and basil with a little less mint in her book Five Quarters, and Tessa Kiros’s Limoncello and Linen Water replaces the basil with tarragon, while Christopher Boswell’s Verdure goes for parsley, thyme and mint. Giorgio Locatelli’s Made in Italy and Angela Hartnett’s Cucina both stick with parsley alone.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Tessa Kiros’s recipe Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

Although one of the beauties of salsa verde is its infinite tweakability, I think the tarragon- and thyme-based variations are less versatile than the others – they would both be lovely with chicken or fish, but their powerful flavours work less well with other meats. The more subtle sweetness of basil seems a more harmonious pairing with peppery parsley: I can’t taste the mint in such small quantities, so I suspect its inclusion is merely homeopathic. If you’re a massive mint fan, feel free to stick in a great, generous handful instead.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Salsa verde recipe from The Silver Spoon. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

The alliums

I had assumed that, as a close relative of a pesto, all salsa verde would contain garlic, but in fact Boswell favours finely chopped shallot or red onion, and Hartnett and Katie Parla and Kristina Gill’s lovely new book Tasting Rome eschews the entire allium family.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Recipe from Katie Parla and Kristina Gill’s book Tasting Rome. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

Garlic is always a happy pairing with parsley, but Boswell macerates his shallots in red wine vinegar for 45 minutes, which gives them a bright acidity that, for me, seems the very essence of salsa verde, which should either cut through rich, fatty ingredients or pep up soft, bland ones. Controversial it may be, but I’m going with the shallot. Use a couple of small cloves of garlic if this offends you.

The sour stuff

Though pickled onions may be unusual, almost all the recipes I try involve something a bit vinegary: often capers (though Roddy and Boswell both prefer the salted variety) and sometimes gherkins, as in the Hartnett and the Silver Spoon recipes. Kiros adds a little Dijon mustard (an ingredient also favoured by the River Cafe’s Classic Italian Cookbook), and Locatelli, Parla and Gill and the Silver Spoon all dash in some white wine vinegar, too.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Christopher Boswell’s salsa verde. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

I also try substituting lemon juice, as Marcella Hazan, a true grande dame of Italian cookery, informs me in her Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking that this is more appropriate with fish, but my testers prefer the fuller, fruitier sharpness of red wine vinegar for general purposes. Capers, they decide, ought to be salted – as well they might, given they didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to rinse the salt off the things.

The salty stuff

Capers, of course, can stand alone in a vegetarian salsa verde, but they can’t match the anchovy for sheer umami. Not everyone uses them, but those who do are generous (Roddy sticks in an entire tin) and I’m inclined to be so, too; this should be a sauce of bold flavours.

Spices

That said, we agree that Kiros’s chilli powder tastes out of place here – if you must have heat, the sharper warmth of chilli flakes would be preferable. Or, of course, get busy with an aptly enormous pepper grinder.

To thicken or not to thicken?

Though salsa verde can be made from little more than herbs, oil and a few capers or anchovies, some of the recipes I try thicken it with boiled egg yolk (Locatelli and the Silver Spoon), mashed potato (the Silver Spoon) and breadcrumbs (dried for Locatelli, fresh and soaked in a little vinegar for Parla and Gill). The potato doesn’t find much favour (though salsa verde is delicious with potatoes, particularly the new season variety), but the egg yolks and breadcrumbs bulk it out sufficiently to turn it into a delicious stuffing or sandwich relish. Popular opinion states, however, that neither is strictly necessary in this basic version.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Giorgio Locatelli’s salsa verde. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

The method

Perhaps more contentious than any single ingredient in salsa verde is the manufacturing process. Locatelli writes: “I prefer to make salsa verde with a mortar and pestle, the way it was made for centuries before modern kitchen gadgets came along. You can, of course, use a food processor, but it tends to warm up the sauce and darken the fantastic bright green colour, whereas in a mortar you don’t crush out any of the flavour or colour.” Roddy, however, prefers it “chopped by hand, as it has more substance and a more distinct texture, which is obliterated into a more consistent, pleasing smoothness by a food processor”. Hartnett recommends a mini-processor for the task.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Angela Hartnett’s salsa verde. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

I’m inclined, again, to agree with Roddy when she writes that: “It’s not that one is better than the other, only different.” Hartnett’s silkier variety is just as pleasing as the chunkier chopped ones, and slides over meat better – but, oddly enough, Locatelli’s tastes markedly more aromatic than either, even to those of us who haven’t spent 15 minutes working the pestle and mortar. Do whatever you have time for, but give the pounded version a try when you have some anger to work off, just to see if you also think it’s worth the effort.

I’m going to leave the last word to Roddy on this one. Read the advice above, try the version below… and then go ahead and make the recipe your own.

Perfect salsa verde

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Felicity Cloake’s perfect salsa verde. Photograph: Felicity Cloake/The Guardian

(Makes 1 small jar)

1 small shallot, finely chopped

2 tbsp red wine vinegar

4 anchovies, rinsed if packed in salt

Leaves from about 30g flat-leaf parsley (about 20g leaves)

Leaves from about 30g basil (about 20g leaves)

2 tbsp salted capers, rinsed and roughly chopped

120-150ml extra virgin olive oil

Put the shallot in a small non-metallic bowl with the vinegar and leave to soak for 45 minutes.

After half an hour, mash the anchovies in a pestle and mortar, then gradually add the herbs and capers and pound to a smoothish paste (I prefer to leave it a little chunky, which is why I add the capers last).

Stir in the shallot, with a little of the soaking vinegar, then slowly whisk in the oil until you achieve your desired consistency. Taste and add more of the vinegar if you like, plus seasoning if necessary. Store in an air-tight container in the fridge.

Salsa verde – cheerfully adaptable or infinitely abused by meddling foreigners? Which particular regional variation do you prefer, and what do you serve it with?

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