Salsa Verde
Grilling season is in full swing here in Minnesota, and this salsa verde is the perfect accompaniment to steaks, burgers, chicken, fish, and anything in between!
Though you might be familiar with the name, to most Americans, salsa verde refers to the Mexican, tomatillo and cilantro-based sauce, but of course, salsa verde just means “green sauce” in both Spanish and Italian. And the Italian salsa verde is just one of a multitude of herb-based sauces, such as the Argentinian chimichurri, and the German Grüne Soße (which also translates to “green sauce”).
In Italy, salsa verde is considered a typical part of the traditional cuisine of Piedmont, in the Northern part of the country, specifically the regional variety known as bagnet verd. It has, however, spread across the country, with multiple variations.
Piedmont or, Piemonte in Italian, highlighted in red. (source: Wikimedia Commons)
Now, the main idea behind this blog is to explore ancestral recipes, and although my wife Jess’s family is from Southern Italy, this is one of our all-time favorite sauces, so I’m more than willing to stretch the definition of “ancestors”.
In Italian cuisine, salsa verde is most commonly used as a condiment for bollito misto, a dish of different cuts of meat boiled with vegetables. Now, by-and-large, boiled meat isn’t a common meal in the US, but really, I think salsa verde goes great with grilled or roasted meat or fish, you can put it on sandwiches, and frankly, one of my favorite ways to eat it is just a simple piece of toast!
Now let’s get into some history! Some version of salsa verde has existed in Italy for thousands of years; likely brought by Roman soldiers who had served in the Middle East, although the exact origins are unknown. As for written recipes, the Ancient Roman cookbook, De re coquinaria features a green herb-based sauce meant to be served with boiled crane or duck, but uses very different herbs and other ingredients from the modern salsa verde, including caraway, spikenard, cumin, and dates. I may have to try out that sauce someday though.
Cover from a reprint of De Re Coquinaria by Apicius (source: Wikimedia Commons)
Written recipes for sauces that more resemble the modern salsa verde can be found far back as at least the 1690s, in Antonio Latini’s Lo Scalo alla Moderna, or The Modern Steward. That recipe, however, is essentially just parsley and vinegar-soaked bread, ground up together in a mortar & pestle.
Portrait of Antonio Latini (1642 - 1692) (Source: Wikimedia Commons)
200 years later, in Pellegrino Artusi’s quintessential book Science in the Kitchen & the Art of Eating Well from 1891 the recipe for salsa verde has evolved to consist of capers, parsley, anchovy, olive oil & garlic, as well as onion, lemon juice (instead of the more common vinegar), and basil (which is not usually found in modern recipes).
Pellegrino Artusi (1820 - 1911); businessman, cookbook author, world-class mutton-chopper
Interestingly, Artusi also includes a recipe for salsa Genovese, Genovese sauce intended to be served with fish, that contains most of the ingredients found in many modern salsa verde recipes, including bread, vinegar, and egg yolk, but also includes some extras, such as olives and pine nuts. (Note to self: try salsa Genovese.)
The ingredients in the recipe below are the ones that I use, but they’re far from the only combination. There are plenty of other variations; one common addition is a hard-boiled egg yolk which I believe makes for a creamier consistency but I don’t prefer it, and then other recipes also add cornichons (those little pickles), onions, mustard, and I’ve even seen recipes that use boiled potato instead of bread as a binder.
A tri-bladed mezzaluna, the premiere salsa verde making tool before the advent of the food processor. (source: Wikimedia Commons)
There’s also quite a few versions that, like Artusi’s, use lemon juice either in addition to or in place of the vinegar, and it all goes to show the amount variation found in this sauce. And honestly, once you’ve made the more traditional version, and you might have fun experimenting, adding other types of herbs, maybe different types of vinegar, that sort of thing! As long as it’s a green sauce, it’s still a salsa verde!
I’ve often seen salsa verde described as a “piquant” sauce, which apparently means to have pleasantly sharp or pungent flavor, and I think that’s a good word to describe it. It’s definitely not a subtle sauce; the parsley is herbaceous, the vinegar is sharp, you get a nice punch of umami from the anchovy, brininess from the capers, you certainly taste the garlic, and it’s all amazing.
One note: although in this recipe I use anchovy filets, which are the standard and traditional ingredient, I sometimes have taken to cheating a little and using between 1/2 to 1 teaspoons of colatura di alici; a fermented, anchovy sauce. It’s a descendent of the ancient Roman fish sauce, garum, and actually if you want to use garum in place of the anchovy filets, those would work nicely as well!
Why do I use this anchovy juice instead of filets? For one, it’s easier to use. Instead of fishing out the filets from a jar (no pun intended; well, maybe a little) you just pour out as much as you need into a measuring spoon. Second, I’ve let too many jars of anchovies go bad by not using them soon enough. I think colatura di alici lasts a bit longer in the fridge, and it can come in quite small bottles, so it’s not as hard to use up.
While it’s great fresh, like many sauces, it tastes even better if you let it sit in the fridge overnight, and all the flavors really marry with each other! Speaking of, your salsa verde should keep in the fridge for at least a week, if not a little more.
