Bagna Cauda, an Interpretation

Do you have a secret life, a kind of fantasy life that you would lead if you decided to leave the rat race once and for all? I have a few, but one of my favorites is owning a little bistro, no more than 30 seats, and I’d cook things that speak to me (sort of like Gabrielle Hamilton at Prune in New York combined with the ideas of simplicity that the Barefoot Contessa subscribes to). It would be casual, maybe with a couple of big communal tables, where groups of friends can get together.

One thing for sure is that I would cook a lot of food inspired by European Mediterranean cooking, because I turn to meals from Spain, Italy, France, and Greece time and time again in my kitchen. Bagna cauda would be a perfect dish for my communal bistro. The words “bagna cauda” literally mean warm bath, and this rustic Italian dish is meant to be shared with friends in a manner similar to fondue. In its common form, you slowly simmer minced garlic and anchovies in some butter and about a cup of olive oil. You then keep the “bath” warm over a flame while dipping fresh, raw vegetables into it.

(c) Finom. Photo by Molly Hovorka

A friend in San Francisco recently made me his version, which included lemon juice and walnuts. He toasted some thick bread slices, topped them with slices of fresh tomato, and then used the bagna cauda as a sauce. In my riff of bagna cauda, I borrowed his additions of lemon and walnuts and his idea of using it as a sauce. Topping slices of toasted sour batard with sliced tomato and roasted fennel, I surrounded the plate with blanched green beans. It would have been better had I kept the fennel raw, because bagna cauda is very rich, but this was nonetheless a very good-for-the-soul meal. Serve with a crisp, bright white wine.

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