Few people have a take-it-or-leave-it attitude about anchovies. They may be the original ewww food—loved with fervor by their fans, loathed by the unconverted. But while cured anchovies pack a pungent punch, the fresh fish have a mild, sweet flavor unrelated to the saltiness of their cured kin. And all anch­ovies, fresh and cured, are abundant in umami, that elusive fifth flavor described as the savory taste of proteins. These diminutive fish bring serious flavor to countless classic dishes like Caesar salad, Green Goddess dressing, and tapenade—foods that even some avowed anchovy haters find hard to resist.

AT THE MARKET
Anchovies flourish in oceans all over the world, but the only commercial fishery in the U.S. that targets them for food is here on the Pacific Coast. Locally, the season begins in March and runs through September, reaching its peak from June through August. When they’re fresh from the water, anchovies sparkle, but they lose their luster quickly. A blush on their gill plate grows darker the longer the fish are out of the water, and once their bellies bust open—forget about it. Those anchovies are good for nothing but bait.

To clean fresh anchovies, Paul Johnson, a founder of Monterey Fish Market in Berkeley and the author of Fish Forever, recommends removing the scales by rinsing the fish under running water and scraping off the scales with a fingernail. To pull the fillets away from the frame, grasp the head with one hand and pinch through the flesh just below the collar with the other, then gently pull back toward the tail. With a bit of practice and patience, you’ll be able to strip two boneless fillets away from the backbone. Cured anchovies—whether they’re packed in salt or oil—should be rinsed before using.

ON THE MENU
“We love the little fishes,” says Anthony Strong, chef de cuisine at Pizzeria Delfina (3611 18th St., S.F., 415-437-6800). “We’re head over heels in love. I use the cured ones like salt,” he confesses. “I toss them into almost everything.” And when the season for fresh anchovies rolls around, he soaks the fillets in white wine vinegar and cures them with tons of chili flakes, parsley, and oil. “The flesh turns very buttery,” says Strong.

At Bar Tartine (561 Valencia St., S.F., 415-487-1600), chef Jason Fox takes a slightly different approach to curing anchovies. He soaks them in salt water for two days, then packs them in salt with thyme, pepper­corns, and fennel seeds for a week. Fox uses them to give serious back flavor to the salsa verde and tapenade that he makes at the restaurant.

Mark Denham, chef at Laïola (2031 Chestnut St., S.F., 415-346-5641), a committed locavore, uses anchovies only in the summer and early fall, when he can get them fresh from nearby waters. Denham likes to pickle the fish gently in a brine of vinegar and lemon juice seasoned with chili, marjoram, and garlic. Anchovies also show up on his menu deep-fried with watercress