“Anchovies were a punchline when I was a kid. I don’t know where that idea came from — some Jungian collective unconscious, I suppose, that gave rise to this idea that small, oily, salty fish were the most horrifying thing on earth, in any context, especially on pizza. And then, my god, my astonishment when at some point in my teen years I actually tried an anchovy! The wallop, the force, the almost violent enormousness of its flavor! The transcendence! The perfection! What else had we been wrong about? What else had we simply accepted as absurd, mockable, a joke — not pausing to wonder if maybe these things were actually more precious than gold, more marvelous than we even realized we deserved.”

Helen Rosner, James Beard winner, staff writer at The New Yorker

Brooklyn, NY

Helen, Anchovy