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Anchovy Sandwich No. 2
A can of boneless anchovies mixed with three hard-boiled eggs, chopped fine. Add a dash of lemon juice, a teaspoonful of melted butter, a pinch of salt. Mix and spread on lightly buttered white bread, with a lettuce leaf between. Garnish with a pickle.
A straightforward anchovy-and-egg spread from an era when tinned anchovies were a pantry staple. The proportions need adjusting for modern tins and modern palates.
- The can sizeA tin of anchovies today is typically 2 oz (about 56 g). The book does not say what size tin it assumes, so judge by taste: two small tins, well drained and mashed, balance three chopped eggs; one tin gives a much milder spread.
- Boneless anchoviesSalt-packed anchovies of the period were often sold whole and needed filleting and soaking. Oil-packed fillets are ready to use, but drain them well or the spread turns greasy on top of the teaspoon of butter.
- SaltSkip the pinch of salt unless you taste first. Anchovies cured now are salty enough that added salt usually pushes the filling over.
- TextureMash the anchovies to a paste before the eggs go in, otherwise you get salty streaks rather than an even spread. A fork against the side of the bowl is enough.
- Melted butterThe melted butter is a binder, not a flavouring, and it sets firm once chilled. Softened butter or a spoonful of mayonnaise gives a filling that stays spreadable straight from the refrigerator.
- AssemblyButter the bread right to the edges: it seals the crumb against the wet filling, which matters if the sandwiches are made even half an hour ahead. Add the lettuce at the last moment.
- YieldThree eggs and two tins make enough for about six sandwiches, or roughly two dozen small tea-sized pieces with the crusts cut off.
Anchovy paste and anchovy butter were fixtures of the late Victorian and Edwardian larder, valued because a tin kept well and delivered a strong savoury note. Sandwich books proliferated in the United States around the turn of the twentieth century, driven by the fashion for afternoon teas, card parties and the packed lunch, and they characteristically offered several numbered variations on one theme so a hostess could ring changes without new shopping. That this is "No. 2" tells you a companion recipe existed, though not what it contained; the hard-boiled eggs here soften the cure's salt and stretch an expensive imported fish across more slices of bread, a thrift that runs quietly through the whole genre.