Whipped salt cod
This is what you eat standing at a wooden counter in a Venice back-alley bar at six in the evening, nursing a spritz and arguing about football. Salt cod desalted and poached in milk until it's tender as butter, then beaten into submission in a mortar with olive oil dribbled in slow and steady — it's mayonnaise logic, but better. The polenta is grilled till it's got char and a crisp edge. Dead simple, dead good.
Lay the baccalà in a large bowl, cover with cold water, and soak for 24–36 hours in the fridge, changing the water every 8 hours. You're leaching out salt, not cooking. Smell it near the end — it should smell like ocean and fish, not brine.
Drain the desalted cod. In a wide pot, heat the milk until small bubbles gather at the edge — don't boil. Lay the cod in the milk, reduce the heat to low, and poach for 12–15 minutes until it flakes when touched with a fork. The fish should be pale and tender. Lift it out onto a plate; reserve the milk for sipping (seriously, it's lovely).
Let the cod cool slightly, then flake it into a large mortar, removing any bones or skin as you go. Pound it with the pestle into a fibrous paste — takes 5 minutes of work. Begin adding the olive oil one tablespoon at a time, pounding and stirring after each addition, as if you're making mayonnaise. The mixture will suddenly turn pale, thick, and fluffy. If it seems stiff, loosen it with a splash of the poaching milk. Taste and season with salt and white pepper.
In a separate pot, bring 700ml of salted water to a rolling boil. Sprinkle the polenta in slowly while whisking hard to avoid lumps. Reduce the heat and stir constantly for 20 minutes — it'll thicken and bubble like lava. Stir in the butter, taste, and adjust salt. Pour onto a lightly oiled baking tray in a layer about 1cm thick. Cool to room temperature (or chill overnight).
Cut the cooled polenta into triangles or rectangles. Heat a cast-iron griddle or heavy frying pan over medium-high heat until it's smoking. Lay the polenta pieces on it without moving them — let them char and crisp on the bottom, about 3–4 minutes per side. You want a golden crust and warm interior.
Lay 2–3 grilled polenta triangles on a warm plate or wooden board. Dollop or spoon the baccalà mantecato on top, nudging it into rough peaks. Crack a pinch of black pepper over it, scatter with torn parsley, and finish with a few grains of sea salt. Serve warm, never hot.
“No fuss. Polenta goes down first — still warm, char visible. Baccalà on top, left a bit rough and billowed. Pepper and parsley over, a whisper of salt. Serve on warm ceramic or a wooden board; Venetians often eat this from a napkin at a bar counter, but at home, give it a proper plate. A slice of lemon on the side is not wrong.”
First bite is creamy and salty, the baccalà dissolving on your tongue like a cloud. Then the polenta's texture catches — gritty, rich, charred at the edges. The olive oil rounds it all out, warm and peppery. By the last triangle you're hooked: it's the kind of dish that makes you order another spritz.
Substitute the salt cod with 400g of smoked dulse seaweed (or kelp), rehydrated and shredded finely. Soak it in the same way to soften. Replace the milk with vegetable stock. Whip the seaweed in the mortar with the olive oil exactly as you would the fish — it will take longer to turn fluffy (10 minutes), but it will. The result is briny, umami-rich, and nearly indistinguishable from the original. Keep the polenta and all toppings as is — that grilled crispness and pepper make the plate sing without seafood.
Sharp, mineral acidity cuts through the salt cod's richness; local, crisp, made for this
Slightly more texture than Pinot Grigio; works if you want a touch more body
A crisp pilsner or Czech-style lager is refreshing and won't drown the subtle fish
Let the baccalà speak; carbonation cleanses the palate between bites
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