Fast forward to 2003. Though the boats have changed – and much else along the Costa Brava – L’Escala is still defined by its anchovies. Nowadays there’s a swanky new harbour round the bay at La Clota and the town beach is left to the sunseekers and bathers. To get a feel for today’s anchovy fishing scene, you don’t need to be up at dawn: 8 o’clock is early enough. The boats, diesel-powered nowadays, chug into the harbour after a night out at sea. We joined a number of others waiting expectantly on the quayside: boat owners, fish wholesalers, anchovy processors, the odd chef, some little old ladies armed with plastic bags, and a handful of the simply curious. A fork-lift truck bustles about, politely tooting its horn to clear a path through to the newly docked boats.

The shallow wooden trays with the name L’Escala proudly emblazoned on the sides are tightly packed with gleaming, pop-eyed, silvery-blue fish the length of your middle finger and layered with chipped ice. One by one the trays are carefully stacked up on pallets – a steady pair of arms is needed for the unloading and the stacking, as any fish that fall to the ground are fair game for gleaners.  Inevitably a few go skittering onto the quay. We observed a brief, fairly amicable skirmish as an elderly lady and an equally elderly gentleman snatched up the wayward anchovies and stowed them into their plastic bags. 

Inside the warehouse the auction was underway. Fish wholesalers, restaurateurs and anchovy processors each scrutinized the day’s catch, scratched their heads, consulted on their mobile phones and put in their bids. We got talking to a retired boat owner who still comes down every day to welcome the fleet. Observing the incredible harvest of fish we wondered aloud if Spain exports any of its catch. ‘Hombre, no’, he answers, ‘we can’t even meet our own needs – people here love fish, not like you British. 'Fish ‘n chips?’' he parrots, in heavily accented English, ‘that’s no way to treat fish!’

Business done, the fishermen adjourn to the café on the wharf to eat a huge breakfast washed down with robust red wine or beer. Then they go home to catch up on sleep before the whole cycle begins again in the evening.

Some of the anchovies are destined to be flash-fried or grilled and served with lemon wedges, but most go to be salted. Some families still do this process at home, either to sell or for private consumption, but the bulk of the catch is salted by small, family-owned processors like Callol I Serrats, who have been in the business since 1847.

Señor Callol was looking a bit glum when I visited him at the factory on the outskirts of town – he had been on the quayside that morning too, but the anchovies were too small. In order to make it worthwhile, he needs at least 40 fish to a kilo; this morning there were more like 50 to the kilo, too small and fiddly to bother with. (Asked if an anchovy grows up to be a sardine, he grins and says no, they’re two different fish.) As the season runs only from May to the end of September, he needs to be sure that he takes in enough provisions to see him through the whole year. 

The fish are cleaned and beheaded by a nimble-fingered, hair-netted team of 6 to 8 women and layered with sea salt in big wooden casks. There they stay, without refrigeration, for between three and six months. At the height of summer, the ripening process goes very fast; early and late in the season the process takes a little longer. Then the anchovies are either filleted or left whole. Fillets are painstakingly lined up vertically  in glass jars, while the whole fish are laid head to head horizontally and packed in till the jar is full. 

What, if anything, has changed since 1847? Very little, observes Señor Callol, pointing to the faded sepia photographs on the wall showing the women working in the old factory in town, going through just the same motions. And what about modern preservatives, E numbers and the like? He looks a little pained. All you need is fresh fish, good salt, careful handling and scrupulous hygiene, and the fish will keep in good order for up to a year. It’s a classic, artisanal product, which has been made in the same way for centuries, he concludes.

So if the anchovies borne home from your last holidays on the Costa Brava are approaching their first anniversary, get them out, dust them off and use them up. The classic Catalan solution (called pa amb tomaquet) is to rub some slices of crusty bread with a halved tomato and some garlic, lay the anchovy fillets on top and drizzle with fruity olive oil. Or press the fillets into service to liven up an escalivada, that savoury Catalan mixture of peppers, aubergines and tomatoes, or to add a piquant touch to your next batch of lemony, garlicky hummus, slathered onto toasted ciabatta or Arab bread.

Anchovy producer
Callol I Serrats S.L., 
Ctra. Orriols km. 20.9, 
Apartat 169, 
17130 L’Escala (Girona)
Tel. +34 972 77 25 77

Anchovy lore, traditions and recipes
Las mil y una … con Anchoas, Milena Llop and Carles Serra

Fish restaurant on the port
La Clota,
Port Esportiu,
Apartat 32,
17130 L’Escala
Tel. +34 972 77 08 27

[This article was one of five included in Sue Style's entry for the recent GFW Food Journalist of the Year Award, for which she was shortlisted]