What garum actually is
The word garum covers a range of fermented fish sauces from antiquity; there was no single formula. Textual and archaeological evidence describes preparations using whole fish or fish parts, salt and a period of maturation. During that process, proteins are transformed and compounds associated with savoury, umami-rich flavour develop.
None of this is new. Archaeology documents substantial fish-sauce production at Roman coastal sites across the Iberian Peninsula. At Baelo Claudia, several fish species have been identified in production contexts, while recent research has confirmed sardine use at Roman Atlantic salting works.
How I make mine
My own ferments start with seasonal oily fish — mackerel, anchovy or good tuna trim — and with defined controls for salt, time and temperature. I do not work by instinct or publish a universal ratio: each batch is set up around the raw material and the process. From there, patience matters: weeks, sometimes months, until the ferment reaches the profile I want.
I am not trying to reproduce an exact Roman recipe. The historical idea is a starting point; the ingredients, controls and culinary purpose belong to a contemporary kitchen.
I've been working with ferments, garums and cured fish in my own kitchen for years — not because it's fashionable, but because good produce asks for it.
Why I keep working with fermentation
I work with fermentation for a practical culinary reason: it can build depth without making a dish heavier. Garum, pickles and other ferments can bring acidity, salinity and savoury depth in very small quantities, which makes them particularly useful across a longer menu.
It also changes the way you work. Nothing can be improvised on the day: a batch has to be formulated, left, tasted and judged before it earns a place in a dish.
Time is the one ingredient no technique can replace.
From the ferment to the private table
At a Vanguardia or Atelier evening, home-made garum tends to turn up without anyone noticing — in a stock, a dressing, the final touch on a dish that suddenly tastes of more. That's its real job: not to take the stage, but to hold everything else up.
It's probably the same thinking behind the whole evening: the work that matters happens long before the table is laid.
