Skip to content

Bacalao al Pil-Pil – Basque salted cod in a sauce of olive oil

Bacalao al Pil-Pil

I was nineteen the first time I dared to swirl the cazuela myself. My mother hovered, arms crossed, while the garlic and guindilla hissed in a sea of olive oil. “Sin prisas,” she said. No whisk, no blender—just a gentle wrist and faith that cod, oil, and patience would turn into silk. When the sauce finally thickened—¡madre mía!—I understood why this dish is practically a rite of passage in the north.

What makes pil-pil magic

Pil-pil is an emulsion made only from three things: the gelatin released by good bacalao, the olive oil it’s poached in, and movement. As the cod cooks low and slow, it gives off collagen; when you cool the oil slightly and swirl, those juices bind with the oil into a glossy, golden sauce. No tricks—solo técnica.


Ingredients (serves 4)

  • 600–700 g (about 1½ lb) salted cod (bacalao), thick loins, skin on
  • 300–400 ml (1¼–1¾ cups) extra-virgin olive oil (enough to half-cover the fish in a snug pan)
  • 6–8 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  • 1–2 dried guindilla chilies (or mild dried red chili), whole
  • Optional: a splash of water to help the emulsion start if needed
  • Fresh parsley, chopped, for finishing

Before you start: If using salted cod (traditional), you must desalt it. If you can only get fresh cod, the dish will work, but the sauce may be thinner—la piel y la gelatina are key.


Desalting the bacalao (24–48 hours in advance)

  1. Rinse & soak: Rinse the cod loins under cold water to remove surface salt. Place in a container, skin side up, cover with plenty of cold water.
  2. Chill & change water: Refrigerate 24–48 hours, changing the water every 8–10 hours. Thick loins need closer to 48 hours.
  3. Check salt: Cut a tiny flake from the center and taste. It should be pleasantly seasoned, not salty “de más.”

Step-by-step cooking (el método clásico)

You’ll need: a heavy, wide pan or cazuela (snug fit for the fish), a wooden spatula, and your wrist.

  1. Temper the fish (15 min): Pat cod dry and leave at room temperature for 15 minutes. Cold fish can tighten and release less gelatin.
  2. Perfume the oil (10 min): Add olive oil, garlic slices, and guindillas to the pan. Heat very gently (a fuego bajo) until the garlic just turns blond—no darker—or it will turn bitter. Lift out the garlic and chilies; reserve.
  3. Poach the cod (8–12 min): Lower the heat so the oil is warm, not frying—aim for 65–70°C (150–160°F). Slide in the cod skin side down. You want tiny tremors, not bubbles. Poach 4–6 minutes, then turn and poach another 3–5 minutes until the flakes just separate and the fish is nacarado (pearlescent). Transfer loins to a warm plate, reserving all juices in the pan.
  4. Collect the juices (2 min): Tilt the pan and, with a spoon, gather the milky juices (that’s your gelatin treasure). Let the oil cool down to warm—not hot to the touch. If it’s too hot, the emulsion won’t form.
  5. Emulsify—hacer el pil-pil (5–10 min): Return a little of the gelatin to the warm oil. Begin swirling the pan in small circles or use a flat wooden spatula to make gentle figure-eights, scraping the bottom lightly to keep juices moving. Poco a poco, the oil will turn opaque and thicken to a glossy sauce. If it resists, add a spoonful of warm water or another spoon of gelatin and keep the motion steady. (Tip: a small piece of cod skin whisked in helps kick-start emulsification.)
  6. Reunite & napar (2–3 min): Slip the loins back into the sauce for a minute to warm through. Spoon pil-pil generously over the top.
  7. Finish: Scatter the blond garlic and guindilla back over. A touch of parsley. Taste the sauce—adjust with a whisper of salt only if needed.

Texture check: The sauce should be the consistency of light mayonnaise—fluid but clinging. If it’s too thick, loosen with a teaspoon of warm water; if too thin, keep swirling off heat until it tightens.


Serve

In true taberna style: with good crusty bread, or alongside patatas panadera. We plate it with the fish nestled in its sauce, garlic chips sparkling on top. “¡Que aproveche!”


Cultural importance (por qué importa)

Bacalao al pil-pil is a Basque icon—born in Bilbao kitchens where salted cod arrived from the Atlantic and olive oil flowed from the south. It’s a dish of trade winds and thrift: preserved fish meeting patience and technique. In many casas vascas, it marks Vigilia meals and family Sundays, the ritual of swirling the cazuela passing from one generation to the next. For cooks like me, mastering pil-pil is like earning your stripes—no flashy ingredients, just respect for product and control of heat. En España decimos: “Con buena materia prima y buen oficio, sale redondo.”


Tips & troubleshooting

  • Sauce won’t thicken? Cool the oil a bit more; add a spoon of the cod’s gelatin or a splash of warm water and resume swirling.
  • Sauce split or looks oily? Stop heating. Let it cool slightly, then whisk in a teaspoon of warm water off heat to re-emulsify.
  • Choose the right cut: Thick, skin-on loins (lomos) release more gelatin than thin tail pieces.
  • Oil temperature: If garlic sizzles hard, it’s too hot. Think “confitar,” not “freír.”

Time & yield

  • Prep time (active): 25–30 minutes
  • Desalting (inactive): 24–48 hours (traditional)
  • Cook time: 20–25 minutes
  • Serves: 4

Nutrition (per serving, rough estimate)

  • Calories: ~420–520 kcal (depends on how much oil you actually eat)
  • Protein: ~35–40 g
  • Fat: ~28–35 g (mostly monounsaturated from olive oil)
  • Carbohydrates: ~1–3 g
  • Sodium: varies widely with desalting; taste and adjust cautiously

Allergens: fish.


Variations “a nuestro gusto”

  • Pil-pil verde: Fold in a handful of chopped parsley at the end for a herbaceous twist.
  • Con almejas: Steam a few clams separately and nestle them into the sauce for a festive touch.
  • Ajo suave: Infuse whole garlic cloves and remove; finish with just a few thin chips for perfume.

When the sauce finally coats the spoon like satin and the cod flakes with a sigh, you’ll know you’ve got it “al punto.” From my Bilbao-born mentor to my own tiny kitchen brigade, this dish has taught us patience and pride. Y recuerda: sin prisas, con cariño… y “poco a poco.”

Website |  + posts

Leave a Reply