It’s a big relief to me that tinned fish is getting a chic makeover. You see it everywhere now, in the expensively photographed food mags, where it used to be relegated to the pantries of the budget conscious, hidden behind the French’s mustard squeeze jar.
I love tinned fish. I loved French’s mustard, come to think of it. I love food, in case you haven’t noticed.
I still remember how enraged it made me to sit in front of a woman on the bus in Liverpool, listening to her depressed voice recount what she had for lunch. “I opened a tin of sardines for protein,” she said drearily. “And ate half of it, left the other half for tomorrow.” “Was it good?” her friend asked, equally drearily. “No,” she said. And they were both silent.
I wanted to turn around and start shouting at them. Didn’t they know how delicious sardines were? Didn’t they know that eating is supposed to be a pleasure, not a penance? I know that. You, too, I hope.
Anyway, sardines are a wonderful thing. Of course, fresh sardines (and smelts and mackerel), if you’re lucky enough to find them, are terrific painted with a mix of Dijon mustard, lemon juice, and olive oil, broiled or grilled till the skin crackles. But this is a rarity in most markets. On the other hand, tinned sardines are everywhere. And affordable. As long as you don’t believe that you have to buy the imported ones nestled in expensive olive oil. Not that those aren’t great. Special occasion great, in fact.
But what I’m going to tell you about now are the plain sardines packed in water. Everyday pantry canned sardines. The ones you can find in any market. The same ones that dreary woman in Liverpool was forcing herself to eat.
It still enrages me to think about it. Poor sardines. What a waste of a fish’s life.
But let’s not worry about that now. Let’s get on to what you can do with such a tin of sardines to make your life a bit happier and better fed.
For example:
Sardine butter. Take equal parts sardine and butter. Take out the bones from the sardines (but don’t worry if you miss some; they’re completely edible and have a lot of calcium in them to boot—I usually nosh on them as I debone the fish myself). Mash it with the butter. Add a pinch of salt, and a larger pinch of ground cayenne. A little squeeze of lemon if you like it. This lasts a long time in the fridge and is particularly terrific on brown bread toast. Although as a filling for an omelet, it’s not too shabby either.
Sardine and tomato sandwich. Toast two pieces of bread per sandwich. Rub with a cut clove of garlic. Butter or dribble olive oil, or spread with mayo on one side of each piece. Add a leaf of lettuce, some thinly sliced tomato, some thinly sliced onion (if you like it; I do), and a couple of sardines onto one piece of bread. Mash down a bit to make it all stick together. Put the other piece on top. Slice in half. Voila! Sardine sandwich. Yum.
Marinated Sardine Salad. This one, adapted from a recipe by Yotam Ottolenghi, is slightly more complicated, but very useful to have on hand, especially during the hot summer months. It’s great with bread and butter, and a little salad for a cold meal.
For two people, with a little left over to be smeared on bread for the following day’s lunch:
For the marinade:
5 tablespoons or so of decent olive oil
2 tablespoons or so of chopped capers
2 tablespoons or so of chopped scallions
3 crushed garlic cloves
A good shake or two of red pepper flakes (we like a lot)
A decent grinding of black pepper (we like a lot of this, too)
A little bit of salt, say a quarter teaspoon
Put this in a saucepan, heat gently for a couple of minutes. Let cool.
When it’s cool, add it to a bowl with two drained tins of sardines in water.
Let it sit for thirty minutes at least at room temperature, or one to three days in the fridge.
Eat this with pickled shallots on top (thinly sliced shallots marinated in lemon juice with a little smidge of honey added for sweetness).
Okay, I really shouldn’t be enraged with the woman on the bus in Liverpool. I should feel compassion for her. Just think. If she had made this, she could have the leftovers for lunch the next day, smeared on a piece of brown toast. I am really sorry for anyone who can look at a tin of sardines without a lift of the heart in appreciation for it and other good things.
So here’s to us all lifting our hearts. And to all the good things that help us face the bad.