In the States, folks generally understand tinned fish as canned tuna that gets dressed with mayo and chopped celery to make a sandwich: a meal of convenience that you’ve probably had for a quick lunch more than once. This was my porthole view for the longest time until I became enlightened thanks to culinary friends who knew better. However, that did not prepare me for the tinned seafood extravaganza I experienced in Portugal.
Sardines are celebrated in Portugal because they’re abundant and delicious. The open air markets, artisan shops, and grocery stores all carry an astonishing multitude of forms: fresh, grilled, oil cured, tinned, salted, pâté... Beyond that, you’ll find prints, ceramics, textiles, and every other possible make decorated with images of tasty little fish. It extends way beyond the food industry, deep into cultural identity.
After being overstimulated by the seemingly infinite stacks of tins decorated with rainbow colors and enticing artwork, I bought a couple dozen to taste and share. Of course, I couldn’t wait to crack open at least one in my rental apartment as an appetizer for the seafood dinner I was about to prepare with the fresh clams and spiky whelks from a beach side fish stand in Faro. Having spent most of the trip eating out, I needed a break from potatoes. I only required a few essentials from the market to celebrate what the ocean I was just swimming in had to offer.
First, I smashed and roughly chopped up all the cloves from one bulb of garlic and used a vegetable peeler to shave the zest off a lemon. I got a pot of water boiling and salted for the pasta. Since the apartment didn’t have cooking oil, it made all the sense in the world to use the umami oil remaining from the can of tinned sardines I enjoyed. I put a large skillet on medium high, coated the bottom of the pan with the sardine oil and waited for the residual bits of fish to sizzle. Next I dropped in half the prepped garlic to saute a bit followed by a dozen spiky whelks and a big splash of Portuguese white wine. The cover went on immediately and dialed the heat to a simmer.
250g of bucatini went into the pot of boiling water, so it would finish at the same time as the clams. The whelks steamed for five minutes. I put the spiky guys on a plate and poured what was left in the pan into a bowl to reserve for the pasta. I wiped down the skillet and started to repeat the cooking process with its second coating of sardine oil. This time it was to cook a half a liter of tiny clams until they opened up. I pulled the clams, added the reserved whelk liquid with zest and at that point the pasta was just under al dente: the perfect time to add the bucatini to soak up the shellfish flavor as it finished cooking.
The pasta wasn’t quite there when the liquid cooked off, so I ladled in enough to pasta water to coat the bottom of the pan once. That got it “to the tooth”. Next a whack of butter, followed by plating with the clams on top, followed by a squeeze of lemon. Of course it was really nice paired with the wine it was cooked in. Being able to enjoy seasonal ingredients at their peak by employing basic cooking skills is a beautiful thing while you’re traveling. I can’t recommend it enough.
We focus on fermentation here, but we love all forms of preservation to assure that food is enjoyed and waste is minimized. Tinning, canning, and jarring represent other important ways to suspend deliciousness for enjoyment whenever and wherever you want. This portability allows us to experience foods that someone on the other side of the planet is eating—making it really easy to explore the world’s favorite seafoods in particular. We look forward to hearing which ones are you love and how you enjoy them.