The Tinned Beneath My Wings
We're having a tinned fish party!
Lately I’ve been snacking on pickled herring — a fish that revolted me as a child and then somehow, someway became a deep pleasure for me. I really don’t know how I became someone who binges platefuls of herring at the Bellagio casino buffet, but around 2003, this happened; so apparently I became a fan by the turn of the century. I blame the Y2K bug.
These days I’m waiting for pickled herring to have its own trendy anchovy moment in food media (or at least American food media. Scandinavians have been ahead of the curve on pickled herring for ages). Most supermarkets carry jars of herring near the smoked salmon or horseradish, and usually you’ll find at least two varieties: in wine sauce or in sour cream. Both are delicious, and while I absolutely love the sour cream preparation, in my old age, I opt for the cleaner, lighter wine sauce version.
By the way, “wine sauce” sounds legitimately crazy. Don’t be scared. It’s a wine-based brine that’s sweet and sour and generally wonderful. I am prone to sticking a fork in the jar and spearing a floating square of herring, which I am happy to eat on its own but even happier to place on a small, thin cracker. For completionists on my herring journey, I will report that my local Pavillions supermarket has sesame-flavored rice crackers that pair exceptionally well with the fish. Highly recommend.
You might be wondering why I’m talking about herring on a column about tinned fish. Well, first and foremost, I feel like tinned fish unofficially encompasses jarred fish — especially pickled jarred fish; so, we’re thematically sound. Also, I really do want herring to have its anchovy moment; so why not start the buzz here? Now you can never say I don’t use my platform for good.
But there’s a bigger story here. In hopes of expanding my herring experience beyond crackers, I recently meandered onto Reddit where I became absorbed in a thread about interesting ways to use pickled herring. Suddenly, I heard the familiar ker-pling of a Facebook message. My friend Chris — out of nowhere — had written me the following: “I am in tinned mussels tiktok for inspo.”
First - lol that there’s such a thing as “tinned mussels TikTok.” But also, I rescind the lol because I was in pickled herring Reddit; so who am I to judge? Either way, the whole thing felt like kismet. Chris and I got to talking about tinned and pickled and smoked fish, and I revealed that I actually owned a book called The Magic of Tinned Fish by Chris McDade. I had impulsively purchased the cookbook at LA’s wonderful shop Now Serving a year ago but had barely delved into the tinned fish madness within. Even more egregiously, when I bought the book, I had also nabbed a tin of razor clams thinking I’d be flinging myself into a tinned fish rhapsody that evening. Instead, the razor clams have sat patiently on my counter for months on end, ignored meal after meal.
Chris’s sudden interest in tinned fish and my own herring enthusiasm made me realize the time had come for a tinned fish party. We would finally use the razor clams on my counter, not to mention so many other interesting selections from the wide world of tinned fish.
To prepare for the TFP (tinned fish party), I visited a bougie corner of Hollywood and procured fancy Tartine sourdough bread and several colorful tins of fish: mackerel in olive oil, mussels in pickled oil, small squid in olive oil, codfish in olive oil and garlic. Little did I realize that Chris would be bringing a collection of sardines, oysters, mussels, dorade, mackerel, and anchovies. Luckily, the more, the merrier.
We decided to start with the razor clams, on account of my guilt for neglecting them all this time. As it happens, The Magic of Tinned Fish has one recipe for razor clams; so we gave it a whirl: Razor Clam Bruschetta with Calabrian Chile Butter and Herbs.
The plan of attack was pretty simple here. First we drained and chopped the razor clams, reserving the brine. I was struck by how phallic the little guys were, and then I tried to be unstruck by that imagery as I sliced into them. Naturally, I snuck a bite of the clams to know what I was working with and… omg they were SO good. McDade notes that razor clams are sweet, but I was not prepared for just how deliciously sweet the would be. Not like sugar or anything… just a lovely, subtle sweet note, made even better by the clam’s light chewiness. I absolutely loved it. I’m offish obssedah with razor clams now. And don’t get me started on the brine. Fantastic stuff.
We marinated the diced clams with some of their own brine as well as olive oil and lemon juice, and in the meantime, we toasted oiled bread in a skillet and then spread a homemade Calabrian chili butter on top.
Calabrian chiles, it turns out, are not very easy to find in LA. Thankfully, I did mange to find them, but it required an unpleasant journey to Whole Foods, which I did not appreciate. I’m including this tidbit solely because I feel like complaining.
Nevertheless, the last step is to toss the clams with shaved fennel and mint and then scoop the mixture onto the bread. The result was a truly excellent collection of flavors and textures. I loved the heat from the (hard to find) chiles, the brininess of the clams, and the brightness of the mint and fennel. Everything felt remarkably balanced in all dimensions. An unequivocal, out-of-the-gates success for the Tinned Fish Party (not capitalized).
A quick note about the razor clam bruschetta: I loved everything about it and could see myself making it as a bright weekday lunch, but razor clams are unfortunately very luxe. A single tin can be upwards of $18 or $20. I haven’t tried regular tinned clams yet, but I’m intrigued to see if they’re an acceptable substitute.
Additionally, if I were to adapt this recipe for convenience and speed, I would make some minor modifications. Instead of drizzling oil on bread and toasting in a skillet, I would simply throw it in a toaster oven. And instead of making a compound Calabrian chili butter, I’d spread regular butter on the toast and spoon the diced chiles over it with a squeeze of lemon.
Still, I am declaring this the summer of razor clams for me, and I plan to make this lunch as often as I can afford to.
We went off script for the next dish. I’d found a bunch of green garlic at the farmers’ market; so I decided to make a pesto-type-thing using the garlic, pistachios, olive oil, and some rice wine vinegar. It was delicious. Also, violently garlicky. I probably put in too much. Anyhoo, I spread the pesto on more toasted sourdough and topped with smoked mussels.
This was a tasty, if flawed, concoction. The thick toast and assertive pesto overshadowed the mussels, whose only presence came in the form of smokiness. Plus, the whole thing felt like soft on soft on soft as the mussels lacked the same satisfying chew of the razor clams. If anything, the mussels read as chalky, which is not a Yelp review I would strive for.
But in the spirit of adventure, we pivoted and swapped the toast in favor of a small cracker, and that made all the difference. This let the mussel shine more, and the cracker added much needed crunch. While it was hard to follow in the footsteps of the razor clams, this was a lovely experiment.
Chris hadn’t had much experience with anchovies; so I assembled a simple preparation for him: anchovy, crème fraîche, and crackers. We used the Ortiz brand of anchovy, which was too salty to eat out of the tin (we learned this the hard way), but after a rinse under the faucet, they were much more palatable. What’s not to love about anchovies, crème fraîche, and crackers? (And for what it’s worth, I also enjoy the Bellino anchovy brand, which, while salty, is not nearly as salty as Ortiz)
By this point, things were getting fast and loose. Chris opened up the dorade, which tasted similar to canned tuna but had some unique notes that I can neither describe nor explain. I also busted out some tinned salmon roe (leftover from the caviar party in the last newsletter), and of course, I had to welcome pickled herring to the party. It was Chris’s first time trying herring, and I think he’s now a fan. And if he’s not, I’ll still push the narrative that he is, if only to get that herring buzz going. C’mon, people, we can do this!
Unfortunately we never quite made it to all the other fish, which is fine. The beauty of tinned fish is that it lasts ages — at least, if it’s unopened. I’m looking forward to a second TFP where we can dabble in the world of small squid and smoked oysters and codfish. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll add a second tinned fish book to the list: Tin To Table by Anne Hezel. Until then, I’ll busy myself with a new entertainment: razor clam TikTok.
I’m obsessed with tinned fish. The amount of shuffling I did to accommodate all the tins in my luggage when I returned from Lisbon was soooo worth it.
When I spent a few months in Paris I couldn’t get enough of the tinned fish - there was an entire store dedicated just to tinned fish! Also, I like to use the tinned mussels to make pasta with a can of tomatoes, chopped garlic, red pepper flakes and parsley - basic, certainly, but good in a pinch!