How To Be Gross

An Intro To Sardines

(Click here to skip to the recipe!)

In 2009 when I was supposed to be doing homework, I often found myself wandering into the pantry to ogle our shelf-stable foods for absolutely no reason. I dunno, man. When ADD needs a museum experience, it will find a way whether you have one or not.

And there in the back was the most mysterious magnum opus exhibit: two little flat cans of what Dad referred to as our Nuclear Apocalypse Stash. I'd stare at the expiration date set at an unfathomable five years into the distant future, imagining defending our land from zombies while I turned the can sideways to listen to the blblblblb from inside. Aside from old cartoons with curled-up lids and odd-looking crank handles, I had absolutely no idea what to expect if I opened it.

I knew I had to commit.

I was told to stay outside like a line cook on a smoke break, with nothing to keep me company except our curious dog, a little red can of King Oscar and the odd-looking cocktail fork that came with our silverware set.

They tasted like freedom. They tasted like savory rebellion, like taking my time exploring a beach at my own leisure away from the crowd I came with. They tasted like... like they'd play really nice with some salt and vinegar?

So I tried them again a week later like that, the way my dad recommended. And then again a little after that, over and over until I've been able to refine a significant handful of unique recipes to get my fix.

And for the last 13 years, I've been VIOLENTLY persecuted for my actions. Okay, not really. But like, way more than the reaction I've seen for any other unconventional food choices and combinations.

You like slices of smoky ham on your peanut butter sandwiches? Weird, but you do you. You eat home-simmered soup with oxtails and cool spices? Yes, keep the culture alive. You eat cottage cheese? Right on, old people food is pretty tight. You eat collard greens? Kimchi? Bleu cheese? Sushi... with eel? Wow, how healthy and fun! How adventurous!

You eat sardines? Criminal. Sinful. How could you?

I've heard this reaction everywhere, from housemates to friends to major motion pictures. And I'm tired of it. Every one of those negative naysayings and NEUGHHH noises are founded in dusty closed-mindedness. Let me count the ways.

You're not eating it because it looks gross? So do most ingredients until someone makes a culinary artwork out of them. For example, take any instance of meat ever. Plastic-wrapped handfuls of Halloween gore casually line the shelves of every supermarket and nobody bats an eye - we take these home and heat them until they turn from bright red to varying shades of gray-brown. Imagine explaining that to aliens. Could you look me in the eye and tell me that any stage of the ground beef experience is objectively decent-looking?

You couldn't eat it because the idea of putting it in your body is gross? In terms of nutrition, nothing could be further from the truth. They're some of the healthiest and most nutrient-dense foods on the planet, especially proportional to their price. Small plankton-feeding prey fish have the lowest levels of mercury, a heavy metal that tends to build up in fish that like to eat their friends. Each can is not only packed with protein and the healthiest fats, but it also contains vitamins and minerals that are hard to get anywhere except supplement gummies. Most importantly it's one of the cheapest ways to get a complete source of omega-3 fatty acids, an essential building block for the cells in your brain and your body. Every skin cell uses the type of omega-3's most often found in fish, so since I eat them so often, that means you're kind of looking at sardines every time you look at me. That's pretty wild.

You couldn't eat it because the thought of it grosses you out? Actually, that's pretty understandable. I was also intimidated when the only representation of sardines I had seen were pictures of old fashioned key-opened cans filled with fresh minnows locked in a scandalized stare for all eternity. But in modern times, that's not near what you'll find. At sardine processing plants, everything is removed that a (relatively normal) human being wouldn't want: heads, all organs, fins, tails, bits, bobs and spiteful thoughts. The fillets are given a very thorough washing and de-scaling before being packed into a can with oil (or tomato sauce, mustard, or whatever's on the label), tightly vacuum sealed, and cooked with pressure and steam inside their cans for a long, safe time. All that's left is the meat, the silvery skin, and the barely-perceptible calcium-packed bones completely softened after cooking. I can understand if the latter two might be intimidating for newcomers - if you have a hard time jumping into the deep end, I recommend easing into the pool with any can that says "steaks". All you're getting are skinless, boneless fillets. The smoked ones are pretty nice, in my opinion.

You couldn't eat it because you're afraid it will taste gross? I wouldn't have written 1,639 words if I didn't believe you'll like them more than you think you will. If you at least tolerate tuna, I promise you are capable of liking sardines. From a culinary standpoint, sardines are like tuna's confident older sibling that learned how to be just a little more loud, walking into your life wearing a leather jacket that was really expensive. Like with lapels and everything. It's firm, commanding, rebellious and ready to treat you right.

Also, Polish. At least mine are.

Sardines have a long history of being a food meant for everyone, especially busy people looking for a quick filling meal. My grandpa ate them, my dad eats them, and he introduced them to me. I'd love to keep passing it along by giving you my favorite introductory recipe, especially if you've never tried them before and have no idea what you're getting yourself into. Or if you're in the same boat I'm in: looking for a low-effort, depression-friendly meal that will help your brain on the journey back on its feet. Follow me on this journey, my friend.

(lol, brain feet)

The Sardinewich

For equipment you're absolutely going to need a bowl and a fork. You might need a small tupperware or sauce container, and your favorite plate to eat sandwiches off of (unless you prefer the Mike Mann culinary technique of using your finished product as a dip for your Ritz crackers).

For ingredients to make this me-style you're going to need Worcestershire sauce, soy sauce, vinegar, salt (the chunkier the better), and some kind of seasoning (think Old Bay, chipotle pepper or whatever's lurking in the back of your spice cabinet). We're looking for some acid and salt to balance out the fish's rounded flavors, while encouraging the savory strength with umami boosters.

You'll also need two bread slices and whatever you'd put on a tuna sandwich: mayo, lettuce, avocado spread, pickles, Dijon mustard, or whatever suits your fancy.

And then of course we need the star of the show: sardines packed in oil. In my opinion, Beach Cliff is the MVP for the price-quality-availability balance.

First, we're gonna take this pop tab and pull it upwards, but not peel it back all the way just yet. You'll hear a pfffFSHK of air rushing in to fill the vacuum of space in the can. Like with any canned food, this is the first moment that the aromas will start to present themselves. Trust the process and stay strong, I believe in you.

Take the lil cup and pour the oil into it. You could discard this (and if you do, make sure to pour oil in your trash instead of down your sink) or you could do what I do and save it for any recipe that needs about 4 teaspoons of oil and an umami boost, like sautéed veggies or vinaigrette.

Now pull back the lid. Admire the little fishies. Admire the handiwork of the actual human being who packed the can just for you. Admire the simple and affordable blessings that living in the 21st century provides every day.

Dump them in the bowl. #yeet

This is the step that might be the most unsettling for new people, but I promise it only takes like 47 seconds. You're going to mash up the fish with the back of your fork until you have a fluffy mass of silvery-gray matter. If you're using the regular kind, you might see some unfamiliar textures start to appear like I mentioned before. Just keep mixing until it's all blended and homogenous - it's about to get so much better, I promise.

Now it's time for those mix-ins! My favorite combo is usually achieved through a lot of eyeballing and taste-testing, but it usually follows the same relative proportions. A quarter teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce, an eighth teaspoon (or really more of a dash) of soy sauce, the same amount for vinegar, a hefty pinch of chunky kosher salt, and a couple shakes of Old Bay. Go in for a taste test if you're up for it. Resist the urge to eat everything.

Toast your bread, spread your mayo, squirt your Dijon, and lay your mixture thoughtfully. Tuck in your baby fish under a bed of romaine and pickles, put the other bread slice on top and cut diagonally for good luck.

Against all odds and hangups, fears and forbearances, you made a filling meal out of a culinary pariah. Healthy, cheap, lightning-fast and delicious. Take a moment. Admire your own handiwork and the role you play in destigmatizing the name of sardines to the world.

And then yell "REBELLION" with your mouth full.

(see you next week hormph normph normph)