Last Spring, my friend Cassie sent me text asking that I explore the world of tinned fish in one of my newsletters.
While this conversation happened right before tinned fish was declared the ultimate “hot girl food,” I was already getting the sense that canned fish (excuse me, I mean TINNED FISH. Sorry! I meant CONSERVAS) had recently gotten a new PR agent. The trend most certainly has been bubbling under the surface for the last couple of years, from Alison Roman’s extremely viral Shallot Pasta, which had the internet collectively asking if a recipe with a can of anchovies would “taste fishy,” to various cookbooks, articles, and even a substack dedicated to the stuff. It wasn’t until around this past spring where I started to see the trend leap from niche interest in food circles to a technicolor saturation of my Instagram feed. Suffice it to say, today it’s hard to escape the trend.
My first instinct when I see a trend like this is cynicism. I don’t have the time or resources to do a full doctoral thesis on the origins of this trend (Oh how I miss my liberal arts days!), but when there is so much hype over one specific food item, you can usually trace it down to a conference room full of marketing majors. Personally, I’m not invested in the natural origins vs. lab leak theories surrounding Covid, but when it comes to the origins of the tinned fish trend, I do believe this was 100% manmade. My personal theory is that sometime during the Portuguese economic crisis, the Portugal tourism board partnered up with TAP airlines to stimulate the tourism industry with really cheap flights to Lisbon. As more young people started traveling to Portugal, foods like gorgeous cans of tinned fish and bottles vinho verde (remember when vinho verde was a THING?) started taking over social media feeds and trickled back stateside, either as a result of people genuinely liking these things or because serving them was a way to bring up your recent trip to Iberia to anyone willing to nod and smile politely in response. The bold, multicolored packaging photograph oh so well, thus further the driving the consumption as a means to develop content. Here would be a good time to mention that the person who created the “tinned fish is a hot girl food” meme is one of the founders of Fishwife, a trendy tinned fish company.
I must admit that despite my cynicism, I am not immune to pressures of wanting to be a “hot girl.” I myself count myself as one of the many twenty somethings that made the pilgrimage to questionable hostels in Portugal between 2011-2019. While it was before tinned fish officially became an IT food in the coastal US, it was clear to me that there was something impossibly chic and bohemian about ripping apart rustic loaves of bread and eating them with beautiful cans of fish while sitting on some steps outside. My high school friend and travel companion Lindsey, who I would argue has always been much cooler than I but never in a try-hard way, was ahead of the trend in her declared love for canned sardines. I, meanwhile, was torn between my lifelong aversion to fish that actually tastes like fish and my desire to be easy, breezy and low maintenance. Lindsey finally convinced me to try some, and while I remember declaring triumphantly that I did not hate it and could in fact eat it again, that’s a far cry from actually wanting to eat it again out of anything other than necessity. I’d be lying if I said that at the time I would have much rather been seen as the girl I appeared to be in that very moment—a chic 25 year old with a beachy haircut waiting for a train as I daintily picked sardines out of a can—than who I really was, a Type-A girl that just taken the bar exam and was about to start a job as a corporate attorney at a white-shoe firm, who asked “WiLl ThIs TaStE fIsHy?” before trying a bite of said sardines.
The tinned fish trend is not the first time in my life I have sensed a conspiracy to shove canned fish down my throat. I was in kindergarten when my class took a field trip where we were promised that would be a) a celebrity appearance and b) a camera crew filming our television debut for the local news channel . The “celebrity” turned out to be a man dressed in as the Starkist mascot Charlie Tuna. To this day I have so many unanswered questions about this memory: I have no idea who coordinated this, why my kindergarten agreed to let us be pawns in Big Tuna propaganda, or why Charlie’s presence was a newsworthy event in Tampa in the 90s. My mom’s theory is at the time they were getting a lot of bad publicity for killing dolphins and needed to rehab their image. I share this random anecdote not only because I have just generally never had a good opportunity to share this insane memory, but also to make the point that my whole life, marketing executives have been telling me that I needed to get really hyped up about processed fish product.
Allow me take out my crystal ball and predict what will happen with the tinned fish trend. Sometime in the next year or two we will hit peak tinned fish, where the artisanal cans from boutique brands will have nationwide distribution in grocery stores everywhere and soon it won’t just be your cool cousin in New York posing pictures of her tins but also your middle-aged aunt in Omaha on Facebook. I would bet money that as I write this, mainstream canned fish companies like Starkist and Bumblebee have plans to issue their own products with more artistic designs on the cans and will be releasing them sometime in the next year, supply chain insanity permitting. The food will start to lose its current caché (I call it this the “Milk Bar” effect, where people’s appetite for certain foodstuffs become inversely proportional to its availability outside of New York City). Non-coincidentally, it’ll be around this time that the conservas backlash and hot takes will begin. It will come in the form of a Slate.com article about how the origins of tinned fish are actually super problematic. We as a society will be shocked (SHOCKED!) to learn that, despite the marketing hype, there is no such thing as sustainable industrially produced animal product, including sardines. Our children will have to once again go on PR sponsored field trips to have photo ops with a person dressed like a giant fish, only at least this time the fish will be sexier than poor Charlie Tuna.
This essay was supposed to feature me trying some fancy tinned fish, ideally with a crusty loaf of sourdough and a nice wine. I even bought a couple of pricey but chic looking cans at the new gourmet food market in Little River. I ate the bread, I drank the wine, but I could never muster the enthusiasm to open the pretty little can of fish. Instead I tossed it in the giant plastic container that contains my hurricane kit, the tins like beautiful jewels among the soda crackers, canned beans, and their fuddy duddy cousins, the Starkist tuna packets. At least next time I find myself sitting in a home with no electricity, boarded up windows and 90-degree weather with 100% humidity, I can open up a can and comfort myself knowing that at long last, I am a hot girl.
What to cook when it’s getting chilly outside
Recipe: Roasted Calabaza and Leek Soup
I’ve been making version of this soup since my college days. Calabaza squash can sometimes be hard to find, but I find that it lends just the right amount of silkiness to the final product.
Serves 4-5 people
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 leek, halved and cleaned
2 lbs calabaza squash cut into large chunks (in a pinch, peeled butternut will do)
2 cloves garlic, skin on
1 bay leaf
heavy cream (to taste)
Preheat oven to 420. On a sheet pan, toss the calabaza and leeks in the olive oil and add salt and pepper. Add the garlic cloves to the pan and roast for about an hour tossing halfway through, until the calabaza is soft and browned. Be sure to keep an eye on the leeks, as a bit of charring is fine but they might need to be removed sooner if burning too much.
Using tongs, put the pumpkin and the the leeks in a large pot or dutch oven and fill with enough water to cover (about 3-4 cups). Once cool enough to handle, squeeze the garlic cloves out of their skin into the pot and add the bay leaf. Bring to a boil and then reduce to simmer. Let simmer, uncovered for 20 minutes.
Remove bay leaf. Using an immersion blender, blend the soup until smooth (you can use a normal blender, but be sure to use a towel on the opening at the top to avoid splatter). Ladle soup into bowls and stir in heavy cream to taste.
Recommendations!
The Splendid Table podcast is such a salve for my soul. Francis Lam has to have one of the most comforting voices on radio. This episode with guest Lisa Donovan, author of Our Lady of Perpetual Hunger, had a couple gems of baking advice. Her tips on maintaining a cast iron confirmed what I have suspected all along (that less is more when it comes to cast iron), and her advice on freezing pie crusts prior to baking may be what my horrible-at-pie self needs.
Around Miami (because not everyone lives in NYC!)- Lil’Laos
I have to give a shout out to my favorite vendor at the really great Citadel Food Hall, Lil’ Laos. Everything I have tried there has been a knockout, but the lemongrass chicken and the crunchy rice make me want to kick myself for not seeking out Laotian food sooner.
Thanks for reading! See you next month.