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Edible souvenirs are my love language. When I come back from a trip, my friends and family members can expect to receive extra-virgin olive oil, bottles of wine, dried chiles, sea salt and chocolate I buy last-minute from expensive airport shops.
When I bring back culinary souvenirs, I’m providing a sample of a place’s history, whether it be in a jar, a plastic bag or a fancy cork container. Since I moved to Portugal four years ago, cans with fish, octopus, mussels and clams have become my gift of choice.
Tinned fish is great for home cooks or outdoorsy people eager for oily protein, friends with children, or that confirmed bachelor buddy who barely knows how to prepare pasta. Their diversity of brines, seasonings and garnishes fit all tastes, from the jewel-like baby squids with thyme and garlic to the silvery, tail-on sardines lying in a bed of spicy tomato sauce. Open the can, and dinner is served — just add toast, cold cuts and a handful of olives.
What appeals to me most about tinned fish is the idea of giving someone the best the ocean has to offer under the pull of a lid. The canning process was established in Europe from the 18th century onward to capture — and then preserve — a product from a specific place (terroir) in its peak moment (seasonality).
There is another tremendous advantage to cans as gifts: they are already “wrapped” — on papers with vintage artwork of Greek deities, on cans engraved in beautifully patterned silk screens, on boxes boasting colored-metallic ink logos, on artsy illustrations that make you want to collect all of them. The visual appeal alone is enough to have your friends coveting what’s inside your suitcase.
You don’t need to step into the charming conserveiras (the old preserve shops) in downtown Lisbon or the trendy grocery stores of Paris to find the best cans. In many supermarkets in southern European countries, the offer of cans is so diverse that I can spend hours scanning the shelves in search of products that I have yet to try, and which may surprise my friends.
My favorite corner of the world for this activity is Galicia, in northwest Spain, with the best benefit-to-cost ratio for tinned fish. In New York, you could go to Despaña Gourmet in Queens, Maiden Lane in the East Village or Mercado Little Spain in Hudson Yards. In D.C., try Grand Cata or Nido.
When traveling abroad or even visiting stores close to my place in Porto, I refuse to buy any of the trendy brands. I look for companies remaining faithful to the traditional methods, with the fish laid into cans by hand to keep them intact.
From Portugal, Pinhais is a good brand in that matter. Ortiz, from the Basque region of Spain, is also a company adopting artisanal techniques. Sicilian Agostino Recca is one of the world’s famous producers of anchovies.
Of all of the canned fish in the sea, from vintage sardines (aged for a year or more) to new staples — razor clams, squids and mussels now flying off the shelves — I keep piling in my cupboard cans and cans that, shortly, will find a new home in the hands of friends or relatives.
Every time I pack, I put more than a couple of them in my bag. It is always worth the extra weight.
Rafael Tonon is a journalist who lives in Brazil and Portugal. Follow him on Instagram:@tononrafa.
