Jan 25

It’s 2008.

I’m a freshly turned, 13-year-old who just received the responsibility of babysitting their little sister. We spent most mornings home alone while our parents went to work. Like many kids our age the agenda included cereal, cartoons, and the occasional troublemaking. We would play the floor is lava on mom’s brand new cushions or sneak to watch music videos. We weren’t rowdy kids by any means, but there are some things you just can’t do when your folks are home. The only activity that calmed the storm was lunchtime.

The two of us loaded up our TV dinner trays with peanut butter sandwiches, microwaved chicken-flavored ramen, and Hugs (the neon color “juice” in those tiny, plastic, barrel-shaped containers). I’ve always had an interest in grub but this was the extent of my preteen culinary knowledge. My sister and I sat in front of the tv with one mission, do not miss Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations.

Today’s episode, Spain.

Season 4, episode 17 begins with Anthony Bourdain and his companion Lucy Garcia strolling through the streets of a seaside village just north of Barcelona. Anthony is cool as always, robed in an all-black ensemble. Each article of clothing appears tailored to fit his slender frame and not a wrinkle in sight.

“This is what I love and hate about this country. Just in this one block, as we walk to the place we’re going to eat, I’ve seen six other places I want to go.”

Bourdain says as Lucy multitasks, listening and directing him to his first destination, Taberna Espinale, a charming local joint. If you’re the type that’s impressed by grand decor and a ritzy atmosphere, you might overlook this lowkey neighborhood bar. Anthony and Lucy enter the tavern, Lucy confidently approaches the bar. White platters of seafood soaked in oils and spices fill the space on the bartop. “We are going to get, not this (pointing to a tray of fish on the counter) “We’re going to get something a bit more special.” Lucy conveys to Anthony before ordering the awaited meal.

Taberna Espinaler via google images posted by Jose-Maria Gomez

The barkeep pulls a light blue box with yellow lettering from the thoroughly stocked shelves behind him. Inside the box is the finest and most expensive seafood in the world, taken directly from the boat and into tin cans for a year. Razor clams, cockles, and mussels look like small rubies glistening in red oil. Bourdain and Garcia pick up and eat each morsel with toothpicks.

“Rest assured, this stuff bears no relationship to the can of smoked oysters you ate stoned and desperate at 2:00 in the morning back at college, this is the world’s very best seafood”

Anthony narrates.

The local Spaniards seem at ease in the bar as they pair their beer and vermouth with various tin cans of wild fish. It’s a social scene for the commoner, a third place outside work and home.

This episode was my first introduction to the expansive diet of canned seafood. My understanding of tinned fish beforehand extended to the cans of sardines my Dad encouraged me to try and tuna drowned in mayo, celery, onions, and relish.

What began the cultural shift from tuna casserole to the now trending tinned fish date night nationwide, however, was none other than; surprise surprise. . . COVID-19. Gone are the days of being disgusted by the idea of anchovy on a pizza.

A “chic tinned fish” party

@accidentalinfluencer via Instagram

It was the perfect storm, a mass alteration of lifestyle that affected how we all bought, cooked, and consumed our food. Tinned fish was the quick fix to the daunting task of grocery shopping and making food last. We needed low-cost foods with minimal spoilage. Anything in a sealed can will have a prolonged shelf life, and tinned fish just so happens to get tastier with time. Not to mention the recyclable metal packaging — the chance of food waste is zero. Now you can have nutritional, even gourmet cuisine in your pantry without spending a fortune.

Imagine the possibilities.

If you’re anything like me, you’ve wasted countless hours on FoodTok and seen these possibilities come to fruition. It’s interesting to see the marketing of canned sardines go from a staple in grandma’s kitchen to a posh dinner party concept. People have taken notice of this trend. Some have taken it upon themselves to call out the lateral positioning of tinned fish on our plates. Alison O’Connor recently took to TikTok claiming the newly marketed tinned fish craze is a psyop. “It’s giving great depression”, she says while snickering at the concept. She isn’t wrong. Historically innovative food and food combinations come from a state of recession, which is a lasting effect following a pandemic. Lobster used to be a peasant dish.

Granted, the marketing of canned octopus could only reach these heights with a little help from our purveyors of culture; influencers. The influencer’s place in internet culture recently experienced a shift. The charm of polished Instagram posts muddled with personal links to products you don’t need is wearing off — this doesn’t exclude food, people want authenticity. Good marketers know this and great marketers conceal advertisements in content perceived as authentic.

Ali Hooke is a social media personality and chef. Her popularity on TikTok skyrocketed after sharing how she and her husband spend Friday nights eating from cans. Hooke glides her iPhone camera over an array of castelvetrano olives, freshly baked sourdough, olive oil, and the star of the table; tinned fish. She carefully opens each gorgeously packaged morsel, ensuring the label faces the lens. Fish juice and marinade begin to leak from the can’s broken seal, giving you a glimpse of the tasty magic in store. Even I admit her content made my mouth water — I’m going to try tinned fish.

Her remaining posts exhibit unfiltered, newfound motherhood as she posts from inside a toy-filled playpen. She’s just like us! Now that we feel so well acquainted, we won’t mind sifting through those affiliated links and buying every brand of tinned fish she just posted. Even the most authentically recorded video is still some undercover, covert sales tactic.

Fishwife Sardines via bklynlader.com

Alas, the marketing team behind the push of tinned fish must be doing something right. The canned seafood market is expected to reach $50 billion by 2030, officially claiming its space as a future food. I could chalk this up to the elevated design of aluminum tins filled with fish. The vibrant colors and ode to vintage typography could lure anyone to buy in.

Whether you’re a newly established Tin Fish Head, or a trailblazing foodie exclaiming your flag on the moon ownership of the trend, (me) you can’t deny the sex appeal of feeding your significant other smoked saffron mussels and Vihno Verde.