Almost Jewish-style herring

I was at the supermarket today and some herring caught my eye as I walked past the fish counter. Lately, when I’ve eaten herring, it’s generally been with a drink in one of those little shots-and-snacks bars (I have to admit that Adam G., the fellow who owes Warsaw money, serves perfectly decent herring at his place).

Then there was my recent summer holiday on the Polish coast in the charming little resort of Jantar (charming might be pushing it, though with the right crowd the place did have a certain… atmosphere. Must be what the local “climate fee” is for). Somehow I’ve got it into my head that you’re supposed to eat fish at the seaside (on the Polish coast it’s mostly from China). The circumstances were a bit peculiar, though, because we actually went to the place where I had what was probably the best herring I’ve ever eaten on the Polish coast for breakfast. Breakfast, and specifically pizza.

Yes, pizza for breakfast isn’t OK. But if breakfast is at 12.00, that’s a little better. Anyway, this was supposed to be about herring, not pizza. The pizza was dreadful. What caught my eye in that joint was a fridge by the bar. Inside were about 4 kinds of herring. With onion, rolled up on cocktail sticks, in plain oil, in tomato sauce… There was one catch. There was a notice on the fridge, and inside, alongside the herring, was a whopping great cannon of a Bols vodka bottle. And what words of wisdom had they put on the notice? The herring was free… but only with every shot you bought.

Well, the herring tempted me. I don’t often drink spirits before 13.00, I have to say. But I did get through a few helpings of herring.

Homemade herring like this mostly reminds me of my mum’s efforts. She used to make it quite regularly. So standing in that shop today, I decided to follow the best example I know. In other words, make something similar. I bought just the herring and the dill, since that was pretty much all I was missing, and got down to work.

That’s not the entire ingredient list, obviously. You’ll find that below. But there’s one ingredient that deserves a few more words. This weekend I got a present, and no, I don’t mean the salami (it’s gone and I’d like to forget about it). A jar of little Urbanek gherkins. It literally brought a tear to my eye.

No, it’s not that I’m unusually attached to gherkins. It’s more the Urbanek brand. I don’t know if you know this, but it’s one of the most recognisable Polish brands in… Mongolia. Hence the tear. For now I’ll just tell you that I’ve been to Mongolia 7 (in words: seven) times. When I first went in 1999 and saw jars of Urbanek pickles and fruit compotes on the shop shelves, Polish labels and all, I nearly fell over. There was no Instagram or Facebook back then. Heck, we didn’t even have a mobile phone with us on that trip (and the first one lasted two and a half months), so there were no shares or likes. But there’s something up in the old noggin that remembers, and there’s that tear again. I’ll definitely write about Mongolia another time, including the food. Maybe I’ll even have another go at khuushuur one day? I’ve made them twice and they turned out well, but that was quite a few years ago.

In the meantime, back to the herring. Why “almost Jewish-style”? Because who the hell knows how the Jewish-style kind is made? Somehow the dill put me in mind of it 🙂

At a glance:

Prep time: 15 minutes

Serves: 4 people

How many calories? A fish likes to swim, and as you know, water’s full of calories

Ingredients for an easy herring dish:

• 400 grams of salted matjes-style herring fillets (that was 8 fillets in my case)
• 1 large onion
• half a medium red onion
• 4 tablespoons of olive oil (yes, I know, but it’s the only kind I’ve got)
• a bunch of dill
• 8 small gherkins (mine were Urbanek)
• ground black pepper
• hot paprika
• mixed peppercorns (whole)

The recipe (it’s going to be salty: the fish may not be from the Baltic, but it’s salty enough to pass for one of ours):

I put the herring fillets in a large pot. Poured the brine away (no point crying over it). I washed the herring thoroughly and rinsed it a dozen or so times. Then I left it in water for another dozen or so minutes and went off to play with Ninka. After that I gave it another few thorough rinses. The thing is, herring in that sort of brine is hellishly salty. You can’t eat it like that. It’s worth tasting a piece to see if it’s still too salty. Mine was fine by then (if yours isn’t, keep rinsing until the salt level is one you can live with and actually enjoy), so I left it in fresh water and got on with the extras.

I washed and dried the dill thoroughly. Chopped it finely. Same for the onions (finely chopped, that is). And, no surprises here either, the gherkins got chopped too.

I dried the herring thoroughly with kitchen paper, cut it into 2–3 centimetre pieces and put them in a long plastic food container with a lid (a screw-top jar works perfectly too). I crushed a small handful of mixed peppercorns between my hands over the herring and tipped the lot in, even the ones I hadn’t managed to crush. I added a little black pepper (ground this time) and hot paprika.

I mixed the herring with the spices and added the chopped onion (white and red), dill and gherkins. Poured in 3–4 tablespoons of olive oil. Gave it a thorough stir. I sealed the container tightly and into the fridge it went. My first taste was 4 hours after it went in, but I know it’ll be best tomorrow and the day after. That’s when it’ll really come into its own. An incredibly simple dish, but with a buttered roll it’s a perfect supper. Also good with a shot, though that’s one for when you’ve got company 🙂 Enjoy!