Canned fish date night: The kids are chowing down on tins of sardines for the 'experience'
If you’re curious what it’s like to get old, kids, one of the more interesting aspects is that you retain these little snapshots of your past while remembering none of the context. You are certain they happened, but none of what we in the newspaper business used to call the Five W’s — who, what, where, when, why — come along for the ride.
One such event I remember clearly was at a potluck dinner party that was attended by some excellent cooks. I’m sure there were all sorts of memorable dishes that I don’t remember, but the scene that sticks with me was a poor fellow who was there on a first date with a member of the group.
When it came time for him to unveil his contribution, he pulled out a flat, square tin, peeled back the lid and proudly announced: “smoked oysters.”
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The conversation stopped dead, as every other guest’s brain tried to process on the fly whether this was a joke and it was appropriate to laugh; whether he was serious and we should act appreciative and awed by his fine taste; or whether this stab at incompetent pretention should be treated with compassion (mostly out of respect to his date) as we awkwardly related our own canned-fish-related anecdotes, of which we admittedly had precious few.
It appears, however, that the gentleman was simply 30 years ahead of his time. Because, in an increasingly inexplicable America, “canned fish date night” is now a thing on TikTok.
The Washington Post explains it this way: “You and your partner crack open a few tins (bonus points if you place them on a camera-ready rustic wooden board), surround them with a few accouterments and then dig in, layering your goodies on bits of crusty bread or crackers."
All while filming it and broadcasting your dinner to the world.
Honestly, I never liked seeing still photos of people’s meals on Facebook, and watching someone eat on social media, for me, ranks somewhere between visiting the dentist and dropping a bowling ball on my foot.
But I will plead “no contest” and accept that young people find this to be appealing. I’m sure my parents were equally mystified at my love of Saturday morning Fat Albert cartoons.
Still — we have video capability today to watch anything that’s ever been recorded since the days of Lillian Gish, and we’re watching people eat sardines?
The Post credits Ali Hooke, a San Francisco chef, with initiating the trend and explains that “part of the appeal is that it’s accessible; no matter how unskilled they are in the kitchen, anyone can open a can. And (Hooke) thinks people enjoy meals that are an experience.”
Experience. That’s the fallback word we use today to explain things that are stupid. We climb up a mountain of stacked milk crates because it’s an “experience.” You know what else is an experience? Frostbite. So?
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I experienced sardines when I was a kid, and although I didn’t particularly hate them, the problem was, well, the experience. My dad understood that fish were an important element of nutrition, but even if Mike’s Grocery in Berkeley Springs had carried fresh fish, Dad never could have afforded fresh salmon or halibut.
So he fell back on inexpensive tins of sardines. I would open my mouth and drop a fish down my throat, a scene that, as a 5-year-old, I came to strongly associate with the way Native Americans would drop a dead fish in each hill during planting season. So it wasn’t that I hated the taste so much as that I feared that my ears would start to grow squash.
Anticipating adulthood, all kids keep a mental list of foods they will never again touch when they reach the age of 18. For me, sardines were on that list, although it may be time to give them another chance. But no worries, I won’t make anyone watch.
Tim Rowland is a Herald-Mail columnist.
This article originally appeared on The Herald-Mail: Canned fish date nights newest 'experience' among the young and hip
