The roots in the bites we take A look to the hidden or clear patterns of societies structure through food.

Passport & Plate - Herring Salad

Mexico | Monday, March 10, 2014 | 5 photos

Ingredients
Herring salad ingredients:
- 1/2 kilogram of sliced and marinated Herring. The one I get comes with onions so I have to remove them. It already comes salted so no additional salt is needed in the recipe.
- 1 kilogram of potatoes.
- 700 grams of beetroot.
- 8 pickles.
- 150 grams of capers.
- Grinded pepper, quantity depends on the chef’s love or hate relationship with pepper. I love it.
- White vinegar, I suggest tasting the salad while you pour it, this way you know for sure the right amount.
- The water in which the beetroot was boiled. Useful for avoiding a dry salad before each serving if the salad has been inside the fridge.

Decoration:
- 2 carrots.
- 3 hard boiled eggs.
- 1 bouquet of fresh parsley.
- 4 bugambilia flowers. This was an addition to the original recipe. I thought of this as a way to honor my grandmother. This particular flower grows and embellishes most of the center and south of Mexico, but it has its biggest presence in Colima, her home-state. I placed the origin of the recipe under Germany although I know is Russian. If I had a choice I would have selected both Germany and Mexico taking to account the additions my family and I made.

 

How to prepare this recipe
This dish is an artisanal work. It takes hours of slicing (at least that’s what it took me, I’m not a good slicer, but then again i’m applying as an Anthropologist). The chef has to be equipped with patience and a sharp knife. The first step is to boil the potatoes and the beetroot. You’ll know that they’re cooked and ready to be sliced when you stick a knife in to pick them up and it comes out by itself. Slice the potatoes and the beetroot in small squares of about half a centimeter. It’s important to avoid big slices. Put the squares in a plate. I suggest the use of a nice plate, it embellishes the dish. I chose one with motifs of rural life on the beautiful mexican landscape. As tablecloth I placed two paliacates (traditional kerchiefs), one green and the other red (colors of the mexican flag). Take the herring out of the jar. We only need the herring so feel free to throw away the onions that usually come with it. Slice the herring in the same way you did with the potatoes and the beetroot and put it in the plate. Pour the capers without the brine. Cut the pickles using the same measurement. Mix it all in the same plate. It’s almost a guarantee you will stain your clothes, so be sure to take your precautions. Add some of the water in which you boiled the beetroot to moisten the salad, don’t exceed or you’ll end up with a herring soup instead of a salad. Grind pepper onto the salad and pour white vinegar. Taste it and add more if your tongue says so. Now comes the decorations. Boil three eggs. Take the yolk and the egg white apart. Slice them in squares. Take two carrots and slice them in the same way. Grab the bouquet of parsley and cut in fine slices. Apply the sliced decorative ingredients as petals of a flower. As a final touch apply a flower in the center, I chose four bugambilias. To eat it the best way is to get some brown bread (I used one with rye) and high quality butter. Spread butter on the slice of bread and then apply some herring salad on it.

 

The story behind this recipe
It’s Christmas Eve. I’m five months old. There’s my parents, they are chatting with her sisters. My brother takes a peep at me, pulls his tongue out. I hear laughter and the popping of a wine cork. A big figure, almost like a bear, sheds its shadow upon the cradle. I get nervous. The feeling of smallness makes me want to get lost in the sheets. A roaring voice seems to say something to me. I remain quiet, enchanted. He chuckles and walks towards the kitchen. There he would take a look at the purple dish, pull out a spoon and taste it. His thundering words would claim that there’s something missing. The final touch. That oak of a man would take the vinegar and pour it around the colorful surface and then he would take the pepper and grind it. That man was my grandfather. I never knew what words he said to me, for he died the next year. That was his last Christmas, the festivity he cherished the most. His serious countenance was only a mask to cover a person that had found life’s greatest treasure. He would ask for two things: to dine with all the family and that traditional platter. Herring salad was the talk of Christmas Eve. His father came from a small town near Hamburg, Germany. The blood in his veins gave him the authority to determine the quality of the main dish. My grandmother would contribute with the decoration above the salad. Those colors mirrored the flowers in her garden and the whole biosphere of her home-state Colima, Mexico. She was short compared to a regular person, next to my grandfather she was tiny. Her soft melodious voice remains in my head; she passed away when I was fourteen. Those huge and cheerful dinners are long gone. But for some reason I can’t pass a year without preparing and eating herring salad. In it I hear the thunder of his ancestors and see the flowers of hers. The strong flavors and beautiful colors on the table of a family reunion contain the whole purpose of eating: To experience the richness of life with the ones you love.