I’d assumed that by highlighting that these were “generous sardines” that there’d be three hefty fellas—maybe even just two whoppers. But this particular tin revealed five normal-for-French-canners pilchards. Across the border in Spain, these’d be labeled sardinillas. Marketing is so weird, all around the globe.
No real heat from that single chili pepper. Not surprising, of course—just the standard “spiced” sardines approach. I will underline, though, that there are no cloves in play here, so if you’re one who loves spiced sardines but can’t abide cloves, this could be on your happy list.
The fish were a bit of a fall apart-y jumble. You’ll just have to take my word that I know my way around a sardine. I’ve cooked for a living; I’ve got skills. But these guys just wouldn’t behave, too crumbly. The results of my dissection ain’t pretty, I think you’ll agree.
Did they taste bad? Nope, they were straight down the middle sardines, flavour-wise. Did they respond a bit oddly to the chew? Yup, and that was a letdown. I’d had an omelet-type plan for the tin, but I ended up just mashing these on buttered toast, a thing I rarely do. They were fine, perhaps slightly undersalted—but better under than over, I feel, so that’s not a demerit.
To be honest, I’m almost never wowed by Connétable offerings. I picked this tin off the shelf specifically because that “Généreuses” promise caught my eye. It leaves me slightly bummed that this company is one of the few French brands broadly available here in the States. France has riches, and we’re kinda getting table scraps. Sigh.
by DreweyD
1 Comment
FWIW, I believe you.