Not to be the guy who discovered a band way before you did (“Oh you love tinned fish? Name three of their songs!”), but to all the canned tuna and smoked trout heads out there, I must insist you broaden your shelf-stable seafood horizons. While it is not a crime to stick to the classics, there is a wide world of fishy delight available to you in the preserved foods aisle, if you dare to look beyond your trieds-and-trues. Maybe you’re ready to jump off the deep end and add mussels, cockles, or snails to your cart. Or maybe you need a gateway can to help unlock your more adventurous side. In either case, pick up a tin of octopus.
I consider olive oil-packed octopus a treat. It’s the can I peel open when I want something that feels a little more special than my average seafood-studded fare. Octopus is slightly more expensive than other tinned fish products, but it shines in a way flake-able fish cannot, particularly in dishes that display its meaty texture and mild flavor.
As with other tinned fish, octopus is fully cooked right out of the can, but I like to pat my pieces dry and sear them in a hot pan to build a little char on the tentacles and add some smoky flavor. This is why my preferred brand of tinned octopus is Matiz, which includes larger pieces that readily show off a good crispy bit.
And I’m not embarrassed to say that the aesthetics of a burnished, swirly cephalopod tendril are as much a driving factor for me as the taste. In a bowl, they look like a sunny afternoon on the Iberian coast, even on a dreary day in Brooklyn. In fact, just this morning, Instagram fed me a “three years ago today” post of a salad I made for lunch in 2021 with seared octopus bits peeking out from behind radicchio leaves and crispy chickpeas. Clearly it is an early spring go-to of mine to break out the fancy can and attempt a little cold-weather escapism.
One of my favorite ways to use tinned octopus is in a pantry pasta, combining it with a few other ingredients that I always have around in case of emergency: capers, wine, butter, garlic. I crisp up the pieces, set them aside, and then build a silky sauce from those aforementioned staples in the same pan. Once thickened and glossy, I toss in long noodles, the burnished octopus, a ton of parsley, and a squeeze of lemon for freshness. The result is reminiscent of linguine and clams—but without all the effort or shells to dig through—a weeknight-friendly dinner packed with brightness and just enough seafood salinity. It won’t teleport you to Lisbon, but it will certainly boost your cred in the conservas community, which, bite for bite, might be just as cool.