If you pay a little extra you get a lot back from tinned sardines, writes Hugo Arnold
It packs one meaty punch, the sardine. For its size this fish really delivers: moist, oily, chewy flesh of the best kind. Even the skin crisps up sweetly when chargrilled. Some find the bones a little hard to deal with, but then this is part of the charm and the reason the sardine sits so comfortably with summer: time is required to achieve satisfaction, and nothing beats a long lazy lunch in the garden.
Life isn't too short to stuff a sardine. You need to get rid of the backbone; this is far easier than it sounds, although you have to be a bit of gangster about it. Decapitation is recommended, followed by a clean knife wound to the stomach. After that it's a back job: pressure along the spine as you run your finger down the length of the fish. Then you can get as creative as you like. A sardine will handle parsley, garlic and breadcrumbs as easily as pine nuts, raisins and mint. I've had success with couscous laced with herb-crowded oil and lime juice; last night it was rice spiked with cumin and toasted almonds. Crunch time.
If you are nervous of bones, I gave a recipe some time ago for Parmesan-crusted sardines that makes a fine starter with a salad of rocket (e-mail if you missed it). If you choose the filleting route you can go Roman and start doing sardine rolls. They take a little time but look stunning; the tail sort of waves for attention. These morsels of piscine deliciousness can encase anything from a chunky salsa verde to chilli oil and lime juice with plenty of coriander.
Barbecue lovers who would rather do without the bones can split, flatten and marry sardines, so the flesh sides of two are in contact, with a skin side against the fire (one of those gadgets for clamping fish can be useful here).
On a hot day, try an escabeche. The sardines are briefly cooked in hot oil, then finished off in a hot herbal marinade spiked with chilli and garlic. The whole assembly is allowed to cool, then put in the fridge.
For those who dislike food in tins, I ask you to think again. You need to seek out the more select brands - such as Bon Appetit, in the new Fallon & Byrne store, in Dublin - as a tinned sardine can be a fine thing. Paying a little more makes a world of difference, to the extent that you don't need to cook them. A director of a famous French tinning company, in the 19th century, found cooked sardines on cold toast a trial, which was a shame. All he needed was a little cayenne and lemon juice.