After the recent post about spaghetti peperoncino with cabbage and sardines, I read a bit about Moroccan sardines. Initially, I was curious about the local method of cooking sardines. Though I couldn't find too many references on line about Moroccan way of preparing sardines, I did find a few interesting articles about Moroccan sardine industry.

According to this article, Morocco is now the leading supplier of sardines in the European market, beating the competition from Spain and Portugal. (So, maybe, the tin I picked up, although it bore an exotic image of turbaned man, was mainly intended for the American/European market, not for the domestic Moroccan market.) To consolidate their position as the leading exporter of sardines, Reuters reported in 2004, Morocco apparently had discontinued the fishing accord with the EU in the late '90s, banning foreign fishing boats in its waters. To the same end, Morocco heavily subsidizes the Moroccan fishing industry.

What complicates the political ethics of eating a tin of Sultan's sardines, though, is the fact that the sardine fishery takes place along the coast of the Western Sahara, which both the Moroccan government and the separatist Polisario movement claim as their own. According to the same Reuters article on Planet Ark (which is an Australian environmental non-profit), the Polisario Front, with its base inside the Algerian border, has been battling the Moroccan government over the control of the Western Sahara. Since 1991, the UN has been trying to set up an autonomous political entity in the region for the Saharawi peoples, but it hasn't seen success. So, the very existence of the Moroccan fishing industry in the area is in itself a sort of political statement on the part of the Moroccan government, as well as an important economic stabilizer that the government can point to as a proof of its success in guiding the region.

Why this area has come under the Moroccan control and why the Moroccan control has been in dispute have a much longer history: the area was not under any "nation state" as was imagined by the European colonizers back when France and Spain were busy setting up marionette colonial governments all over Africa. Since the colonizers didn't have the sensitivity to perceive or acknowledge the often blurry "zones of tribal influences" in the area, the arbitrary boundaries they drew on the Saharan sand cut through these zones. (Sounds awfully familiar, right?)

There's a much longer history that seems really interesting (to me) before that, of course, of the Islamic influences and the native Berber peoples, but that's way beyond I can sum up here. (Plus I feel I should know more before writing it up.) Meanwhile, two Wikipedia article--one on the Polisario Front and the other on Saharawi peoples--were intriguing and helpful. I'm all for just enjoying the sensations of what's in the plate in front of me and not think about it, but at the same time I can't deny my fascination with the sudden, explosive connection to history and politics that a mere tin of sardines can produce--with just a little bit of curiosity on my part.

With the exception of canned tuna, I've always been afraid of canned fish. My father used to bring home cans of mackerel in miso and sardines in sweet soy sauce to accompany his evening beer, and sometimes he offered a piece or two to me. At the tip of his chopsticks, these fish pieces glittered with oil and gooey sauce, reflecting the fluorescent lamp above our dining table. Often spattered with stray bits of strangely metallic skin and unidentifiable mixture of bones and guts, the fish out of the can never looked attractive to my child's eyes. My revulsion reached the crest when the fish was shoved just under my nose, where the fishy smell became almost overwhelming. I would recoil from the offending piece and make a face, as my father, now tipsy, placed the piece in his mouth, loudly lamenting his daughter's lack of appreciation but his face betraying his amusement.

So, it's a mystery that I started buying tinned seafood lately. The first was the smoked oyster in a tin that I picked up at a Vietnamese market along Broadway. Perhaps because the smoked oyster pasta came out well, I became bold and bought a tin of sardines next. And it was no ordinary tin of sardines--it was "Sultan's" sardines in chili oil, imported from Morocco.

There's a good chance that I was knocked out by the awesomely nostalgic package. It conjured up an image of a small village store with dust-covered merchandise slumbering in the darkness, sheltered from the sweltering heat outside. The Arabic writing on the other side of the box only added to my exoticism. The problem is--exoticism wasn't quite enough to make me open the tin. Once I opened it, I'd have only so many hours to use the fish before it goes bad. So, the tin sat in the cupboard for a few weeks before I finally made up my mind to use it.

When I opened the tin, I was surprised by the generous size of the fish inside. Somehow, I was expecting anchovy-sized fish cluttering the space, but instead, what I found was two plump pieces of sardines almost bursting out of the tiny container. Despite the annoyance of scales left on the fish, the small nibble I had of the sardine was fantastic. I had expected it to be fishy, oily, salty and maybe somewhat stale, but it was none of these. Thinking that I could eat this right out of the can, maybe on crispy toasts, or with grated daikon and ginger, I started cutting the cabbage--the other main ingredient of the evening's meal.

Sultan's Peperoncino (Spaghetti Peperoncino with Cabbage and Moroccan Sardines) (for two)

• 1 tin Moroccan sardines in chili oil
• 3-4 large cabbage leaves, chopped
• 6 oz spaghetti (I used whole wheat, just because)
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 teaspoon crushed dried chili pepper (fresh ones would be nicer)
• 1 1/2 tablespoon olive oil
• salt to taste

In a large pot, boil plenty of water. When the water is boiling, add a generous pinch of salt and add spaghetti. Cook to al dente.

Meanwhile, heat olive oil in a pan and fry the garlic and chili pepper. When it starts to smell nice, add the sardines. After a minute or two, add the cabbage and stir-fry them, crushing the sardines into bite-sized pieces. Salt to taste.

Transfer the pasta into the pan, mix, and serve when the pasta has a nice coat of olive oil.

Since the sardines weren't super-salty anchovies, the pasta came out to be a little milder than I'd expected. It could have used some more salty kick, perhaps, but it was a pretty nice comfort meal. I'm still not sure if I would gladly join my father in his occasional fish-in-a-tin drinking spree, but I'd be definitely buying these Sultan's Moroccan sardines again and again. Next time, I want to try cooking something Japanese with them--perhaps my father can enjoy it with me.