Mackerel is a generic designation for some thirty species, of which seven are considered “true” and the rest close relatives. Overall, they tend to prefer company, hanging out in large schools and spawning in cold coastal waters, with vast populations found along north Atlantic shores and in the East China Sea. Italians, who call the mackerel sgombro, and Russians (skumbriya) will recognize mackerel’s Latin family name of Scombridae – a melodious moniker it shares with tuna and bonito.
Smallish and pleasingly torpedo-shaped, true mackerel – but most of their cousins too – have shimmering skin that runs to silvery blues. They sport specks or stripes which, depending on species and perspective, may channel either a marine zebra or the cuneiform alphabet. But if the looks of mackerel are an easy delight, the flavour eschews blandness: bold and downright fishy, mackerel – and Atlantic mackerel in particular – conjures the ocean at its most bracingly metallic. Such is mackerel’s reputation for pungency that in the folk tales of Japan (where it is often cured with sugar to tame its assertiveness), the fish is said to repel the tengu, a long-nosed demon sprite. Each time a child went missing, assumed to be taken by a tengu, villagers would roam the forest shouting that the child had eaten mackerel (saba) so that the goblin would release it.
As other pelagic fish (meaning those that hug the continental shelf, up to a depth of some 200 metres ) mackerel has been used extensively to produce oil and fishmeal. But recent decades have seen it increasingly marketed for direct human consumption. With good reason: brimming with omega-3 fatty acids, mackerel has been classified by FAO as a nutritionally high-value product. Far from greasy despite its high oil content, the fish feels rich and dense on the palate. It also freezes well and lends itself to all manner of treatments. Fry it, grill it, roast it, smoke it. Pair it with raw acidic flavours, such as diced green apple or vinegared beetroot. Serve it with lightly boiled eggs. Or poach it and toss it into a salad with some spinach leaves: the bitter burst of chlorophyll is a fine match for its tangy punch. (One of FAO’s fisheries officials swears by Italian chub mackerel fillets, straight out of the tin and seasoned with olive oil, soy sauce and turmeric powder.)
Reassuringly, mackerel is still plentiful in the world’s seas and oceans. Asia and northwestern Europe supply most of the world’s catch: in 2020, China and Norway tied for top exporter, followed by Japan, the Netherlands and Denmark. And while the fish remains eminently affordable, its growing popularity has given a fillip to fisherfolk incomes. In Norway, for example, electronic mackerel auctions automatically allocate orders to the highest bidder. Finally, to add to all of mackerel’s benefits culinary, nutritional and social, a time-saving grace: it has no scales, or almost.
Easy on the wallet and distinctive in looks, mackerel is not among the fish most prone to mislabelling or fraud: there is little incentive or visual wriggle room to swap inferior fish for it. Look for a silver-blue sheen and tiger stripes or polka dots. True enough, telling apart certain species can be tricky: the job may require a marine biologist’s eye when the fish is whole; dissection otherwise; and in some cases DNA sequencing. Don’t let this worry you. Although the four recipes featured here illustrate different traditions – two Asian, two African – and thus call for different varieties, this has a lot to do with what is locally available and less with any intrinsic qualities of the fish. For most recipes, in fact, any mackerel will do. And if you like mackerel, you will like all sorts. Do pay attention to freshness. Mackerel spoils fast. If buying the fish whole, look for bright round eyes, like newly minted coins. The gills should be crimson. At the first sign of cloudy muck forming over the eye, general sogginess, or skin that is faded or dull, move on. Filleted fish should have flesh that is pale pink, spotless and blood-free.
Thank you. I had them done on my back, so I can’t really see them myself. Still, I can tell they turn heads.
But don’t you feel rather exposed, going around scale-less?A little, but I don’t mind showing some skin.
We are a fairly diverse family, but the core of it is quite tight-knit. It’s true, there are also some faux-relatives, plus, as you say, a bit of overlap at the biological edges. Tuna can actually be extremely antagonistic and imperious – always trying to swallow us as more vulnerable clan members. So I wouldn’t say our links are close. But I’m told you’ll also be interviewing tuna: I’m sure you can form your own opinion.
Yes, it’s very affirming. It’s also good that people can now see beyond my oil – that they appreciate me holistically, for who I am. Things have been changing for the better.
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