All holidays are somehow an observation of other people working while you are not. Staying in a hotel testifies to maids and hosts; diner sees chefs, busboys and waiters; an excursion requires a guide, a driver, a boat mechanic if you are lucky. But there’s a quirk about going into a working factory to stand on a raised platform watching locals do hard, old-fashioned work, all the while escaping your own job.
Porto, the second largest city in Portugal, is the capital of one of the country’s most important industries, the canning of fish. Canned sardines are having a moment in the food world. With beautifully decorated tins, perceived as questionable durability and the decadence of being drenched in oil, they have earned a devoted following among young people who love them with all their hearts. At Conservas Pinhais et Cia in Matosinhos, a fish cannery just a few miles from downtown Porto, visitors are invited to see that their new favorite treat is in fact a very old operation.
Founded in 1920 by two brothers and two external partners, Pinhais is considered one of the best suppliers of canned fish in the saturated Portuguese market. The company’s factory is one of the few to survive a major shift in sardine production to West Africa, where more than half of all sardines are now canned. A favorite with diners in the seafood town, the sardines are a favorite across Europe, although American customers may be more familiar with the company’s international label, Nuri, which is bright yellow and available at specialty and fine grocery stores. The fish are known for their high quality and perfect seasoning – and now, on a tour of the working factory, sardine fans can see exactly how it’s done.
The workforce is almost all female, a tradition created by the fact that, historically, men went to sea while women stayed behind and handled the catch. It is not uncommon for generations of women to work in factories, while mothers, daughters and aunts find permanent jobs. Indeed, the tour of the sardines factory begins with a video of a Portuguese daughter waiting for her father to weather a storm. (He does.)
“That film is dedicated to all the families of our fisherman, for the stress they have to endure,” said guide Olga Santos at the start of a recent tour. Thus begins entry into the wonderful, reverent world of canned sardines.
The 90-minute tour, which Pinhais introduced in November 2021, begins in an office originally built in 1926 and complete with rotary telephones and a pulley system, to which orders are tied on a rope and sent to the factory floor, separating the office of the canned fish itself.
After the video of the fishing families and a video of how the fish seasonings are extracted, the screen goes up to reveal a window on the working factory. You exit the immaculately appointed exhibition space – the original founders shaped the stairwell so that when you look up into the factory hall you can see the outline of a sardine – for the detailed work area.
After donning protective coverings, you enter along a walkway that runs along the edge of a mostly open floor, separated only by arched windows, save for a few offices where employees type on laptops. The first thing you see is a table of women slicing chiles, bay leaves and pickles to fill the spicy versions of the company’s four varieties of sardines, which are offered in tomato sauce or olive oil.
In the next area, the fish are bathed in salt water before their heads and tails are cut off with fish knives, leaving some of the workers’ aprons stained with blood and guts. All extra parts go to animal feed producers, says Ms Santos.
After swatting, the remaining bodies are placed in a vertical container in separate slots, making it appear as if dozens of headless sardines are attending a lecture in a small hall. The auditorium is sent through a shower before entering a large oven, where the fish is cooked for 15 minutes. Then comes the delicate wrapping of the fish in their cans, by hand, before filling the cans with olive oil using machines introduced a few years ago. In a promotional book you can buy in the gift shop, a few factory workers complain about the new oil machine, while fondly remembering that they were “really covered” with the olive oil, which comes from the nearby Douro Valley.
The cans are machine sealed, which explains some of the loud noise on the floor. Also loud is the constant stream of water, which jingles through the factory as the sardines are washed several times before being cooked. Other sounds are harder to follow: the oil mist, the wheels of pulleys rolling the fish from station to station, and the steam ovens all seem to create enough noise that guests are given headphones to hear the guide on the ground.
Finally, everything is packed at lightning speed in what amounts to wrapping paper. You’ll have the chance to try this for yourself in a locked area after you leave the tour and unpack yourself from the PPE, but it’s impossible to match the dexterity of the factory floor wrappers holding the yellow, green and blue papers handle with astonishing ease.
Ms. Santos told us that “on a good day” the women who canning often sing. And when we entered the factory floor, the cannery was really in full unison, although the words were impossible to distinguish from the sound, even if you spoke Portuguese. Whether the singing is truly spontaneous is hard to know, but the myth of the women’s singing emerges when you talk to the locals who are familiar with the factory. Either way, it seems just as likely that singing is the best way to communicate the loud buzz of canning sardines, whether it’s a good day or not.
The tour ends with a tasting of the canned sardines you just saw, paired with bread from a local bakery and optional wine. The sardines, it must be said, are delicious. (And the factory smell is of freshly caught sardines going in and out of salt water.)
“I love sardines,” Sandra van Diessen, 57, who was visiting from the Netherlands, told me enthusiastically after the tour, as we debated the benefits of boning our free samples. (It’s not allowed, Mrs. Santos told us, but we all laughed that we all did it anyway, more out of habit than necessity.) After opening last fall and running about 70 tours a week, in English, Spanish, Portuguese and French, the factory has received 2,821 sardine fans so far. (Tours cost 14 euros per person for adults, with 3 euros extra for wine; 8 euros for children.)
The city of Porto seemed to be proud of its global industry. Throughout the small town, everyone I spoke to about the Pinhais factory spoke the same feelings: these are good jobs, these are precious employees, and that the factory exists at all is an asset to the region itself.
“They are dear to us,” said Marta Azevedo, communications director at ANCIP, the largest canning industry in Portugal, of Pinhais. “It’s the best canned fish we have. It’s the best place to work.”
But what about paying? It’s “not very good,” she admitted, estimating that women earn about $800 a month, or about $832.
“But in Portugal the salaries are very low,” she continued. “They are well paid, for Portugal.”
Canned sardines are a common dish served all over Portugal, and specialty shops in town, such as the pristine Loja das Conservas on the sloping Rua de Mouzinho da Silveira, just a few blocks from the River Douro, are dedicated to celebrating of Pinhais products, along with other local brands such as Minerva. Loja, a partnership with ANCIP, has yet to resume its tastings since the pandemic, but nearby Mercearia das Flores, on quieter Rua das Flores, offers full tastings. Both shops, like the factory, are run by women, and you can pair your sardines on toast with local wines and fine chocolates.
For a more decadent take on the classic bread and fish dish, A Sandeira sandwich shop pairs the canned delicacies with a perfect red pepper spread, all served on mismatched vintage china from a nearby hardware store. Nearby, the Aduela bar, located on Rua das Oliveiras, also serves the most classic take: sardines on toast with fresh tomatoes. Especially perfect for those who want to spend little in a trendy place, it’s a great place to start a sardine tour.
There may be a small feud between those who serve the sardines fresh and those who serve them canned, according to the owner of Loja das Conservas, who obscurely told me that “nobody knows” why the better restaurants don’t serve the better restaurants’ famous canned offerings from the city. Visitors looking to try the fish fresh have plenty of options, including the excellent Meia-Nau, where they are grilled to perfection. Located on upscale Travessa de Cedofeita, the modern restaurant requires dinner reservations, but lunchtime is more open to visitors without a plan. If you happen to be asking about the fresh versus canned debate, be sure to mention Loja — the owner of Meia-Nau, it turns out, is the son of the store’s founder. After all, sardines are a family business in Porto.
