What should I do with this can of krill meat?
The other day I went to my barber, who does not accept tips that tax authorities can trace, without going to an ATM beforehand. This left me, after getting a haircut, in the mildly irritating position of having to find a store nearby where I could get some cash and that would have something I’d want to break a twenty for. Happily, my barber’s shop is in the dense and rich area near Rittenhouse Square, which is how I found myself in a bodega looking at, and knowing I would have to purchase (for $8.37), a can of krill meat.
Most of what I know about krill has to do with legendary 1988 documents purportedly written by one “O.H. Krill.” Depending on who you believe, these were either a) a hoax John Lear (of the Learjet family) and legendary crank Bill Cooper, whose work directly inspired much of the X-Files mythology and broad public beliefs about aliens and the secret government, cooked up to troll a message board in the years before Cooper was killed in a standoff with Arizona police attempting to arrest him on charges of assault with a deadly weapon, or b) an authentic “situation report on our acquisition of advanced technology and interaction with alien cultures.” (The “our” here nominally refers to humanity broadly but more specifically refers to a sinister cabal busy maintaining a moon base, experimenting on alien cadavers, mutilating cattle, etc.) The rest is basic and possibly inaccurate received knowledge about how some whales filter tons of krill—tiny, shrimp-like creatures—out of water every day using specialized, tooth-like hairs that grow from the roof of their mouth and were somehow the basis of the Victorian economy when repurposed as backscratchers, horsewhips, corset stays, and so on. None of this has left me with many ideas of how to eat krill.
The website of the company that produces this can (it claims to be “the exclusive seller of krill meat in the US”) wasn’t, meaning no offense, much help—my culinary horizons are limited, and I’m simply not making Krill and Poblano Corn Chowder, Krill Pork Dumplings, Krill Stuffed Clams, or a Krill Cheese Melt, no doubt much to my detriment. The website of a company that claims to be “the exclusive importer of canned krill meat to the United States” also wasn’t much help—I am, again, simply not making a Keto Krill Canned Meat Stir-Fry. My main takeaway from these sites is that the krill in my pantry was caught in the Antarctic Ocean by a Ukranian vessel.
The most helpful guide to krill I’ve come across is from Buying Seafood, a website that reviews seafood.
“The intense aroma of shrimp fills the air when you peel back the lid,” the review states. “The actual krill is minced, and water is added, which I drained and gave to my cat. You can discern parts of the animals and the little black eyes. I tried a little out of the tin and it was very ‘shrimpy’ but since they are minced, didn’t have the right texture. All the little hard bits of chitin remined me of eating canned minced crabmeat. Not exactly a great first impression.” This is accompanied by a photograph of the can featuring easily-discerned black eyes, which are nothing to be concerned about, according to the company that produces this can. The first question on its FAQ page is “What are the little black speckles in my can?” “No need to be concerned here!” the answer reads. “Your meat is not dirty, and you did not get a defected can. Our Antarctic Krill meat contains the most nutritious parts of the krill, which happen to include their eyes. The little black speckles you see in the can are the eyeballs of the krill, which consist of a high abundance of nutrients. They are 100% safe to consume and only bring more of those healing benefits that we love from our Antarctic Krill meat.”
There is a lot of stuff on the krill providers’ websites about antioxidants and omega-3 fatty acids and protein (one can of krill meat has 15 grams of protein and 67 calories, which is an impressive ratio), and I’m completely willing to believe that this is an exceptionally healthy food, but I eat a varied diet and don’t need krill eyeballs to stave off organ failure, especially at $8.37 per serving. What I’m after here is flavor or texture, and on that score, the Buying Seafood reviewer offers little reason for hope. The reviewer topped toast with krill meat, salt, pepper, dill, sour cream, pickles, and tomato—exactly what I would do—and got “a bland, slightly shrimpy trainwreck of a lunch.”
Following their lead, I see two viable possibilities here. One would be to mix the drained krill with cream cheese, a bit of Greek yogurt, and aromatics and have that on a bagel, as a sort of shrimp salad. The other, carrying more risk and more potential reward, would be to use it essentially in place of stock. (“This could do wonders to a homemade ramen broth or anything that needs a shrimpy umami kick,” according to Buying Seafood.) What I have in mind is blooming cayenne, smoked paprika, and thyme in oil; sautéing onion, celery, bell pepper, and possibly drained krill; and then adding a pint of vegetable stock, some white wine, salt, black pepper, a Parmesan rind, a pound of frozen shrimp, a bay leaf, and drained krill if I’ve proven too much of a coward to sauté it, simmering for 15 minutes or so, and serving over rice with scissored scallions. (I am not associating krill with a roux for reasons of my own.)
The risks here are clear: I could vomit when I open the can and see the nutritious black eyes staring at me; I could destroy the peace in my home by making it smell like sautéed and simmered krill; and/or I could ruin a perfectly delicious lunch by introducing nutritious eyes and hard bits of chitin. The reward is equally clear: I could discover a convenient though expensive alternative to hoarding shrimp shells and tails in my freezer for months at a time to yield small quantities of shrimp stock. I’m at a loss as to what to do and so turn to you, the reader—email me at poppingtins at substack dot com if you have strong opinions on whether I should risk what I’m contemplating, experience with this horrifying-seeming yet intriguing tin, and/or suggestions for what to do with it that don’t involve making Krill Stuffed Clams. And happy New Year!