
Chef Joost
Gebakken Schol
A whole North Sea plaice, dusted with flour and fried in butter, is the Dutch weeknight fish at its plainest and best: crisp skin, sweet flesh, potatoes waiting.
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Hollandse Nieuwe is June on a tail: young, fat herring, lightly cured, cleaned at the stall, rolled through onion, and eaten standing up before ceremony can ruin it.
In Yerseke the tide table decided mussels, but herring belonged to another calendar: the first true days of June, when fishmongers set out their flags and grown adults began discussing fat percentage with the seriousness other nations reserve for wine. The sea sends many fish. This one arrives with a date attached.
The name already tells you what matters. Hollandse Nieuwe means Dutch new herring, not new because the fish is young in a sentimental sense, but because it is the first herring of the season, caught after spring feeding has filled it with fat and before spawning changes the flesh. But let me tell you a secret: the dish is not the onion, not the little Dutch flag, not the theatrical dangling by the tail. It is the cure. Salt, cold, and time turn a raw fish into something tender, silvery, and clean, with the faint sweetness of the North Sea still inside it.
You do not improve Hollandse Nieuwe at home. You respect it. Buy it from a fishmonger who cleans it in front of you, eat it the same day, and keep the knife-work almost insulting in its simplicity. Diced onion sharpens the richness, rye bread steadies it, and a pickle is allowed if your household has strong opinions. I prefer the first one standing up, outside if possible, holding it by the tail. A dish without its story is half a meal, and this one built harbors.
Dutch herring wealth rests on kaken, the gutting method refined in the late Middle Ages in which the gills and entrails are removed while the pancreas is left to help the fish mature enzymatically in salt. By the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, this technique let Dutch fleets preserve herring at sea and dominate the North Sea trade, helping finance the maritime economy that later fed the Golden Age. Under modern Dutch rules, Hollandse Nieuwe must be maatjesharing with at least 16 percent fat, cured in brine, frozen for parasite safety, and sold only during its proper season.
Quantity
4 whole
cleaned, tail left on
Quantity
1 small
very finely diced
Quantity
4 small
Quantity
4 slices
Quantity
as needed
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| Hollandse Nieuwe herringcleaned, tail left on | 4 whole |
| white onionvery finely diced | 1 small |
| Dutch pickles (augurken) (optional) | 4 small |
| dark rye bread (optional) | 4 slices |
| unsalted butter (optional) | as needed |
Buy Hollandse Nieuwe from a fishmonger who keeps it properly cold and cleans it to order, with the tail left on. The flesh should look silvery and moist, never dry at the edges, and it should smell cleanly of the sea, not sharply fishy. If someone offers you new herring outside the season, the calendar is already arguing with the plate.
Dice the onion very small and spread it in a shallow dish or on a small plate. Onion here is not decoration, it is balance: its sharpness cuts the rich fat of the herring the way a squeeze of lemon cuts butter, only more Dutch and less theatrical.
Lay the cleaned herring on a chilled plate with the onion beside it, not buried under it. Add pickles if you like their sour snap, and rye bread with butter if this is lunch rather than a harbor snack. Keep everything cold until the moment you eat.
For the old way, hold the herring by the tail, roll the fillets lightly through the diced onion, tilt your head back, and eat from the top down in two or three bites. If you prefer a plate and knife, nobody sensible will object. Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple: cold fish, sharp onion, clean hands, no fuss.
1 serving (about 180g)
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