An Italian lake fishing family catches just enough fish to make dried fish and enjoy a comfortable life

Fernando could not forget fish. Life as an accountant was respectable and comfortable, but in a mind stuffed with data, images of fishing with his grandfather as a child kept surfacing. Unable to resist the call of fish, he left the bustling city and brought his wife and children back to Lago Iseo at the foot of the Alps, and for 36 years he has supported his family by fishing.

Grandfather has passed away, but the skills he taught live on in Fernando

Grandfather passed away many years ago, but the skills he taught live on in Fernando Soardi.

As the sun slides toward the western horizon, Fernando's spindle-shaped boat speeds forward, weaving one fleeting white line after another across the velvety lake surface. When he reaches the small island of Loreto in the middle of the lake, he knows there are fish here and shuts off the engine. He rows to steady the boat, and his son Andrea Soardi slowly lowers the sardine net; a T-shaped "anchor" secures the net in the middle of the lake, waiting for fish to swim in on their own.

At eight the next morning, the winter sun has just shown its face, and in the thick fog the sunlight is faint; Fernando looks as if he has stepped out of a landscape painting. He has just finished hauling in fresh fish and returned to the workshop, where another batch of fish has already been washed, gutted, and salted for 48 hours. He busies himself hanging the silver-shining sardines one by one on steel racks to air-dry. The mist is hazy, and the lake and mountains seem draped in a thin veil, giving off a mysterious air, while the neatly arranged sardines on the racks look as if waiting for a military review, openly awaiting the sunlight and hoping for the valley breeze to slowly draw out the oil. Under the bright sun and gentle wind, the flesh gradually turns from tender pink to ochre red.

Fernando says these fish are not afraid of the cold; when the temperature is low, the flesh tightens, which is exactly what lets the oil flow out from the muscle fibers. What they fear is fog; on foggy days they need several more days of drying. With a glance of his eyes and a pinch of his fingers, the progress of the dried fish is entirely under his control. When the silvery skin turns golden yellow and the wrinkled outer skin wraps a bulging, still-springy body, it is ready to be placed in olive oil to marinate.

Plump herring, full of oil, air-dried

Though called sardines, they are actually herring, but their shape resembles sea sardines, and for a long time the fishermen of Lago Iseo have been accustomed to calling them this way.

Fernando's home is on Monte Isola in the middle of Lago Iseo; the 13-square-kilometer island is the largest lake island in southern Europe. Also at the foot of the Alps, Lago Iseo is modest and delicate, not as luxurious as Lago Como, nor as bold as Lago Garda. However, the sardines in Lago Iseo are especially plump; their abundant oil lengthens the air-drying process, but it also gives the dried fish a richer, fuller flavor. Depending on the weather, after about four days of drying, the dried fish are placed in a container and gently pressed to squeeze out a little fish oil, then olive oil is added to preserve them.

Even though it is dried fish, freshness is important. As Fernando explains, he opens the gills and hangs the fish on steel hooks. "Fresh fish flesh is springy and not easily broken; if it sits for a while before being processed, it is hard to keep a perfect shape."

Protecting tradition is not about clinging to the past, but about preserving the good while adding better elements

Dried fish can be found everywhere, but few places use three processes like Lago Iseo: salting, air-drying, and preserving in oil. The sardines are soaked in olive oil for four to five months, becoming more fragrant with age, oily and chewy. Lightly grilled and served with polenta, a simple fisherman's dish is ready. Yet after being passed down for more than 400 years, this poor fisherman's dish is now hard to find; catching and curing fish take too much labor, and the price cannot compete with imported fish in supermarkets.

In an era when humans were still constrained by nature, dried fish extended shelf life and could satisfy the appetite when catches were scarce. Fernando worries that the dried-fish dish passed down through generations will be lost in his hands. Together with the nearby winery owner Barone Pizzini, he studied the matter, set production process standards, and also analyzed the nutritional composition of the dried fish in a laboratory. After more than five years, they finally made Lago Iseo dried sardines a Slow Food presidium.

Protecting tradition is also not about blindly clinging to the past, but about preserving the good while adding better elements. The dried sardines their ancestors loved had a rather strong flavor, so Fernando cuts the fillets and salts them with less salt, shortening the air-drying time to suit modern tastes.

After becoming a Slow Food presidium, Lago Iseo dried fish has strict rules covering the fishing method, location, and handmade production method. A verification label has become a golden signboard, and the higher price also makes it easier for consumers to identify. But just as Michelin three-star restaurants often struggle to make ends meet while maintaining their standards, Fernando uses other catches and restaurants to increase his income.