Nacho Valle, the gallerist who traded art for sardines in New York

Nacho Valle is a restless figure, a distinctive entrepreneur. When he was young he ran a hangout with a friend in the old El Carmen neighborhood that became a benchmark of Valencia’s alternative music and rock and roll scene, Túrmix. After his father’s death he took over the Valle Ortí art gallery. He learned the trade, toured the world visiting fairs, introduced contemporary art into his program and managed to get into the ARCO selection in Madrid. Then the 2012 economic crisis hit, coinciding with his own personal crisis and a certain weariness with a city whose collectors are few in number and mostly prefer to buy abroad. So he left. He needed a change.

He moved to New York and worked at two Manhattan galleries (Y Gallery and Josée Bienvenu Gallery), where the global art market is concentrated, before reinventing himself as an importer of canned seafood from Spain, mostly, and Portugal. He swapped paintings, photographs, and installations for sardines, mussels, mackerel, octopus, and tuna. Together with three friends and equal partners — also expatriates (two Catalans, Xavi Gallego and Dani Viedma, and a fellow Valencian, Vicent Sendra) — he founded the company Lata, which has continued to grow during its nearly five years of existence.

“We have 1,200 subscribers to whom we send two monthly shipments of about $50 and $30. We also sell á la carte through our website and import wholesale for the grocery sections of major retailers we work with,” Nacho explains by phone from New York. What is most in demand are sardines, tuna, and mackerel — “the holy trinity,” he says. Among shellfish: mussels, razor clams, and cockles. Most of their customers are in New York and California, paying between $10 for a tin of baby sardines in olive oil and $80 for a can of bluefin tuna neck, since there are different qualities and prices.

“There is a lot of money in the United States, but there isn’t a widespread fish culture, and where it exists it’s very expensive. A quality canned product is a way to eat good fish conveniently. People don’t flinch at paying $30 for a good tin. The standard of living in New York is very high and prices keep rising. It’s crazy,” says the 54-year-old.

Nacho and his partners were already big fans of canned products, but as consumers: “We used to get together and always open the preserves our mothers sent us: razor clams, we used to have sardine barbecues for [the festival of] Sant Joan…” During the Covid pandemic, the job situation in the U.S. became complicated, made worse by the limited protections put in place by the government. At the same time, “rentals fell.” The friends then considered opening a Spanish tapas bar, but that proved more complicated and costly than betting on canned goods.

And so the company arose, with Nacho in charge of the import side. They started by buying selected tins from established importers in the U.S. and later began shipping pallets with their own orders from various brands and origins. They introduced themselves to the market by inviting friends and contacts and telling them about their idea to create a preserves club: you can subscribe and receive a curated selection delivered to your home. Word spread and critical mass grew. “In the U.S. there are clubs for everything,” Nacho notes.

“Over the past five years, we’ve traveled a lot and tasted a lot. Spanish canned goods are the best in the world. They have a centuries-old tradition and excellent packaging designs. But while Portugal has made canned goods one of its major culinary hallmarks, in Spain they still don’t receive the recognition they deserve. They haven’t yet achieved the same status as the Spanish omelet, ham, or paella. And perhaps that’s where the opportunity lies: because Spanish canned goods are extraordinary and have a story that deserves to be told,” he concludes.