We never have the right kind of bread. Slices of boiled potato are too much trouble. So I eat pickled herring by putting some on a small plate, with some of the pickled onions of course, and just eating them with a fork.
Only time I’ve ever had it was at a street stand in Utrecht, so if I’m remembering right, I just ate it with a little bit of chopped onion and pickles.
I carefully arrange the pickled herring in a ring on a large circular platter, set a pile of boiled hot fingerling potatoes within the ring, tip some coarse salt onto them, garnish the potatoes with thin slices of dense German pumpernickel and sliced raw onions with a dash of vinegar and a sprinkling of chopped fresh parsley. I pour out a glass of fine Russian vodka from the bottle I keep in the freezer.
Then I swallow the vodka in one quick gulp and tip the platter into the garbage can.