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Hurricane Ida wreaks havoc on Louisiana’s seafood industry

September 8, 2021October 20, 2021
by Colles Stowell

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This time, the levees around New Orleans held. The reduced flooding in the city after Hurricane Ida helped minimize the catastrophic loss of life following Hurricane Katrina 16 years ago.

But some levees in southern parishes didn’t fair as well. And Ida’s widespread devastation fueled by sustained 150 mph winds will have long-term consequences for Louisiana’s seafood industry.

I spoke with Lance Nacio, owner of Anna Marie Seafood in Montegut, La. on Monday to get a sense of what folks down there are dealing with. Here is a quick snapshot of our conversation:

He and his family are fine, living on his two fishing boats and in his house. The house, the boats and the processing facilities all weathered the storm pretty well, though there are some things to fix.
His boats are trapped in the canal across the street from his house until Sept. 29, which is the estimated time when power should be restored to allow the drawbridges to raise and let the boats motor to the Gulf of Mexico and begin fishing.
More than 60% of the structures in Terrebonne Parish (the 2,000-square mile parish south and west of New Orleans where Lance and many other fishermen live) are uninhabitable, according to authorities.
Lance predicts that many residents will not return in what may be a more expansive exodus than after Katrina.
This exodus will not only include fishermen, but also those who run critical infrastructure operations like docks, ice houses, boat maintenance operations, processing facilities, etc.
He will be working with Chef Dana Honn of Carmo to provide meals for first responders and line crews from across the country.

In essence, the industry in the state that provides the highest volume of domestically harvested wild shrimp and crab is in trouble. The entire regional seafood supply chain from boat to plate will likely be a shell (take or leave the pun) of itself in just a few months, sending shock waves across the country and around the world. As Dana said, “The fish will be out there. But with no infrastructure in place, who’s going to come back?” Louisiana Congressman Garrett Graves has formally called on the US Department of Commerce to declare a Fisheries Disaster Determination for the region to unlock funds to counteract the pending economic damage.

Worse still is the likelihood that further climate change will spin off more intense hurricanes like Ida and Katrina more frequently, leaving the Gulf Coast more vulnerable to long-term ecosystem damage.

This summer alone has seen several catastrophic events highlighting how climate change can have severe impacts on food systems:

the sweltering heat weave that smothered the Pacific Northwest for several days, literally cooking some oysters in their shells;
the anemic wild Pacific salmon runs in the Yukon territories, forcing remote Indigenous communities to scramble for winter food stores;
the devastating fires across California and other western states that have devoured millions of acres of old growth forest (very important to watersheds) and farmland.

Want to get involved? Here are a few ways to do so with a focus on Hurricane Ida’s aftermath:

Several people and organizations are raising funds for relief efforts, including providing food, shelter, medical services and supplies, debris removal, and repairs. Here are a couple of resources:
- Chef Dana is raising money to support Lance’s efforts to help his community and feed first responders and line workers.
  - Venmo: @Lance-Nacio
  - PalPal: orders@annamarieshrimp.com
  - Zelle: Lance Nacio
- Coastal Communities Consulting, Inc. is a nonprofit organization supporting coastal businesses and fishermen in La. It is doing good work to provide info on everything from prescriptions to food and water as well as coordinating donations.
- Gulf South Rapid Response Community Controlled Fund provides disaster relief directly to frontline communities in the Gulf South impacted by climate disasters. Local leaders have committed to a transparent and accountable process for the money – which will allow communities to practice self-governance and self-determination.
The Gulf Coast Center for Law and Policy is hosting a national press conference Thursday Sept. 9 from 10:30 am – 11:30 am CDT to address Ida’s impact on the Gulf Coast region and the nation. Here’s a link to more information.
Learn more about the Sustaining America’s Fisheries for the Future Act, which is a congressional bill that mandates accounting for climate change when setting fisheries policy in the U.S. This bill officially calls for the re-authorization of the Magnuson-Stevens Act, the primary fisheries management policy for the U.S. If you agree with its direction, contact your Congressional representatives and tell them to support it.
Learn more about the Keep America’s Waterfronts Working Act, a congressional bill that aims to preserve working waterfronts, like the ones in jeopardy in southern Louisiana following Hurricane Ida. Again, if you like what you see, contact your Congressional representatives.

The last thing we can all do is spread the word. The more folks know what’s going on and what’s at stake, the more the broader community can get involved and help chart the industry’s future.

We’ll post more updates in this blog and via our Facebook page.

Top photo: NOAA satellite image of Hurricane Ida’s destruction in Terrebonne Parish.

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Slow Fish 2018: Telling tales

May 9, 2018October 20, 2021
by Colles Stowell

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Slow Fish is making a difference.

Think of it as a collaboration of fish harvesters, scientists, chefs, students, food-lovers and activists around the world working toward one goal: good, clean fair seafood for all. This was on display throughout the three-day Slow Fish 2018 event in San Francisco April 14-16.

Setting the tone with the Slow Fish 101 presentation. Credit: Lance Nacio

Some of these successes were writ large on the main screen on the first morning of content programming in the Slow Fish 101 presentation.

Melanie Brown, a set net fish harvester from Bristol Bay, Alaska, spoke of indigenous ties to the land, the water and the resource. She spoke passionately about how wild salmon runs have sustained her family over time, and why that way of life is under threat from the proposed Pebble Mine. She also spoke of the coalition of disparate groups not normally siding with one another that oppose the mine: indigenous tribes, commercial fish harvesters, recreational fishing groups, environmental activists and politicians among others.
Jordyn Kastlunger reminded everyone of the importance of family connections and supporting the youth movement in fisheries as she described the trajectory of the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market in San Diego. Born of a coordinated effort of fishermen, food policy activists and lawmakers, the market features fisher folk docking on the pier and selling directly to customers. About 500 customers come every Saturday to buy about 12,500 pounds of locally harvested seafood.
Jacquelyn Ross tells the story of abalone from Bodega Bay at the World Cafe. Credit: Eric Buchanan
Jacquelyn Ross of the Southern Pomo/Coast Miwok tribes spoke about her indigenous fishing lineage along Bodega Bay, hand harvesting abalone, and witnessing the changes to the fishery wrought by temperature, current and acidification. She too spoke of family love and respect for the resource, the land and the water and the importance of sharing those stories in the hopes that others will appreciate those connections to natural resources.
Paula Barbeito came from Italy to describe the work of Slow Fish International and highlight the story of the Thorupstrand Fishing Guild in Denmark. Several years ago, fishermen in the community of Thorupstrand pooled their resources to buy quota so they could provide access to the fishery without being overrun by industrial operations. The guild is a reminder of how fishermen can self-identify and protect their access by working together.
World Cafe action. Just some of the discussions where things happen. Credit: Eric Buchanan

A parade of perspectives

These compelling narratives were just a few among many shared over the weekend. We heard from longtime fish harvester and policy activist Linda Behnken, who has fished commercially in the Gulf of Alaska and Bering Sea for over 30 years. She has drawn on that experience at the helm of her boat as she helped shape policy to protect small-scale fishing as a member of the North Pacific Fishery Management Council.

We also heard from Anne Mosness, who like Linda, has spent decades at the helm and in the trenches battling industrial scale operations. Anne described her longstanding campaigns against industrial aquaculture and genetically engineered salmon to the discussion, as well as the need to honor women’s voices and rights in fishing.

Filmmaker Mark Titus talked about his upcoming feature, The Wild, which shines a bright spotlight on the world’s largest wild sockeye salmon run in Bristol Bay, and what’s at stake in the battle against the Pebble Mine.

Know Your Supply Chain: Kenny Belov talks about choosing and selling responsibly harvested seafood. Left to right: Alan Lovewell, Real Good Fish; Joe Falcone, FishLine; Kenny; Anna Larsen, Dock to Dish; Jordyn Kastlunger, Tuna Harbor Dockside Market. Credit: Eric Buchanan

Kenny Belov talked about his mission in opening Fish. Restaurant in Sausalito and the TwoXSea sustainable seafood distribution company to provide responsibly harvested, abundant species to customers. Minimizing bycatch and other ecological impacts are critical factors in determining which fish harvesters he will work with.

Lance Nacio’s (right in hat) fried soft shell shrimp were very, very popular. Credit: Eric Buchanan

We heard from a broad range of seafood perspectives. Lance Nacio spoke about investing in new technologies such as the plate freezers used to individually quick freeze fresh caught shrimp to preserve the out-of-the-water freshness for shipping around the country. Several oyster growers provided insight on their operations and the myriad factors that go into a successful, delicious oyster harvest. Jack Crofts brought his energy and entrepreneurial spirit to the event, trying to raise visibility and money for this mobile oyster bar, called the Oyster Barrow. Lucas Raymond, a trawl fisherman from New Hampshire, also represented the youth movement at the event.

Young entrepreneur Jack Crofts (he’s 12 going on 13!) wows the crowd with his energy and enthusiasm. Credit: Eric Buchanan

We heard from chefs talking about smart sourcing, as well from seaweed growers like Amanda Swinimer, who described her journey harvesting, by hand, edible wild seaweeds for 17 years for her Dakini Tidal Wilds. Arielle Moinester talked about launching a company that promotes eating invasive species such as Asian Carp. Her GoWild Foods has made “The Silver Skipper” (aka asian carp) the poster child for managing an ecological problem in America’s rivers by eating it.

Christopher Wang describes his connection to fishing for salmon in Bristol Bay and why he started The Gypsy Fish Company as attendees listened at the We Are Bristol Bay Dinner.

Ideas, food and fun

More than 150 people from as far away as Italy, Maine, Alaska, Louisiana, Massachusetts and British Columbia, and as near as Washington, Oregon and right there in San Francisco descended on SOMArts and other venues. We held more than 6 separate events, including the Oyster Social, Seafood Throwdown, We Are Bristol Bay Dinner, and the final Seafood Dinner and film screenings at AirBnB. Core programming on Sunday and Monday included the World Café, 36 Pesce Kucha presentations and lots of interaction.

Stellar sticky salmon at the Bristol Bay Dinner.

We feasted on delicious wild salmon from Bristol Bay and oysters from Alaska down to Baja. We had fried soft-shell Louisiana shrimp and herring roe captured in a traditional method of submerging hemlock boughs in the bay during the spawn.

The Slow Fish 2018 planning team took on a monumental task to coordinate all of these events in a very short time period ahead of the California salmon season. The small, but very dedicated Slow Food San Francisco board of directors managed countless on-the-ground logistics to ensure everything went smoothly. It was the collective passion of the planners and attendees for the Slow Fish mission to grow the network, share our core values and collaborate on more projects that drove the event’s success.

Chef Matthew Dolen honors winner Chef Aaronette King at the Seafood Throwdown at the Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market to kick off Slow Fish 2018. The crowd engaged in the process, tasted the food and asked great questions. Credit: Eric Buchanan

We discussed new projects on the horizon, such as a YouTube channel for sharing videos focusing on Slow Fish values, success stories and fisheries-related topics. We also discussed launching a Slow Fish website that will become a destination for those seeking Slow Fish updates, bait boxes to help launch community-based projects like a community supported fishery, Seafood Throwdowns, KNOW FISH Dinners® and more. To enable Slow Fish folks to to ask questions and discuss issues within an informed community, we may launch an online forum. We also discussed an ambitious project to reduce domestic imports from 90% to 50% by 2050. This 50 by 50 project models similar food system-related measures aimed at eating locally (or domestically) produced food.

And so we charted a course for Slow Fish’s future. To most effectively create change, we need to grow the Slow Fish family and foster continued collaboration on future success stories that will help change that massive import dynamic in this country.

And we will.

Stay tuned for Slow Fish 2020.

Top photo: Tyson Rasor of Ecotrust emcees the Know Your Fish Pesce Kucha session. Credit: Eric Buchanan.

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Life Lessons From Rosie’s Gumbo

December 4, 2017October 20, 2021
by Colles Stowell

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I remember coming home from school, walking through the gate, past the yew bushes and down the walkway past the open den windows. The aroma of the trinity (onions, bell peppers and celery) simmering in the roux would grab me. I could smell the sausage, and sometimes even the shrimp. There was something else earthy that I couldn’t identify.

Perhaps it was the filé, or the thyme. Perhaps it was the blend of everything “getting happy” together in the pot.

Or maybe it was just the love. Rosie put a lot of love in her gumbo.

As a child growing up in New Orleans, these were some of the root smells of my evolution. Red beans and rice. Shrimp creole. And Rosie’s gumbo.

Rosie took care of me when both my parents worked. She also helped my mom around the house. They were best friends. They frequently discussed the latest events on the afternoon soap operas…”The Young and the Restless,” “The Guiding Light”…all that crap. And they confided in each other. They supported each other through some heavy life challenges.

Rosie was the one I’d go to when I was sick. Unlike mom, who had plenty to say on a variety of topics, Rosie was more quiet, saying only what she needed to say, and usually, saying it very directly.

Truth be told, when I was less than 10 years old, I picked out the andouille and smoked sausage, the ham and the shrimp from her gumbo and left the rest. It wasn’t until my teens and early 20s that I truly started to appreciate the magic. It wasn’t until my early 30s that I had the courage to ask her to teach me how to make it.

Chef and apprentice. I must have had a good lesson. No visible spoon marks.

I was not afraid of her teaching me a recipe. My mom was an excellent cook, and she taught me how to follow a recipe. She taught me to have the courage to try new things and learn from my mistakes.

The daunting prospect of trying to learn how to cook without a recipe scared the hell out of me. Rosie cooked by instinct. The “recipe” was in her head, a tradition passed down over generations. And gumbo isn’t quite as simple as mac and cheese.

During the two-plus-year process of learning how to make gumbo, my relationship with Rosie grew more profound and more meaningful than we could have imagined. That’s probably because it was an intense experience requiring no shortage of patience from both of us.

She taught me to use all five senses. But it was the process of trying to create a common language that I could understand that proved most challenging.

“First you make the roux,” she’d say. “Get a spoon of oil and a spoon of flour and stir it in the hot pan.”

“How big a spoon?”

“The wooden spoon in your hand.”

“But how much is in that? What if I don’t have a spoon exactly this size?”

WHACK!

The spoon found the side of my head and I didn’t ask that question again.

“You want the roux to be the color of milk chocolate before you add the trinity.”

“What color of milk chocolate? I like a lot of chocolate in my chocolate milk.”

WHACK!

Two years and several such reprimands later, I must have taken enough lumps to start to get the hang of it. She taught me to watch the roux until it was LIGHT milk chocolate color; to listen to the sound of the roux as it set up; to smell the nuttiness as it approached the right stage before adding the trinity. I learned to smell that sweet, earthy smell of the vegetables sweating in the roux. I felt the density of the roux ball as I stirred it to make sure not to burn the flour. After adding the water and stock, I learned to taste it to gauge how much salt and pepper to add. I learned the timing of when to add the sausage, shrimp, and other ingredients.

I remember nervously handing over a bowl that I made entirely on my own for her to judge.

“You done good.”

Graduation

I’ve made gumbo many, many times since my formative learning. Before each time, I thank Rosie for showing me how to do it right. Because of her tutelage, I’m now able to scale my gumbo up or down in volume based on the scope of the audience. I can make it with different ingredients. In October, I made gumbo for a chef friend’s wedding using seafood from the Gulf of Maine. I made a lobster stock, added mussels and clams and lobster, and I smoked a skate wing. I added some phenomenal andouille. It went over well.

Making roux on an induction burner was nerve racking. What would Rosie think?

I just recently made more than 90 quarts for the Tremé Creole Gumbo Festival held Nov. 18 and 19 in New Orleans. Dana Honn, colleague, friend and chef/co-owner of Café Carmo in New Orleans invited me down after seeing that I cooked a lot of gumbo at Slow Food Nations in Denver this summer.

Gumbo Fest was a blast. It was exhausting. I think I cooked or helped stage and take down the booth for something like 36 hours over three days. I learned much from Dana and his crew. I learned about what it takes to sell your food. I learned more about what I can do (making gumbo on an induction burner!).

Such a treat to cook with wild caught Gulf of Mexico seafood!

But the highlight for me wasn’t just the end product, or the enthusiastic response from some customers, or the stellar Gulf of Mexico shrimp and crabs from friend Lance Nacio’s Anna Marie Shrimp, or the otherworldly andouille, chaurice and tasso from my friend and pig whisperer Toby Rodriguez.

Got pork? Toby’s products are the best I’ve ever cooked with.

No, the real highlight for me occurred during a panel discussion I was moderating on gumbo heritage and the idea of preserving the tradition of local, sustainable sourcing. On the panel with me were Dana, friend and colleague Gary Granata, who has travelled the world to discover how different people deal with changing waterways, and Ryan Prewitt, chef/partner of the highly acclaimed Pesche Seafood Grill in New Orleans.

We each had a different take on the importance of sourcing your food (whether or not for gumbo) locally from producers you know or from sources you know who take care of their products. We talked about how gumbo is and was a communal event, dating back centuries to West African roots. You don’t cook gumbo for one person. Traditionally, neighbors would bring something to throw into the pot, or something to go with the gumbo.

Toward the end of the discussion, I asked each panelist to talk about his first, most powerful memory of gumbo.

Naturally, I spoke about Rosie. About that smell in the house and the yard. About taking my lumps. About the sense of family around her and her family. About teaching her grandson Gary how to bang on the drums. About the pride I felt in watching him grow and eventually march with one of the best high school bands during Mardi Gras. About the profound sadness of her death in the mid 90s. About the heartbreak of losing track of Gary and his mom Betty after Katrina hit. His home was boarded up with a big X painted on the door by the National Guard.

We tried FEMA. We tried the sheriff’s department. For months I went online checking displaced victims websites. Nothing. We didn’t know if they were alive and had evacuated, … or not.

Just before I’d reached this part of my narrative, a family of four came into the audience and sat down. I mentioned that a month prior to Gumbo Fest, I’d been planning to make gumbo for my chef friend’s wedding, and was thinking about Rosie, as always, and about Gary and his mom, when I got a Facebook message.

It was from Gary.

Fighting to keep my composure in front of the festival audience, I said “Gary, would you please come up here? I just want you all to know that I haven’t seen this person in 20 years, and I hadn’t heard from him until last month.”

We hugged, tears in our eyes, for it had been a long time of not knowing.

It was a seminal moment for both of us for Gary and his family to taste the gumbo his grandmother taught me to make. I often wonder what Rosie would think of my gumbo now that I’ve adapted it to my own particular style.

Gumbo truly is a community event. It brings people together. At the outset of the discussion, I told the audience that for me, the most important ingredient isn’t the roux, or the trinity or okra. (There’s often a vocal battle line drawn between the okra crowd, and the file/roux crowd in Louisiana). It’s love. You’ve got to love the food first. And it’s also important to love the people you’re cooking for. You and they will taste the difference.

This perhaps is the most important lesson I’ve learned as a home cook.

Thanks, mom. Thanks, Rosie.

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Making Do at Slow Food Nations, Denver

July 19, 2017October 20, 2021
by Colles Stowell

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Attending Slow Food Nations in Denver this past weekend, I had some expectations about the Slow Fish 101 presentation I would co-lead and the gumbo I would make.

As often happens, those expectations capsized last minute and I and many others had to adapt on the fly. For the second year in a row, the Slow Fish USA team had to respond quickly to a variety of circumstances outside our control.

In the midst of towed vehicles, last-minute technical presentation difficulties, and a bit of a cluster around the commissary kitchen, we scrambled to help each other out. And just as we did last year at the Slow Fish gathering in New Orleans, we made it work… well.

Blame it on the weather

Again, weather played a role, as it did last year when we had to change venues because a flood warning closed down the original host site. This time, I learned my Slow Fish 101 co-presenter Paul Molyneaux was stranded in Portland, Maine because of weather and would miss the presentation. Having fished commercially and written several books and articles about fisheries, Paul not only brings 40 years of experience to the conversation, he has also made important connections all over the world.

Anyone who loves seafood, cares about the resource and the fishermen who harvest it sustainably can be part of the Slow Fish movement. Photo: Kate Masury

We each had developed a portion of the deck, and his relied heavily on his global travels learning from and supporting artisanal fishermen and their efforts to thrive. I learned much about these issues from our discussions, but I didn’t feel good about trying to put my perspective on the narrative of all of his slides. So I was up until 11:30 the night before tweaking the slide deck to convey many of the same messages, but from a perspective I’m more comfortable with.

Slow Fish USA luminary Kevin Scribner prefaced the presentation next morning with a history of Slow Fish and provided valuable context for questions and discussion flow.

And it was a good discussion. The audience was a mix of Slow Fish representatives and Slow Food delegates interested in fisheries issues. We reviewed some compelling statistics demonstrating how current industrial seafood markets are stacked against small- and mid-scale fishermen.

We also discussed how Slow Fish empowers these fishermen around the world to compete in local and global markets using examples such as the Tuna Harbor Dockside Market in San Diego, Know Fish Dinners in New Hampshire and Maine, and projects that support artisanal fishermen in Uganda and Thorupstrand, Denmark.

Tuna Harbor Dockside Market, San Diego. Photo: courtesy THDM.

Tuna Harbor Dockside Market is a shining example of multi-tiered collaboration between fishermen, activists and government. More than three years ago, a group of San Diego fishermen sought a way to sell to consumers direct off the boat. Though there was no specific permit that would allow that type of retail setup, the city, county and state worked together to create legislation that supports the market.

The result?

Fishermen have created relationships with customers.
They’ve earned more money: sea urchin prices jumped from $.80 to $5 per lb. and mackerel rose from $.30 to processors to $4 per lb. to consumers.
Fishermen have changed the way they fish to accommodate market demand.
Fishermen’s families work the tents, getting their children’s hands on the product.

The audience posed great questions about aquaculture, fisheries management and the long-term prospects of wild harvest in the face of growing demand. The conversations continued even after we were kicked out of the room as the next group set up.

First mission accomplished.

Blood, sweat and gumbo

The plan was to highlight the story behind the fabulous shrimp and crabs from Lance Nacio’s Anna Marie Shrimp in Louisiana via gumbo. I also secured some of the best andouille sausage I’ve ever had from Toby Rodriguez, a born-on-the-bayou, pig whisperer, traditional butcher and co-owner of Lache Pas Boucherie and Cuisine in Lafayette, La. He had me at “I call bullshit on all commercially available andouille!”

The BIG challenge was logistics, such as sourcing a 40-quart stockpot, stirrer, ladle and all of the flour, vegetables, oil etc. I’d need to deliver my standard of gumbo. I also needed a place to prep and make a stock. Even with weeks of planning, this still proved to be much more challenging than we expected or was necessary.

Thanks guidance from some chef friends, this was NOT a disaster.

Fortunately, because of the connections I’ve forged with Slow Fish and some outstanding chefs, I found what I needed. A couple of chefs, Kelly Whitaker of Basta in Boulder, and my dear friend Evan Mallett of Black Trumpet in Portsmouth, NH helped me figure out how to cook up about 30 pounds of rice (which was way out of my comfort zone.) Evan also chopped and connected me with a chef for the pot and three locally sourced chickens.

I prepped with help from old and new friends for nearly seven hours after presenting. The morning of the food service, I got a late start because we had to wait for the health inspector and I had to try and figure out how to get 50+ pounds of food in different containers and 12 quarts of stock from the commissary kitchen 5 blocks to the site where I’d cook the gumbo. With a dolly and someone’s truck, we made it work.

Lance’s blue claw crabs added flavor…and some down-and-dirty eating for lucky patrons.

Four hours, a few laughs, a couple of cuss words, a stream of sweat and an unfortunate slip of a knife later, and I was ladling gumbo to praise. We had three tents serving fried shrimp, Baja oysters, miso and seaweed, Alaska salmon, salmon poke and black cod. All of it delicious. The quality and freshness of each product was exceptional.

The moment of truth for me came late that afternoon when an elderly African American man sporting a comfortable sun hat and shades asked, “What you got in that gumbo, son?”

I told him the ingredients, mentioning Toby’s sausage, and the fact I smoked the chicken over apple wood that morning.

“Where you from?”

“New Orleans, sir.”

“Who taught you?”

“A Creole woman who took care of me when both my parents were working. Nothing written down. All oral tradition. Took two years of her whacking me over the head with a wooden spoon every time I messed up for me to start getting it right.”

“Ok. Let’s try it,” he said, dropping his ticket in the cup.

Nervously, I spooned out some rice and carefully selected a ladle that had shrimp, crab, two different kinds of sausage, chicken and as many vegetables as could fit.

The man took a spoonful and seemed to swirl the gumbo around in his mouth like a sommelier, which made me uncomfortable. If he didn’t like it, my day was lost.

He raised his head, sniffed, then a slight smile curled his mouth.

“A lot of flavors that work well together.”

“You like it?” I asked, for confirmation.

“Yes. You done good. Thank you.”

“Thank you, sir!!!”

So what if I may have shaved some time off the back end of my life stressing over logistics. So what if I’m now struggling to type with nine fingers because I damn near sliced off the tip of my index finger early in the morning before really getting going on the gumbo. Someone in the tent trained in wilderness survival did a field repair to stop the bleeding so I could complete the mission. I got four stitches only after most of the gumbo was gone and I received “official” validation.

Group effort

All of this goes back to something Slow Food USA director (and former New Orleans high school classmate) Richard McCarthy said in opening remarks that Slow Food is about pluralism. Change doesn’t come from any one person. It comes from a collective force.

So it is true with Slow Fish and specifically, my mission with One Fish Foundation. Changing attitudes about consumer food and seafood purchases requires a group effort. It requires communication, collaboration, partnerships and adaptation. Adapting to unforeseen challenges to event execution is becoming an illustrative trend for Slow Fish USA. It’s because of the connections and friendships we’ve formed that we’ve been able to overcome some last-minute hurdles, working together to send our message.

It’s because of those connections, and the new connections we make that we will continue to steer the conversation toward preserving the seafood resource and the way of life of the fishermen who harvest and care for it.

Top Photo: Don’t forget the secret ingredient! Credit: Lance Nacio.

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Aquaculture, Antibiotics and Their Dark Path to Our Diets

January 17, 2017October 20, 2021
by Colles Stowell

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“Why does that matter?”

It’s one of the first questions I get when I tell middle school students that 90% of the seafood eaten in this country is imported.

So I begin with the big picture, that much of that seafood is coming from countries that put a lot of chemicals in their seafood. Countries like China, Thailand, Chile and Ecuador don’t have the same health safety standards the U.S. does. I watch their facial expressions as I start talking about how and why antibiotics, hormones, bleach and other chemicals are used.

In just a few minutes, it does matter. They care where their seafood comes from.

Massive floating community of fish farms in Luoyuan Bay, in south-eastern China’s Fujian province.

Why this happens

Sometimes the middle school students ask why this happens. More often though, that question comes from high school students and adults. I then explain how the FDA is outgunned simply by the fact agents only inspect 1-2% of all seafood imports. Over the past few years, I’ve watched the FDA issue more and more alerts authorizing agents to outright halt various shrimp and other seafood shipments from China, Malaysia, India and other countries because of links to US-banned antibiotics.

But the answer is really more complicated than that. Part of it has to do with U.S. consumption habits. We eat a lot of shrimp, but we don’t want to pay much for it. So the much cheaper product from Asia or South America floods supermarkets where consumers scoop it up without looking at the label or questioning the origin.

Lack of transparency

Part of the answer has to do with profit and the complex international seafood export industry. Bloomberg Business last month released an exhaustively researched, but well narrated story about this complex system. The report details how much of the seafood from China, which owns 60% of the $90 billion global aquaculture market, is shipped through other countries before arriving in the Western Hemisphere, thereby avoiding steep tariffs and close inspection (when it happens). This process is called transshipping, and it’s becoming widespread and difficult to track down, further masking true seafood origin.

I recommend reading the story if you have 20 minutes or so. Here is the link.

Here are a couple of highlights:

Asia has a centuries-old tradition of linking aquaculture and agriculture. Waste from pigs goes into ponds where tilapia and geese are raised. The tilapia gets much of their protein and nutrients from that waste.
As diseases have increased in pigs, farmers have increased the use of antibiotics to fight the disease. The antibiotics pass to the fish and/or shrimp.
Larger operations treat shrimp and fish with antibiotics to ward off disease.
Increased antibiotic use has given rise to potentially lethal antibiotic-resistant superbugs, which are becoming more common.
A recent study found that between 42% and 83% of Chinese shrimp carry bacteria that can destroy penicillin and most of its variants.
A 2006 FDA study found a quarter of all Asian seafood tested had traces of chemicals banned in the U.S. This has led to a succession of FDA bans and alerts.
The increased scrutiny has pushed some foreign seafood export operations into transshipping through countries like Malaysia that don’t have the high tariffs and increased inspection standards imposed by the FDA on China, for example.
Tracking the origin of transshipped seafood can be difficult. The Bloomberg report cites examples of companies that have been accused by the FDA, and that have folded, with new export companies cropping up shortly thereafter.

So what’s the lesson? Read labels. Ask questions. And if you can’t get seafood that is local or at least domestic to the U.S., consider other options. If you just absolutely have to have the farmed shrimp from Thailand because of the price, understand the implications … to your health and to the support of exporters more concerned with profit than customer health.

We can’t effect change in the domestic seafood web without at least first getting smarter about it.

That we can do.

Top photo: Tiger prawn farm in Malaysia.

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What’s In Your Imported Farm-Raised Shrimp?

May 3, 2016October 20, 2021
by Colles Stowell

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A recent Food and Drug Administration alert about farmed shrimp from Asia raises health questions about the food system that delivers imported shrimp to the U.S. and the rest of the world. The notice also serves as a warning to consumers to know more about where the seafood comes from and how it was grown or harvested.

Forty-five out of 138 shipments (32%) from the Malaysian Peninsula sampled between October 1, 2014, through September 30, 2015 were found to have carcinogenic substances the FDA doesn’t want in our food. So the FDA has given inspectors the authority to reject all shrimp shipments from the Malaysian peninsula, save for a few exceptions, without a physical inspection.

What did they find? Antibiotics called nitrofurans and chloramphenicol, both of which have proved harmful to human health with prolonged exposure. Additionally, prolonged use can create antibiotic-resistant bacteria that can make matters worse.

So carcinogenic antibiotics were found in aquaculture shrimp from Asia.

Shock. Surprise.

The question is why. To better understand, let’s take a quick look at how shrimp farming typically works, and why it should give anyone pause when at a grocery store, seafood market or restaurant.

Big business, big risks

Shrimp farming is a huge business. Some estimates have global farmed shrimp at 3.7 million metric tons in 2014, worth between $12 billion and $15 billion dollars. The drive to grow profits as well as shrimp means increasing production.

Shrimp farming often starts by destroying and removing ecologically critical mangrove ecosystems (nurseries for many species) to create retention ponds where the shrimp will grow. These ponds are usually fed with seawater that passes through the ponds and often re-enters the ocean … carrying much of the waste filtered through ponds carrying thousands of pounds of shrimp and their feces. Many operations claim they filter the water before it enters the ocean, but…

But because shrimp are the number one consumed seafood around the world, many operations in Third World countries in Central and South America and Asia jam as many shrimp into these ponds as possible. Without proper filtration, those shrimp are highly susceptible to disease, because, you know, they’re swimming in their own poop.

Bad medicine

For the past decade or so, many operators have found it easier to use antibiotics and other potentially harmful materials to fend off the bacteria that could cause disease. Those antibiotics don’t just disappear overnight. They don’t always fend off disease either, resulting in huge losses. Just witness recent cases of “early mortality syndrome (EMS)” in Asia.

EMS is a devastating disease borne of a microorganism found in estuaries around the world, and showing up in overcrowded ponds that have poor filtration. The bacteria shut down the shrimp’s digestive system, killing the shrimp. Its infection rate is fast and efficient, meaning it can quickly kill all of the shrimp in a pond. EMS has mostly been found in Asia, but has also cropped up in Mexico.

To try and avoid catastrophic losses, growers choose from a menu of preventative measures, such as chlorine, superphosphates and ozone to disinfect the water, probiotics to fight off the bad bacteria and stabilize the water quality and antibiotics to treat illness. Aside from the potential threats to human health, another issue with these approaches appears to be that they may actually make the ponds more susceptible to infection, according to some scientists.

None of this is good for the shrimp or consumers.

Market impact

The Global Aquaculture Alliance estimates EMS causes $1 billion in losses annually. This explains why shrimp farmers are willing to do most anything to bring “healthy” shrimp to market … including using antibiotics the US FDA deems carcinogenic.

Here are some problems with this food system:

90% of the seafood eaten in the U.S. is imported;
50% of the seafood consumed in the U.S. is farm raised;
Only 5% of the seafood consumed in the U.S. is farm raised domestically;
90% of the world’s shrimp exports come from Asia and India;
55% of global shrimp production is aquaculture;
The U.S. is far more strict about safe aquaculture practices than most of the world;
The FDA is understaffed for inspectors, particularly those inspecting incoming seafood.

Source: UN Food and Agriculture Organization 2014 Status of the Stocks

This all means that most of the farmed shrimp consumed in this country was farm-raised in Asia, where there is a greater chance that it was treated with chemicals deemed unsafe to consume by the FDA. And there aren’t enough inspectors checking all of the imports.

How could this situation get much worse? If the latest trade deal, the Trans-Pacific Partnership, is approved in Congress, the few inspectors checking U.S. imports may have their hands tied. The pact allows signatories like Thailand, Viet Nam and yes, Malaysia to sue the U.S. claiming that applying more strict U.S. health codes to imported seafood constitutes unfair trade practices. The result could be sanctions, fines and an open door to products tainted with carcinogenic substances.

Get smart

In the classroom the message always comes back to awareness. I encourage students to question where their seafood comes from. I considered it a moral victory a few months ago when a 6^th grader told the class she stopped her mom from ordering shrimp because it was from Thailand.

It’s that kind of awareness that helps students, their parents and anyone else understand that shrimp coming from Asia, or anywhere outside the U.S. is a good thing to avoid.

So you may want to pause before ordering the shrimp cocktail. Try to find the country of origin. If the shrimp isn’t from the U.S., you may want to consider another option. Because when the FDA sends up a red flag like this, it’s a good idea to take note.

Photo credits in order: Eco News Network, Food Safety News, U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics