{"id":14348,"date":"2021-04-29T19:02:54","date_gmt":"2021-04-29T19:02:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wildsalmoncenter.org\/?p=14348"},"modified":"2021-04-29T19:02:54","modified_gmt":"2021-04-29T19:02:54","slug":"vancouver-chef-rob-clark-eat-this-salmon","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wildsalmoncenter.org\/2021\/04\/29\/vancouver-chef-rob-clark-eat-this-salmon\/","title":{"rendered":"Vancouver Chef Rob Clark: Eat This Salmon"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

For fans of wild salmon, it\u2019s hard to know what\u2019s the right choice in a restaurant or at a store. Here\u2019s why sustainable seafood chef Rob Clark loves Harrison River beach-seined keta (chum) salmon.<\/span><\/h3>\n\n\n\n

If your first thought about wild salmon is \u201cdelicious,\u201d your next might be the image of big silver fish netted out at sea. It\u2019s a common train of thought in marketing. If fresh is best, the concept goes, then surely what you want is a plump ocean salmon, caught before the rigors of home river migration.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

But according to celebrated British Columbia chef Rob Clark, that idea misses the boat. And not just when it comes to sustainable seafood. It\u2019s also about flavor.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Vancouver-based sustainable seafood chef Rob Clark. (Photo courtesy Rob Clark.)<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe world perceives ocean-caught salmon as somehow better than river salmon<\/strong>,\u201d says Clark, the now-retired head chef of such past and present Vancouver seafood institutions as C Restaurant, Raincity Grill, and the Fish Counter. \u201cBut the strength of wild Pacific salmon are the varieties and textures from river to river. For a chef, it\u2019s like working with a full palate.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And that culinary nuance gets lost at sea<\/strong>. Marine fishers operate in \u201cmixed-stock\u201d fisheries, where countless migrating salmon stocks mingle before heading to home rivers up and down the Pacific coast. <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Contrast that with rivers, where fishers can gauge exactly which salmon runs they\u2019re catching<\/span>. Here, <\/span>selective fishing gear types like <\/span>pound nets<\/span><\/a> and <\/span>fish weirs<\/span><\/a> are gaining traction. In-river \u201cterminal fisheries\u201d create an opportunity for chefs like Clark to showcase, say, sockeye salmon returning to Lake Babine versus the Fraser<\/strong>. And there\u2019s an environmental justice piece to shifting commercial fisheries inland, where the fishing traditions of Indigenous salmon communities like the Sts\u2019ailes First Nation of the lower Fraser River valley have been restricted<\/span>\u2014<\/span>even criminalized<\/span>\u2014<\/span>for generations.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMy goal now is to help every river product, especially one harvested in a sustainable way, earn the respect it deserves,\u201d says Clark. \u201cAnd I could not make a better product to embody this approach than Harrison River beach-seined keta.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

My goal now is to help every river product, especially one harvested in a sustainable way, earn the respect it deserves. And I could not make a better product to embody this approach than Harrison River beach-seined keta.\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
Harrison River beach seining: a community effort for the Sts’ailes and Scowlitz First Nations. (Photo courtesy River Select.)<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n

Beach seining dates back thousands of years on B.C. rivers like the Koeye<\/strong>. And while it doesn\u2019t appear in the fishing stories of Sts\u2019ailes elders\u2014unlike fish weirs, spears, and gaffs\u2014it does have new formal approval from Canada\u2019s Department of Fisheries and Oceans as a selective fishing practice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBeach seining is a new method for us. We\u2019ve evolved, kept up with the tools that are used nowadays,\u201d says Sts\u2019ailes Chief Ralph Leon (<\/span>Sah-ahkw<\/span>). Though, he adds, \u201cthe nets are really tough on your hands.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

An upside is that it brings his community together, literally. Operating a beach seine takes a village, of sorts: first to drop a broad net into a churning pool of fish, and then to pull it like hell to the shallows, where bycatch fish like steelhead can be safely netted and released.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Operating a beach seine takes a village: first to drop a broad net into a churning pool of fish, and then to pull it like hell to the shallows, where bycatch fish like steelhead can be safely netted and released.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBack in the day, we were able to pick and choose what species we wanted. Our grandparents would tell us what to catch, and we\u2019d get scolded if we brought home the wrong kind, because our elders knew what was going on with the salmon<\/strong>,\u201d says Chief Leon. \u201cThose were the glory days. It was a time when our people were very healthy. Now, we\u2019ve got to work together to save our chum. The health of my grandkids depends on it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Chum salmon<\/span><\/a>\u2014<\/span>often sold in stores as keta<\/span>\u2014<\/span>is a productive run on the Harrison River, a wide, slow, glacier-fed tributary of the lower Fraser. For the past few years, the Sts\u2019ailes and Scowlitz First Nations have brought that run to market with <\/span>River Select<\/span><\/a>, a seafood processor and retailer that works exclusively with First Nations-operated selective, terminal fisheries. Harrison Select<\/a>, the brand name of their fresh, canned, and candied keta salmon, brings in revenue for the Sts’ailes and Scowlitz communities. More importantly, it\u2019s an opportunity to renew their historic stewardship of the river<\/strong>.<\/span><\/p>\n\n\n\n