THE ALMADRABA TUNA SEASON BEGINS

I’ve just come back from a trip to the Atlantic coast, beyond the Straits of Gibraltar, to the coastal towns of Tarifa, Zahara de los Atunes, Barbate, Conil de la Frontera and, inland, Vejer de la Frontera, where the almadraba, or tuna fishing season, has just begun. 

The almadraba in Spain is a very ancient way of fishing tuna. The Phoenicians, who colonized southern Spain more than 3000 years ago, devised a system of capturing the tuna as they migrated from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean.

Roman ruins at Baelo Claudio, an early fish processing factory.

The Romans, too, fished their way along this coast. Situated right on the wind-swept beach of Bolonia, near Tarifa in the Straits of Gibraltar—the southernmost tip of Europe—are the ruins of Baelo Claudio, a fairly substantial town that thrived from the 2nd century BC until 2nd century AD.

Temples, market, forum, amphitheater make up excavated ruins. Beside the sea, are pits where tuna and fish entrails were brined, fermented and seasoned, producing garum, the salsa of the ancients. Packed in amphorae, this gourmet product was shipped back to Rome.

The almadraba nets, forming long chambers like an interconnected series of corrals, are anchored to the bottom fairly close to the coast. Tuna swimming through on their spring migration to spawn in the Mediterranean are trapped in the nets. Once the huge fish are trapped in the final chamber, fishermen in boats pull the net into a tightening circle. The men raise the net, gaffe the tuna and haul them on board.

The nets allow smaller fish to escape. None weighing under 70 kilos (154 pounds) are captured, with most of the catch weighing in between 180 and 200 kilos (400-440 pounds). The average age of the fish is 14 years, meaning they have completed several reproductive cycles. (I got this up-to-date information from a new magazine called Oro Rojo, La revista del Atún.)

Since 2007, the almadraba catch is controlled and subject to strict quotas imposed by ICCAT (International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas). Due to indiscriminate overfishing, the Atlantic bluefin tuna (in Spanish known as atún rojo or “red tuna”) is in danger of extinction. Yet the local fishing industry claims that almadraba fishing is sustainable and feels it is being unfairly restricted for the sins committed by rapacious high-tech “factory” fishing fleets. It is estimated that only 0.01 percent of the tuna that migrate through the Straits are captured in the coastal almadraba.

As much as 80 percent of the almadraba catch is bought up by Japanese entrepreneurs and shipped, frozen, to Tokyo. What’s left goes to local markets, restaurants, tapa bars and canneries.

Different cuts of tuna at Barbate market.

In the mercado de abastos, town market, of Barbate, the home port of the almadraba boats, I found several vendors specializing in fresh tuna, showing all the many cuts as well as hearts, parts and pouches of tuna roe (eggs). Ventresca, the fatty tuna belly, looked gorgeous.

Tuna belly with thick rim of fat.

Loin and other cuts of fresh tuna.

At a nearby shop displaying dozens of tuna products in cans and jars, I bought a jar of tuna preserved in Ibérico pork lard. Something new and unusual to try. Maybe heaped on hot toast? Ventresca canned in olive oil will make a marvelous niçoise salad. Mojama, salted, air-dried tuna, thinly sliced and dressed with olive oil, will make a lovely aperitif with dry Sherry.

Carpaccio of fresh tuna (thinly sliced raw tuna).

While on a tapas crawl in the nearby town of Vejer, I sampled both traditional and vanguardista dishes with tuna. Very enjoyable was the carpaccio of fresh tuna at Casa Varo http://www.casavaro.com/index.html   Fresh tuna is flash-frozen (the method is Japanese), so there’s no risk of ingesting parasites in raw fish.

Grilled tuna in a summer salad.

Tuna with capers.

Back in my own kitchen, I am grilling a thick slab of tuna “loin.” The leftovers make fabulous summer salads.

There are tuna tasting festivals in Conil, Zahara de los Atunes and Barbate from now until June 9.

TUNA--A GUILTY DINNER

Fresh tuna--beautiful, but---

Every time I see the glistening slab of fresh tuna at the fish market, I promise myself that this is the last time. I will not buy/eat tuna—a critically endangered fish—ever again. Once again, though, I succumbed. In spite of the guilt, oh my god, but it was delicious. That’s why it’s so hard to quit.

Barry Estabrook, who blogs at  http://politicsoftheplate.com, said “There is a strong likelihood that someone in this generation will be the last human to eat a bluefin tuna.” The species, he writes, hovers on the brink of extinction.

And yet. The towns of Barbate and Conil, tuna fishing towns on the Atlantic coast of Cádiz province (Andalusia), have just celebrated their big feria de la almadraba, with bars and restaurants serving up meals and tapas featuring atún rojo—“red” tuna, bluefin tuna.

The almadraba in Spain is a very ancient way of fishing tuna. The Phoenicians, who colonized southern Spain more than 3000 years ago, devised a system of capturing the tuna as they migrated from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. The almadraba nets, forming long chambers, like a series of corrals, are anchored to the bottom. Tuna swimming through on their migration to spawn in the Mediterranean are trapped in the nets. Fishermen in boats pull the nets into a tightening circle, until the huge fish are trapped in the middle. The men gaff them and haul them on board. It is an amazing sight.

The almadraba catch is controlled and subject to strict quotas. The nets allow smaller fish to escape. All this sounds pretty good. But, here’s the problem—very little of the almadraba catch finds its way to the restaurants in Barbate, nor to the market where I shop. The Japanese buy it all. They pay huge amounts of money, freeze the catch, ship it back to Tokyo. Very expensive sushi in the making.

If you want the truth, I’m not sure what I’m buying. It may be yellowfin tuna that comes from northern Spain (and keeps the tuna canneries operational). Or it may be tuna fished much further afield, in unregulated waters by industrial fishing vessels (such as in the Indian Ocean, where a Spanish trawler was taken by Somali pirates a few years ago).

Perhaps you don’t know what you’re buying either. After consciousness raising and conscience pricking, I am looking more closely. Perhaps the next time, I will give the tuna a pass.

Atlantic bluefin tuna—Thunnus thynnus—is known as atún rojo, red tuna, in Spanish. Important to the canning industry is bonito del norte, Thunnus alalunga, which is white tuna or albacore—not to be confused with Thunnus albacares or albacora, yellowfin tuna, also sometimes called albacore (rabil in Spanish).

In southern Spain, where tuna is part of traditional cooking, it is usually cooked in a slow braise with onions and tomatoes slowly reduced. While it’s delicious that way, I wouldn’t dream of long-cooking tuna. I love it, if not raw, then quickly grilled and served medium rare—pink in the middle.

Sliced tuna with sauteed cherry tomatoes.

Here I used a thick slice of tuna, browning it on both sides in extra virgin olive oil. I added sliced onions, garlic, and cherry tomatoes cut in half. Some oregano. I let the tomatoes reduce while the tuna cooked to that perfect point. After the tuna rested for 5 minutes, I sliced it across the grain and served it with the gooey tomato-onion mix and a sauce of olive purée (that recipe is here; another tuna recipe, with onion confit, is here).

Cold tuna in salad with capers.

I used sliced leftover tuna to make a sort of salade niçoise, with tomatoes, potatoes, beans and capers.

I so hope that I am not the last person of my generation to eat tuna. I would hope to enjoy it again. Meanwhile, I’ll be trying some new recipes with sardines and mackerel, two fish not threatened with extinction.