Clarke Gayford surfaces after harvesting mussels and seaweed in Marlborough. Photo / Mike Bhana
Marlborough's bounty lies, or rather, floats hidden underwater.
When I think of the Marlborough Sounds and seafood I think of blue cod and I think of green-lipped mussels.
Now, where a "snapper" is not actually a true snapper but a sea-bream, our blue-cod is — you guessed it — not even a cod, but a species endemic to NZ from the sand perch family. It seems there was some lazy labelling many years ago and the incorrect names have stuck. Maori call them rawaru or parakirikiri; perhaps one day those labels will rise again.
The Marlborough Sounds is a place synonymous with these fish, and they are so popular the daily recreational take has been reduced to just two per person.
Here they are vulnerable to fishing pressure for a variety of reasons.
For a start they aren't fussy when it comes to hooks. It has been said they'll even take an old tyre as bait. They are also aggressively territorial, which makes them attack baits and not travel far from home because the blokes have to defend their patch and the ladies in it. This means heavy fishing can quickly clean out areas.
They are also hermaphrodites, bigger fish becoming males. So if only big males get taken, it forces the most dominate female to switch teams, and this causes a gender imbalance. This is why a slot-rule (not taking fish over a certain size) was experimented with, but changed back in 2015 as mortality rates of released fish were too high.
With their delicious soft white, blue-tinged flesh, it's no secret why they are so popular.
The Marlborough Sounds is also home to another endemic local by the name of Peter Yealands. You might recognise him from the wine label that bears his name, but what you might not know about Peter is that he was one of the first pioneers of Marlborough's great sustainable bounty — the green-lipped mussel. Talking to him about the early days is an adventure in itself: the trials, failures, tax incentives, and even the dodgy trips across Cook Strait to sell sacks of them in pub raffles. All to circumvent the draconian sale restrictions of the day.
Peter is the physical embodiment of No. 8 wire attitude. He had to figure out how to best attach, grow and harvest the green-shelled treasures. Once, when faced with the problem of needing buoys to hold the mussel lines afloat, Peter went to the local library and researched a plastic gyro-spinner. He then utilised a diff out of an old Ford Zephyr and began to spin his own plastic moulds. It wasn't without plenty of failures until he eventually finessed the birth of the modern system of mussel float-line farming we see in sheltered bays around New Zealand today.
Green-lipped mussels are also endemic to NZ. Their anti-flam properties were recognised when they discovered local Maori had almost no incidence of arthritis. However these properties are only enjoyed when the mussels are eaten raw, or reduced to a powdered state. Now popular around the world, it's a thriving $170 million-dollar industry.
What many also don't realise is that growing wild on the mussel lines are multiple varieties of edible seaweeds. Moves are underway to figure out how to harvest these as well, as people begin to realise the largely ignored underwater salads we have right on our doorstep.
One person who knows about these all too well is local Marlborough chef Bradley Hornby. His restaurant Arbour specialises in utilising locally foraged wild foods, including seaweeds to complement his fresh sourced seafood.
A menu highlight is the Just Feed Me experience to which international guests flock and which are often sold out well in advance.
Spoilt for both scenery and palate adventures, the top of the South Island is a sparkling jewel in New Zealand's crown.
Clarke Gayford hosts Fish of the Day, Wednesdays, 8pm on Prime.