Page 45 - foodservice magazine Feb 2019

The start of a new year is a time to reflect on what has been, and dream of what might be. It’s also a good time to reflect on the fact that only one in four seafood meals in Australia comprises of Australian fish.
If the average Australian eats less than one seafood meal a week but is inspired to eat anything aquatic as soon as they see the sea, the basic laws of supply and demand will inevitably kick in, and opportunities to use domestic seafood should not be under-estimated.
In microeconomics, supply and demand is a model of price determination within a market. In a competitive market the unit price for a particular item will vary until it settles at a point where the quantity demanded by consumers will equal the quantity supplied by producers, resulting in an economic equilibrium for price and quantity.
This is all very well, but it can fall short when applied to the hospitality industry because it does not consider culinary quality or value, let alone for fishing conditions, provenance, history or sustainability.
The flat, grey and flaccid piece of protein that hit the table (which last saw water in the murky upper reaches of the Mekong Delta) tasted like leftovers made by someone who didn't eat seafood.
full, deep and organic front palate and creamy richness that gives way to bursts of light cucumber and mineral notes and a sweet lettucey finish. To be clear, this kiosk was in the engine room of the South Coast rock oyster region, and some seasoned growers had claimed that conditions over the past 12 weeks had yielded the best oysters in 10 years, so expectations were high. But the 11 in my serve (is this some form of South Coast carbon tax?) were obscenely shrunk and stuck to their shells. Their parents had clearly forgotten to apply sunscreen prior to letting them sit around in the sun for hours. The triangle of margarine-covered white bread had more flavour.
Exhibit three was a grilled “fish of the day”, which for most fish fanatics, is the obvious
first port of call. Who cares if its name is of unpronounceable obscurity or that it hasn’t ever been seen on a plate, taco or “dry ageing cabinet” north of the Georges River – the promise of an hours-old, local species had me looking for the brown vinegar in anticipation.
The flat, grey and flaccid piece of protein that hit the table (which last saw water in the murky upper reaches of the Mekong Delta) tasted like leftovers made by someone who didn't eat seafood.
The whole experience was lazy and disrespectful to the region.
In the centre of the South Coast tourist route, which has an abundance of local suppliers of great produce and more prospective customers than there are in the banking centre of Sydney at this time of the year, this lack of care was depressing.
The failure to get this sort of stuff right matters because what I paid is not as cheap as the location, the access to raw materials, and the booming summer trade deserved. (I wouldn’t reckon that I’d be sitting here waiting for order number 129 to be called on Thursday lunch time in July.)
But here's the thing. My meal on the wharf cost about the same as a meal at Ian Curley's Melbourne restaurant, Kirk's Wine Bar, which, while a seven-hour drive away, unloads, cooks and serves South Coast gurnard with care.
You can charge for great local seafood, but it must be treated with respect first.
As we launch into another year where the culinary future is uncertain, enjoy Australian seafood for what it is - special, sustainable and delicious, and if a fish shop doesn’t have anything local, ask the person behind the counter,
“will you accept BYO fish?”
PRODUCE
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John Susman is the director of the seafood industry agency Fishtales. For more views, insights and understanding of the seafood industry visit www.thefishtale.com.au.
I was contemplating these issues this summer while sitting in a fish-and-chip shop on a wharf overlooking one of the most beautiful ports on the New South Wales South Coast.
While a cast-iron law says the interior of any proper fish kiosk must look rough-hewn and industrial as if the fishmongers have just sluiced out the fish guts, in this case it was quite literal: the kiosk was an extension of the local fisherman's co-op. The scurry of activity on the wharf was a local trawler unloading a mixed catch of ling, gurnard, nannygai, flathead and mirror dory. Inside, the menu was extensive and promising, spanning from local oysters and crustacea, to grilled or battered fish. All the hallmarks of an imminent good feed were there.
First up, salt-and-pepper squid. It's a simple proposition. It's so bloody simple there is absolutely nowhere to hide. How lightly the squid is seasoned, how the squid is handled from jig to fryer, and how clean the oil in that fryer is can make or break the dish. The result should be crisp and taut, but these were like cotton wool. I was baffled.
Next, a dozen oysters natural. The South Coast rock oyster in good nick is a special treat, with a