Calif. aquafarmers cash in on demand for abalone

[July 12, 2008]  CARLSBAD, Calif. (AP) -- Carlsbad Aquafarm is growing a multimillion-dollar investment in abalone in a row of tanks alongside a tidal lagoon just outside San Diego.

In a process that has taken years to complete, microscopic abalone larvae have finally grown into fist-sized mollusks that can fetch $30 a pound from top-shelf restaurants and other buyers.

The operation is one of a dozen or so aquafarms along the California coast betting on the culinary comeback of the puck-shaped mollusks that were brought to the brink of extinction by overfishing.

"It's very slow, growing abalone. You spend two or three years of work until you have something large enough to sell," said Matt Steinke, a manager at Carlsbad Aquafarm.

But the wait has its reward.

"It's more or less an endless market," Steinke said.

Abalone production in the United States - most of it in California - roughly doubled from about 254,000 pounds in 1999 to about 522,000 pounds in 2005, the last year Ray Fields, owner of the Central Coast-based Abalone Farm, surveyed the nation's output for the International Abalone Symposium.

The rapid growth came as abalone consumers expanded from a core group of older Californians nostalgic for the days when the delicacy could be gathered by the sack-full along the beach or ordered as steaks or burgers at fish shacks, said H. Roy Gordon, president of the abalone consulting firm Fishtech Inc.

Today's abalone lovers include adventurous, well-heeled diners who are hungry for something different and quintessentially Californian, he said.

"From a flavor standpoint, it's hard not to like it," said Corey Lee, chef de cuisine at the French Laundry in Napa Valley. "We're talking about a sweet, clammy shellfish."

Decades ago, abalone could be found littering beaches at low tide or clinging to rocks in underwater coves. These days, however, most of the nation's abalone grows in sea water-filled tanks amid the hum of pumps and generators.

At Carlsbad Aquafarm, thousands of abalone cling to vertical plastic panels stacked in waist-deep tanks the size of large kiddie pools.

The complex also houses gurgling tubs where workers clean and process oysters, clams and mussels raised in the nearby lagoon. The shellfish sales bankrolled the company's abalone operation as the mollusks reached marketable size, Steinke said.

Farther north along the coast, Monterey Abalone Co. grows the mollusks in cages suspended from a municipal wharf into Monterey Bay. The company hopes to add as many as 70 new cages next year to the roughly 200 it currently uses, co-owner Trevor Fay said.

Fay said the biggest challenge has been securing a year-round supply of the wild kelp that it feeds the creatures. Experiments are under way to preserve kelp harvested in summer for use during winter, he said.

"If there's a lot of demand and you've got a good outlook, which we currently do for growing abalone, then you've got to take advantage," said Art Seavey, Fay's partner.

Abalone was helped into the California culinary culture by late 19th century Japanese immigrants who dove for the mollusks and exported them to their home country, where they had long been a delicacy, said Tim Thomas, a historian at the Maritime Museum of Monterey.

In the early 1900s, a German restaurateur in Monterey known as "Pop" Ernest Doelter began experimenting with the exotic catch. He devised a recipe that involved prying the meat from the shell and pounding it into steaks that were breaded and pan-fried, Thomas said.

The mollusk's popularity grew and eventually led to its near-depletion.

In 1997, state Fish and Game officials imposed a complete ban on abalone harvesting south of the San Francisco Bay and severely restricted diving for the mollusks north of the bay.

The first abalone farms appeared in the early 1970s, as the natural supply diminished. Since then, farmers have been experimenting to find the best ways to breed them in captivity.

In recent years, abalone has slithered onto the menus of a number of pricey restaurants.

"I am so surprised that so many people are ordering it, and the feedback is so beautiful," said Mo Tabib, chef at the Fish Hopper in Monterey, which sells potato chip-sized disks of seared abalone as an appetizer for $22. "It's a luxury."

[Associated Press; By JACOB ADELMAN]

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