SEPTEMBER IS A GIFT! At least for us on the Island… in the real world (off Island) September means back to work and school. For us, it is a sweet reprieve. We love the ebb and flow of this place and truly appreciate all the seasonal visitors who love it too, but there is nothing normal about living with 20,000 people in the off-season and seeing the population climb to 100,000 in season. It is intense. By late August, we are spent.
People are always amazed when I say I live here year-round; they say, “You are so lucky”. Yes, we are, but by late summer, all of us lucky folk are tired.
One of the joys of Island life is the Atlantic Ocean that surrounds us, and all that it gives us to eat. This year, as August was cooling and September’s light was at the end of the busy summer tunnel, my friend invited me on an oyster tour with Signature Oyster of Katama Bay. We set out late in the afternoon with six of us, as well as owners Julia and Ryan Smith and their 16-year-old helper, Matt MacMillan, a junior at MVRHS.
We headed towards one of the two oyster farms off the Chappy shore that the Smiths own and operate. We arrived at the oyster barge, which is moored in the bay. It was filled with different-sized traps, and mostly custom-made equipment by Ryan. Ryan’s father was a commercial fisherman who ran his fishing boat, the Alison Lee, out of Edgartown for more than 30 years. Ryan started out by following in his father’s footsteps, but began to feel the cracks and uncertainty in the fishing industry, as stricter regulations made it more difficult for smaller fishermen to survive.
Oyster farming was introduced in the 1990s as an alternative industry that was sustainable and positive to the environment. Ryan jumped in and took the risk, and together the couple created Signature Oysters in 2006. Through years of hard work, persistence, and ingenuity, it has evolved into a thriving year-round business. Signature Oysters sells its oysters to a few select locations on the Island, but is also the largest exporter, bringing its world-class oysters to a wholesaler in Boston who distributes them to restaurants everywhere there is demand.
Two years ago, I was having dinner in Essex, Mass, at the Pearl restaurant, and sure enough, we ordered a dozen Signature Oysters.
The six of us stepped off the transport boat onto the oyster barge. Julia gave us a fascinating look at how their farm operates, starting with 1.6 million oyster seeds this year that will likely yield a harvest of about one million oysters. The seeds come from Muscongus Bay, Maine. These seeds thrive in Katama Bay; other farmers in Katama Bay use the same type of seed. The seeds are tiny, the size of a tomato seeds.
Julia shows us smaller oysters in traps as well as the equipment on the oyster barge. She beams when she talks about the genius of her husband. “ His love language is oysters,” Julia says with a glance at Ryan, who has built or designed all of their equipment. There were several sizes of sorters – long aluminum cylinders with holes – for different aged oysters. The oysters are cleaned, sorted, and graded. There is a tumbler that sits under a hatch on the barge, which opens to the ocean. The tumbler rolls two-year-old oysters through the cool ocean water, pruning and cleaning them. At this point, they are market-ready. The perfect oyster is three inches long with a nice, deep cup – the perfect size for a single gulp.
Ryan pulls the tumbler up with a winch. It’s full of oysters. He stands over the open hatch and tosses some shucked oyster pieces in, instantly, a swarm of scup jumps out of the water like dogs grabbing a bone. This is a routine; I am not sure who has trained whom.
On the barge, there is a table with six chairs, the bottle of Rosé we brought, and of course the fresh oysters. “We will keep bringing in oysters until you tell us to stop,” Julia says. Katama Bay is said to have twelve oyster farms, with approximately ten more located between Oak Bluffs, Vineyard Haven, Menemsha, and Aquinnah. Though the Oyster Farm tours are about done for the season, more fun can be found on the water.
September dives into the 80th Bass and Bluefish Derby, or as we call it, “The Derby.” It kicks off on September 14th and runs through October 18th. This rite of passage, where fishers drop everything, is an obsession passed down through generations. The term “Derby Widow” can apply to any gender; it just means you’ll only see your partner or spouse in passing for the next several weeks. I enjoy fishing, but it’s usually on vacation or a friend’s boat. I am not very good, but there is a lot of serenity to be found standing by the shore or from a boat, breathing in the salty, peaceful air.
Although the Derby features striped bass in its name and logos, due to the decline in the species over the years, protections and conservation efforts have stepped in, and bass are no longer part of the derby. However, some fantastic, feisty, and delicious fish are still included: bluefish, bonito, and false albacore. They are more perishable, and best eaten when they are caught fresh and filleted properly. You can have any fish filleted for you at the Derby, and you should study how they do it.
My friend Johnny Graham, chef/owner of Revel Catering & Events and also a Derby veteran, says false albacore are the most challenging, elusive, powerful fish to catch. Don’t let their smaller size fool you. “They put up a great fight,” Johnny says. As for eating, it’s all dark meat and a mess to fillet – they have likely earned their nickname as the local “trash fish” for this reason.
Bonito is wonderful when cooked or prepared for sashimi. Bluefish are delicious when cooked, baked, broiled, and grilled on foil. Both bluefish and bonito should be bled right away and kept very cold, and eaten soon after catching. I think of bonito and bluefish as “fish friends,” meaning the best is to get it from a friend, freshly caught. Again, both are quite perishable and do not age well.
Here is my favorite way to cook bluefish or bonito:
Mix 2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard with ¾ cup of good mayonnaise, ¼ cup of fresh lemon juice, the grated peel of 1 lemon, 2 splashes of Worcestershire sauce, a dash of hot sauce, and black pepper. Combine and mix well.
Get your grill nice and hot. Create a tinfoil pouch, using several sheets of foil. Lay the fish skin size down, smear the top with the mayo mixture, cover evenly, top with sliced lemon.
Bring the the foil up around the fish, crimping the sides. Pull the foil up, leaving an opening. Add to a hot grill and let it cook. It will probably take 15 to 20 minutes, depending on the size of the fish. The only way to know it’s done, is to check that the flesh is no longer opaque.
Food is my love language, and I’m endlessly inspired by the farmers, fishermen, cooks, chefs, makers, and bakers who call this Island home. We are a food-focused community, rich with talented, passionate people who celebrate the seasons and all they bring. While the word “sustainable” may feel overused, the Island’s tradition of producing its own food remains alive and well. To me, this is the very best time of year here. Don’t tell.
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