The Fish Less Eaten Eco-conscious sushi afi cionados are fi nding tasty and sustainable alternatives to the endangered bluefi n tuna.

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The Fish Less Eaten

Our growing love for sushi spells doom for popular selections like bluefi n tuna. A new movement preaching tasty alternatives might save them from oblivion—but will the customer bite?

BY JANE BLACK // ILLUSTRATION BY RODRIGO CORRAL

MY DATE TONIGHT, Trevor Corson, arrives early at Washington, D.C.’s Sushiko to have a little talk with the chef. There will be a few rules for our dinner. Specifi cally, no eel. No salmon. And defi nitely no tuna.

The chef is puzzled. Those are the Big Three. Tuna, salmon and eel are the most popular items at every sushi bar. But then, Corson isn’t your average diner. He’s a sushi concierge, a personal valet for afi cionados who want an authentic sushi experience, and I’ve asked him to help me navigate the waters of what’s known as sustainable sushi.

Historically, the tradition of sushi has shown great respect for the ocean, Corson explains, as I sample a bit of orange clam dusted with truffl e salt. But now the silky bluefi n tuna we prize has been fi shed almost to extinction. And the salmon and eel in restaurants, delis and grocery stores generally come from farms that environmentalists charge breed disease and damage the oceans. Corson is careful not to preach—he still recommends the Big Three to some clients—but his message is clear: To be an authentic sushi consumer, you need to be a responsible one.

It is well reported that the oceans, once considered inexhaustible, are now in a global state of crisis. Half of all fi sh stocks monitored by the U.N. are already fully exploited, according to the Marine Stewardship Council. More crucially, when it comes to our presentday sushi craving, the World Wildlife Fund warns that if fi shing practices don’t change, the Atlantic bluefi n tuna faces extinction by 2012.

And the only way to change fi shing practices is to rethink the way we eat fi sh, especially sushi. In other words: Say sayonara to your toro nigiri. Here’s the good news: Sustainable alternatives to the Big Three are getting

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easier to fi nd—and tastier. At Moshi Moshi, a chain of sushi bars in London, diners can opt for eco-dishes like seabass sashimi and prawn nigiri. At San Francisco’s Tataki Sushi & Sake Bar, patrons stand in line for as long as two hours for the restaurant’s famous “faux-nagi,” sablefi sh seared and brushed with a sweet, sultry sauce that mimics the taste of the ever-popular (but

unsustainable) unagi, or eel. In Portland, Oregon, Bamboo Sushi serves fi sh with a Marine Stewardship Council stamp of approval. The council okays sea creatures including haddock, halibut, hake and herring (and that’s just the H’s).

Sustainable sushi should be an obvious next step for eco-conscious consumers who regularly shop at farmers markets and scour restaurant menus for words like “line-caught,” “heirloom” and “heritage breed.”

However, says Corson, “somehow when people eat sushi, the rules don’t apply.”

Tataki cofounder Casson Trenor has a theory about why sushi gets an environmental pass: Those glistening jewel-colored rectangles just don’t look like fi sh. “There’s a disconnect there. No one knows where sushi comes from,” Trenor says. “And if you don’t know that, how can you make good decisions about sustainability?”

In January, Trenor—who helped the

Monterey Bay Aquarium develop wallet cards that consumers can consult before ordering—published a book, Sustainable Sushi: A Guide to Saving the Oceans One Bite at a Time. A year earlier, he had opened Tataki as an experiment designed to prove that sustainable sushi was both possible and profi table.

Nothing on the menu at Tataki is environmentally harmful. Instead of farmed salmon, there’s arctic char. Instead of yellowtail, there’s amberjack. Trenor even banned farmed tuna, since most are adults plucked from the ocean, where they might otherwise mate. Farming actually increases pressure on wild fi sh stocks.

Most customers support the change, says Bamboo’s head chef, Brandon Hill, but not all. When he recently explained to one diner why he was no longer serving tuna, she was dismissive. “She said it was their own fault for tasting so good,” Hill says.

Some call sustainable sushi a fad. Hill disagrees. “Something has to be done, or I’m going to be out of work in fi fteen years.”

Sustainable sushi evangelists are spreading the word. Last month, Trenor helped chef Hajime Sato remake the menu at his 15-year-old Seattle restaurant, Mashiko. Caroline Bennett, founder of London’s Moshi Moshi and Soseki restaurants, formed Pisces Responsible Fish Restaurants, a nonprofi t that helped devise an ad campaign with celebs like Greta Scacchi and director Terry Gilliam posing naked to raise awareness about the plight of the bluefi n (more power to them, right?). Sting, Charlize Theron and Sienna Miller have publicly boycotted glitzy Japanese restaurant Nobu, which continues to serve bluefi n tuna. (To its credit, Nobu has a warning on its menu: “Bluefi n tuna is an environmentally threatened species. Please ask your server for an alternative.”)

Many sushi chefs remain skeptical. Some view themselves as artists and, naturally, don’t want to give up the ruby-colored canvas of bluefi n tuna. Others claim they’re merely giving the customers what they want.

Tasty though the Big Three may be, they aren’t irreplaceable. Back at Sushiko, Corson and I take up a set of chopsticks and attack a roll of creamy spot prawns topped with shiso leaf and perfectly poached lobster. Afterward, we plow through briny sea urchin. By now, I’ve forgotten all about bluefi n tuna. Come to think of it, this menu seems eminently sustainable.

When a chef explained to one diner why he was no longer serving tuna, she was dismissive: “It’s their own fault for tasting so good.”

METRIC TONS CAUGHT 90,000

80,000 70,000

60,000 50,000

40,000 30,000 20,000

10,000 CHANGE YOUR TUNA Since 1970, stocks of bluefin have dwindled to catastrophic levels.

1970 1975 1980 1985 1990 1995 2005 YEAR Despite her love of the sea, Washington Post staff writer and sushi fanatic JANE BLACK will dearly miss toro nigiri.