A box of smoked salmon arrived at the office, and I scoffed. It would not be good, I said. I was wrong.
A few weeks ago, there was a small, unobtrusive box in the office. It sat quietly by itself in a little sunny patch under our translucent windows while Venice bums screamed obscenities and shit on various things on the street down below. It was postmarked Patagonia, and inside was a bag of dead fish.
I get quite a bit of hate mail. It’s usually from Donald Trump supporters, people who overuse the word “libtard”, and/or people who don’t appear to like the environment all that much. Sometimes, when I get to the office and there’s a box on my desk, I think briefly about that scene from Seven. “I’m gonna open it,” I say to myself in my best Morgan Freeman impression. Then I look dramatically over my shoulder at an imaginary Brad Pitt pointing an imaginary gun at an imaginary Kevin Spacey. “California, stay away from here,” I say from inside my imaginary beige trench coat. So far, none of the boxes have ever contained my wife’s head–probably because I’m not married and John Doe isn’t a rabid surf fan. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.
Back to Patagonia’s box of dead fish. As it turns out, it wasn’t hate mail–which is a good thing because maybe they’ll advertise with us or at least send more free things. Perhaps a down-filled puffy jacket or a two-tone hat with a fish on the front. Until the box appeared, I thought that Patagonia only made clothing for people who climb up tall rocks, run quickly on dirt trails, and stand quietly in rivers with fly rods, thinking peaceful thoughts about sustainability and being self-aware. I think they also make a vest for people who surf on gigantic waves. Well, it turns out they make food, too. Dehydrated soups, buffalo jerky, breakfasts filled with strange grains, even a beer with a sexual name. And, of course, bags of fish.
My bag of fish contained smoked salmon, which I assumed was going to be disgusting. Since I spent most of my life on Vancouver Island, I’m a salmon snob. Farmed salmon has a texture like soggy bread, and I will not eat it. Salmon farms are a pox on both wild fish populations and all things delicious. Smoked salmon, unless it’s caught and smoked by a friend or purchased from a Native American boy at a roadside stand outside an Indian reservation, is not to be trusted. So when Patagonia presumed to send me, a salmon snob of the highest degree, a bag of smoked salmon, I scoffed. “Who do they think they’re sending smoked salmon to?” I scoffed. “Do they even KNOW who I am?” I pranced around the office for a while, waving the bag of smoked salmon around, touting my expertise as a salmon aficionado, promising I would hate this disgusting bag of Patagonia slop since I know what REAL salmon tastes like and REAL salmon doesn’t appear in small, unobtrusive boxes under a translucent window.
Colour me embarrassed, because Patagonia sent a bag of REAL salmon. It’s not from a disgusting salmon farm that pukes green slime out and sickens everything around it. It’s caught using reef nets off Lummi Island, Washington. Reef netting is how the Coast Salish Indians used to do–granted, they didn’t do it with diesel engines, but all the same, it’s far better than farming soggy bread salmon. It’s worse than line caught salmon, but if you expect to buy a bag of smoked salmon that some guy caught on a line, you’re dreaming.
It’s good! It’s actually good! Image: Patagonia
“In recent years, wild pink salmon have filled the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Salish Sea in growing numbers,” Patagonia writes. “The use of reef nets allows us to selectively harvest from these abundant runs without harming depressed stocks of Chinook and coho salmon. It is, perhaps, the ideal model for commercial fishing in general, and salmon harvest in particular.”
Once they catch the salmon, each one is removed from the net by hand, bled out, and stuck in ice. According to the website, non-target species are released unharmed. If you’ve been around a regular commercial fishing operation, you know that that shit just doesn’t happen. “This unusual level of care, virtually unheard of in other commercial fisheries,” Patagonia explains, “allows for the highest quality fish and almost zero by-catch.”
All this is to tell you that Patagonia figured out a way to make smoked salmon. It comes in a bag, doesn’t need to be refrigerated, and actually tastes like what it is: salmon. No small feat, because smoked salmon can be really, really bad–especially if it comes in a small, unobtrusive box in the mail.
