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King of the shore
It may be protected by the laws of the land, and it may be more like meat than fish, but the Jersey ormer is the ambrosia of the sea
IN California they are called abalone, in New Zealand paua, in South Africa perlemoen and in Japan awabi.
Here in Jersey we call them ormers and know full well that these much sought-after shellfish are one of the finest culinary treats the seas have to offer.
It was, however, a brave man who first decided to try an ormer - or an abalone, paua, perlemoen or awabi for that matter. The single ear-shaped shell of these creatures, which are related to the ordinary limpet, may be lined with iridescent mother-of-pearl, but the tough fleshy foot, greenish-black mantle and tiny horned head do not look much like a feast in waiting.
However, prised out, scrubbed, trimmed, beaten with a steak mallet, fried with flour and onions and then casseroled for three or four hours in a slow oven, your ormer is nothing less than pure ambrosia, the food of the gods.
Producing a rich aromatic gravy and becoming surprisingly tender with careful cooking, ormers are far more like meat than fish and need to be accompanied by nothing more sophisticated than crusty fresh bread and good white wine.
But if cooking ormers can be regarded as a challenge, gathering them is often an epic struggle.
Inconveniently, they thrive far down the inter-tidal zone and for a few fathoms below it and can be collected only around low-water during specified spring tides in the autumn, winter and spring. Catching them with diving gear of any sort is prohibited, so ormering involves a long trek down the shore, a scramble over weed-covered reefs and a careful search of every nook and cranny where your quarry might be lurking.
The search also involves turning over a great many rocks - which should of course be turned back to protect the many unwanted creatures which also seek refuge beneath them.
In spite of cold water, cold winds, scratched and bruised hands and sometimes meagre returns, many Islanders go ormering for pleasure as well as to search for a feed. If, however, the pastime were a feature of penal servitude with hard labour, it could be classified as a harsh and cruel punishment.
The ormer may be king of the Jersey shoreline, but the combination of our large tidal range, prolific seas and plentiful rocks and sandbanks makes the Island a contender for the title of low-water fishing capital of the world.
Those who find the ormer too much of a challenge - especially since stocks were decimated by the lethal bacterial disease which appeared a few years ago - can search instead for prawns, razorfish, praires, sandeels, crabs and lobsters.
None of these creatures gives itself up easily, but armed with a little knowledge, a great deal of determination and the right set of implements, it is possible for anyone who is reasonably fit to put together a substantial - and free - fruits de mer at many points around our highly productive coastline.
This article first appeared in the Jersey Evening Post as part of the Pride in Jersey series, marking the Island's 1204-2004 celebrations.
author - Rob Shipley
This article updated: 2003/10/22 15:38:36
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| ......Daily Ditons...... |
La plyie veint dans un temps mouilli.
That goes without saying.
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