The Gold of the Lagoon

It is a bright, clear day in early October 2022. I travel two hours by train up to Orbetello from Rome, passing through the rolling hills of Lazio and into the Maremma district of southern Tuscany. Arriving early in the morning, I pull into the compound of the Cooperativa dei Pescatori di Orbetello, the Orbetello fishermen’s trust, situated on the edge of a beautiful lagoon, the body of water I am here to see.

Everything seems quiet from the outside, but as soon as I peel my eyes away from the lagoon’s calm serenity and start poking around, I find the fishermen. They are in a side shed, busy at work. The morning light comes streaming into the open room, buzzing with activity. Fishermen roll crates of fish to and from a loading van, while others sort the day’s catch by size, weighing them by hand. Still others are busy with markers and tape, carefully labeling each crate.

The Orbetello lagoon is exclusively managed and fished by the Pescatori dei Orbetello. Founded in the 1940s, the cooperative brings together 100 fishermen spanning three generations. Each fisherman owns a part of the cooperative, and together, they catch, raise, process, cook, and sell fish and other underwater species from the lagoon. The history of the fishers’ stewardship of these waters goes back through history to the Middle Ages. Legend has it that rights to the lagoon were first granted to the fishermen in 1376 by Pope Gregory XI, who was shipwrecked off the coast of Orbetello and saved by a local fisher. Grateful for his life, the Pope rewarded the man and his community with the rights to the lagoon.

Back in the distribution center, I step into the zig and zag of the movement all around me, trying to find an out-of-the-way spot where I can stand and observe. This effort proves harder than I anticipated, and I end up being moved here, there, and everywhere. The fishers don’t know me at all, but they don’t seem to mind my presence. When they break for a morning snack of pizza al taglio (pizza by the slice), one of them, who I will come to know as Marco, offers me a slice. Hungry from the journey, I accepted and took my leave, finding a quiet spot over the lagoon to eat. I contemplate the scene before me as I munch the pizza offered to me with a nonchalance that belied the gesture’s generosity.

The lagoon of Orbetello is a shallow body of water about one meter deep, separated from the Tyrrhenian Sea by a narrow land strip. The warm, shallow, and salty waters make for a particularly rich ecosystem—home to sea bass, sea bream and mullet, femminelle crabs, and even eels. Though I can’t see them from this vantage point, I know the easternmost part of the lagoon is home to migratory flocks of pink flamingos and rare black-winged stilts who spend their days picking their way through the shallows, looking for fish. While the lagoon acts as a sanctuary to birds and fish alike, I know from my research that the ecosystem here is delicate. Even as I look out at the pristine beauty of the lagoon, I notice how the shrubs along the edges are curiously covered with spider webs, glistening in the sunlight.

Later, I find out that the webs are a result of an influx of midges that arrived earlier that summer, posing a serious threat to the lagoon and related activities. A sign of ecosystem imbalance, the midges arrive en masse, swarming the lights of the Cooperative buildings and restaurant and making it unpleasant for guests to stay and eat. The restaurant, one of the key sources of revenue for the fishers, is forced to close as tourists leave the lagoon.

But for now, the day has only just started. I return to the Cooperative to meet my colleague Alberto, who has just arrived, and Vito, Orbetello’s one and only fishing guide who will show us around his beloved lagoon for the next couple of days. We are here to uncover the story of bottarga, a rare product that has been produced in Orbetello for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. I head to the rendezvous in anticipation of what lies ahead.

We begin our journey of bottarga discovery at the Cooperative’s state-of-the-art processing unit. The woman who greets us, [name], explains to us that bottarga is a traditional food product of the Lagoon of Orbetello, consisting of the eggs of mullet that are salted and dried while still in the egg sac. It is a method of preparation that has remained the same for over 3,000 years, although equipment has evolved.

We step into a cold room, filled with fishers in blue plastic coveralls and white aprons, who are working in assembly-like fashion with great efficiency. On one end of the processing table, fishers filet flat-head gray mullet with graceful speed, cutting the underside of the female fish to expose the egg sacs and carefully removing them. The filet gets tossed into a bucket for later use, while the sacs are sent on down the table to the washing station. I laugh to see the brawny fishermen using the tiniest of teaspoons to painstakingly clear the sacs of surrounding blood vessels. I shouldn’t be surprised—the life of a fisherman is, after all, one of practiced patience.

Once cleaned, the fresh roe is carefully salted and moved to the drying chamber—a room with a controlled hot and dry climate. The bottarga is left to cure for at least 30 days before it is portioned and packaged for sale in supermarkets across Italy. Processing the egg sacs of mullet allows for the fishers to transform a raw ingredient into a value-added product that provides a market premium and stimulates the local economy. Bottarga di Orbetello sells for 28 euros per 100 grams, making it one of the most expensive and rare seafood delicacies. Drying and aging the roe also ensures market supply of bottarga all year round, translating to income stability for fishers no matter the season.

As we wrap up our tour of the processing facility, we learn that bottarga di Orbetello is a Slow Food presidio (presidium). Presidios are a type of certification by Slow Food, an international organisation founded in Italy, dedicated to promoting local food and traditional cooking. Presidios seek to recognize and sustain quality production at risk of extinction, protect unique regions and ecosystems, recover traditional processing methods, and safeguard native breeds and local plant varieties.

The Presidio for bottarga di Orbetello was awarded in 2004 in recognition of the fishermen’s unwavering commitment to bring transparency to the process of bottarga production, beginning with the proper integration of fisheries on the lagoon, responsible breeding and harvesting of mullet and safe processing leading to the sale and preparation of bottarga of the highest quality. What I just witnessed at the processing facility is exactly that. It is clear to me how much pride the fishers take in their work and their product, and I am all too aware that this level of transparency is virtually unmatched in the fishing and aquaculture industry.

Exhausted but elated from the day’s tour of the processing facility, Alberto, Vito, and I sank gratefully into the chairs of the cooperative’s restaurant. After seeing, touching, and talking about bottarga all day, we are finally ready for the first taste. We order modestly, an appetizer for the table, a couple plates of pici di bottarga as a primo (first course), and a grilled orata (sea bream) as a secondo (second course) to share. Pici di bottarga is the quintessential dish here. The preparation is simple, the flavour divine. To make it, pici, a type of pasta, is boiled until al dente, then quickly coated with olive oil. And presto!, the dish was finished with a generous grating of fresh bottarga.

As I run through the details of the preparation in my head, I think about a new idea I’ve come across in my research, the concept of meroir. Meroir is the seafaring version of the term “terroir,” often used in the wine industry to express the territorial characteristics of wine. Similarly, meroir refers to how fish and seafood take on a specific range of texture and flavor characteristics based on their distinct surroundings. Bottarga di Orbetello tells the story of this unique place through its extraordinary taste. Cured for less time than is traditional in other parts of Italy, bottarga di Orbetello is softer and sweeter, with a luscious mouthfeel.

You can taste meroir in the fish served at the restaurant, too. Before sitting down at the table for our meal, we took a tour of the restaurant, making our way through the kitchen and ending in the quasi-outdoor grill area in the back. Here, the grill master Claudio showed us how he grills sea bass and bream simply using coarse sea salt and the smoky char of the coals to flavour the skin. Interestingly, Claudio noted the difference in flavour between the lagoon’s wild-caught and cultivated fish, explaining that the flesh of the wild-caught species is sweeter and thicker, making it ideal for crisping up over the hot flames of the grill.

Claudio is the son of the president of the Pescatori. Working in the restaurant is the first step to becoming an owner/operator of the fishermen’s trust. This way, the upcoming generation sees how the trust operates, learning how to create revenue from the daily catch and interface with tourists before they take on the responsibility of governing, fishing, and collectively running the cooperative.

Back at our table, we are surprised as the kitchen sends out plates after plates of food, almost I think, the entire menu. We have at least three different appetisers: pici di bottarga cooked two ways—one with the traditional olive oil and the other with butter for an impossibly rich flavour; the grilled orata (sea bream); and the cefalo (mullet). We wash it down with a bottle of local wine (in Italy, you can’t do anything otherwise), and I think we even have dessert, although I must admit I no longer quite remember. We cap the meal with espresso and a digestivo, and we go to bed with bellies full.

We wake up early the next morning before the sun rises, ready to accompany Marco on his daily journey to haul in the day’s catch. We are quiet as we motor out onto the lagoon, letting the slightly salted air fill our lungs as flecks of water froth up the sides of the boat and hit the exposed parts of our skin, waking us up.

As we slow to a stop, Vito and Marco use long poles to position the boats in front of the fishing nets stretched out as far as the eye can see into the lagoon. Marco begins to pull up the nets, an activity that will take the next hour to complete. I watch, mesmerized, as fish come wriggling out of the water, trapped in the nets. Marco skillfully unties them, throwing them into a bucket of ice water that sits in the middle of the boat, rocking gently. I reach out and touch one of the fish. So this is what it means to catch dinner, I think. Here I am, touching this live fish that I know will end up on my plate later today, transformed from a living creature into food and nourishment for my body.

The fishers seem to carry this same sensibility. For them, it translates into a practical approach to preserve, conserve and treat the lagoon and all the species harboured within its waters humanely. This commitment to the natural environment is evident on our tour of the Pescheria di Nassa, the fisheries site of Orbetello, where the fishermen practice extensive rearing.

Unlike intensive rearing, which relegates fish to tanks or small ponds, extensive rearing allows fish to move over large areas and live in semi-wild conditions. Orbetello’s farmed sea bream are reared in net tanks in a circumscribed area, and then released into the lagoon from which they are eventually harvested. This technique ensures the lagoon’s ecosystem remains intact while the fish rely solely on their ability to forage for food in a natural competitive situation to survive and grow to maturity.

The fishers also use ancient fishing tools and techniques, which make use of the natural cycles and behaviors of the fish. One such instrument is the lavoriero, which is a lattice-like barrier that forms a series of triangular chambers, like arrowheads, that serve to direct the movement of the fish as they come in with the high tide. The fish are funneled into a final capture chamber, where they can easily be selected according to size by the fishers and hoisted up out of the water in nets for further processing.

Such a system is in keeping with the ancient rituals of fishing on the lagoon, a testament to the fishers’ commitment to live and work in accordance with the natural environment. I can’t help but think that the fishermen are part of this ecosystem. Just as the sea plants, the mullet, and the flamingos rely on and make up the intricate dance of this lagoon, so too do the fishers of Orbetello, who draw their sustenance from the waters as surely as they pour their care and attention into ensuring its survival for years to come.

When I first heard the fishers’ phrase “Since the mists of time with our hands in the water,” I was immediately drawn to its poetry. Over the course of the days I spent in Orbetello, I discovered that it didn’t just sound pretty. “What does it mean to have your hands in the water, your feet in the water more like, every day of your life?” Vito had asked me while we floated in his boat on the lagoon, watching the colors of the sunset spread over the water like olive oil.

The fishers know the answer to this question—they live the reality. It has been my task to observe, enquire, and uncover the secret simplicity that underlies these words, and eventually now, to share the meaning with you. I have felt the wild, esoteric essence of Orbetello, and I hope that I have transmitted a little of its spirit to you by telling the story of the gold of the lagoon.