Good Fish. Bad PR. Maybe It Just Needs a Fancy Name

Why some perfectly good seafood struggles to find an audience while other fish become luxury dining experiences.

Whoever decided Patagonian toothfish should be called "Chilean sea bass" deserves some serious credit for their marketing skills.

Take a fish with a name that doesn't exactly make your mouth water, give it a little rebranding, and suddenly it's appearing on upscale restaurant menus with a premium price tag.

Same fish. Better PR.

I've spent nearly a decade working in Virginia's seafood industry, and this is something I've thought about quite a bit. We have some absolutely fantastic fish coming out of our own waters, yet convincing people to try something unfamiliar can feel like an uphill battle.

Sheepshead, wild blue catfish, monkfish... all excellent choices. But mention those names at the seafood counter, and you might get a funny look.

And I get it. Seafood isn't cheap, and nobody wants to spend their hard-earned money experimenting with dinner only to discover they don't like it.

But I think we're missing out on some great seafood simply because it doesn't have the right reputation.

Sheepshead: A Face Only a Fisherman Could Love

If you've ever seen a sheepshead up close, you probably remember the teeth.

They look remarkably human. It's a little creepy, and I can't imagine that's doing much for the fish's public image.

But sheepshead is one of those fish that people familiar with it get genuinely excited about.

It's a firm, white fish with a mild, slightly sweet flavor. Because sheepshead feed on crabs, barnacles, and other shellfish, you'll often hear people compare the flavor to crab.

It's delicious, and it doesn't need a complicated recipe to prove it.

A little butter, lemon, garlic, and a hot pan will do just fine.

Yet plenty of people will walk right past it to buy something they recognize.

Sometimes I think we need to stop showing people the whole fish and just hand them a fork.

Wild Blue Catfish: Stop Trying to Make Fetch Happen

Of all the fish I've worked to promote over the years, wild Chesapeake Bay blue catfish might be the one that tests my patience the most.

We've been trying to get people excited about it for years.

And there's a lot to like.

It's mild, versatile, and works beautifully fried, grilled, baked, or turned into fish tacos. It's also an invasive species in the Chesapeake Bay, where growing populations have become a serious concern for native fish and shellfish.

Commercial harvesting gives our watermen another opportunity while helping remove some of those invasive predators from the Bay.

On paper, this should practically sell itself.

In reality? Not so much.

The problem is that little word: catfish.

Some people hear it and immediately think of muddy water, a strong flavor, or a fish they decided they didn't like twenty years ago.

Never mind that wild Chesapeake Bay blue catfish can be a completely different eating experience from what they're imagining.

Once someone has made up their mind, changing it isn't easy.

And trust me, we've tried.

We've talked about the flavor, the versatility, supporting local watermen, and helping the Bay. We've worked to educate consumers and get people to consider something they might normally overlook.

Sometimes it works. Other times, I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a seafood market saying, "Stop trying to make fetch happen."

Except I'm the one still trying to make fetch happen.

Here's what I've learned from all of it: telling someone why they should eat a fish isn't the same as making them want to eat it.

People don't walk into an upscale restaurant and order Chilean sea bass because someone gave them a presentation on the importance of supporting fisheries. They order it because it sounds delicious and they've been led to believe they're getting something special.

Why shouldn't our local seafood get that same treatment?

I don't think blue catfish needs a fancy new name. But I do think we need to find better ways to make people excited about putting it on their plates.

Less convincing. More craving.

And maybe a few more really good fish tacos.

Monkfish: Don't Look It in the Face

Then there's monkfish.

If sheepshead has an unfortunate smile, monkfish looks like something from a deep-sea horror movie.

Seriously. Look one up.

But there's a reason monkfish has earned the nickname "poor man's lobster."

Its meat is firm, dense, and mildly sweet, with a texture that holds up beautifully when roasted, grilled, or added to seafood stews.

It's genuinely good eating.

Monkfish is harvested along the Atlantic coast, including the Mid-Atlantic region, but many consumers have never considered buying it.

And once again, we're back to the name and appearance problem.

Call it monkfish, and some people hesitate. Compare it to lobster, and suddenly they're interested.

Funny how that works.

I understand using familiar foods to describe something new. It's helpful to tell someone what to expect.

But I also think it's a shame that we sometimes have to borrow another seafood's reputation just to get people to appreciate what's right in front of them.

Maybe We Need to Rethink How We Sell Seafood

Working in seafood marketing has taught me that having a great product doesn't automatically mean people are going to buy it.

You can explain where a fish comes from, how it's harvested, why it's good for you, and even why buying it benefits the local economy. I have spoken to legislators, governors, chefs, and normal people on the street many times over.  

None of that guarantees someone will take it home for dinner or decide they should also make it their cause.

And while I strongly believe in educating consumers, sometimes I wonder if we get so caught up in explaining why people should buy something that we forget to make them actually want it.

Chilean sea bass is a perfect example of how much perception matters.

Of course, a catchy name alone didn't build Chilean sea bass's reputation. Chefs, restaurants, and the dining experience all helped turn it into something people were willing to pay a premium for.

But there's another side to this whole renaming idea. You can't just slap a fancy new name on a fish and call it a day. There are actually regulations about how seafood can be labeled, and for good reason.

Take our wild blue catfish, for example. Catfish don't have scales, which means they're not kosher. Giving blue catfish a new name that makes it sound like an entirely different species could create some real confusion for consumers who follow kosher dietary laws. And that's before getting into the federal regulations surrounding seafood labeling.

Believe me, after all the time I've spent trying to get people excited about blue catfish, I've certainly wondered if a better name would help. But we can't just rebrand it as some fancy Chesapeake whitefish and hope nobody asks questions.

Nor should we.

Maybe the answer isn't changing what we call it. Maybe it's figuring out how to make people excited about eating it, catfish name and all.

Because at the end of the day, a good fish shouldn't need an identity crisis to find its way onto someone's dinner plate.

So why aren't we putting more effort into creating that same excitement around some of our own overlooked seafood? Trust me, I know plenty of people who have put in long hours, and miles travelling the world trying.

We've got talented chefs, hardworking watermen, experienced seafood processors, and incredible products coming out of Virginia and the Mid-Atlantic.

We certainly have the fish.

Maybe we need to get a little more creative about telling their stories.

And no, I'm not suggesting we rename sheepshead "Chesapeake Bay Royale" and charge $45 a plate. 
(Or $25 for a Chesapeake Bay Royale with cheese.)

Although now that I've said it...

There's More to Local Seafood Than the Usual Favorites

Here in Virginia, we're fortunate to have an incredible variety of seafood.

Of course, we've got our Chesapeake Bay blue crabs. But we are here year around, not just crab season, and fresh spot, croaker, flounder, bluefish, sheepshead, and other seasonal species deserve attention.

Our seafood industry isn't limited to wild-caught fish, either.

Virginia's oyster and clam aquaculture farms are an important part of our working waterfronts, producing excellent shellfish and supporting local businesses and coastal communities. But convincing the public to buy farmed seafood is a whole other post for another day.

When I encourage people to buy local seafood, I'm talking about supporting the entire industry. Go beyond the fish everyone has had on the table their whole life. Take a risk on the ugly thing in the corner. 

Most importantly, ask us questions! We're here, and we love sharing what we know. From the commercial fishermen heading out before sunrise and the aquaculture farmers tending their crops (aquaculture is agriculture!), to the processors, wholesalers, seafood markets, and restaurants that bring it all from the water to your dinner table.

We're the people who work with this seafood every day. We know where it comes from, what makes it special, and usually have a favorite way to cook it. And believe me, most of us are more than happy to talk about it.

Sometimes all it takes is a conversation to discover your next favorite fish.

We can't expect demand for lesser-known species to grow if nobody is willing to give them a chance.

At the same time, as an industry, we can't expect consumers to do all the work.

We need to make trying something new feel less intimidating.

Offer preparation tips. Share recipes that don't require a culinary degree. Let people taste something unfamiliar. And maybe stop assuming everyone knows what to do with a fish just because we do.

I'm not asking anyone to give up their favorite flounder dinner or walk away from a beautiful piece of salmon. I'm just saying there's a whole lot of good seafood out there that deserves a little love, and you might be surprised by what you've been missing.

Give sheepshead a chance, even if those teeth are a little unsettling. Try monkfish, because sometimes the ugliest fish really do make the best dinners. And yes, I'm still going to encourage you to try wild Chesapeake Bay blue catfish. I've put way too much effort into making that fish happen to give up now. Regina George might have thrown in the towel, but clearly, I haven't.

And while you're trying something new, make an effort to keep it local. Support the fishermen, aquaculture farmers, and seafood businesses that make our coastal communities what they are. There are some incredible things coming out of Virginia's waters, and I'd love to see more people get excited about them.

You don't need a reservation at a fancy restaurant or a menu full of words you can't pronounce to enjoy great seafood. Sometimes all you need is a little curiosity, a good recipe, and someone willing to point you in the right direction.

So next time you're at the seafood counter, take a look beyond your usual favorites. Ask questions, try something different, and don't let a funny name or an unfortunate face scare you away from a great dinner.

And if all else fails, maybe we'll just have to roll out that Chesapeake Royale with Cheese.

Trust your seafood. Eat local.