What a catch!
By Ou Shuyi (China Daily)
Updated: 2010-02-25 09:48
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One in every five fish caught in the world ends up here but you would never guess this in Tokyo's orderly Tsukiji market, Ou Shuyi reports
It is 5 am and I am wide awake amid the rising buzz in the chilly warehouse. Squeezing into a roped-off aisle, I stand on tiptoe jostling dozens of other tourists for a good view of the highlight of my visit to the Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo.
The tuna auction is about to begin.
More than 200 frozen tuna have been laid out on the floor like rows of torpedoes, with their tails sliced off. On each of them is a small piece of paper that gives its origin and weight.
A swarm of bidders, all wearing baseball caps and rubber boots, bend over the fish, prodding the flesh of the sliced-off tail end with a long, wooden handled hook, peering at it with a flashlight, and taking notes on a palm-sized pad.
"They are checking the freshness and fattiness of the flesh," says my guide Oliver Weber, executive chef at Shangri-La Hotel, Tokyo. The American has visited the market several times during his one-year stay in the city and knows the auction process well.
The bidders include wholesalers who operate stalls within Tsukiji Market, as well as other licensed buyers, such as agents for restaurants, food processing companies and large retailers.
As one of the largest wholesale seafood markets in the world, Tsukiji is at the very heart of Japan's seafood business, handling more than 2,200 tons of at least 400 varieties every day, worth $15 million.
From penny-a-piece sardines to golden grown dried sea slug caviar, it is all in abundance here. One in every five fish caught in the world goes through this market.
While certainly a serious place for business, Tsukiji reminds me more of a playground where a "fishy drama" - the tuna auction - is unfolding, offering me a glimpse into a culture of seafood commerce that dates back to the 16th century.
A brass bell rings and the bustle in the warehouse stills - the auction begins. The auctioneer, standing on a small stool, is the star of the proceedings. He moves his knees, hip and arms in a strange dance while yelling out prices in a rhythmic way, his eyes flitting across the audience to make sure he does not miss a bid.
"Bids are sealed within seconds," Weber explains, pointing to a bidder making a small hand gesture. "And the prices vary dramatically."
The smaller fish, weighing about the same as an average adult, go for around $3,000. The bigger fish, weighing more than 200 kg, can fetch up to $10,000. In 2001 a bluefin tuna was sold for $220,000, the highest price in Tsukiji's auction.
The frenetic auction sees about 200 tuna sold in half an hour. But the tuna auction is only one of a series of auctions taking place everyday in the market; there are also those for sea urchins, shrimp and dried fish. Tsukiji sets the pulse of this sushi-craving nation.
The history of the market dates back to the early development of Edo (now Tokyo) about 400 years ago when Tokugawa Ieyasu established a fish market to ensure supplies for his castle. The fish market expanded gradually but was mostly destroyed in an earthquake in 1923. The current market was built in 1935 in Tsukiji, located near the Sumida River in central Tokyo, and is now administered and managed by the municipal government.
Covering an area of 23 hectares, Tsukiji is divided into two sections: The inner market, where the auctions and processing of the majority of the fish takes place with about 900 licensed wholesale dealers operating small stalls; and the outer market, consisting of a mixture of wholesale and retail shops that sell everything from seafood to Japanese kitchen tools - and many sushi restaurants.
Every morning at around 3 am, while most of Tokyo's 12 million people are still asleep, Tsukiji comes to life - seafood pours in from all over the world and much of it comes from ships that pull right up to the unloading docks on the Sumida River; and the rest arrives by trucks from other ports, or airplanes.
The auctions end at 7 am. The activity then shifts to the wholesale stalls in the market as hundreds of three-wheeled electric trolleys whistle around, moving tons of fish from one stall to another. Wholesale dealers get busy, cutting up the frozen tuna and swordfish with band saws or chopping the fish into saleable pieces with axes.
"All the seafood we see right here, right now, might arrive at the city's supermarkets or restaurants by lunchtime," Weber says, as he leads me through a maze of alleys lined with hundreds of small stalls.
Each stall is fronted by tables heavily laden with Styrofoam containers. The tanks of live fish, mountains of octopus, bundles of crawling crabs and endless varieties of shellfish, will leave the most jaded foodie with an open jaw.
Although choking with fish, the market does not have a fish smell. Employing about 60,000 people, this is one busy place, but is highly orderly - a fine reflection of a nation that prizes efficiency and organization.
For years this major tourism draw of Tokyo has been dogged by plans of relocation. The government once planned the site as a possible Olympics Game venue when Tokyo bid for the 2016 Olympics. The plan was suspended when the city lost the bid.
Yet, rumors keep swirling that it will soon be relocated.
The sun begins to rise as I walk into the outer market. Vendors have already set up their wares, such as hand-made sweets, cooked octopus, various kinds of fish gut, tuna heads and rice crackers.
Like most other tourists, I top off my visit with a sushi breakfast - the freshest and tastiest I've ever had.