All language subtitles for Omnivore.S01E02.1080p.WEB.H264-MaskedKindFerretOfAdvertising

At the gateway of
the Mediterranean Sea

lies a trap three
millennia in the making.

Above water, it appears only as a
long band of bright orange buoys.

But below, something much
more significant is happening.

A labyrinth of rope and knots,

designed to break the
springtime migration

of one of nature's most
brilliant predators...

the Atlantic bluefin tuna.

There are few ingredients that involve
a more diverse and complex network

of craftsmen, artisans, chefs, brokers
and diners than the bluefin tuna.

But the most surprising twist of this
story has come in the last 50 years.

Lot number three! Lot number
three! Lot number three!

What was once so undesirable...

Get out of there.

...is now what makes it so valuable
for people around the world.

Few animals better display the dizzying
breadth of the global food economy

and the power of the human
appetite to transform the world.

And the start of that journey

is a confrontation between
fisherman and the sea.

The almadraba.

You can spend your
whole life at sea,

but you must never
lose respect for it.

The best bullfighter can
be caught by the bull.

The same happens here.

I've lived in Barbate
all of my life.

My mother and my father
are from Barbate.

When I was 16 years old,

I started diving,
I started fishing.

Everyone chooses their own path.

Good morning.

Along the coast
of southern Spain,

one of the world's
oldest fishing traditions

continues in the
same way it was born.

At daybreak, in boats loaded
with seasoned fishermen,

the air heavy with doubt about
what the day's catch will bring.

They call this the almadraba,

a bluefin hunt that stretches
from spring into early summer.

The almadraba is a way of life.

When February comes, you can
start to smell the almadraba.

And when May arrives, you know it's
time for tuna, tuna and more tuna.

Thirty years ago, the global
bluefin stock was so low

the almadraba
nearly disappeared.

Today, bluefin is one of the
most valuable fish in the ocean,

just as it was when the Phoenicians
established the elaborate fishing system.

Three thousand years later, the
trap remains largely unchanged.

The person who invented
this was an artist.

He was a true genius.

"He thought, "How can I catch these animals
using a fixed-net system in the water

where they enter and
don't know how to leave?"

The power of the almadraba
is its simplicity.

There's minimal by catch
with the netting system.

Everything that's smaller, from anchovies
to squid to baby bluefin, slips through,

leaving only the mature tuna.

When you jump into the water,
you forget about everything.

You're just there with
the tuna and that's it.

The animal, when it sees the fishnet
and the darkness of that fishnet,

it gets scared.

The divers herd the shoal using
bubbles from their air tanks.

Any wrong move and the tuna could
bolt back the way they came.

With a simple string, a diver
counts off today's harvest.

A hundred fish per knot.

800 in total.

Then the trap door is
carefully tied shut.

Net on board! Net on board!

With every pull of the net, the
fish come closer to the surface.

The captain of the
fleet makes his call.

It's time to hunt.

There's a good reason this system
is still known by its Arabic name.

Almadraba, "a place
for fighting."

I have a blow here, on
my face, in the jaw area.

It was a tuna. A big tuna
that weighed 500 kilos.

You can never lose respect.

Never.

There is one major change to
the ancient fishing technique.

The lupara, a long
steel firearm.

Introduced in recent years to
bring order to the almadraba.

With one 12 mm hollow-point
bullet, the end comes quickly.

No slow suffocating in a net.

No thrashing on a hook.

Just a direct, instant death.

When you shoot the
tuna, it remains intact.

In this way, the tuna doesn't
suffer. It doesn't drown.

It keeps its blue
color, its yellow color.

It remains beautiful.

Death affords this
fish a monetary value,

ownership, even
legal protection.

A yellow tag
becomes its passport

from the deck of this boat to
the other side of the planet.

This tuna, pulled from the
waters of southern Spain,

is no longer a wild animal.

Now it's a global commodity.

Highly valuable and
imminently perishable.

From here on, each step
of its complex journey

is carefully designed,
down to the finest detail.

The business of bluefin
began with the Phoenicians

when they transported salted
tuna across the Mediterranean Sea

to be eaten in Greek taverns.

The Romans came next and
added another layer of value.

They pressed sun-dried tuna into one of
the world's first fish sauces, garum,

which kept this region of southern
Spain flush for centuries.

But the time from catch to
kitchen has shrunk dramatically.

Today, it's all about freshness,
maintaining the cold chain, unbroken.

The internal temperature
of a tuna in transit

must never rise above
four degrees Celsius.

I don't understand much about
how the almadraba works.

What I do understand
is fish on land.

When we unload a fish, it's very
important that the tuna always stays cold.

We work within a
short time frame.

A fish that arrives at 6:00 a.m.

needs to be on its way to
various markets by 10:00 a.m.

Each market demands
different quality.

There are some buyers who are
more demanding than others.

I administer tests
to check for quality.

You can assess the fat,
the color, everything.

If the quality is not good,
the color will show up foul.

Bluefin represents just 1% of
tuna fished from the ocean.

Skipjack, yellowfin, albacore.

These are the species that dominate
the shelves and coolers in markets

across the world.

But bluefin has something special that
gives it more value: fat, and lots of it.

The combination of tender, delicate
flesh and savory intramuscular fat

is what the world has come
to crave and value so highly.

It's what keeps companies like
Petaca Chico busy filling orders,

transporting tuna to buyers
in Spain, Europe and beyond.

Now the demand is
increasing worldwide.

It's the main reason why the price
of fish will continue to rise.

But behind every refined
technique used in this process,

there's a constant presence.

A potent force that
keeps their nets moving.

A presence so significant
that between 1970 and 1990

the average price of bluefin tuna paid to
Atlantic fishermen had risen by 10,000%.

Who helped turn tuna from
a trash fish into treasure?

Japan.

It began in the 1960s.

At the time, tuna hardly
featured in Japanese cuisine.

The fatty meat was fed to pets,
but it wasn't a prized fish.

And then times changed. People
changed. Tastes changed.

Beef became popular
in postwar Japan,

priming the national palate
for darker, richer meat.

Bluefin was no longer by
catch, it was the catch.

But in the oceans around Japan, there
was only a limited number of them.

Demand and prices rose,

but the number of tuna that
could be bought and sold did not.

Until someone
changed the equation.

Akira Okazaki, a middle manager

working in the freight
department of Japanese Air Lines.

In the 1970s, his task
was to find freight

that could be loaded into empty
planes flying the return leg home.

By jet, in 15 hours,

your goods are in Tokyo or
across the pole in Paris.

High value goods that
needed to be moved quickly

and could be guaranteed to sell.

Okazaki-san found bluefin tuna.

Three years of constant testing

were necessary to evolve a
cooling panel system container

that was not only light enough, but
would keep tuna in a fresh condition

at a perfect 32 degrees Fahrenheit
for a period of 40 hours.

In 1972, the first tuna was
flown from Canada to Japan.

These weren't frozen
fish, they were fresh.

A matter of days from ocean
to auction room floor.

The systems built
to transport tuna,

the cooling technology, the logistics,
the regulations and paperwork,

were soon used to transport
other high value food items.

And thus, the modern
worldwide food web was born.

Asparagus from Ecuador,

strawberries from Morocco,

abalone from Oman.

Time, value and demand.

Sprinkle enough of
all three ingredients

and the space between
origin and eater shrinks,

as long as you're willing
to pay the right price.

Lot number one!

1,425!

With such a complex
delivery system,

it's no surprise that
tuna are big business.

The best bluefin sell for a
hundred thousand dollars or more.

And it's the job of the
auctioneer to make sure

that the price is
as high as possible.

Hundreds of bluefin, dozens
of countries of origin,

and a legion of licensed
brokers ready to fill orders

for thousands of buyers
across six continents.

If there was ever a display of the
might of the global food economy,

it's on the auction room floors of
these fish markets all across Japan.

2,900 yen!

And if two buyers land on the same
bid, the old playground favorite,

Rock paper scissors, brings the
deal to a civilized conclusion.

There's no greater
collection of sea creatures

anywhere on Earth than across
Japan's many fish markets,

like this one in Osaka.

This vast space unfolds like an
encyclopedia of the seven seas.

Flatfish and crustaceans.

Bottom feeders and bivalves.

Tiny shrimp and giant squid.

A salt-scented testament to our
dominance of the open oceans.

These markets are a nexus of movement
from the poles to the equator.

If it can be caught, if it can be eaten,
there's a fair chance it will end up here

or at any of the hundreds of
international fish markets

across the world's
urban centers.

But for all of the breathtaking
might of the modern fish market,

it begs a pressing question.

Can the oceans withstand
the human appetite?

I dream about tuna every day.

365 days a year, tuna
is all I think about.

Even on my days off, I wonder what
the tuna will be like tomorrow.

For some, bluefin is both a
business and an obsession.

Yukitaka Yamaguchi is not
just a tuna wholesaler,

he's a tuna whisperer.

A man possessed by every detail
of this magnificent fish.

The sensation when I cut into a tuna
really gives me a moment of calmness.

It is a moment when I
feel free and clear.

I honestly can't imagine
my life without tuna.

The glint of the skin.

The smell of the fat.

The density of the flesh.

Each is a clue in Yamaguchi-san's
pursuit for the optimal fish.

This devotion to the details
has earned him his nickname,

the "Tuna King" of Tokyo.

There is no bible.

I use my many years of
experience to understand tuna.

After all, you can't really
understand tuna until you open it up.

Center belly of a net-fished tuna.
This one is seriously fantastic.

Let's clean it.
That's fantastic.

Number 17's upper belly.

Yamaguchi-san and other
skilled fishmongers in Japan

don't just sell the loins
and bellies of bluefin.

This is huge. Three
of them is okay?

Prized cuts are fashioned
from the marbled cheeks,

the meaty column,
the sinewy tail.

They said a lean
piece is okay, right?

- Yes, they did.
- This one works.

Behind this finely-tuned craft

is a vital Japanese
concept, mottainai.

"Nothing goes to waste."

Fujinaga, what do you think
of this dark spot? No good?

It's a noble philosophy
for any and all food,

but especially for a creature
as extraordinary as the bluefin.

This cut will sell really well.

His business exports tuna

bought on the Tokyo auction floor
to customers across the world.

TO DUBAI

Each day he might
process up to 30 tuna

destined for one of the 1,000
restaurants Yamaguchi-san supplies.

Good morning!

As a specialist, I have to
know everything about tuna.

- So, are you going to fillet some tuna?
- I am.

This is absolutely essential. I must be
able to answer any question about it.

The ones from Wakayama you gave me
looked a bit hard when I opened the box,

but they actually
weren't at all.

- Because those are trolling tuna.
- I knew it.

- The trolling tuna was really good.
- Yeah, they are soft.

I learn from my own
conversations with customers

and from eating their sushi

which type of tuna goes best
with the rice they serve.

One man in particular

values Yamaguchi-san's level
of craft and experience.

Takashi Saito, a modern
master of edomae sushi.

Even if you're skilled at making sushi,
you cannot consider yourself a sushi chef

unless you purchase the
ingredients yourself.

You have to have knowledge of what you
think is good for cooking or making sushi.

Boss, I'm taking off,
but see you on Monday.

- Got it. Thank you very much.
- Thank you.

Thank you again.

It was around the time I
graduated from high school.

The master from the fish
shop where I worked part-time

took me to a sushi restaurant.

It left a strong
impression on me.

It seemed like such a refined world,
and I thought it was really cool.

But I actually fell in love
with sushi while making it.

At the time, it was
more like hanging on

than making sushi.

There were many people, maybe ten,
and a few who quit after just one day.

After six months, that
number was cut in half.

And after one year, I
was the only one left.

The only time I held a knife was
when I was cooking for my seniors.

But little by little, it
started to make me feel happy.

So, I decided to live
my life this way.

Sushi is dependent
on ingredients.

We prepare the sushi to
bring out the flavors.

That's what we do.

The rest is your
technique and intuition.

It is truly unique.

Sushi is just a topping,
rice and soy sauce.

It's incredibly simple.

It is not a matter of
trying to do it perfectly,

but of having the body and
mind in the same state.

Sushi is all about balance.

Saito-san is what the
Japanese call a shokunin.

An artisan deeply and uniquely
dedicated to his craft.

A knife-maker.

A ceramics master.

A sushi chef.

Each spends a lifetime
trying to learn

and refine the tiny details
of their chosen path.

It takes a shokunin to honor the
impossible voyage of the bluefin tuna.

To turn its mixture
of fat and flesh

into a bite you'll think
about for days or longer.

Raw fish, slightly warm, vinegared
rice and the muscle memory

of a lifetime spent training
to serve this one bite.

That's why people wait for years to book
a seat at Saito-san's Hinoki countertop.

Because sushi at this level

is one of the food world's
greatest acts of transformation.

I serve the tuna in the order
of lean, medium and fatty tuna.

We want to show our customers that
even if the texture is the same,

the taste is so different.

For example, the lean part, akami,
is from the back of the fish.

And the medium fatty part,
chutoro, is from the midsection.

The fattiest cut, otoro,
is from the belly.

So the red part has the
least amount of fat,

but the lack of fat gives
it more flavor and acidity.

The chutoro and otoro
have fat and the chutoro

has the best balance between
the lean and the fatty pieces.

And he feels,

every day at the market, he can
see the difference with the fish?

Less and less fish.

Do you notice the difference
in the market environment

every time you go to
Toyosu Fish Market?

Compared to ten years ago when
Tsukiji Fish Market was still around,

there's a huge difference
in the market atmosphere.

The number of tuna is no longer
the same as it was ten years ago.

I no longer can see monster like
fish that make me say, "Wow!"

Now, the food supply is
disappearing rapidly,

so the food chain is
also disappearing, right?

The number of fish is
decreasing rapidly.

Today, the price isn't only high
because the food is delicious,

it's because there is not
enough fish to go around.

That's why it's so difficult.
It's a real dilemma.

I'm grateful to be able to
sit here once in my lifetime.

Both for the deliciousness
and for the chance

to witness such mastery.

Here at Sushi Saito, the
quality of the bluefin

and the lifetime of practice and expertise
means the fish comes at a premium.

Elsewhere, the bluefin economy puts
a different valuation on the fish.

Welcome! Are you on your own?

- I'm meeting somebody.
- Meeting someone? Okay.

Come this way. Please sit here.

FRESH BLUEFIN CHUTORO

Conveyor belt sushi
was developed in Japan

in 1958 to feed rapidly growing
appetites with fewer employees.

The concept was simple:
faster, cheaper, more.

Anything on a plastic plate,

including otoro nigiri, a
best seller, costs 200 yen.

About a buck 50.

In a country that consumes about
half a million tons of tuna a year,

a high percentage is
delivered by conveyor belt.

More than any other
style of eating,

affordable sushi has introduced
bluefin to a wider audience

and tested the
future of this fish.

Food has always been a measurement
of the distance between us.

2,000 years ago, Chinese caravans
spent years on the Silk Road

to haul European staples like
wheat and wine to the Far East.

In the 15th century, Venetian
spice merchants took months

to bring nutmeg and peppercorns
by boat to the West.

Now, Atlantic bluefin is caught
in the Mediterranean on Monday,

sold at auction in
Tokyo on Tuesday,

and on its way to a
poolside two-top in Bali

before the sun sets
on the third day.

Thank you.

- It's good.
- In a matter of decades,

the fish became the ingredient
the world couldn't get enough of.

Mmm.

Sushi was such a brilliant
showcase for bluefin

that the rest of the world
began to reconsider it.

Bistros in Paris.

Cevicherías in Lima.

Food trucks in Las Vegas.

Food cultures around the
world have found a way

to harness the fat
and flavor of bluefin.

But have our tastes
grown too narrow?

There's an ocean full
of fish out there.

Why is it that we always
end up eating the same ones?

Sea bass from South America.

Halibut from the North Atlantic.

Salmon from just
about everywhere.

But is there another way?

Hey, guys. What's going on?

What's up, guys? How
are you all doing?

I'm on my way to
sing some flamenco.

See you soon.

I've always admired Ángel León.

He's dedicated his career to elevating
the unsung heroes of the ocean.

At his restaurant, Aponiente,

located just up the
coast from the almadraba,

he's done the near impossible.

Earning three Michelin stars
using largely unknown local fish

instead of global stars
like lobster and caviar.

For Ángel León,

the fact that he's still able to buy
tuna, caught in the waters around Cádiz

is nothing short of a miracle.

In 2009, the population of these
tuna were on the brink of collapse.

All countries involved
in the bluefin trade

were forced to face reality.

They came together to save the
species and their industry,

with Japan offering
a path forward.

The key is the yellow tag,

the bluefin's passport.

Every Eastern Atlantic
bluefin tuna is given one.

A unique identity for each fish,

traceable throughout the world.

It's enough to hold all the
stakeholders accountable.

And enough to help pull the
Eastern Atlantic bluefin

back from the brink.

But it remains a
fragile balance.

If I didn't live in Cádiz,
I wouldn't cook tuna.

Because I think it's a global
fish that has lost its identity.

You can eat it in New York,
you can eat it in Zaragoza,

you can eat it in Madrid,
you can eat it in Castellón.

But the soul is here, in the water,
in the history, in the culture.

It has lost its essence.

I would never order tuna
outside of where I live.

And I think that is the problem.

We live in a world that
is a little extravagant.

Everyone wants to eat the best
that the world has to offer.

And the bluefin is the
most coveted in the sea.

It's done. Guys, let's get
it on the stake, please.

One, two, three. There. Good.

We don't open our minds to think
that if this animal is fished here,

maybe the logical thing would
be for it to stay in this area.

But in the end, it is money that
makes it worth three times more

somewhere else than here.

I think that in the end we need it
to travel so that we can eat it too.

Because otherwise it would not pay for
the infrastructure of the tuna fishery,

the fishing vessels,
the whole space.

It's a paradox, isn't it?

The food world is filled with
these types of paradoxes.

And bluefin means something
different to everyone.

Let's eat. Eat this, please.

Please.

For the people of Barbate,

it's a culture that
stretches back generations.

Keep shining

My sailor's lantern

And so shine the corals That
my siren wears in her hair

There she goes

Spilling salt at Caños de
Meca Where I wait for her...

So what's the right thing to do?

It can be hard to know which food
to eat or which system to support.

But the powerful part is that our food
choices are one of the most direct ways

that we can shape the kind
of world we want to live in.

And so shine the corals That
my siren wears in her hair...

For now,

our combined efforts have helped
rebuild the Atlantic bluefin population.

It's a delicate reminder of how easily
our appetites can upend the world

and how important it is to
learn from our mistakes.

With a bluefin from Barbate

I'll give it all
to my mother to eat

Olé!