The sun is shining brightly on the higher part of Roaring Water Bay. A soft breeze is in the air, carrying the bracing fragrance of sea salt. Jeremy Irons’ castle, glistening a shade of pink in the near distance, has a flag raised atop indicating the actor’s presence, notes Colin Whooley.
The unique taste of Roaring Water Bay mussels might be largely attributed to how they are nurtured. Although not all days in west Cork are as serene, mornings such as these make it an unbeatable location. This is undoubtedly true for Whooley, whose lineage in the land spans over 400 years. Initially, they were engaged in survival farming, rearing cattle and growing grain. However, during the 1980s, the idea of mussel farming cropped up in the minds of his father Denis, uncle Michael Hegarty and several other local farmers.
Today, the mussels from Roaring Water Bay are sold throughout Ireland. With the bay annually yielding around 2,000 tonnes of these sweet crustaceans, Whooley himself cultivates close to 250 tonnes and also assists in distributing his neighbours’ produce.
The exquisite mussels here are a harmonious blend of brine and the innate sweetness of the shellfish. If they’re too salty, they can be overpowering; conversely, excessive sweetness can render them bland. But the mussels at Roaring Water Bay strike the perfect balance.
Start with sautéing some garlic in olive oil, followed by a little white wine – let it simmer for few minutes. Then, toss in the mussels, cover it tightly and crank the heat up to high. By the time all mussels have opened, say around three or four minutes, the dish is ready. Ensure you have a good amount of sourdough handy for soaking up the juices.
There are numerous ways to customise this dish, such as adding onions, leeks, shallots, tomatoes, chorizo or a bit of cream – but even the most basic preparation is a delight to remember. And it all comes for less than the cost of a high-end coffee.
In the rare instances when my behaviour strays from the norm, mollifying my wife only requires a hearty dish of steamed mussels. The secret to cultivating these mussels is in its minimalistic simplicity. Initially, a rugged rope, roughly 6-10 metres in length, is rooted in the bay for several months. Minuscule mussel babies, nearly invisible to the naked eye, are free-swimming in the bay and naturally attach themselves to this rope.
These babies are transferred, after a span of 4-6 months, when their size ranges from that of a match head to a fingernail, to another rope which is sprawled back in the bay for further growth. After around a year’s time, another sizing, and subsequent transfer to a different rope prepares them for their ultimate growth phase.
Harvesting commences at around 20 months, when approximately 100 mussels weigh a kilo. As the rope is hauled onboard using a gargantuan pulley, rubber flaps strip off the mussels, who are then treated to a thorough scrubbing. The process culminates in a yield of 1,000 mussels from an initial batch of 10,000 babies bound to each metre of rope following the initial transfer and harvest.
Introduced from New Zealand, this ingenious system was adapted in Ireland less than two decades ago. As Whooley notes, the method is both machine-led and efficient, as what previously demanded an entire day can now be accomplished within 90 minutes.
“We could be likened to conventional farmers,” he explains, “except that our tractor is a boat, and our fields sprawl beneath the water. While normal fields are bordered by fences, ours are delineated by GPS coordinates.”
Remarkably, the process is practically waste-free, save for the rope ties. Everything is reused, including the cotton mesh safeguarding the mussel babies in their infancy – a product that will eventually break down. Lastly, being filter feeders, the mussels play a key role in purifying the water they inhabit. In spite of the occasional unexpected challenges posed by nature, the entire process operates seamlessly.
Dating back to time immemorial, mussels have naturally thrived along the Irish seaside, particularly in Roaring Water Bay. Remarkably, it was a local secondary school teacher who first envisioned the prospects of mussel farming in this region. “Cormac Levis taught many of us, including me, in school in Skibbereen,” notes Whooley. He successfully pioneered the art, encouraging others to give it a try.
In the year 1990, Whooley took the reins of a small sideline business earlier initiated by his father and uncle. “We initially had no clue about it but learned through experiences and we’re likely still in the learning process,” mentions Whooley. In essence, what he has realised is that just when you believe you have mastered the practice, a fresh challenge emerges. Mother Nature consistently keeps you on your toes, taking delight in tossing unexpected hurdles.