Memories of Smoking the Monkey
Blog written by Dan Levy
2019 Catch & Cook Competitor, resident Aussie and close friend of Fin + Forage.
Coming of age:
The crystal clear waters of Newcastle, an industrial beach town a couple of hours north of Sydney, Australia, attracts beachgoers of all ages and intentions. Any given day, Poseidon could dish out 8-10 foot rolling barrels for the local legends like Mark Richards or the lake-like ripples that attracted us there regularly. As an incredibly happy child, I would go there whenever luck presented with my family. Sometimes just Mum, Dad and the kids. Other times, our extended gatherings would top thirty, with visiting Grandparents, Uncles, Aunts and Cousins and Friends of friends and so on... we’d love to share parts of Nobby’s Beach, Merewether or Newcastle Beach for whatever excuse we could conjure.
Pick any one of these dusty, golden memories and you’d find me kicking along gently in the water as a scrawny 10 year old with a pair of old, tattered, black rubber fins, the origin of which I don’t think anyone could remember. My feet stuffed into them in 2 pairs of socks. A bright blue, kids sized mask and snorkel combo that anyone could pick up for a few bucks at your local bait and tackle store (it was the early 90’s when you could still buy a few pieces of candy for $0.02 at your corner store). And my bamboo pole spear that I proudly made myself. It was an old length of bamboo that I tied a sharpened metal spike to and epoxied the heck out of, with a giant rubber band attached to the back. It made the motions but the only thing I ever speared with it were some poor defenseless limpets and unfortunately undersized crabs that Dad made me eat to teach me a lesson in sustainability.
It was somewhere in there that the hypnosis began. Floating above watching my father and uncles hunt among the rocks for octopus, bream, snapper, jewfish, dusky flathead and occasionally a wobbegong. Seeing them explode through the surface with a writhing mass of tentacles and a fist sized abalone or two was something to bewilder and inspire the mind of an adventurous child. Needless to say, it stuck with me.
Shift forward three different states, five mismatched climates (yes, Australia isn’t just a freakishly hot desert strewn with kangaroos and characters in wide brimmed floating cork hats…) and ten years later - I have a proper polespear, more hand-me-down gear passed on by uncles and friends and at least a few coastal species under my belt. It was time to upgrade to a gun. The years that past, with fond memories of great times. Hanging with great friends, checking out different locations and loving life. Then hitting my early thirties (I’m 37 at this point in 2020), when conditions were great, I was in the water mostly popping some morwong, blackfish or drummer, all of which plucked easily from the 30+ foot vis that we were regularly blessed with in many parts of the mid-eastern Aussie coast around Wollongong. Cliche time about the smooth seas and fair winds.
California or bust!
And one more move, this time across more of the planet than I’d ever been. Lured by promise of high earning jobs around the South Bay Area in California, my Wife and I moved from the inner suburbs of Sydney to the rich, techy heartland of Silicon Valley that we currently call home. It took me a few months to get settled and a few more months to get used to the accents, abundant job opportunities and the weather which seemed a pleasant 70-80ish for more than 6 months of the year. In anticipation of the move, I started looking around on youtube for nor-cal spearo’s, finding some epic montages of kelp forests, playful seals and the dragon-like ling and doormat-sized halibut that I had hoped to hunt one day.
I found some great resources after a quick search and connected with some locals on various forums, at which point I was then linked to some facebook groups followed by chats with a few folks. Eric and Andrew, being two that I still dive with and have gained a tonne of knowledge from (with always more to learn, I owe these guys and would probably have not stuck with it were it not for their patience). Through a little back and forth we agreed to meet up for a dive in Monterey, a short drive south. A few searches on the drive down help me to identify some popular local fish species that are legal and tasty and our conversations weave a quick history of the types of dives we’ve done.
Got your popcorn ready?
I slide into my 3mm suit (because, you know, that's definitely thick enough for the typically low-50s degree water), and throw on my clunky old weight belt. Attach my gun to my float and test out the water. I’d never seen conditions like this in my 10+ years of what I now understand was a hobby level fascination. The tide was out and the sunken kelp clung to every bit of exposed gear and dragged me to what felt like would be the murky depths. I couldn’t see more than 2 feet. I flailed and flopped around for what seemed like an eternity before signalling my buddy and dropping my weights. Andrew saved more than my weights that day, my pride however took a different toll. Inspired and always loving a good challenge, somehow I adjusted equipment after a recovery spell, strapped back in and with my buddy’s encouragement, half commando crawled/dog paddled, alligator rolled, and seal flopped my way over to a spot where I could float and rest.
One of the few days I came out with nothing. I say nothing, but the education I got in the experience and conversations that followed were priceless. The exercise humbled me in a way that few other occasions have. It cemented the importance of local knowledge and community. In the couple of years that followed, I divided more and got to know a few more locals. One mentioned earlier on my first dive that I didn’t know was really a local legend in the spearo community. Eric Keener. The guy is everything you’d want in a guide. He’s passionate about the environment and education. He’s taken out more eager, brand new spearo’s that most people I know, He’s encouraging and thoughtful and drives home the importance of sustainability and health of the coastal region with energy that blows me away. I hope to get to his level of understanding of the sea one day.
Tales from the Catch and Cook Competition
With the help of some other locals, Eric founded Monterey Bay Catch & Cook Competition (C3). He mentioned the idea after one of our dives and I couldn’t wait to hear more. I’d also been diving more regularly. Finally had hit a couple of great spots, with a variety of catches and was keen to dive more and have some fun with my (basic) culinary skills on the beach. For those that are new to the idea, it’s a competitive spearfishing day where you catch, cook and present your dish to 3 esteemed local executive Chefs, all masters in their respective fields. There were epic prizes (a brand new fitted Kayak, a custom wetsuit, guns, fins, gyotaku art, local experiences, etc.)
There was something more to it though. I’m not talking about the biggest fish trophy or the bragging rights, or the beach cleanup and thousands in donations to local ocean conservation non-profit Save Our Shores. Something here felt like a real community. Like Family. Maybe it was the competitive cooking (us mediterranean/aussie mixes love to cook the best food, and tell you all about it) and sharing it out generously by the beach, passing along boards of mixed seafood and discussing different prep techniques. Maybe it was the backslapping camaraderie and stories that spearo buddies have in abundance (pre-covid, don’t go freaking out on me folks). Something about the whole thing jarred me back to a sense of belonging that I’d been looking for. Sure I had a few friends from work and some others through my wife, but there was something different in this.
Whether it’s the love of the ocean, the shared experiences, the food, the hunt, or the chance to become a small part of some local history. Whatever it is that attracts you, the connection helps to keep you. Two days before the event, my buddy contacted me with bad news. A loss of a friend meant that he wasn’t going to be able to make it, half our plans went out the window and I adjusted my expectations of what the day might bring. I arrived early morning the day of and was connected with another competitor that needed a buddy. We had a quick chat about location ideas and what we were looking for and then headed out.
I paddled out and got my contingency rockfish, and after diving as quickly as we could to get what we needed to cook, I was on the way back into shore when there it was… I found the Monkey Faced Eel I was hoping for. It was nestled in a crevice and hidden by some bull-kelp. I somehow got a good clean head shot and was able to pull him out without a lot of fuss. Back to the chosen site and the prep began. I got my smoker going (an old charcoal bbq I’d sealed up for the occasion) and started cleaning up my catch. Again, cliche’s away, the air was electric. Truly buzzing with activity as divers were coming back with their catches for weigh in and the main event. As the judges made their way around to each of the competitor’s tables to hear more about their dishes, without thinking about it, I told them that I was smoking the monkey for a chowder bread bowl. It didn’t dawn on me when I said it, but they started hooping and hollering saying how they need to adopt that phrase in each of their kitchens. “Hey, what are you doing?” “SMOKING THE MONKEY!” The open area behind Monterey Bay Kayaks continued to be a cacophony of laughs and childish squeals as more competitors got back from diving pulling their impressive and unique catches from coolers and began to process and clean them with care. The morning spun by.
After presenting my smoked monkey chowder (SEE THE RECIPE HERE) to the judges, dished out in a crusted bread bowl and rusticly served on an enamelled-blue camping plate I got to the real fun. Meeting more of the generous and chatty tribe that knew the area so well. Listening to stories of different areas and times, learning more about the kelp deforestation and other environmentally impacting concerns that divers have. Hearing about things people are doing to educate the community and the values they are passing onto divers that are new to the area was truly inspiring.
Keeping up with community
New challenges with our current conditions, pandemic diving and whatnot, are presenting new opportunities. With the increased measures needed for social distancing and therefore increased use of social media and other sharing platforms our responsibility doesn’t stop. It just changes. I hope that all the new changes don’t hinder people from sharing knowledge and keeping up their community connections so that as we adapt and get ready for our next gathering, online or otherwise, and keep our love of the sport alive. #smokethemonkey
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@dancansmokethemonkey