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THE DAILY ASTORIAN • FRIDAY, OCTOBER 21, 2016
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Private Collection
A vintage Japanese Sakhalin surf clam “Hokkikai” can label, circa 1920 and canned by Usui & Co., Nemuro, Hokkaido, evokes a nostalgic vision of home for recent immigrants.
ASIA
COMES TO
AMERICA
IN THE FORM OF OYSTERS
AND CANNED GOODS
W riter’s
N otebook
By MATT WINTERS
EO Media Group
L
ONG BEACH, Wash. — The giant oys-
ters of Willapa Bay have chanced upon
a strategy that may preserve their lives
long beyond the typical 30 months or so
between a Paciic oyster’s birth as a carefree
larvae and its fate as a delicious — albeit kind
of disgusting — morsel.
Quoting National Geographic, our remote
ancestors who irst tried oysters were brave:
“If undaunted by the oyster’s rough, rock-
hard, nearly-impossible-to-open shell, the
undoubtedly famished irst taster would
then have confronted the gray, slimy, almost
phlegmatic appearance of its plump body.
Once beyond any primal gag relex though,
this seminal slurper would have been sur-
prisingly rewarded with the oyster’s delicate,
toothy texture, rich lavor, and salty liquor.”
Around Willapa Bay there have long been
stray outcrops of gigantic feral Paciic oys-
ters clinging to rocks and bridge abutments.
But a friend recently told me of larger patches
in commercial shellish beds where the oys-
ters have literally become too big to sell —
and thus to die. Left to themselves, oysters
can live 30 years, a dozen times longer than
the age at which they’re usually harvested. If
this strategy worked for humans, I could give
free reign to my homemade ice cream addic-
tion. Growing large as Mr. Creosote in Monty
Python’s movie, I might live to be 1,000.
In the 19th and early 20th centuries, con-
sumers seem to have liked big oysters. Typi-
cal advertising from the 1890s: “The Saddle
Rock Oysters are famous for their size and la-
vor and are packed expressly for the best fam-
ily trade.” A pint jar or can might have con-
tained eight or fewer shucked Paciic oysters.
The Paciic oyster’s scientiic name is
Crassostrea gigas, basically meaning thick
giant oyster. In the near-century since Olym-
pia Mayor E.N. Steele imported the irst large
batch from the Miyagi Prefecture area of
Japan, their tendency to grow big and bigger
has been a bit of a marketing problem.
Today, even oyster lovers like me have an
element of culinary disquiet at the thought of
downing one that’s more than an ounce or so.
In the 1930s, growers worked hard to culti-
vate a taste for oyster stew in the broader pub-
lic, proitably utilizing the biggest oysters in
diced-up form. Sadly, oyster stew didn’t win
this battle for America’s fast-food dollars, or
else there would be stew stands on street cor-
ners instead of McDonald’s.
Although it pleases me to think of huge
old oysters napping the decades away in
Willapa’s delicious tides, my local busi-
ness-booster side wishes the Asian fetish for
giant geoduck clams extended to other shell-
ish. It would be pleasing economic symme-
try to export back to Japan their giant oys-
ters that revived the U.S. West Coast industry
after the stunning environmental collapse of
native Olympia and transplanted Eastern oys-
ters in the years around 1900.
Tastes of Asia
I
worship Asian markets — their buzz-
ing chaos and underlying order, their
almost-otherworldly symphony of human
and animal voices, riotous smells, brain-bust-
ing colors and tongue-torturing lavors. After
irst encountering Vancouver’s dangerous/
wondrous Chinatown in the 1970s before
the city became such a grotesquely expen-
sive theme park, I went on to traipse through
many more — naively fancying myself as a
modern Marco Polo in the exotic East. What
a pretentious clodhopper I was, but my enjoy-
ment was genuine.
On a small Indonesian island, for instance,
I once observed, “Only a thousand or so peo-
ple selling a vast array of fruit, songbirds,
roosters in bell-shaped bamboo cages, big
seething pans of eight-inch-long eels, and
something hidden up an old man’s shirt,
which I wasn’t interested in seeing, far less
buying.”
Even here in the bland Paciic Northwest
they are worth a visit, as my family did sev-
eral years ago to DK Market in Renton, Wash-
ington, in pursuit of a brand of Japanese izzy
drink my daughter covets. A reviewer on Yelp
relects my impressions: “The funny thing
about DK Market is that you rarely ind what
you’re looking for, and you ALWAYS ind
what you aren’t looking for! … This place is
basically why I love America. It represents
all that is diverse and vibrant and sometimes
quirky and strange (deinitely without that
intent). It’s not pretty, but it’s pretty cool. I
could spend an hour going through this ware-
house of produce and non-perishables from
around the world!”
It was disappointing to read a couple years
ago about the passing of Hiroshi’s Anzen, a
109-year-old Portland institution established
by the Matsushima family. It was the kind of
neighborhood market that once served com-
munities of recent immigrants and their chil-
dren hungry for the tastes of the old country.
Willamette Week said of Anzen: “A happy
jumble of Asian groceries and cookware
sprouts from every available surface, even
the ceiling: fresh and frozen sushi staples;
hot, steamed hum bao rolls and squid salad
by the pound; more types of nori than found
in the Paciic Ocean; and a whole fridge case
devoted to sticky fermented soybeans called
natto … Plus, lovely tea and sake sets, robes
and paper umbrellas.”
In an age when children don’t often choose
to take on the grueling hours demanded to run
a grocery, the internet offers a sterile but con-
venient option for inding many Asian foods.
Even the infamously stinky durian fruit can
be purchased online: http://bit.ly/2e8tWv8.
Personally, I consider durian a once-in-a-life-
time experience, for good reason.
Private Collection
A cargo of Japanese oyster seed is secured on a ship in Matsushima Bay, Japan
in May 1947, bound for Washington state where oyster growers eagerly awaited re-
sumption of trans-Pacific commerce and cooperation.
Wing Luke Museum
Japanese-Americans played a key role in re-establishing the Pacific Northwest oys-
ter industry, cultivating oysters native to Japan in Washington and Oregon waters.
The New Washington Oyster Co. operated on Willapa Bay.
Japan in the Paciic Northwest
C
anned foods were once — and remain
to some extent — a main way for East
Asian people to maintain dietary traditions.
In an interesting article (tinyurl.com/Jap-
anese-Canned-Foods), Shigeru Kojima of
Waseda University writes of the extensive
industry that arose to supply Japanese-Amer-
icans with home-style products. These goods
ended up in stores like Anzen.
“Yorozu-ya may more commonly be
called general stores, or grocery stores with
general merchandise in addition to foods,”
Kojima writes of these multi-function com-
munity centers. In the early-20th century,
“while the Japanese American populations
in Portland and Seattle were approx. 1,300
and 7,400, respectively, there were roughly
40 import/export irms and general stores in
the two cities. This means that there was one
store selling Japanese merchandise for every
100 or 200 Japanese-American residents.”
The canned foods sold in these stores were
often inferior to fresh ingredients at home, but
for Issei, Nisei and Sansei — irst-, second-
and third-generation Japanese-Americans —
they were a precious reminder of what had
been left behind. Advertisements and labels
emphasized the old land; these “traditional
images were meant to induce nostalgia and
desire for Japan,” Kojima observes.
Although I’ve only briely been to Japan,
it’s high on my list of favorite cultures — and
one reason I collect old Japanese can labels. A
few are pictured here.
The synthesis of Asian and Paciic North-
western cultures — which came together
at Middle Village and Astoria in ways that
deserve to be internationally famous — is
a vital aspect of our vibrant local life. We
should celebrate it every day.
Matt Winters is editor and publisher of the
Chinook Observer and Coast River Business
Journal. He lives in Ilwaco.
Private Collection
A label from about a century ago was designed to market tairagi or Pacific pen shells, a delicacy that is increasingly rare and expensive in Japan.