
How a flood of cheap British octopus is changing restaurant menus
The sudden increase, known as an octopus 'bloom', is primarily due to warming ocean temperatures caused by climate change. The common octopus (Octopus vulgaris) is usually found in the Mediterranean, while Britain's cooler waters are typically home to the curled octopus (Eledone cirrhosa).
'We had an unusually warm winter this year,' said Bryce Stewart, senior research fellow at the Marine Biological Association in Plymouth. 'Those warm temperatures have continued through the spring and into summer, which favours the common octopus as it's a warm-water species.' Analysis of Met Office data suggests the average surface temperature of UK waters in the first seven months of the year was more than 0.2C higher than any year since 1980.
Stewart said this year's bloom was the largest since 1950. 'Fishermen started to see more octopus off the south coast of England in 2022 and then more again in 2023. It eased off last year but this year numbers have exploded,' he said.
In June, the Marine Management Organisation recorded 400 tonnes of octopuses caught off the British coast, compared with about ten tonnes in the same month last year. Last month provisional figures showed it was almost 500.
Stewart's team is working with the University of Plymouth to track the octopuses, using underwater cameras in the hope of predicting future blooms.
But for British restaurateurs, the increase has created a unique opportunity to use what was previously a prohibitively expensive ingredient.
Rick Toogood, head chef of Little Prawn in Padstow, Cornwall, and Prawn on the Lawn in Islington, north London, said that serving octopus previously meant importing it frozen from Spain at up to £20 per kg. 'Now that there is quite a bit of octopus it's come down to around £11 per kilogram,' he said. 'We obviously want to source as much as we can from our shores and this means if we want to put octopus on the menu we can get British-caught pretty much whenever we want it.'
Toogood said the rising ocean temperature also meant an increase in other fish used to warmer waters, including bluefin tuna. On Thursday afternoon he received a 40kg bluefin that would have cost more than £1,200 last year. This time he only paid £650.
Isaac McHale, the head chef and co-owner of Bar Valette in Shoreditch, east London, said he had also been serving up an abundance of tuna, but the star of the show became the octopus once he heard of the bloom at the start of the summer. 'Octopus is typically not very common in the UK so we don't have this history of eating octopus,' he said.
McHale said the curled octopus, which has a single row of suckers on each tentacle, was smaller and tougher than the larger common octopus. In other words, 'not great eating', the chef said. In contrast, the common octopus, which is larger and has two rows of suckers, is versatile enough to be cooked either hot and fast or low and slow.
Although the bloom has been a boon for chefs, not everyone has been excited. The common octopus feeds on crustaceans including crabs, lobsters and scallops, whose populations have plummeted on the south coast.
Mike Roach, deputy chief executive of the National Federation of Fishermen's Organisations, said some vessels in Devon had a 'complete absence of crab and lobster in their catches'.
The Marine Management Organisation recorded that the brown crab catch was just over 400 tonnes last month, almost 200 tonnes fewer than the same month in 2023.
Roach said the 'short-term influx' of octopus could mean a 'reduction in crustacean and shellfish species that are relatively slow growing and may take a long time to recover from this bloom of new predators'.
In May, the octopus bloom forced Plymouth city council to relax regulations that required fishermen to include a small gap in lobster and crab pots for undersized crustaceans to escape through. Because octopuses don't have bones, they are able to squeeze through tiny holes to feast on the shellfish inside.
• How the ocean has changed in Attenborough's 99 years (it's not all bad)
Animal rights campaigners are also concerned. In 2022, parliament recognised the highly intelligent octopus as a 'sentient being' as part of the Animal Welfare (Sentience) Act. Elisa Allen, vice-president of programmes for the campaign group Peta, said: 'These extraordinary animals deserve our respect and to be left in peace, not pieces.'
The bloom is unlikely to last for long because the overabundance of octopuses is rapidly depleting their main food source by gorging on lobsters, crabs and shellfish. But while it continues, chefs such as Toogood will continue finding inventive ways to serve it up to hungry diners.
At Little Prawn, he cooks the octopus with aromatics for two hours until tender. He then slices it and uses a blowtorch to give it a smoky flavour, before serving it with fresh tomatoes and an olive brine. Each octopus salad dish costs £13.50 and the chef said it was 'incredibly popular'.
McHale said it was important to thoroughly clean the suckers with salt and water before cooking. 'Then you slowly dip the tendrils into a large pot of boiling water over and over again, which helps the tentacles to curl in an attractive way,' he said.
At Bar Valette, McHale boils them for an hour before finishing them on a barbecue. At The Clove Club, he serves it alongside arroz brut, a rice soup from Mallorca.
McHale said he hoped the inflated octopus supply lasted a little longer. 'Part of the joy of being a chef is getting to play with new ingredients and find ways that you can make them delicious,' he said. 'Octopus is one of those things that most people in the UK might turn their noses up at. But it's nice to change their perceptions and show that it can be really delicious.'
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The Guardian
20 hours ago
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In 1954, just a few years after the widespread introduction of antibiotics, doctors were already aware of the problem of resistance. Natural selection meant that using these new medicines gave an advantage to the microbes that could survive the assault – and a treatment that worked today could become ineffective tomorrow. A British doctor put the challenge in military terms: 'We may run clean out of effective ammunition. Then how the bacteria and moulds will lord it.' More than 70 years later, that concern looks prescient. The UN has called antibiotic resistance 'one of the most urgent global health threats'. Researchers estimate that resistance already kills more than a million people a year, with that number forecast to grow. And new antibiotics are not being discovered fast enough; many that are essential today were discovered more than 60 years ago. The thing to remember is that antibiotics are quite unlike other medicines. Most drugs work by manipulating human biology: paracetamol relieves your headache by dampening the chemical signals of pain; caffeine blocks adenosine receptors and as a result prevents drowsiness taking hold. Antibiotics, meanwhile, target bacteria. And, because bacteria spread between people, the challenge of resistance is social: it's as if every time you took a painkiller for your headache, you increased the chance that somebody else might have to undergo an operation without anaesthetic. That makes resistance more than simply a technological problem. But like that British doctor in 1954, we still often talk as if it is: we need to invent new 'weapons' to better defend ourselves. What this framing overlooks is that the extraordinary power of antibiotics is not due to human ingenuity. In fact, the majority of them derive from substances originally made by bacteria and fungi, evolved millions of years ago in a process of microbial competition. This is where I can't help thinking about another natural resource that helped create the modern world but has also been dangerously overused: fossil fuels. Just as Earth's geological forces turned dead plants from the Carboniferous era into layers of coal and oil that we could burn for energy, so evolution created molecules that scientists in the 20th century were able to recruit to keep us alive. Both have offered an illusory promise of cheap, miraculous and never-ending power over nature – a promise that is now coming to an end. If we thought of antibiotics as the 'fossil fuels' of modern medicine, might that change how we use them? And could it help us think of ways to make the fight against life-threatening infections more sustainable? The antibiotic era is less than a century old. Alexander Fleming first noticed the activity of a strange mould against bacteria in 1928, but it wasn't until the late 1930s that the active ingredient – penicillin – was isolated. A daily dose was just 60mg, about the same as a pinch of salt. For several years it was so scarce it was worth more than gold. But after production was scaled up during the second world war, it ended up costing less than the bottle it came in. This abundance did more than tackle infectious diseases. Just as the energy from fossil fuels transformed society, antibiotics allowed the entire edifice of modern medicine to be built. Consider surgery: cutting people open and breaking the protective barrier of the skin gives bacteria the chance to swarm into the body's internal tissues. Before antibiotics, even the simplest procedures frequently resulted in fatal blood poisoning. After them, so much more became possible: heart surgery, intestinal surgery, transplantation. Then there's cancer: chemotherapy suppresses the immune system, making bacterial infections one of the most widespread complications of treatment. The effects of antibiotics have rippled out even further: they made factory farming possible, both by reducing disease among animals kept in close quarters, and by increasing their weight through complex effects on metabolism. They're one of the reasons for the huge increase in meat consumption since the 1950s, with all its concomitant welfare and environmental effects. Despite the crisis of resistance, antibiotics remain cheap compared with other medicines. Partly – as with fossil fuels – this is because the negative consequences of their use (so-called externalities) are not priced in. And like coal, oil and gas, antibiotics lead to pollution. One recent study estimated that 31% of the 40 most used antibiotics worldwide enter rivers. Once they're out there, they increase levels of resistance in environmental bacteria: one study of soil from the Netherlands showed that the incidence of some antibiotic-resistant genes had increased by more than 15 times since the 1970s. Another source of pollution is manufacturing, particularly in countries such as India. In Hyderabad, where factories produce huge amounts of antibiotics for the global market, scientists have found that the wastewater contains levels of some antibiotics that are a million times higher than elsewhere. Like the climate crisis, antibiotic resistance has laid global inequalities bare. Some high-income countries have taken steps to decrease antibiotic use, but only after benefiting from their abundance in the past. That makes it hard for them to take a moral stand against their use in other places, a dilemma that mirrors the situation faced by post-industrial nations urging developing nations to forgo the economic benefits of cheap energy. This may be where the similarities end. While we look forward to the day when fossil fuels are phased out completely, that's clearly not the case with antibiotics, which are always going to be part of medicine's 'energy mix'. After all, most deaths from bacterial disease worldwide are due to lack of access to antibiotics, not resistance. What we are going to need to do is make our approach to development and use much more sustainable. Currently, many pharmaceutical companies have abandoned the search for new antibiotics: it's hard to imagine a more perfect anti-capitalist commodity than a product whose value depletes every time you use it. That means we need alternative models. One proposal is for governments to fund an international institute that develops publicly owned antibiotics, rather than relying on the private sector; another is to incentivise development with generously funded prizes for antibiotic discovery. And to address the issue of overuse, economists have suggested that health authorities could run 'subscription' models that remove the incentive to sell lots of antibiotics. In one pilot scheme in England, two companies are being paid a set amount per year by the NHS, regardless of how much of their product is actually used. Finally, we have to remember that antibiotics aren't the only game in town. Supporting other, 'renewable' approaches means we get to use the ones we do have for longer. Vaccines are vital to disease prevention – with every meningitis, diphtheria or whooping cough vaccine meaning a potential course of antibiotics forgone. And the 20th century's largest reductions in infectious disease occurred not because of antibiotics, but thanks to better sanitation and public health. (Even in the 2000s, the threat of MRSA was addressed with tried-and-tested methods such as handwashing and cleaning protocols – not new antibiotics.) Given that antibiotics themselves emerged unexpectedly, we should also be investing more in blue-skies research. Just as we no longer burn coal without a thought for the consequences, the era of carefree antibiotic use is now firmly in the past. In both cases, the idea that there wouldn't be a reckoning was always an illusion. But as with our slow waking up to the reality of the climate crisis, coming to appreciate the limits of our love affair with antibiotics may ultimately be no bad thing. Liam Shaw is a biologist at the University of Oxford, and author of Dangerous Miracle (Bodley Head). Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End by Atul Gawande (Profile, £11.99) Infectious: Pathogens and How We Fight Them by John S Tregoning (Oneworld, £10.99) Deadly Companions: How Microbes Shaped our History by Dorothy H Crawford (Oxford, £12.49)