The Secret Culinary Society of Seaweed
At Forklift Foods, our curiosity about seaweed runs deep. Recently, that curiosity pulled us into the cold, mineral-rich waters to understand where leading chefs are reshaping their relationship with the ocean—by reaching directly into it. Across the world, a quiet culinary movement is gaining traction. It's not about sourcing the freshest fish or rarest shellfish. It's about seaweed. And it's being led by chefs who aren't content to order it from a supplier.
Portugal's Tide Pool Prophet
Take Gil Fernandes, the Michelin-starred chef at Fortaleza do Guincho in Portugal. Perched on the Atlantic coast, his kitchen is shaped as much by the sea spray as by tradition. But Fernandes doesn't just cook with seaweed—he collects it himself, walking the rocky shoreline just past dawn, gathering what the tide has left behind. On any given menu, you'll find up to five types of seaweed woven into dishes as quietly complex as they are deeply rooted in place. One dish pairs seaweed with clam fricassée and honey; another brings it into a clear, briny broth. For Fernandes, this is more than flavor. It's memory, method, and terroir.
The Nordic Forager's Manifesto
Portugal isn't alone. In Denmark, René Redzepi has built a forager's culture around Noma, training his team to seek out edible plants and seaweeds along Nordic coastlines. His public education initiative, Vild Mad, invites the broader public to do the same—turning wild harvesting into a civic act. Redzepi doesn't use seaweed as a trend piece; he uses it as a way to ask bigger questions about where food comes from and what it should represent.
Spain's Marine Visionary
Further south in Spain, Ángel León has turned the sea itself into a pantry. At Aponiente, his three-Michelin-starred restaurant, seaweed plays a supporting role in a larger project: developing new food systems from marine ecosystems. He's pioneered "sea rice" made from eelgrass and regularly incorporates plankton and sea vegetables into his menus. For León, cooking with seaweed isn't radical—it's inevitable.
When Science Meets Sensory
Even in more experimental kitchens, seaweed has emerged not just as a garnish, but as a central ingredient. At The Fat Duck, Heston Blumenthal's famous "Sound of the Sea" dish pairs multiple varieties of edible seaweed with a soundtrack of crashing waves. It's an immersive experience that turns ocean flora into both medium and message. The dish is whimsical, yes—but it's also a reminder that our emotional connection to food often begins long before the first bite.
North America's Ocean Educators
In North America, the movement has a different shape—one rooted in ecology and education. On Vancouver Island, marine biologist Amanda Swinimer has been harvesting seaweed sustainably for over two decades. Her company, Dakini Tidal Wilds, supplies chefs, home cooks, and herbalists, but Swinimer's true mission lies in education. She teaches people how to harvest responsibly, run workshops in intertidal zones, and speaks often about the cultural and nutritional power of seaweed.
In Maine, Larch Hanson—known as the "Seaweed Man"—has spent over 40 years tending to the same kelp beds. His work blends stewardship with craft. He doesn't just sell seaweed; he cultivates a long-term relationship with the ocean. For him, seaweed is not a commodity. It's a conversation.
Beyond Technique: A Philosophy of Place
What unites these chefs and stewards isn't a shared cuisine or culinary philosophy. It's a mindset. Seaweed is not an exotic novelty to them. It's a sustainable, regenerative, and deeply expressive ingredient. They aren't just cooking with it—they're learning from it. Adapting their menus to the rhythms of the tide. Building flavor profiles that speak to salinity, season, and source. Reclaiming traditional knowledge that industrial food systems nearly erased.
And yes, the techniques are compelling. Seaweed powders used like umami dust. Rehydrated kelp used to wrap fish before grilling. Broths made from bull kelp and wild mushrooms. But what's more compelling is the intent. These are chefs who are reimagining their kitchens as part of a larger ecosystem—one that includes the cold Atlantic rocks of Portugal, the eelgrass meadows of Spain, and the kelp forests of the Pacific Northwest.
The Bigger Picture
This isn't just about seaweed. It's about how chefs are restoring a sense of place, redefining luxury, and rethinking their own roles with the sea—not just as cooks, but as caretakers. We can’t wait to give Gil Fernandes and Ángel León’s outstanding restaurants a try and take a spin at seaweed foraging ourselves.
