‘Mother nature controls our lifestyle’: The real fishing authority
Raymond Canastra has kept a close eye on New Bedford Harbor, Buzzards Bay and beyond for as long as he can remember. Some mornings, the horizon stays friendly, and the fleet heads out with quiet confidence for their trip ahead. Other days, the clouds drop low, the wind turns sharp, and the swells roll in with a hard, uneven rhythm. On those days, the seasoned captain and auctioneer makes the same call he has made across decades on this water. He tells the boats to come back in. “Mother nature controls our lifestyle,” he says, and he has said it time and time again. Weather always gets the final vote. Quotas can wait, markets can shout, and schedules can slip, but nobody negotiates with a turbulent sea. Coming out of a tragic winter That truth feels even more bitter coming out of a rough winter for the Massachusetts fishing community. On January 30, 2026, the F/V Lily Jean sank off Cape Ann, and seven lives were lost. Just over a month later, on March 5, the F/V Yankee Rose capsized and sank near Race Point, leaving one dead and one missing, before the search was suspended. The Lily Jean and the Yankee Rose sit heavily on the minds of fishing families because they remind everyone on the waterfront of the same hard reality: familiar waters can surprise the most experienced crews. Sometimes the danger arrives with rough, freezing conditions. Sometimes it arrives on a day that looks almost calm. Heartbreaking losses like these are the reason captains like Raymond watch every shift in weather so obsessively. When the weather growls, boats listen On a working waterfront, captains track wind speed, sea state, icing risk, and visibility before they talk quotas. A forecast may look manageable a few hours prior, then a squall line flips the plan before the fleet can set sail. The National Institute for Occupational Safety and Health (NIOSH) links severe weather to the majority of vessel disasters in U.S. fisheries. That sobering reality pushes experienced captains to treat storm warnings as a stop sign, not a suggestion. Modern tools help decision-making. Captains check National Weather Service (NWS) Marine Weather Services Program, buoy readings, and models before committing to trips. Still, judgment carries the weight; local knowledge tells you how a northeast wind shapes seas outside Buzzards Bay. When Raymond calls boats home, it’s a decision that protects people, that protects gear, and protects local families so that they can fish again the following week. MORE: Why fair commercial fishing wages matter for U.S. seafood supply The very real dangers of bad weather on the water Bad weather doesn’t just slow a trip down, it changes how a boat behaves under your feet. Captains know these patterns, so they treat fishing boats in bad weather like a different machine entirely. When Raymond calls the fleet back, he chooses a quieter dock over a louder ocean that offers no second chances. RELATED: The Canastra Story: A family name that carries new meaning When the sea turns deadly, the docks remember New England crews still talk about the Andrea Gail and the storm that never gave her a second chance. She left Gloucester in October 1991, and the Halloween nor’easter closed in fast and hard. The boat never came home. The Perfect Storm put that loss on both the page and screen, but fishermen were already carrying the story with them as they readied themselves for their next trip. Weather writes the same lesson across coasts, even when the names and latitudes change. In 1959, the Escuminac disaster killed 35 fishermen after a sudden storm overtook small boats in the Northumberland Strait. In 1967, a fast squall on Lake Michigan capsized more than 150 small fishing boats during the coho run. Seven died, 46 were injured. So when Raymond makes the call from New Bedford, he hears history in the wind and puts his people before the day’s catch. But when he turns boats back, he also turns off that day’s earning power for everyone onboard. A lost trip feels like lost ground, because bills still land even when fish don’t. Captains have to reshuffle ice, trucking, delivery slots and crew timing, then hope the next window holds. The decision looks simple from shore, yet it takes nerve when everyone wants a check and a clean trip. However, in 2010, catch sharing turned the tide of balancing fishermen’s lives with their livelihoods. Giving fishing boats in bad weather room to breathe Catch shares work like reserved portions of the yearly catch that managers assign before the season starts. Instead of racing through a short window, each permit holder, sector, or group fishes against its own allocation. That structure matters in New England, where NOAA rolled out major catch share programs in 2010. The groundfish sector program arrived through Amendment 16, and it allowed vessels to join sectors or fish the common pool. The Atlantic sea scallop individual fishing quotas IFQ also started in 2010. Catch shares protect fishermen because they trade urgency for timing, and timing lets captains respect the forecast. When crews control when they fish, they can skip rough days instead of forcing trips into marginal conditions. NOAA has tied that flexibility to real behavior changes, including fewer trips during the stormiest wind days. Research on a West Coast catch share fishery found fishing on the highest wind days dropped by 79 percent. This doesn’t make the ocean safer, but it does make the safest choice feel possible when pay checks sit on the line. And when captains get that room, they can choose the weather window that brings crews home and boats back out tomorrow. Seasonal weather patterns shape the whole year Crews don’t plan trips one at a time; weather teaches patterns across months and years. In winter, cold air and spray can load ice onto a boat and steal stability fast. In shoulder seasons, fog and fast fronts test visibility, and force captains to
Saving the stories behind America’s most valuable fishing port
For Jennifer Tichon, her family’s legacy in New Bedford had existed only in stories passed down through the years. That changed the moment she stepped into the New Bedford Fishing Heritage Center (FHC), and her father pointed out a familiar face on the screen in front of them. Suddenly, her great-grandfather came to life in black-and-white footage. “We were all in awe! Everywhere we looked, it was somewhere in New Bedford we knew, someone we knew, something we’d seen, and sounds and voices we recognized,” said Jennifer. It’s moments like this that make preserving New Bedford’s fishing stories so important to FHC executive director Laura Orleans. “It’s been kind of my life’s work to try to make sure that the fishing story is told, and told by the people who live it as much as possible,” she says. New Bedford Fishing Heritage Center’s mission New Bedford’s bustling docks have launched an untold number of journeys into the Atlantic over centuries, each one carrying not just crews and equipment, but stories of risk, resilience, and community. However, these firsthand memories are at risk of disappearing forever. To preserve them, New Bedford’s Fishing Heritage Center has built an impressive archive of family and community stories through exhibits, programs, and digital collections. Though relatively compact at just 3,000 square feet, the museum’s exhibitions pack an emotional punch for many. For visitors like Jennifer, that impact can be deeply personal. Seeing her great-grandfather in motion transformed her understanding of her family’s history. “It’s common for someone to walk in and see a face they know staring back at them from an exhibit,” Laura says. “But as our community ages, or in those tragic cases where lives are lost at sea, the weight of this work grows.” The people behind the history At the heart of New Bedford’s fishing heritage are the people themselves. Many of the city’s fishermen come from families who have worked these waters for decades. Their knowledge of how to read the sea, mend nets, and endure long, dangerous trips is often passed down orally. The FHC has spent a decade curating this material so visitors can explore and contribute to the story of New Bedford’s fishing industry. By uploading oral histories, family stories, photographs, logbooks, and rare footage, the Center does far more than display artifacts. It preserves the emotional and economic story of New Bedford’s fishing industry. New Bedford’s story runs deep New Bedford’s history is often framed through its whaling past or broad accounts of the local fishing industry’s trials and tribulations that only tell a small part of a fascinating story. What often gets lost are the real community stories that made the port what it is today: multi-generational fishing families; immigrant communities woven into life on U.S. docks; and a rising wave of women reshaping the industry from within. These voices form a living archive that carries the port’s history forward. Preserving them ensures that its identity and future are shaped not only by industry and data, but by the families who continue to sustain it. MORE: The Canastra Story: A family name that carries new meaning Time is running out Preserving New Bedford’s fishing history has become a race against time. If their value isn’t recognized, family photographs, logbooks, and settlement sheets risk being thrown away or forgotten. Yet these everyday items often contain the richest historical detail. Laura says we’ve reached an especially critical time because many of those who lived through New Bedford’s most influential moments are now in their 70s, 80s, or older. When these voices are lost, entire chapters of the community’s history might disappear with them. “We have become the repository for so many stories and photographs that might otherwise vanish,” Laura explains. How the archive keeps stories alive beyond New Bedford For fishing families, the heritage center offers a way to reconnect with their history. But its impact extends beyond the local community. The digital collection is used by students, researchers, authors, local media, and even documentary filmmakers to bring their projects to life. Laura points out that the archive currently receives around 300 searches each month, reflecting what a valuable resource it has become. She says, “Over the last decade, when we’ve lost pillars of this industry, I’ve been able to reach out to their families and say, ‘We have this oral history we did with your father. We want to share it so you can hear his voice again.’ “That’s why this center and the archive really matter.” Reconnecting families with their fishing roots One of the FHC’s more recent exhibits, Hauling Back, takes its name from the process of retrieving fishing gear from the water after it’s deployed (the name also reflects the way fishing families pull knowledge, stories, and skills from the past to share with future generations). Supported with federal funds from the National Maritime Heritage Grant program, the exhibit grew out of a desire to reach those who had not previously been closely involved. “Getting involved with the Fishing Heritage Center has not only helped me feel closer to my father after his death, but it has also helped me feel closer to my heritage,” said Kaylen Quintin, an FHC board member whose father Tommy was lost at sea. Laura hopes these experiences inspire other fishing families to reconnect with their heritage and with the institution preserving it. “For a lot of people who walk in the door, we’re offering a connection to their family’s history,” she says. In many cases, that connection continues to grow. Laura says families featured in exhibits often go on to donate materials, contribute financially, or deepen their involvement in other ways, helping sustain the center’s mission. How to support the Fishing Heritage Center The best way to support the FHC is to visit its digital archive. Whether you’re researching, learning, or simply curious, it offers a meaningful way to connect with the people and history behind the industry. If you would like to support the Center
Why the U.S. fishing industry needs new blood to stay afloat
From the waterfronts of New England to the harbors of Alaska, fishing docks once hummed with anticipation. Young hopefuls would crowd the dock, eager to join a crew and learn the trade from seasoned captains. Today, however, reveals a changing tide. Young faces are steadily disappearing, leaving captains like Henrique Franco, who has fished the North Atlantic for decades, in a difficult position. “There’s a big difference today,” says Henrique. “Before, if a guy missed a trip, you had five or six guys ready to go. Right now, you don’t see that down the docks. They’re empty. “If that doesn’t change very soon, we’ll have no fishermen.” As veteran captains retire with fewer recruits to replace them, the industry faces more than a troubling labor shortage; it’s also losing the generations of valuable knowledge that keeps crews and livelihoods safe. So, where are the aspiring young fishermen that the industry so desperately needs to start taking the wheel? The graying of the fleet Over the years, the demographic landscape of U.S. commercial fishing workers has shifted toward an alarming imbalance. The number of fishers and owners aged 65 and older nearly doubled from 7.6% in 2016 to 13.5% in 2024. Meanwhile, those under the age of 30 account for only 8% of the workforce. The result is a growing shortage of qualified captains nationwide, which is already taking its toll on New England’s working waterfronts. According to a recent NOAA Fisheries report, New England’s commercial fisheries support nearly 290,000 jobs and generate more than $1.4 billion in annual revenue. The region also boasts the nation’s highest-value fishing port, New Bedford, MA (home of Canastra Fishing Co.), where 2023 landings alone were valued at approximately $363 million. But the world-leading value of New England’s commercial fishing sector is only as stable as the hands that handle the nets. And Henrique knows there’s only one way to ensure that knowledge is properly passed down through the crew. “I always have the experienced guys teach the new guys the right way,” he says. “But it takes time.” As those experienced hands disappear from the deck, so does the knowledge that keeps crews one step ahead of challenges—and the catch at the highest quality. RELATED: The value of an experienced fishing crew for seafood buyers What’s keeping the next generation of fishermen away? No single problem explains why fewer young people are pursuing commercial fishing careers, but there are several undeniable contributing factors. Physical demands and safety perceptions Commercial fishing has long been known as one of the most physically demanding jobs in the country. Long hours, rough weather, and the constant risks of working at sea can make the career appear daunting to younger generations. Henrique explains, “It’s not easy. It’s hard enough working in a factory and putting in those hours. But in fishing, the ‘factory’ is moving, and you’re out there in the cold for four to 10 days at a time. Most new fishermen just quit.” Competition from other industries Young people growing up in coastal communities now have more career options than ever, offering stability without the inherent dangers that come with commercial fishing. Industries such as tourism, technology, and healthcare attract people entering the workforce with steady incomes, predictable schedules, and benefits that commercial fishing rarely guarantees. Cultural shifts away from trade careers Over the past few decades, cultural expectations around work have also changed. Many schools emphasize college and professional careers, sometimes at the expense of traditional trades. As a result, fewer young people see fishing as a viable long-term path, even in communities where it’s been a way of life for generations. Regulatory complexity The U.S. fishing industry is governed by more than 40 different laws and policies (e.g., the Magnuson‑Stevens Act, Marine Mammal Protection Act, Endangered Species Act, etc.). These federal, state, and regional regulations create the legal framework for everything from catch limits and habitat protection to bycatch and endangered species protections These rules are designed to protect fish stocks and ensure long-term sustainability. But for someone just starting out, the complex regulations can make understanding how many trips they can take and what they can earn confusing. High cost of permits and vessels Commercial fishing permits can cost as much as $300,000, while a vessel can add another $75,000 to well over $1 million. Then you’ve got the cost of fuel, gear, maintenance, crew, insurance… Of course, young fishermen don’t typically enter the industry at this level, but it’s a huge deterrent for those seeking a long-term career in fishing. RELATED: Why fair commercial fishing wages matter for U.S. seafood supply Breaking into the fishing industry For those who aren’t dissuaded from a life on the ocean waves, new pathways are emerging to help the next generation find their footing in the industry. In 2021, Congress passed the Young Fishermen’s Development Act, which provides grants for essential on-ship training and professional mentorship. Organizations across the country offer apprenticeship programs that help bring new workers into the industry, including: Beyond federal assistance, several institutions offer degrees in the fishing sector. Massachusetts Maritime Academy serves as a key training ground for much of the New England fishing fleet. Maine Maritime Academy (MMA) offers a Small Vessel Operations track popular with commercial fishermen, while SUNY Maritime College in New York offers a Marine Operations program for commercial work. While these programs are helping rebuild the talent pipeline, the industry that new fishermen are entering looks very different from the one their predecessors joined decades ago. How commercial fishing has evolved Technology now plays a central role in how modern commercial fishing vessels operate. Fleets like those operated by Canastra Fishing Co. rely on advanced sonar systems, digital catch tracking, and precision navigation tools that help crews locate fish efficiently while reducing unnecessary fuel use. Safety has also improved alongside these technological advances. Today’s vessels carry modern life-saving equipment, conduct regular emergency drills, and place stronger emphasis on crew training and risk awareness. Sustainability has become
The value of an experienced fishing crew for seafood buyers
Savvy seafood buyers can spot a poorly handled fish from a mile away. They see it in the texture, in the scuffed skin, in the uneven color… And according to seasoned fishing captain Henrique Franco, those problems can emerge well before they arrive at the dock. The Portuguese native—who has spent decades fishing the North Atlantic Ocean—firmly believes that quality seafood starts and ends with the crew handling it. When all is said and done, Henrique builds his crews and processes around one priority above all: “You’ve got to take care of your fish.” What experience looks like on deck Seasoned deckhands protect texture and appearance through simple habits that inexperienced crews often treat as nice-to-haves. They keep the pace steady during the haul, protect the fish from bruising, and keep the hold organized lot by lot. “When we do the hauling back, that’s the most dangerous moment,” says Henrique. “If you don’t communicate, somebody’s going to get hurt.” The 53-year-old captain watches how people work together when the pace rises. He wants crew members who look out for each other and keep the workflow clean. Experienced crews treat the haul like a drill they’ve run a thousand times. They read the deck the way a driver reads traffic, because bodies, gear, and fish all move at once. They keep space around tensioned lines, watch for swing, and call out problems before they stack up. That teamwork shows up in the fish and turns a trip into seafood that buyers can plan around—and it all starts with the people who know the work. MORE: Why fair commercial fishing wages matter for U.S. seafood supply The quality chain from deck to hold Once the fish hits the deck, it’s clear to Henrique whether or not a crew member understands the value of proper handling. “Sometimes they don’t clean. They don’t wash the fish really well,” Henrique says. “Sometimes too much ice, sometimes not much ice at all. “I’m very strict about that with my crew. We’ve got to take care of the fish, wash it well, and ice it right.” Ice protects appearance and moisture during long hours at sea. If this crucial step is missed, the fish arrives looking tired, and buyers read it immediately. “With blackbacks [winter flounder], for example, you’ve got to ice them belly up. If you put them the wrong way, they turn red and buyers don’t pay as much. “If you don’t take care of the fish, you go to the dock and instead of a dollar fifty, you get eighty cents.” Crew members who chase speed and forget consistency reveal their inexperience. Henrique puts it plainly: a crew can work hard and still lose value if they mishandle the fish. Handling mistakes might not seem dramatic on deck, but captains and companies pay for them at the dock and on the processing floor. “You can lose a whole trip like that,” Henrique says. A strict approach to handling doesn’t just matter to captains, it matters to buyers too. A stable crew produces a stable process, and a stable process produces predictable lots. RELATED: Why domestic seafood creates a more reliable supply chain Where quality starts to break down Convinced by his years sharing boats with crews that can make or break a trip, Henrique manages the risk before the boat even leaves the pier. “I have to know the person. It’s hard to give a job to someone I don’t know,” he says. Henrique uses the waterfront the way other industries might use references. “I ask other captains about him. ‘Is he a good guy?’ I need information.” In fact, the risk-averse captain would take a harder trip over a hire he’s not 100% sure of. “Sometimes I’d rather go one hand short until I know I’ve got a good guy,” he says. Henrique makes that call for safety, but he also makes it for quality. “I do everything I can to avoid problems with the boat, with my crew, or with me,” he says. But that doesn’t mean the next generation doesn’t get an opportunity on Henrique’s boat. It just means experience needs to be passed down into the right hands. RELATED: The Canastra Story: A family name that carries new meaning Fishing crews that last Experience doesn’t stay private on a good boat. It moves down the line through correction, repetition and clear expectations. “I always have the experienced guys teach the new guys the right way,” Henrique says. That transfer of knowledge matters in the commercial fishing industry. A crew learns fastest when a seasoned hand fixes a mistake in real time. But for those lessons to stick, Henrique says a new fisherman has to have a passion for the trade. “To be a fisherman, you’ve got to love it. If you do this just for the money, your life will be miserable.” The crews that last build habits that long-term buyers can trust. They protect each other, protect the gear and protect the fish, because they know the cost when they don’t. The buyer sees the crew in the product The best crews consistently land fish that looks right, holds up well and arrives with fewer surprises. And that is largely determined by the experience on the boat. Buyers doing their due diligence to secure a reliable seafood supply would do well to look past the label and start asking who worked the deck. Henrique adds, “If your guys don’t have experience, your fish won’t be good quality.” Ready to work with a fishing company that knows its boats and their crews like family? Drop us a line to talk through Canastra Fishing Company’s handling standards and what real consistency looks like from boat to dock.
The Canastra Story: A family name that carries new meaning
Long before it was a surname associated with boats, auctions, and the New Bedford fishing community, canastra was a Portuguese word for a sturdy basket used to carry food, often fish. But while the Canastra family’s roots in the Azores were shaped by maritime trade, their connection to the fishing industry would actually emerge some time later. The Canastra name would come to align with the role the family would play in New Bedford’s modern fishing economy—and their responsibility to the community built around it. Finding the waterfront The Canastra family’s voyage into seafood began with Raymond Canastra. Born in New Bedford and raised in nearby Fairhaven, he grew up close to the harbor and would watch the comings and goings of the fishing community around him with interest. In the late 1970s, Raymond joined the lumpers on the New Bedford docks. Draggers routinely returned with loads exceeding 120,000 lbs of codfish, requiring multiple crews to unload vessels through the night. Watching friends transition from the docks to the vessels, and seeing the livelihoods they were able to build, Raymond decided to go to sea himself. Over time, he earned himself a place aboard a boat and eventually became a captain. While Raymond built his understanding of the industry on the water, his brother Richard took a different route. After graduating from Fairhaven High School, Richard entered the snack food business, operating wholesale routes across Rhode Island and Massachusetts. By his mid-twenties, he had built and managed a regional operation, gaining firsthand experience in sales, logistics, pricing, and cash flow. After years at sea, Raymond wanted a role that would allow him to stay closer to home and raise his young daughter, Cassie. It was a decision that naturally pulled him toward family. Two paths converge In 1989, the brothers decided to work together. They launched a shoreside unloading and wholesale operation, initially handling scallopers before expanding into draggers. Raymond told NOAA at the time, “I talk all the boat talk with the boats. Richard takes care of all the business end of it. “The boats are getting paid. The money’s being collected. I can do my gig and he does his. It works out well.” Richard added, “We complement each other. It’s only been positive for us because we’re just not looking one way, we’re looking at all the aspects of the business.” Together, the Canastra brothers built a business that worked for them and the boats they served. But beyond their own operation, the broader system on the waterfront was beginning to show deep cracks. A fair auction for New Bedford The private auction that followed the fishermen’s strike of the mid-1980s operated behind closed doors, relying on informal arrangements that left little room for transparency. Pricing disputes and inconsistent weights became routine. For vessels coming off long trips, the fight often continued long after they tied up. Looking for alternatives, Raymond and Richard traveled to Portland, Maine, where the city operated a publicly owned display auction. There, fish was laid out for inspection before bidding began. Buyers competed openly on what they could see, and fishermen understood how prices were reached. The model resonated with the Canastra brothers. In 1994, they brought that concept to New Bedford with the Whaling City Seafood Display Auction. The operation was modest at first, and the first days were uncertain, but buyers soon realized its potential. The display auction worked. A new horizon In the mid-1990s, Richard traveled to Brussels for an international seafood trade show, originally looking for buyers for skate wings. While there, he was introduced to an electronic auction system used across Iceland. Entire national markets operated through digital bidding, allowing buyers to participate remotely while maintaining real-time price discovery. Richard spent weeks in Iceland studying how the system worked, then returned to New Bedford to adapt it for the U.S. market. The brothers installed dedicated communication lines, built the necessary infrastructure, and worked closely with vessels and buyers to prepare them for a fundamental shift in how seafood would be sold. In February 1997, they launched the Buyers and Sellers Exchange (BASE). Sellers and buyers no longer occupied the same room during bidding. The separation protected the process from influence and allowed prices to reflect quality alone. By changing how transactions happened, the Canastra brothers changed what fairness looked like on the waterfront. Pressure on the system The launch of the electronic auction marked a turning point for the New Bedford waterfront, but it also brought resistance. Tensions surfaced in the form of threatening phone calls. Then, late one night, Raymond was called to an alarm at the auction building. He discovered gasoline fumes and a five-gallon drum beneath the auction floor with an unlit wick attached. Fire officials later confirmed that, had the device been lit, the damage would have been extensive. Raymond and Richard restored the facility, brought the auction back online, and continued operations. By the end of that year, BASE had become the only electronic seafood auction operating in the United States. Raymond said, “We were the first company in New Bedford to have digital scales that are checked monthly just for their accuracy.” That approach to market transparency and regulation was later examined in broader discussions of the U.S. seafood industry, including Richard being featured on Netflix’s Rotten series. Despite the pressure, the system held. And as it did, its influence on the waterfront expanded quickly. Reshaping the waterfront By the early 2000s, the auction handled product from roughly 180 vessels and more than 40 buyers. Trucks arrived daily from major seafood markets, including Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Seattle, and ports throughout New England. Scallops alone moved through the system in volumes that helped establish New Bedford as the most valuable fishing port in the United States by dollar value. Other ports took notice. Operators from across the country reached out to understand how the system worked, asking about digital bidding, vessel coordination, and communication infrastructure. The software developed in New
Why fair commercial fishing wages matter for U.S. seafood supply
Forklifts trundle across the concrete. Ice rattles down metal chutes. And as the New Bedford crews sort scallops into bins and pack redfish in ice, you’ll hear fishermen talking through the realities of the job—long hours, rising costs, and the constant pressure of making a living in the nation’s top-value port. Commercial fishing remains one of the toughest jobs in America. Crews juggle unpredictable conditions, fluctuating quotas, and the rising cost of keeping a vessel ready for another trip. Their income depends on a share system that rewards strong landings but absorbs every hit that comes with a difficult season. For years, New Bedford’s seafood display auction, BASE, brought structure and transparency to that system. The Canastra family helped build it so fishermen could earn a fair price based on open competition, not backdoor deals. But even the strongest systems face pressure when deep-pocketed outside interests work around them. The strain on commercial fishing wages no longer comes from the sea. It comes from big corporate ownership tightening margins on the people doing the hardest work. “When you let private equity dictate prices, crews lose control over their own future,” says Canastra Fishing Co. CEO Cassie Canastra Larsen. “And that’s when communities start to crack.” The port of New Bedford: High value, local pressure New Bedford has held the title of America’s highest-value fishing port for more than two decades. The numbers rise on spreadsheets, in annual NOAA reports, and across headlines highlighting the city’s dominance in scallops. But on the docks, that success feels different. Fuel climbs. Maintenance climbs. Insurance climbs. Regulations shift. Markets swing. Even in a port known for its strength, the margin between success and struggle is thinner than most people realize. Every year, fleets work harder to adapt to pressures far beyond their control, keeping the waterfront moving one trip at a time. And if we don’t look after this vital community, the nation’s supply chain will soon suffer. How fair commercial fishing wages protect supply chain quality and stability The quality that New Bedford is known for doesn’t come from luck. It comes from crews who know how to work the gear, protect the catch, and keep a trip productive even when conditions turn. Fair commercial fishing wages help keep those crews on the water. In fact, a stable, well-paid team brings consistency to everything that matters to buyers. Handling Experienced crews know when scallops need to hit the ice and how to stack bags without crushing product, protecting both texture and color. Traceability Long-standing crews maintain clean logs and understand the compliance expectations that come with domestic sourcing. Catch efficiency Good crews fish smarter and bring in steady landings season after season. Quality control The same set of hands performing the same processes produces predictable size, flavor, and appearance. For hospitality buyers, that consistency means stable menus and fewer substitutions. For institutional buyers, it means domestic supply that meets documentation standards and avoids the political and logistical risks tied to imports. Strong commercial fishing wages don’t just support the workforce; they support the reliability buyers count on every week. Community impact: Protecting New Bedford’s families Walk a few blocks from the waterfront, and you’ll see why this conversation matters beyond the docks. New Bedford’s neighborhoods are shaped by families who trace their roots to Portugal, the Azores, and Cape Verde—alongside newer immigrant communities from places like Guatemala, who now play an essential role in the city’s fishing and seafood economy. The working waterfront ties all of these histories and cultures together. New Bedford is a city where tradition runs deep. A strong paycheck doesn’t just keep a crew member afloat; it keeps working boats in family hands, supports local shops, and helps the next generation stay connected to a trade their parents and grandparents built. And when nearly one in five residents lives below the poverty line, every trip matters for the neighborhoods built around the waterfront. That’s the philosophy at Canastra Fishing Co. “We want families to stay on the water,” says Cassie. “Our goal is to support the fleet, strengthen the port, and make sure fishermen are rewarded for the work they do. We’re here to build something that lasts for the people who built this harbor.” When commercial fishing wages sink, the next generation doesn’t just leave the industry—they leave ownership behind. And when a family can’t keep a boat running, that vessel rarely sits idle for long; it usually gets sold. Increasingly, those sales go to large outside corporations with no ties to New Bedford. Once that happens, the value of the boat, the quota, and the revenue it generates leave the community entirely. Local wealth moves into the hands of companies that treat the fleet as an investment vehicle rather than a piece of the city’s identity. “When a family loses a boat, the whole community loses a piece of itself,” Cassie says. A stronger seafood industry starts with the people who bring the catch home, and supporting them starts with choosing suppliers who refuse to compromise on pay. Fair commercial fishing wages strengthen communities. Strong communities keep fleets alive. And strong fleets protect the future of American seafood. If you want seafood that delivers consistency, clarity, and genuine traceability, start with the fleets that prioritize fair pay. Canastra Fishing Co. builds its entire model around supporting the crews who make our product possible—and the buyers who depend on it. Explore our products or start a conversation with our friendly sales team today.
What is redfish? A practical guide for buyers and marketers
Few whitefish arrive at the dock looking quite the way redfish does. Its red-orange skin stands out immediately against the ice. Beneath the vibrant color lies clean, pale flesh with a firm but flaky structure; familiar, yet distinct enough to make you pause and look twice. Acadian redfish is a unique species that has been part of New England fishing for generations, though not always in equal measure. Periods of heavy pressure reshaped the fishery, forcing long stretches of restraint and recovery. But redfish has returned under regulations that support long-term stability and sustainability. And that steadiness matters to today’s buyer. Redfish: An overview Acadian redfish (Sebastes fasciatus), also known in wholesale channels as “Atlantic ocean perch” or “golden redfish,” is a cold-water whitefish harvested from the Gulf of Maine and Georges Bank. Redfish belongs to the rockfish family, not snapper or drum. Rockfish grow slowly, live long lives, and require tightly managed fishing strategies. They are ovoviviparous, a reproductive process in which eggs develop internally before the young are released. Unlike many global whitefish species that depend on extended processing routes and multi-country handoffs, redfish moves through shorter, more transparent domestic systems for U.S. buyers. In practical terms, redfish behaves more like a planning species than a reactionary one. It doesn’t spike dramatically in volume or disappear without warning. It shows up week after week, which is exactly what large-scale procurement teams value. That reliability explains why redfish increasingly appears alongside pollock and haddock in today’s sourcing conversations—complementing them rather than competing with them. Each species plays a different role, and redfish fills the space between volume security and differentiation. MORE: The domestic wild-caught whitefish species buyers need to watch in 2026 A brief history of redfish For much of the mid-twentieth century, Acadian redfish formed the backbone of New England’s frozen whitefish trade. Its mild flavor, steady landings, and suitability for filleting made it a natural fit for large-scale processing. That approach eventually caught up with the industry. By the 1980s, decades of heavy pressure had reduced stocks and forced a fundamental reset. Quotas tightened, access narrowed, and management shifted from maximizing landings to rebuilding long-term stability. Over time, coordinated federal management and controlled harvesting allowed the stock to rebuild. By the early 2010s, regulators formally recognized Atlantic ocean perch as rebuilt. But unlike species that rebound quickly and then swing wildly with demand, redfish came back under limits designed for long-term stability. That history is why today’s landings look steady instead of explosive, and why buyers see consistency rather than spikes. How redfish is caught Acadian redfish is caught from the cold, rocky bottoms of the ocean using regulated bottom trawl gear. Quotas, seasonal oversight, and monitored landings shape how much the fish comes to market and when. Redfish are graded quickly, iced promptly, and moved efficiently through domestic channels. Fewer handoffs mean fewer freeze cycles, less moisture loss, and more uniform yield downstream. In practical terms, buyers receive fish that behaves the same way week after week. Color holds. Texture stays intact. Portioning remains predictable. Today, those handling advantages matter more than ever. What does redfish taste like? Redfish delivers a mild, slightly sweet flavor with a clean finish and a medium flake. It doesn’t lean oily, briny, or assertive. It lands squarely in familiar whitefish territory, close to cod and haddock. From a buyer perspective, redfish doesn’t force menu rewrites or consumer education campaigns. As buyers look to expand or rebalance whitefish portfolios, species that require justification slow everything down. Redfish moves in the opposite direction. It feels known even when it’s new to a menu, which allows teams to introduce it without disrupting flow. How to cook redfish Redfish behaves the way experienced kitchens expect whitefish to behave. It holds together under heat, releases moisture predictably, and responds well to standard preparation methods already in use across retail and foodservice. Pan-searing remains the most common approach, especially for skin-on fillets. The skin crisps cleanly while the flesh stays tender, producing a familiar presentation that doesn’t require adjustment in timing or technique. Baking and roasting work just as well for batch preparation, where consistency matters more than flair. Redfish also performs reliably in stews, tacos, and wraps, where flake integrity and moisture retention carry more weight than appearance. It absorbs seasoning evenly and maintains structure through service, which makes it suitable for high-volume environments. How to fillet a redfish (and why most buyers never need to) In wholesale programs, redfish almost always arrives as a finished product. Buyers typically receive trimmed redfish fillets—fresh or frozen, skin-on or skinless—with frozen formats supporting greater consistency from storage through service. This keeps prep predictable and reduces variability across locations, shifts, and service formats. In practice, the filleting process mirrors that of other whitefish. The bone structure is straightforward, the fillet releases cleanly, and portioning stays consistent once specifications are set. More importantly, redfish offers natural consistency in size and texture. Fillets grade evenly, cook uniformly, and perform the same way across batches. For buyers managing large programs, repeatability matters more than marginal differences in price. At scale, success comes from minimizing surprises. Redfish supports that goal by behaving the same way from delivery through service. Redfish vs red snapper Few species comparisons create more confusion than redfish vs red snapper. Despite similar names and colors, the two fish occupy very different roles in the market. Red snapper comes from warm-water reef systems, carries firmer texture, and often commands premium pricing tied to limited access and demand. Acadian redfish follows a different path. It comes from cold North Atlantic waters, supports consistent commercial landings, and delivers a mild, flaky profile designed for everyday use rather than special-occasion positioning. Where snapper often anchors center-of-plate features, redfish integrates easily into regular rotation without forcing pricing or menu constraints. Attribute Acadian redfish Red snapper Primary market role Everyday whitefish for stable programs Premium feature fish Habitat Cold North Atlantic waters Warm-water reefs Harvest scale Consistent commercial landings More limited access Texture