麻豆传媒

One evening this spring, on the Upper East Side of New York City, I had my first and last taste of iguana.

I was at , an institution more than a century old, devoted to 鈥渢he scientific exploration of land, sea, air, and space鈥�. Its membership rolls feature polar explorer Robert Peary and primatologist Jane Goodall. Its dim, wood-panelled rooms boast trophies: the skin of a lion bagged听 by Teddy Roosevelt; a flag that visited the moon in 1969.

I had been invited to the club鈥檚 annual dinner at the Waldorf Astoria (dress code: 鈥渂lack tie or native dress鈥�). There was a bar, and a table laid with crackers and crudit茅s, but most people were milling around a table in the corner where Gene Rurka, the club鈥檚 resident chef, was carefully arranging plates of grilled lionfish, Asian carp sushi and iguana meatballs with a plum dipping sauce. An actual iguana splayed out on a bed of greens made a feral centrepiece.

Rurka鈥檚 menu, reflecting this year鈥檚 theme 鈥� 鈥淥ceans: The Current of Life鈥� 鈥� was centred around invasive sea creatures. We chatted while he put on the finishing touches. Rurka first felt inspired to cook for his fellow explorers back in the 1990s. 鈥淲e were getting boring,鈥� he says. He sought out recipes that he thought better reflected the club鈥檚 adventurous style. Stuffed eyeballs. Fried tarantula. Snakes. Invasive species were the natural next step: unlikely yet ecologically sustainable dinner choices.

Eat the enemy

Take the Asian carp (actually a catch-all term for several species). Decades ago, the US imported them to filter pond water in Arkansas fish farms. The carp rapidly spread throughout the country, outcompeting many native fish. While popular sources of protein like salmon and tuna struggle with declining numbers due to overfishing, eating Asian carp seems like the obvious solution, says Rurka. 鈥淚f you took the next three months and ate 20 tonnes of that fish, you would eliminate the need for killing 20 tonnes of another fish that鈥檚 being hammered.鈥� Sliced into sashimi and sushi, it鈥檚 鈥渁s fine a grade as you鈥檙e ever going to get鈥�.

The carp had a mild taste, somewhat like halibut or yellowtail. I could imagine it quietly fitting into a lunchtime sushi selection. The iguana was harder going, dry and chewy, and all the while the meatballs鈥� dead cousin stared at me with its beady eyes.

Members of the Explorers Club aren鈥檛 the first to try eating invasive species. Over the last few years, conservationists and chefs alike have warmed to the idea, as a way to push culinary boundaries while helping battered ecosystems. When these creatures land in unfamiliar environments, the consequences can be devastating: a study earlier this year suggested that invasive species are now the second biggest cause of extinctions. Controlling their numbers often proves tricky and expensive. Why not make the invaders useful instead?

鈥淚 see this as a way of engaging people,鈥� says Joe Roman, a conservation biologist at the University of Vermont and the 鈥渆ditor 鈥榥鈥� chef鈥� of recipe site 鈥淚t鈥檚 helping bring invasives into people鈥檚 minds and getting them to think about it, and then to go out and have fun and actually have a really good meal.鈥�

The public was slow to catch on, says Roman, but interest has been boosted by recent culinary trends like the locavore movement. Now there are a handful of restaurants around the US with invasives on the menu. In Miami, pop-up restaurant Prey offers dishes like 鈥渇inger lickin'鈥� Asian carp ribs and feral pig wrapped in potato skin. Alewife in Maryland serves up snakehead cakes, wild boar sliders and blue catfish tacos. The pollen of wild fennel, a plant that has displaced native competitors in California, is baked into bread served at Rich Table in San Francisco.

Invasives have started to appear on the periphery of my own life. just a mile north of my office turns out to sell wild boar dumplings. While lunching at , I noticed that the menu now advertises garlic mustard, a problematic weed collected just a few towns away.

Unfamiliar foods can be tough to swallow. Most servers of invasive species, like the Explorers Club, happily advertise their food for what it is. But if conservationists want invasive species to go mainstream, they may have to rebrand their ingredients. It worked for the gruesome-sounding Patagonian toothfish, which is consumed daily under the pseudonym Chilean sea bass.

Hold the iguana

That鈥檚 the thinking of Louisiana chef Philippe Parola. For several years, he鈥檚 campaigned to rebrand Asian carp as silverfin. Now, he鈥檚 working to market the carp to caterers and restaurants. Figuring out how to process the fish to make it easy to use, conducting market research and developing the tastiest recipes are all part of what he calls 鈥渂reaking the code鈥� of a new species. 鈥淚t鈥檚 just a matter of educating the public and getting the taste to the public,鈥� he says. 鈥淚f it is good, then you can鈥檛 lose.鈥�

鈥淢aybe someday there will be a drive-through invasive species restaurant, but I wouldn鈥檛 hold my breath at this point,鈥� Roman warns. Many people are hesitant to try an such an unfamiliar delicacy even when it鈥檚 placed right in front of them. When I asked a few Explorers Club staffers which invasive was their favourite, assuming they would give enthusiastic endorsements, one claimed she hadn鈥檛 had the chance to try anything yet, while another admitted: 鈥淚 personally stay far, far away from the exotics table.鈥�

I would go back. I鈥檓 looking forward to trying what comes next. I might skip the iguana next time, mind you.

听