Close your eyes and imagine the fruits of the Chilean sea: sea urchins, oysters, piure, conger eel, and pomfret. The list is endless. In this exercise, there's often one product that is frequently overlooked — a key component of our oceans that has been consumed for thousands of years: seaweed.

The Monteverde archaeological site in Chile has revealed that nearly 14,000 years ago, the first inhabitants of the area now known as Puerto Montt, in the southern part of the country, consumed at least four species of seaweed. The ‘seaweed highway’, a  migratory hypothesis that proposes the theory that nomadic communities who arrived from Asia were actually on a hunt for kelp forests along the shores, adds even more weight to the ancient history of this marine resource.

This theory suggests that the first inhabitants of the Americas arrived not by land but by sea, likely using boats that allowed them to sail along the coast through a ‘highway’ where the abundant presence of seaweed created a rich maritime ecosystem teeming with fish, crustaceans, mollusks, and marine mammals. These conditions would have allowed for gatherer communities from the other side of the Pacific to reach South America by following the coastline from Northeast Asia and the Bering Sea.

Why, with its abundant presence on the Pacific Ocean shores, has it been relegated to a secondary role in traditional Chilean cuisine and our culinary imagination? Today, the tide seems to have changed direction. Over the past decade and a half, the revaluation of regional cuisines from the north and south of the country, along with the search for local and sustainable ingredients, has brought seaweed from the depths of oblivion into the kitchens of restaurants and many households. However, beyond its culinary appeal, what stories does seaweed tell us? How is this underwater treasure with such deep roots in our past nourishing our future?

An Ancient Tradition

Let's explore the traces of seaweed throughout the territory. The ancient Chinchorro culture, which inhabited the desert coasts of northern Chile, had already been enjoying seaweed for nearly 6,000 years. Biologist Nicole Searcey reveals that: “fish, seafood, sea birds, and algae composed 81% of their diet, according to the analysis of the bones of one of their men.” Let's move on to Coquimbo in the central-northern area, which is the ancient settlement of the Chango peoples. According to Ricardo Latchman's research in his 1910 work Los changos de las costas de Chile, these people consumed: “various types of fish, numerous species of seafood, two or three varieties of edible seaweed, and the meat of sea lions” (1910: 46). Further south, in the Puerto Montt area, the Monteverde archaeological site was discovered, which is also the oldest known record of seaweed consumption. The remains of at least nine types of seaweed were found, bitten, burnt, or alongside corpses, leading to the belief that they may have been part of funeral rites.

Paz Escandón, a visual artist and author of the book Algas pacíficas, mar y cocina de Chile, adds that traces of seaweed have also been found in the pre-Andean areas, indicating that there may have been trade with communities that did not necessarily live along the coast.

The Chilean Patagonia, due to its marine temperatures, houses a wider availability of seaweed and stories to tell along with it. Paz recalls that the late National Prize winner in Natural Sciences, Francisco Bozinovic, was convinced that the famous famine that killed the first Spanish colonists who attempted to settle the northern shore of the Strait of Magellan in 1584 must have been caused by a red tide that affected the seaweed in that area because it was the only thing they could eat. This place is known as Puerto del Hambre, which translates to ‘Port of Hunger’.

Seaweed consumption continued after the arrival of the Spaniards. The fusion of cuisines that occurred back then resulted in dishes that have survived to this day. We can find several clues in the book La olla deleitosa, from the Chilean writer and anthropologist, Sonia Montecinos.

”In pre-Columbian times, the coastal inhabitants ate seaweed and raw fish seasoned only with chilli, and later, under the influence of the 'white slaves,' Moorish* women who were sometimes concubines of the Spanish, they added the acidity of lemons or oranges. 'Sibech' means precisely sour food in the Western Mediterranean Arabic, and 'seviche' is a word from the same family as 'escabeche,' which these Moorish women also introduced.” (Montecinos, 2014: 39) Montecinos also mentions seaweed as the main ingredient in the ‘Friday stew’, at a time when the abstinence of red meat during Holy Week was in effect. The ‘guiso de cochayuyo’, a dish inherited from Mapuche culture, of which the cochayuyo seaweed grows all along the coast of Chile, is one of the dishes that persists to this day.

Times of poverty and scarcity were marked by an even greater consumption of seaweed. When meat was hard to find, it was common to use cochayuyo as a substitute for beef in the traditional ‘cazuela’, a soup made with poultry, pork, beef, or other meat, generally accompanied by rice, potatoes, and vegetables, served in its own broth. Montecinos describes the seaweed as: “a vicarious representation of game birds or cattle, and it is possible that due to its colour and the feasibility of cutting it into large pieces, it conforms to the carnivorous imagination” (2004: 65). In Chiloé, an island in the southern part of the country, they still prepare the cazuela with lamb and ‘luche’, a “red algae with a short adhesive disc and a blade-like form similar to a lettuce leaf with wavy edges and sometimes a divided blade” (Plath, 2018: 344).

But despite the long history and widespread presence of seaweed in pre-Columbian and post-colonial Chilean dishes, there was a time when its consumption and valuation significantly decreased. “In the 1980s, there was a social bubble constructed from a material focus due to the economic boom of those years and the ideas that were instilled during the dictatorship. Cochayuyo was associated with poverty and was left behind as materialism became more important,” explains Paz.

Evidence supporting Paz's claim can be found in the old Chilean magazine, Paloma, known as the ‘magazine for women’, which was printed between November 14, 1972, and September 4, 1973 — one week before the military coup. In the second issue of Paloma magazine, a series of recipes made with cochayuyo is featured, preceded by an infographic that says: “Cochayuyo. Rich in vitalizing substances, it should occupy an honourable place in the diet of Chileans. Four advantages make it irreplaceable: it contains iodine and other mineral salts; it is cheap; our coasts produce it in abundance; it can be prepared in countless ways. The only drawback: it is not as appreciated as it should be.”

One hypothesis on why seaweed has been so undervalued during long periods of Chile’s history, provided by Noemí Solar Bacho, a marine biologist specialising in aquaculture and seaweed marketing, says that: “The Mapuches used many seaweeds in their diet including various preparations with cochayuyo, the luga soup with toasted flour — a very old dish — among others. Children played with balls made of cochayuyo, and they also used it medicinally. The issue is that with the arrival of the Spaniards, the Mapuches became servants, and both their cuisine and culture were relegated to a secondary role”, she explains.

However, for about a decade now, seaweeds have been reversing the trend. They are finally starting to be valued and are gradually taking on a more prominent role in kitchens. Cochayuyo is no longer seen as a product associated with scarcity and has become highly sought after in restaurants that feature seafood. At the renowned restaurant Boragó, seaweeds can be found prepared in a multitude of different ways. In one of the most striking dishes, they use a large piece of cochayuyo as a ‘bladder’ or container to cook a lobster from Juan Fernández Island, reflecting both the versatility of this product and its renewed status in recent years.

Life Among Seaweed

The foraging of seaweed is an age-old technique that has been carried out throughout history, almost entirely by women. Tradition dictates that in fishing families in Chile, men are responsible for fishing and diving while women stay on the beach and forage for seaweed, often accompanied by their daughters or sons. One of the women who has engaged in this work from the coasts of Navidad, in the O'Higgins region, is Cecilia Masferrer, who was formerly the Director of Conapach (National Confederation of Artisanal Fishermen of Chile) and president of the Federation of Artisanal Fishermen in her community. Her life among seaweed began when she married a diver and fisherman from Navidad, contributing to the family's livelihood through coastal harvesting.

”The community was in a bubble for a long time, but technology, road networks, and new means of communication have brought tourists to the area. Those who integrate into the community continue to follow the local traditions because that's how things work,” she explains.

The management of the coastal areas in Navidad remains very similar to ancient times. Various clans oversee the ‘plots’ along the coast. Among the clans, territories are respected, and they support each other if anyone has issues with a plot. The utmost respect is given to the elderly, and roles are assigned according to historical hierarchy traditions. It's a form of collective work that has always functioned in the old-fashioned way. When Cecilia began to adapt to these dynamics, she felt that her work and that of other seaweed foragers was often unnoticed due to the prevailing male chauvinism in the field, upheld by centuries of customs. However, through her various leadership roles, she gradually helped bring about change and became a beacon for the women of Navidad.

“Today, we have a coven”, she says with a laugh. “Women have awakened, and the community has understood the importance of the role we seaweed gatherers play. Many women are now creating micro-businesses and helping increase family income through effective resource management. They are no longer afraid to train to build the skills, and I would say they are the main driving force for improving income. We now see women in unions and positions of power, which was previously unthinkable,” she explained. Under this system, the community has started to embrace the notion of preserving and acknowledging the fragility of marine resources. Cecilia realised that the availability of fish and seaweed was diminishing, primarily due to climate change and overfishing in some areas at the hands of industrial fishing. More was being sold, but the quality of life wasn't improving. The consequences could be dire. That's how her idea of adding value to seaweed emerged.

“We believe that the solution to our problems is fair trade. Promoting sustainability, innovation and traceability. That we all benefit. We realised the importance of highlighting the nutritional value of seaweed, packaging them properly, being environmentally friendly, and increasing our regulatory standards because there is a huge lack of vision on the part of the Subsecretariat of Fisheries regarding seaweed,” she said. What Cecilia is proposing is true. Seaweed is a finite resource that can easily be depleted if the harvesting quotas are not respected. Some marine monocultures have damaged aquatic ecosystems, reducing the availability of seaweed on the seabed, which can have very serious environmental consequences.

“Kelp forests function similarly to terrestrial forests. They release oxygen, purify, and are the lungs of the ocean,” says Noemí. “Larger brown kelp forests, such as cochayuyo and huiro* serve as spawning grounds for fish and protection from their predators,” she points out. The role of seaweed in the seabed is so crucial that various scientific communities are seeking solutions to protect and increase their presence in the Chilean sea due to the numerous positive effects they have on the marine ecosystem.

Let's look at the case of Tongoy Bay in the central-northern zone of the Chilean coast. It's a commune known for having oyster monocultures that were once abundant, but due to the illegal extraction of huiro seaweed, this precious bivalve now faces a decreasing availability. In turn, this has pushed away other species which participated in a symbiotic relationship within the ecosystem.

An investigation from the Aquaculture in Management Areas programme of the Universidad Católica del Norte, titled Integrated Multi Trophic Cultivation of Northern Oysters and Sea Chicory, led by Cristián Sepúlveda, demonstrated that both resources mutually benefit each other: oysters had a larger size, and seaweed had greater biomass. This type of multitrophic cultivation is a concept of sustainable aquaculture that involves incorporating species that form a beneficial nutrient and energy cycle for all involved within the same management area. “Today, we are promoting  that we need to move away from monocultures like pigs, turkeys, sardines, or salmon, because what is being done is the fragmentation of an area, making it unsustainable. We are now promoting the concept of a 'marine farm,' where we can have fish, shellfish, and seaweed within a management area, and each of them contributes to the growth of the others,” Cristián explains.

”It's about recognising that we can improve the harvesting of some species we have underwater by conducting multitrophic cultivation without exotic species. These marine farms can help fishermen and seaweed gatherers continue their harvesting without depleting our resources,” he added. For this to be viable, Cristián believes that seaweed consumption must be increased and explored beyond cochayuyo and luche. “Chicory*, huiros, and other seaweeds can be side dishes, fillings, or simply seasonings, sauces and pâtés. People have to understand that, in addition to tasting good, seaweeds have nutritious components that are tremendously beneficial for health,” he adds.

This treasure, hidden by the waves, promises to be a key food for the future. Its fascinating diversity is the perfect gift for connoisseurs and lovers of fine cuisine. It's highly likely that the taste of Chilean cuisine will increasingly be influenced by the salty and umami flavours of its coastal seaweed. Its harvesting, an art and culture that has withstood the test of history — time and time again, leaves the door open for reflection on how the future of this food, which lies on the floor of the roaring sea, should be managed. 🐟