03 May,2026 10:47 AM IST | Mumbai | Nasrin Modak Siddiqi
Fish Thali at TAT
Last week in Vasai, restaurateur Adith Fernandes spotted a local fisherwoman selling pomfret the length of a finger. In theory, juvenile fishing is banned, and criminal proceedings are initiated against boat owners who use small-mesh nets that prevent fish from maturing. Mangroves are sacred since they serve as essential breeding and nursery grounds for young pomfret. In December 2023, Maharashtra officially declared the white or silver pomfret the State Fish to promote focused conservation and raise awareness of its dwindling population.
Seafood supplier Ankush Shewale at Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Mandai near Crawford Market. PIC/ATUL KAMBLE
On the ground, the reality differs. On March 20, the Supreme Court allowed the BMC to cut thousands of mangrove trees for the Versova Bhayandar coastal road project. And juvenile fishing continues in plain sight.
"It's out in the open, driven by a chain of decisions where everyone benefits in the short term. The fisher earns for the day, the middleman moves stock, the restaurant gets supplies, and the customer feels they've scored a deal. Everyone is happy in that moment, but no one is thinking about what happens next," says Fernandes, whose late father, Francis Fernandes, started Fresh Catch in 1998, to serve authentic coastal seafood. Fernandes and his sister Ankita now run it.
Silver pomfret, native to India's coast and prized for its delicate, buttery flavour, is no longer a dependable catch. In several regions, populations have fallen from stable to critically threatened, with annual landings dropping from nearly 1200 tonnes to just 40 over four decades. Along the Mumbai coast, fish that once averaged 350 to 400 grams now weigh 250 to 300 grams, and juveniles are caught before they can reproduce.
Pomfret prices have risen 20-50 per cent in recent weeks, driven by reduced fishing activity and higher fuel costs, with rates hovering between Rs 900 and Rs 2000 per kilo depending on size and day.
White/blackboards help educate guests on less popular fish
"Supply disruptions are now routine. Fewer boats head out, seasonal fluctuations tighten volumes, and the pre-ban slowdown adds pressure," says Ankush Shewale, a seafood supplier and content creator (@ankushseafood), focused on educating the masses about seafood and sustainable practices through Instagram. He hails from Shewalewadi village in Satara district, where fishing sustains entire communities.
Shewale warns that the strain runs deeper than pricing. Overfishing is steadily eroding the marine food chain, removing key species from coastal ecosystems that depend on balance. Studies have long highlighted the need for stricter regulation of gillnets and trawlers to ensure sustainability, yet enforcement remains inconsistent. He explains how the city's supply system works. Mumbai's fish flows through hubs like Sassoon Dock, Ferry Wharf (Bhaucha Dhakka), and Crawford Market, with stock arriving from across the coastline, from Gujarat to West Bengal, alongside local landings from Madh, Colaba, Vasai, Mahim and Naigaon.
Sudhir Pai
"Fishing in India is neither regulated nor organised. Demand drives everything," he says. "Add vote bank politics, pollution along the coast, and shrinking mangroves, and the pressure only builds. Our fishing grounds are limited, covering barely 10 nautical miles. Every year, the catch declines, and we are already seeing signs of species disappearing, even endangered fish quietly entering markets."
Sayli Walke, head of marketing and research, Nav Chaitanya, points to what is changing at sea. "Fishing has moved from slower, selective methods to high-intensity practices," she says. "Trawlers now stay out for 10 to 15 days, sometimes a month, moving across coasts. Strong lights are used to draw fish in, and once they gather, everything gets caught: juveniles, algae, debris, and even plastic. Fishing is expensive and uncertain, and since there is no guarantee of a good haul, what sells is kept, and the rest is discarded or pushed into fish paste, animal feed and processed products, allowing waste and contaminants to move through the chain."
Nav Chaitanya's Silver Breams
If overfishing is the problem, preference is the pressure point. Chef Sudhir Pai of TAT in Vikhroli points out that urban Indian seafood plate has revolved around a familiar trio: pomfret, surmai, and ravas. That dominance is now beginning to strain under its own weight. "These fish are harder to source, uneven in quality, and steadily more expensive. The reasons are layered, from overfishing and pollution to a disregard for breeding cycles. We don't follow the basics and the sea is paying for it," he says.
Nav Chaitanya's Tandoor Tamboshi
Alternatives like basa and farmed seabass once eased the pressure, especially in banqueting and frozen formats, but they never translated into regional Indian cooking. "For a proper fish curry, basa doesn't work. It lacks texture, flavour, soul," he adds.
Fernandes sees the cultural side of this clearly. "Pomfret is not just popular, it is aspirational. It's what you order to impress. It sits in that slightly elite space. It's not caviar, but it holds that place. Part of the appeal is practical: pomfret is easy to eat and fillet, and is mild-flavoured, so for someone starting with seafood, it's the safest recommendation. Surmai and Ravas follow close behind," he adds.
Sayli Warke and Adith Fernandes
Over time, that comfort has hardened into dependence. A narrow band of fish now carries the weight of an entire city's appetite. "What diners rarely see is what happens at the source. At some restaurants, you see pomfret at prices that don't add up. Then you realise they are selling smaller fish that are cheaper. Ecologically, the cost is far higher," Fernandes adds.
At the heart of the issue is size. As larger fish grow scarce and expensive, smaller ones are caught before they mature, locking the cycle in place. For Chef Hussain Shahzad, executive chef at Hunger Inc, stepping away from pomfret is a conscious call. It does not feature on The Bombay Canteen's menu. "Supply is uncertain, prices have surged, and the right size is hard to find. Not everyone will pay Rs 1000 for a fish. There's also this idea of a âplate-size fish' that restaurants chase. Fish don't grow uniformly. Trying to meet that expectation puts pressure on the system. It's a beautiful fish, but I don't want to drive demand for something already under stress," he says.
Fernandes agrees that restraint has to start somewhere. "Pomfret is an easy seller. People trust it, they'll order it. But you have to draw a line. If the fish is too small or the larger catch is not fresh, we do not buy it. Guests walk in asking for pomfret, only to be told it is unavailable. But that moment opens a door to tell them, try another fish instead."
Pai shifts the conversation to what is being overlooked. "The issue is not supply, but perception. Take mackerel. Often dismissed as too strong or too bony, it is nutritionally rich, high in Omega-3 and second only to salmon. In cuisines like Japanese, it is treated with precision, deboned, cured and elevated. It's about technique. The fish isn't the problem. Our approach is."
This is where the chef's role is changing. It is no longer just about cooking, but about curation and communication. Introducing lesser-known fish, adapting them into familiar formats, and building narratives that help diners understand what they are eating.
"Small shifts in how dishes are presented can change how they are received," Shahzad says. "The sea is changing, and the flavours we grew up with are gone. For chefs, that means constant recalibration, adjusting to each batch, each supplier, each catch," says Pai.
At The Bombay Canteen, that shift shows up in variety. Mandeli, bangda, red snapper, seabass, bombil, squid, prawns, and mud crabs, guided by season and availability. "People ask for pomfret because it's familiar," he says. "But they don't always know what else is out there. Take bangda. It's flavourful but has bones, which can make it intimidating. Our job is to make it accessible through technique, preparation and pairing. Make it inviting, and habits begin to move."
Seasonality is where the disconnect is sharpest. Fish follow cycles. Menus rarely do. Restaurants, Fernandes believes, have more influence than they admit. "If we don't stock something, it doesn't get ordered. It's that simple. One small decision, repeated across thousands of plates, adds up. It can't be one person fixing it. It has to happen somewhere along the chain: the fisherman, the seller, the restaurant, or the customer. If even one of them pauses, it makes a difference. People walk in with fixed choices. Moving them takes effort," he says.
"My father would explain a dish, what it is and why it matters. Today, our team carries that forward at the table, sharing small but meaningful details. What a fish is known for, where it comes from, and who typically eats it. The goal is not to lecture, but to invite curiosity. Take ladyfish, or mordoshi. Common along the Konkan and Goan coasts, but largely overlooked in Mumbai. It is lean, high in protein, rich in omega-3 fatty acids, iodine and vitamin D. You tell someone that, and they're willing to try it. We've had guests who now come in specifically asking for it. That shift takes time, but it does happen," he says.
Walke sees a similar pattern. "Unlike a tried-and-tested pomfret fry, an unfamiliar fish doesn't always land immediately," she says.
"But once people try it and realise it's good and more affordable, they come back to it. There's also the silver bream (Shetka) which looks like pomfret, and even tastes better. People hesitate because they don't know it. So we nudge them to try it once."
Eating seasonally is as much about sustainability as it is about taste. It allows fish the time they need to breed, easing pressure on already strained stocks. At Nav Chaitanya, that principle shapes the menu. "During the monsoon, we shift to local fish such as red snapper, silver bream, and mud crabs. These come from backwaters, rivers, mangroves, and estuaries. Not all fish breed in the monsoon. Each has its own cycle. So instead of forcing year-round demand, we adjust," says Walke. It is a small shift, but one that runs counter to the urban expectation of having everything, all the time.
Shetty Hotel Style Fish Pulimunchi Summer menu at The Bombay Canteen
Walke avoids frozen fish as far as possible. "If a vendor can't guarantee freshness, we don't serve it," she adds. Over time, that judgment becomes instinctive. Walke credits her mother, who spent years handling fish, for teaching her how to read it. "There are small tells. With pomfret, press near the gills. A clear liquid means it's fresh. If it's reddish, it's not. With mackerel, the eyes say everything. If they turn dull or red, you know."
India enforces an annual two-month fishing ban along both coasts, cutting off fresh sea fish and pushing the market towards inconsistent frozen supply. The problem with frozen fish is not the method, but the execution. Quality is inconsistent, often poor. Shewale says, "The issue isn't freezing itself, it's the fish that goes into it and how it's handled. Much of the stock is bought in bulk at lower prices to achieve higher margins later, which means the starting quality is often average or below average. Add delays in blast-freezing and breaks in the cold chain, and the results show. When it's thawed, the texture turns soft, almost cotton-like. The smell drops, the taste follows."
Hussain Shahzad
Over time, this has shaped perception. Frozen seafood is widely seen as inferior. Done right, he says, the opposite is true. Fish that is blast-frozen within hours of being caught can retain equal, even better, nutritional value than fresh fish that has sat in the market for days. Nutrient loss begins the moment the fish is harvested. Rapid freezing slows that process, preserving proteins and omega-3 fatty acids.
To address this, Shewale suggests a more structured approach. A Frozen Seafood Festival backed by a nationwide awareness campaign, supported by certified, high-quality frozen stock through proper supply channels. "Participation by seafood-focused restaurants during the ban could help normalise it. This will lead to better quality control, greater consumer trust, reduced reliance on unregulated supply, and improved price stability. Surplus catch in peak season can be processed and frozen to standard rather than sold cheaply, supporting fishermen and creating a buffer for the ban period," he adds.
The future of seafood will not be shaped by one sweeping change, but by many smaller ones. Menus that move with the tide, kitchens that choose not to serve something when it does not meet the mark, and diners willing to step outside their comfort zones to try something new, because what is at stake is not just what ends up on the plate today, but what remains in the water tomorrow. As Shewale puts it, "The scene can change, but it will take two to three years for the cycle to set; if only the consumers give up the greed and give the fish a chance to breed."
Mumbai's appetite for seafood far exceeds what its coastline can supply. A significant share comes from Gujarat, much of it frozen, a sign of how stretched the system already is. "Fish is available in markets year-round, but off-season supply is often frozen or sourced from other coastal states. The white pomfret from the Gujarat and Maharashtra coasts is different, but only an expert can tell. Ninety-five per cent of the time, pomfret comes from Howrah or Gujarat. Prices typically range from Rs 350-Rs 700 per kg, depending on size and supplier, and are cheaper than the Maharashtra variants," says Ankush Shewale.
What happens to the catch depends on the species and value. Premium fish like yellowfin and bluefin tuna are exported to markets, while most others are sold locally. A quieter stream feeds the pet food industry, smaller fish like mandeli, along with rejected catch and bycatch. In trade parlance, this is "khatar cha maal", low-value stock that sells for Rs 30-Rs 35 per kilo, essentially what the market rejects and redirects into processed feed.
Rs 3 cr
of global fish production and supporting ~3 crore livelihoods
8%
India's share of global fish produce; it's the 2nd-largest producer
350
No of seafood products India exports to 130 countries
During June and July, a fishing ban is in place along the west coast, so it's advisable to avoid fresh sea fish. While some fish may still be available then, they are often limited and priced significantly higher. Broadly, August to February is considered the best window for seafood consumption. Fishing resumes after the monsoon ban, bringing in fresh catch, and supply remains relatively stable through winter.
Surmai (kingfish): Best from September to February; availability drops in summer.
Rawas (Indian salmon): October to March is ideal, with peak flavour in winter.
Pomfret and halwa (black pomfret): October to March is peak season, when both quality and taste are at their best.
Chinese pomfret: Largely sourced from regions like Gujarat and West Bengal; better quality is usually seen from November to February.
Bombil (Bombay duck): Best consumed fresh between October and February; in summer, smaller sizes are more common and often used for drying.
Sardines (tarli): August to January is ideal, when the fish is at its fattiest and most flavourful; quantities taper off by late March.
Bangda (mackerel): Peak season runs from August to December; available year-round, but quality can vary outside this window.
Squid: Good from August to February, with winter offering better quality.
Prawns: Peak season is July to November, post-monsoon; after that, supply tightens, and prices begin to rise.
