Edible seaweed on Scotland’s shores draws the world’s foragers. Sea spaghetti, anyone?

“The seaweed on these bare rocks is very slippery,” says Jayson Byles, as he balances on boulders at Kingsbarns Beach near Fife, in eastern Scotland. The view is pleasant now that the rain has stopped. A New Zealand-born Scotsman with Maori roots and dreadlocks, he is searching for seaweed, wearing Wellington boots, rubberised overalls and a brown cap. A pair of scissors are his only equipment – he does not need a fishing rod or net. Byles bends down repeatedly and points to seaweed plants such as Polysiphonia lanosa, Ulva lactuca and Himanthalia elongata – or sea truffles, sea lettuce and sea spaghetti, as they are also known. Gradually, different shapes, colours – and flavours, as Byles explains – become clear to discern. The subtle sea green sea spaghetti is crisp, fresh, nutty and anything but fishy, while the shaggy brush tuft algae can taste a bit like truffles. East Neuk, the area in which the beach is located, is about an hour and a half’s drive north of Edinburgh. The ebb and flow of the tides is vast, says Byles, and macroalgae – a term for seaweed – cling to rocks there with their sticky, root-like organs. People forage for wild seafood when the tide is out. “I go out at full and new moon because the water recedes the furthest at spring tide,” says Byles. This part of the North Sea is full of red, brown, and green seaweed plants. Anyone can harvest them. “Over a thousand macroalgae grow in Scotland,” says Byles, “all of them edible, but about 14 species taste particularly good.” However, not all of them can be harvested at the same time. Sea spaghetti measures less than 20 centimetres (a little under eight inches) in March, but can grow to be metres long later in the year. Sea truffles and sea lettuce are particularly tasty and nutritious in autumn. Under no circumstances should you eat dead, washed up or fishy-smelling seaweed. Go for fresh seaweed only. Byles first learned about edible seaweed in New Zealand. Love brought him to Scotland, where he worked as a team leader in the commercial seaweed harvesting industry. Then, he and his family moved to Fife, a farming and fishing peninsula dotted with golden beaches. He has been running regular foraging workshops, including an open-air cook-off, since 2019. His services are unique. “People come from all over the world,” says Byles, who also supplies a local fish restaurant, the Dory Bistro & Gallery on the outskirts of Pittenweem village. Then, he jumps into a knee-deep pool of water and pulls up long, broad, fleshy brown algae leaves. “Laminaria digitata,” he says. “We’ll make our linguine pasta from this seaweed in a minute.” Back on the beach, he fires up the mobile cooker and cuts the seaweed to the size of lasagne sheets. He makes small cuts in them and pulls the seaweed apart to make “sea linguine”. The seaweed turns green as soon as it is dropped into the boiling water. It takes only 10 minutes to cook – just like ordinary pasta. He adds fresh onions and mushrooms to complement the seaweed’s spicy umami flavour, then wraps pieces of fish in fine seaweed. He serves the linguine and sautéed vegetables on plates. This chewy green “pasta” tastes delicious and is easy to eat. While common in Asian cuisine, seaweed can seem a little exotic for some Europeans. Yet the vegetable – rich in protein, vitamins and minerals and often marketed as a superfood – has been on menus across Scotland and Ireland and from France to southern Spain for thousands of years. “Cold-hardy algae such as Palmaria palmata, also known as dulse, dillisk or Chondrus crispus – commonly called Irish moss or carrageenan moss – were particularly popular,” says the New Zealander. People used to bake them into bread or use them to make cough medicine. But as more intensive farming techniques arrived, seaweed became overlooked. Nowadays, Byles focuses on sustainability rather than commercial algae farming. “Harvest only as much as you need.” The golden rule of successful seaweed harvesting is to always cut off the leaves above the base. Never tear them out, because that is the only way they can continue to grow. The scent of our delicious seaweed pasta has attracted curious walkers on the Fife Coastal Path – sea green linguine is probably something of an unusual dining choice when compared to scones with clotted cream or fish and chips. The coastal route runs from the Fife Peninsula through picturesque fishing villages and the university town of St Andrews. Apparently, it took someone from the other side of the world to revive a superfood that grows abundantly along Scotland’s east coast.

Edible seaweed on Scotland’s shores draws the world’s foragers. Sea spaghetti, anyone?

Sea truffles, sea lettuce, dulse, dillisk, Irish moss. All sorts of seaweed can be found on Scottish shores, a passionate forager explains