Scent, cut, color—these are what most shoppers consider when choosing fish at the market. But behind that gleaming filet lies a 400-year-old, Boston-centric tradition of hardworking local fishermen.
Local fisheries have anchored Boston’s economy, food scene, and identity since its founding. Fishermen have passed this tradition on as a means of providing for their families and supplying freshly caught fish to local communities. However, as fish populations steadily decline, regulations on sustainable practices increase, putting pressure on local fishermen to adhere to new standards and thus changing the centuries-old tradition.
From the fishermen navigating new restrictions, to the scientists studying collapsing fish populations, to the vendors educating customers at urban markets, Boston’s seafood industry is undergoing a transformation. The question isn’t whether the art of fishing locally abundant stocks will survive, but rather, it’s whether sustainability and tradition can coexist, and what that means for communities built on both.
Historical Fishing Traditions Stay Thriving Today
The docks of Boston Harbor and surrounding areas have witnessed centuries of weathered hands hauling lines, mending nets, and bringing in the day’s catch before dawn breaks over the Atlantic. From the colonial era through today, the city’s fishermen have formed the backbone of a maritime tradition built on grit and knowledge of New England’s waters passed on from generation to generation.
When the Massachusetts Bay Colony was first established in 1630, fishing wasn’t merely an industry; it was survival. Settlers quickly had to to read the tides, understand fish population dynamics according to the season, and preserve catches to maintain freshness.
"That's how we survived through the Great Depression." - Mikey Fish
The nineteenth century ushered in Boston’s grand fishing fleet. Fishing vessels began voyaging further into the Georges and Grand Banks, spending weeks out at sea in some cases. These fishermen braved dangerous conditions, including thick fog, unrelenting waves, and piercing-cold temperatures, all to make ends meet and bring food home to their families.
Today, Boston’s fishermen shoulder the same grit and perseverance that shaped the city’s fishing identity for centuries. However, they are battling different beasts.
Modern regulations, declining stocks, and economic pressures have transformed the waterfront, yet those who remain demonstrate the same determination that defined their predecessors. There is no better place to see this than at the weekly Haymarket fish stands, where vendors meet up every Friday and Saturday to sell fresh seafood to the people of Boston and beyond.Mikey Fish knows this well, having sold seafood there since he was 18 and working for his uncle. He’s continued the family affair ever since.
“It stems back in my family many, many years,” said Mikey Fish of his business. “That's how we survived through the Great Depression. My great-grandfather was a fisherman, and when he would bring the fish home, they would trade off for beef, bread, stuff like that.”
While Mikey Fish does not do the fishing himself like his great-grandfather did, his business thrives on selling local fish each weekend at Haymarket. He prides himself on being able to provide high-quality seafood to the customers that come through for lower prices than what would be found at a restaurant or grocery store. Mikey Fish sells local products to local customers, honoring the local fishing tradition and culture of his family’s, and New England’s, past.
The Science Behind the Balance
The abundance of seafood on display at Haymarket masks a hard truth beneath the surface. While New England’s waters teem with life, the species consumers want to eat most are increasingly the ones the ocean can least afford to relinquish.
“It comes down to sustainable biomass in the fishery,” explains Jonathan Grabowski, a professor and researcher in the Marine and Environmental Sciences Department at Northeastern University. “We’re federally managing every species to make sure it doesn’t get to an overfished status. But that's where it gets complicated.”
The reasons for active fishery management are complex. Cod is arguably the fish that built New England’s fishing industry and still dominates consumer demand. Yet fishermen must actively avoid catching cod, following strict regulations designed to allow populations to recover. Unfortunately, cod numbers remain stubbornly low. The culprit isn’t overfishing; it’s climate change.
“The Gulf of Maine is one of the most rapidly warming bodies of water in the world,” says Grabowski. “Climate change is creating an environment that is worse and worse for cod. It’s not really fair to call it overfishing when it has more to do with the ocean itself changing.”
This creates a painful paradox. Fishermen follow the rules, but still face restrictions on fishing depleted stocks they didn’t cause. The result is distrust between those working the water and those regulating it.Meanwhile, the warming waters are reshaping the entire New England ecosystem. Black sea bass, once rare this far north, now populates the Gulf of Maine. Blue crabs have started appearing in Massachusetts waters. Species are shifting their habitual ranges, moving into new territories as ocean temperatures rise. For local fishermen, this means adapting not just to new regulations, but to a fundamentally different ocean that the one their ancestors fished.
“People who were historical lobstermen are now changing what they’re fishing because there aren’t enough lobsters,” says Grabowski. The transition isn’t easy. Unlike lobster, many of these emerging species fetch lower prices at markets. Fishermen receive no premium for catching more sustainable fish. As a matter of fact, they’re often penalized by reduced income.
Shifting consumer behavior requires more than scientific recommendations. It requires trust, transparency, and vendors willing to educate customers about what sustainability actually means. Across Greater Boston, a network of fish markets and cooperatives are attempting exactly that—connecting conscientious eaters with the fishermen working to do things right.
Chatham: Where Fishermen Take Control
Across Greater Boston and Cape Cod, a network of fish markets and cooperatives are proving that transparency doesn’t have to sacrifice tradition. They’re bridging the gap between what scientists recommend and what consumers actually buy.
An hour south of Boston in Chatham, a group of fishermen decided they’d had enough of watching locals pay premium prices for fish shipped from thousands of miles away.
"The original goal was to get a better price for our dogfish catch," explains Brett Tolley of Chatham Harvesters Cooperative, formed in 2016 when five fishermen leveraged their collective power to negotiate directly with buyers. "Fishermen were getting paid very little. Local people were losing access to local fish. We realized we could solve both problems."
What started as a dogfish contract has evolved into something more ambitious: a cooperative that catches, processes, and delivers fish without middlemen. The co-op now operates its own processing facility in Chatham and runs a "Fish Share" program—a CSA model for seafood where members prepay for seasonal catches and pick up their orders at twelve locations across the Cape.
"In September, we asked people to join the fall fish share," Tolley says. "We got fifty thousand dollars in prepayments. That money goes straight to the co-op, and we pay the fishermen immediately after they land a specific catch. We process it right there, which keeps everything local."
The model works because it rewards the right behavior. The fishermen who formed Chatham Harvesters are devoted to stewardship. They actively avoid cod, participate in five research projects with Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, and focus on fishing abundant species that can be sustained
"People really appreciate having access to local, abundant fish," Tolley notes. "The quality is the best they can get." Members receive diverse catches of whatever's thriving in local waters that week, including high-quality frozen fish processed immediately after landing to lock in freshness.
The cooperative sells four thousand pounds of fish per season, all within Massachusetts. It's a small operation compared to industrial seafood, but it proves the concept: when fishermen control the narrative from boat to buyer, sustainability becomes profitable rather than punitive.
Cambridge: The Art of the Cut
Seventy miles north in Cambridge's East Cambridge neighborhood, New Deal Fish Market has been doing things the right way since 1930. The building on Cambridge Street has housed the Fantasia family business since 1943. Fascinatingly, this business follows what the ocean has to offer, not corporate reports regarding fish stocks.
Carl Fantasia, the current owner and Northeastern alum, grew up in the market. His great uncle and great aunt founded New Deal in the early 1930s, naming it after FDR’s New Deal. Carl’s father, a scientist, took over in the late seventies. Carl himself spent a decade working in the energy industry before making a choice that would define his career.
"If I don't take it over, this business is gonna close," he recalls thinking in 2002. By then, he was tired of corporate life. His parents were getting older. East Cambridge was changing, becoming what he calls "a melting pot of ethnicities," full of people interested in food and culture. Now 57, Fantasia spent more than two decades perfecting what his family started nearly a century ago. What sets New Deal apart isn’t just its longevity, it’s the way they handle fish.
Every morning that the market is open, Fantasia visits the Fish Pier in South Boston. They inspect whole fish from suppliers like Dejar Naval Company, relationships that stretch back to when his great uncle first opened the doors. They select only what meets New Deal's standards, load it onto their truck, and bring it back to Cambridge. Then comes the part that matters most: they cut it themselves.
"We do it for the art, the art of cutting the fish," Fantasia explains.
By taking in whole fish and cutting to order, New Deal buys precious hours of freshness that pre-processed seafood can never match.
"When you're going ocean to table, you're finding a way to maintain quality. Fish and seafood are highly perishable, so you have to buy quality if you want to sell quality."
That philosophy has earned New Deal the Best of Boston Award for Best Fish Market multiple times. But for Fantasia, the real measure of success isn't the award, it’s the customer who walks in and says they don’t know what they want.
"That's the kind of customer I love," he admits. "They might ask for a specific type of fish, but they're relying on us because they don't really know"
"I rely on the scientists and the government." - Carl Fantasia
It’s a moment fueled by education. When customers ask for cod, Fantasia explains why it’s not available and offers alternatives. “I rely on the scientists and the government,” he states
This hands-on approach, which includes learning customer preferences, teaching preparation techniques, and following up on how the fish turned out, is only possible because the New Deal remains family-owned.
“Having a small business and being here often affords us the ability to do it,” says Fantasia. “The people that work here have to like being less transactional.”
New Deal is unique due to its willingness to engage customers about not just what they're buying, but why it matters.
East Cambridge has evolved into exactly the community Fantasia hoped for when he left the energy industry: diverse, curious, invested in where their food comes from. New Deal has evolved too, becoming a place where a four-generation commitment to quality meets twenty-first-century concerns about sustainability.
"It’s important for me to keep up the family business," Fantasia reflects. But keeping it up means more than keeping the doors open. It means teaching the art of the cut to the next generation. It means trusting scientists and explaining their findings to customers who just want dinner. It means understanding that "ocean to table" isn't a marketing phrase, it's a daily practice of maintaining quality through every link in the chain.
Choose Your Fish Wisely
New England’s fishing tradition has always relied on the balance between people and the sea. Today, that balance is more fragile than ever. Fishermen who once inherited their generational livelihoods without question now navigate the rough seas of shifting regulations and dwindling stocks. In response, marine scientists race to tackle the challenges underlying fish population dynamics and ecosystem health, thus offering data-driven solutions. Fishmongers take on the last bit of the journey to ensure what ends up on the dinner table is sourced responsibly.
In Boston, the “perfect fish” isn’t just about flavor or freshness, it’s about the centuries of tradition, innovation, and collaboration behind every catch. If Massachusetts is to keep its coastal identity alive for the next generation of fishermen, sustainability can’t be viewed as a burden. It has to be seen as the future of fishing itself. Preserving the ocean isn’t just about protecting marine life, it’s also about protecting the communities built upon it.