Pearls have returned to the Sea of Cortés. They are being plucked from oysters taken in the waters of Guaymas Bay, oysters into which an annoying bit of shell has been surgically implanted in hopes that a pearl might form. Referring to the procedure as oyster surgery sounds somewhat orotund, but that is what they call it during tours at the Guaymas Pearl Farm. Since it opened four years ago, the pearl farm has developed into the most important tourist attraction in Guaymas, something to keep in mind during your next visit.
In a manner of speaking, pearls led to the western gulf receiving the name of the Master Conquistador. Cortés had ordered out an expedition to see what lay across the sea that was to honor his memory. Once under sail, a mutiny flared and a captain died, but all was forgotten when the surviving explorers returned with sacks of lustrous pearls. They avowed that they had discovered fabulous lands as rich as the domains of Califia, a fictitious queen who figured in the 16th century bestseller “Las Sergas de Esplanian.” Don Hernán himself sailed off to see for himself the realm of this non-existent queen, returning home unimpressed.
Hunting for pearls, however, evolved during the next several centuries into a profitable, if not exactly compassionate, business in La Paz. Nobel laureate John Steinbeck wrote a lugubrious novel called “The Pearl” about the bestial life of the divers. Pedro Armendáriz starred in a film made from the book. This only seemed to galvanize the industry. Scouring the depths was a dangerous calling and poorly paid, but nonetheless pearling was stripping the ocean floor of life. Only about one oyster in one hundred contained a gem of any value. In 1940, a surprisingly ecologically-sensitive government ordered pearl fishing stopped.
Japan’s Kokichi Mikimoto in the late 19th century had mastered the art of producing cultured pearls. Since the pteria sterna species that makes its home in the Sea of Cortés had made La Paz famous for pearls, the culturing process seemed well-suited to Mexico, but the technique of inserting into the oyster a minute irritant -- around which a pearl would form -- proved difficult to master. About a decade ago, professors at the ITESM campus in Guaymas found a way. All this is explained – usually in English – during tours at a company called Perlas del Mar de Cortez (sic), the extensive facility where cultured pearls are harvested.
Once pearl farm surgeons have inserted those irritating bits of shell, the oysters are returned to the sea in what might be called submersible cages. There they stay, irritated but unmolested, for three or four years. According to Enrique Arizmendi, managing director at the installation, the purity of the water, temperature and length of stay produces some of the finest pearls sold in the world today.
“In Asia, they keep the oysters in warmer waters, but for much less time,” Arizmendi explains. “Warmer water speeds up oyster metabolism, resulting in larger pearls, but pearls that can crack and are likely to peel. We guarantee this will never happen with pearls from the Sea of Cortés.”
Luster is the other grand allure. The pearls of Guaymas – black, silver, pink, or some with a golden hue – glow with a radiance no plastic can imitate. These are rare gems. Only about 5,000 are harvested annually. Tens of thousands of oysters are sacrificed in the process. Whether they end up in cans or salads was not specified. The tour of the pearl farm ends with a chance to browse in an on-premises boutique. The treasures on sale are far from cheap.
After seeing all this, I hesitated before stopping for a seafood meal in San Carlos, the mini-Acapulco on the outskirts of Guaymas. Having endured a lesson in oyster anatomy at the pearl farm – they show you where the stomach, gonads and other organs are located – my appetite for the creatures was briefly suppressed. But only briefly. In the end, I ordered a dozen prepared in the Rockefeller manner. Who knows. One might contain a pearl.
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