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Chesapeake Channa Might Be The Most Delicious Freshwater Fish Of All Time

Albert Einstein is commonly credited with defining insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Old Albert immediately popped into my mind when I read that a Maryland senator is trying to pass a bill that would rename northern snakeheads "Chesapeake channa," at least on restaurant menus and fish market chalkboards. 

The goal, of course, is to make this invasive fish with python skin and cobra fangs more appealing to diners. The logic here is that if commercial demand goes up, more snakeheads will die, which benefits the environment. On paper it's a fine idea, but if I could sit down with the senator over a lunch of fresh copi, I might be able to help him understand why this probably isn't going to work.

Copi, It's What's for Dinner?

Have you ever ordered copi at a restaurant? I'd bet you've never seen it on a menu. That's the new name given to several members of the invasive Asian carp family in an attempt to boost sales and make the fish sound appetizing. The move made sense because, after all, whether you fish or not, everybody knows carp and nobody wants to eat them. 

But the name campaign has mostly fallen flat. The hope was that these highly destructive fish would be sold across the nation, but that simply isn't happening. The sad thing is Asian carp is quite delicious. I've eaten it, and it's a clean, crisp, mild white-meat fish. Likewise, northern snakehead might be my favorite freshwater fish on the table, and I've been happily turning them into tacos for the last eight years. 

Read Next: Can You Eat Carp?

To the best of my knowledge, however, renaming a fish to boost demand has only worked twice in history, and both times the results were kind of disastrous. But there's a lot to learn from these cases, particularly in the psychology department.

Toothfish and Slimeheads

Consider the Chilean seabass, a fish you've likely heard of if not enjoyed at a nice restaurant on your anniversary. Their real name is Patagonian toothfish. They're a rather ugly black fish caught in deep Arctic waters, but when fish wholesaler Lee Lantz tasted their succulent white flesh in the late 1970s, he knew the masses would love it if he could market it properly. So, the name was changed and suddenly it was on menus and in seafood markets across the globe. Lantz became very wealthy. 

The same thing happened with slimeheads, a deep-water ocean fish abundant off the cost of New Zealand. You may have eaten one of those, too, but it was sold to you as orange roughy. The problem with both orange roughy and the Chilean seabass is that the sudden spike in demand drove both species to near extinction. Now, when facing down invasive species like snakeheads and Asian carp, biologists, chefs, and politicians are looking for this same kind of lightning to strike, but it's my belief that it won't for the simple fact that they're freshwater fish. 

Saltwater Fish vs Freshwater Fish The delicious Chesapeake channa. Photo by Joe Cermele

I think that general consumers — in other words, non-anglers and people with no deep knowledge of fish — are more apt to try a novel saltwater species than a freshwater species. In many respects, we can thank the booming sushi market for this. The first time I ever tried "white tuna" was in its raw form, and I thought it was superbly tasty. I still order it every time I'm in a Japanese restaurant. Turns out its real name is escolar and it's almost as hideous as the Chilean seabass. But when the waitress explained it's a deep-water fish sourced from the icy-cold waters at the bottom of the central Gulf of Mexico, I was intrigued. 

Since most people are aware of the high price species like bluefin tuna, monkfish, and tilefish served up in restaurants, saltwater fish in general have a more luxurious feel about them. It's decadent. Even though I'd later learn escolar is fairly easy to catch commercially, I felt like I was eating something exotic and hard-to-get that first time. But in my experience, Americans simply don't look at freshwater fish the same way. 

Sure, there are restaurants across the Great Lakes region that serve fried walleye and yellow perch. Across the South there are loads of rustic catfish joints. Pan-seared rainbow trout is a common special at classy eateries, which always makes me chuckle because there's no commercial wild trout fishery I'm aware of, so you're paying top dollar for a tank-raised fish. 

Beyond these staples, however, Americans don't seem as willing to get experimental with freshwater fish, which makes some sense. Try as a chef might to sell you on copi or snakehead, if you live where those fish live it could be easy to associate them with the muddy river you drive over every day or that mucky bog you pass on your way to work. Those habitats don't hit the same as the depths of the (perceived) clean ocean thousands of miles away. 

Bigger Lies?

Over the years, I've fed northern snakehead to at least a dozen first-timers. Every single one was blown away by the taste, texture, and mild flavor. But none of them found it so good that they became passionate snakehead anglers because they wanted their freezer stocked.

A few even texted me later when they wound up in a restaurant that served snakehead. They didn't order it but forwarded a shot of the menu just because they thought it was kind of neat. My takeaway is that with snakeheads and Asian carp, people are open to it if someone they know and trust caught it and prepared it for them. To that end, the one time I ate Asian carp was at the house of a buddy who personally shot it with a bow and raved about it on the table. Had I been sitting at a restaurant and seen copi on the menu, I'd have been too worried that I wouldn't like it, thereby wasting my money and ruining what could have been a nice meal if I just ordered a steak. 

What makes me laugh the hardest about these name changes, however, is that they seem aimed at making a fish more appealing without being too deceitful, and, frankly, I just don't understand the approach. The "channa" in Chesapeake channa refers to the snakehead's Latin name, Channa argus. The term "copi" has no tie to the fish at all. 

Read Next: How to Catch Snakeheads

But in both cases, the average consumer will likely question both names because they've never heard of either. They'll ask the server what it is, and short of telling a bold-faced lie, the server will explain, and the deal will likely be off. Chilean seabass is a lie, of course, but it sounds delicious, and ordinary people feel comfortable with seabass. It's safe. So, why not just call snakeheads Chesapeake cod or Maryland rock perch? Why not call Asian carp silver bass on menus? If you're going to pull a fast one, pull it all the way and it may actually move the product. Just ask Lee Lantz.

Maryland Senator Proposes Renaming Invasive Snakehead Fish

SALISBURY, MD - In a bid to transform perceptions and potentially bolster consumption, a Maryland state senator has proposed renaming the invasive snakehead fish. Senator Jack Bailey has introduced an amendment to a bill to formally adopt a new name.

The move, according to Bailey, aims to rebrand the snakehead fish and make it more palatable to consumers. Since its initial discovery in Maryland waters in 2002, the species has been stigmatized with labels like "frankenfish" due to its formidable appearance, characterized by sharp teeth and an imposing presence.

Lawmakers argue that the current name might not evoke culinary enthusiasm, prompting the initiative to explore a more appealing alternative. 

The snakehead's presence is evident not only in the Chesapeake Bay but also in tributaries like the Nanticoke River.

State biologists have long advocated for the consumption of snakehead fish as a means of control. They urge against releasing them back into the water or leaving them on riverbanks, as the resilient species can survive out of water and wriggle back in.

Despite efforts to introduce snakehead onto menus, the name has posed challenges. Tracy Schulz, owner of Fisherman's Inn, says the snakehead was on their specials menu very briefly. He believes it didn't sell partly because of the name's association with snakes, which may deter potential diners.

Alternative names such as "Patuxent Fish," "Bailey Fish," and "Joe Fish" have been suggested alongside the proposed "Chesapeake Channa," drawing attention to the species' scientific classification as Channa argus. Biologist Noah Bressman, a professor at Salisbury University, believes the name change could facilitate acceptance, likening it to other unfamiliar menu items that become more enticing with explanation. He says, "There's a lot of fish on the menu that people don't know what they are and if they're like 'oh this is new let me ask what this is' and the waiter says oh that's Chesapeake Channa it's a delicious firm-white fish. It's got a similar texture and flavor to halibut. They might say 'oh I might give that a try'. Where as with snakehead they might walk past it and never give it a try."

Waiter Anthony Alvarado from Fisherman's Inn echoes this sentiment, acknowledging the challenge of marketing the fish under its current name but expressing optimism about the potential of "Chesapeake Channa" to evoke interest and appreciation for local fare. 

Should the bill pass, the renaming would come into effect on October 1, 2024, marking a significant step in reshaping perceptions and attitudes toward the invasive species in Maryland.

Maryland's Northern Snakehead Fish Is About To Get A New Name: Chesapeake Channa

An invasive, toothy fish that can survive out of water is about to get a new, friendlier name.

Goodbye, northern snakehead.

Hello, Chesapeake Channa.

Both the Maryland House of Delegates and the state Senate voted overwhelmingly on Thursday to approve measures to change the snakehead's common name to one that they hope sounds more palatable on menus.

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"We have a PR problem," Del. Todd Morgan declared to lawmakers earlier this session. "Watermen want to catch the fish, restaurants want to sell the fish, environmental experts want the fish gone. … The problem here is a lack of interest in consuming the fish."

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Morgan and Sen. Jack Bailey, both Republicans from Southern Maryland, are on a mission to rename the snakehead to spur interest in catching, serving and eating up the invader that's affecting the balance of the ecosystem.

They point out that plenty of other fish have been given prettier names.

Ever eaten the slimehead? You might not think so, but you may have ordered the fish by its more colorful name, orange roughy.

Same goes for chilean sea bass, previously known as the Patagonia toothfish.

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People were leery about eating dolphin fish, but how about mahi mahi? Delicious.

Even the famous striped bass is known here in Maryland as rockfish.

"I believe an appetizing name is all that stands in the way of consumer acceptance," Bailey told fellow senators during a public hearing. He assured them that the fish is "delicious to eat."

The northern snakehead first appeared in Maryland waters in 2002, when it was discovered in a pond behind a Crofton shopping center.

The fish immediately captured attention for its ability to breath air, conjuring visions of a scary fish crawling out of water. It was dubbed the "Frankenfish" and a media frenzy ensued.

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The fish native to parts of Asia and Russia has the scientific name Channa argus and the common name of northern snakehead.

There were efforts to eradicate snakeheads from that Crofton pond, but in the ensuing years, the snakehead showed up in other ponds and rivers in Maryland. The state Department of Natural Resources first urged people to kill them, and later encouraged people to eat them, too.

The initial proposal from Morgan and Bailey was to rename the snakehead as the "Patuxent Fish" for the watershed where it was first found. But the name "Chesapeake Channa" emerged from the legislative process as the preferred new moniker.

Since both the House and Senate have passed their own versions of the renaming measure, it only needs a few procedural steps — each chamber passing the other's version — before going to Gov. Wes Moore for his consideration.

The name change has the blessing of the state Department of Agriculture, which is in charge of promoting the state's seafood industry.

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Rachel Jones, the agriculture department's government relations director, testified that some restaurants and dealers already call the fish Chesapeake Channa.

"The name northern snakehead makes the fish a little more difficult to market," she said.

And while the common name might change on menus and at seafood markets, the Department of Natural Resources cautioned that the old name of "northern snakehead" won't go away entirely. Because DNR scientists work with other states and federal officials, they'll still still have to use the names that everyone else uses.

Pamela Wood covers Maryland politics and government. She previously reported for The Baltimore Sun, The Capital and other Maryland newspapers. A graduate of the University of Maryland, College Park, she lives in northern Anne Arundel County. 

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