The logo of the Gwaii Haanas National Park Reserve and Haida Heritage Site (at left) is that of a sea otter with a prickly sea urchin on its belly. But we all know from basic food-chain science that if you extirpate the sea otter, then the sea urchins upon which they feed will boom. Which is exactly what happened. Swathes of the ocean floor in Gwaii Haanas are littered with the spiny creatures. Bad news for the kelp beds (on which the sea urchin’s feed); good news for uni lovers.

Lucky me. My visit up to the Queen Charlottes was hosted by some major (and gutsy) gourmands of the sea. So it wasn’t before long that we dipped our kayak paddles into the waters at low tide and pried some Uni off the sea floor (some with more success than others).

It’s one thing to paddle the waters of Gwaii Haanas. It’s another to taste them roll around in your mouth: briny, seaweedy, very primordial soup-ish. It was at this point that we spoke of the terroire of the sea urchins. But really, why use the terrestrial term when we can coin a new marine one: mer-roire. Which is what we got in spades when the unflinching-cleaver-wielding-uni-lovers in the group cracked open the sea urchins, drained of their strange grotty slimy innards and plated the feast.

FYI: There are two types of sea urchin: red and purple. The purple’s eggs are mustard brown and strong in their flavour. The red one’s eggs are like foie gras of the sea: smooth, creamy, salty, and rich. The latter we later found out is the type used in sushi. Go for the red ones.