Waking from a long winter with Springtime Flying Points
When the tides are right for navigating, in the fast-flowing waters off Lane’s Island, you’ll likely see a skiff with a small dragnet and two farmers—Eric Horne and Valy Steverlynck—lost in their work. For almost thirty years, Eric and Valy have been honing their systems and rhythms to grow lively, hardy—and hearty—bottom-cultured oysters in Casco Bay. Growing solely on the bottom allows them to cultivate a consistently recognizable oyster, at turns brothy, briny, and buttery, housed in thick, pearly, algae-tinged shells. As a small-scale family farm, they adapt harvests and workflow to predictable tide cycles as much as subtle changes in the weather or their lives. Their approach to farming is rigorous, poetic, collaborative, adaptable—and above all, hands on.
Like most oyster farmers in Maine, Eric and Valy start oyster ‘seed’ at a nursery site before transferring them out to grow in faster-flowing waters with tougher conditions. Their nursery is tucked into Maquoit Bay, where they tend juvenile oysters from late May to early July. Once big enough to endure a harsher environment, these oysters are planted at Flying Point’s grow-out site. In the waters between Yarmouth and Freeport, Eric and Valy plant their oysters onto the hard-packed bottom surface, fully exposed only at drain-out tides. For the rest of their time on the farm—two to two and a half years total—these oysters will feed & grow submerged, underwater.
In 2000, Eric and Valy first jumped into sea farming, after exploring other careers in Boston and craving deeper connection to their livelihood. Eric grew up with his father’s mariculture experiments, with his brother also eventually becoming a farmer in Duxbury, Mass. So the pair borrowed bits and pieces of those early techniques, also drawing inspiration from farms on the Damariscotta River.
“We made a ton of mistakes probably for ten years,” says Eric in an interview with us at Glidden Point, “Then we finally started to get traction by…2011.”
From the start, Flying Point’s model has prioritized bottom-growing methods with low-gear intervention. “We love that oysters develop a really thick shell and deep cup by growing on the bottom,” says Valy. This extends their shelf-life, explains Valy, and translates the magic of Casco Bay into recognizable flavors: butter, brine, umami. They also value the harvest cycles of bottom-growing, allowing them to keep the farm equipment simple, minimal; schedules flexible, adaptable; and the workload decent for two.
At Flying Point, the scene is dynamic and serene. Daily activity on the farm falls into the rhythms of daily activity in the bay: tides, birds, seals, currents, winds, the salt-thick air. On rough-water days, she says, they harvest from their beds then duck into a small cove, culling in the refuge.
”It’s very peaceful, it’s very quiet,” says Valy. “It’s just the two of us.”
Valy describes “going with the tides” because part of their growing site is not accessible at low. They harvest by drag then culling and packing by hand out on their skiff. The cull, says Eric, takes most of their attention during the growing seasons on the farm. Harvests are weekly and year-round.
In describing their farm, Valy’s eyes and voice light up. After time spent out on the farm, “I always come back with a head full of ideas,” says Valy. The wild bay inspires her as both a grower and an artist/writer.
As a family farm, Valy and Eric’s kids grew up in these waters, too.
After more than two decades on the water—through raising a family and many successions of oysters—Eric and Valy still bring curiosity and dedication to their farm, daily.
In the walk-in cooler at our Farmstore, vibrant green shells peek through mesh bags—unmistakably Flying Points.
Valy & Eric’s advice on eating springtime Flying Points:
“Most people including ourselves eat them raw, on the half shell,” says Valy, allowing their bright, earthy tones to surface. “We don’t add anything to them.” In May, she adds, oysters are waking to warmer waters after long-dormant winters. Their meat is extra firm, almost crispy, giving a unique mouthfeel to Flying Points in springtime.
“The meat this time of year is crunchier because the water is so cold…They’ve been hibernating, so the liqueur is stronger, the flavor is more concentrated, and the meat is firmer,” she says.
“There’s no bad way to eat them” notes Eric, though it pains him a little to see oysters drowned in sauce, masking their bold natural flavor profile. “Try to go unplugged,” he advises. Maybe a dash of lemon or mignonette.
Eric adds: “There’s just something about springtime oysters, coming out of a long winter.”
