Waste into Gold: Oyster Shells Repurposed as Magic 'Seawool'

Turning the shells -- which capture and store carbon dioxide from the atmosphere -- into Seawool also does not require water, making it a 'low-carbon product'. Sam Yeh / AFP
Turning the shells -- which capture and store carbon dioxide from the atmosphere -- into Seawool also does not require water, making it a 'low-carbon product'. Sam Yeh / AFP
TT

Waste into Gold: Oyster Shells Repurposed as Magic 'Seawool'

Turning the shells -- which capture and store carbon dioxide from the atmosphere -- into Seawool also does not require water, making it a 'low-carbon product'. Sam Yeh / AFP
Turning the shells -- which capture and store carbon dioxide from the atmosphere -- into Seawool also does not require water, making it a 'low-carbon product'. Sam Yeh / AFP

Growing up on Taiwan's west coast where mollusc farming is popular, Eddie Wang saw discarded oyster shells transformed from waste to function -- a memory that inspired him to create a unique and environmentally friendly fabric called "Seawool".
Wang remembered that residents of his seaside hometown of Yunlin used discarded oyster shells that littered the streets during the harvest as insulation for their homes.
"They burned the shells and painted the residue on the walls. The houses then became warm in the winter and cool in the summer," the 42-year-old told AFP at his factory in Tainan.
"So I was curious about why oyster shells have such a miraculous effect."
Wang's Creative Tech Textile company, established in 2010, was already producing an "eco-fabric" -- a polyester material made out of recycled plastic bottles -- but he felt its texture was a bit "ordinary".
So he started working with a research institute to experiment making fabric out of the oyster shell residue, in 2013 coming up with the right formula that produces a material similar to wool.
The fabric and clothing generate around NT$200 million (US$6.1 million) a year, with the bulk of it sourced by outdoor and sustainability clothing brands in Europe and the United States.
The Made-in-Taiwan fabric would not be possible without the island's unique oyster farming culture, Wang said.
'A magical yarn'
"This industry chain cannot be found anywhere else overseas," he says.
"We have people to harvest oysters, we have specialists to clean oyster shells, and we have people for drying and calcining (treating) oyster shells."
But its popularity also means that about 160,000 tons of shells are discarded yearly, according to data from the agricultural ministry.
They pile up on the streets of aqua-farming towns -- the majority in western cities such as Yunlin, Changhua and Chiayi -- causing environmental issues by emitting fishy smells and providing breeding sites for mosquitos.
At Wang's factory, the shells are ground into nano beads and combined with yarn made from recycled plastic bottles.
"It creates a magical yarn," he said. "Oyster shell is a material with low thermal conductivity -- it does not absorb heat nor does it dissipate heat."
Turning the shells -- which capture and store carbon dioxide from the atmosphere -- into Seawool also does not require water, making it a "low-carbon product," said Wang.
A half-hour drive from his showroom where activewear jackets, sweaters and pants are displayed, state enterprise Taiwan Sugar Corporation (TSC) also has a factory that grinds discarded shells into a powder that is used in manufacturing household items, like incense sticks.
The crushed shells help to reduce smoke and the toxic chemicals emitted from burning incense, said Chen Wei-jen, deputy chief of TSC's biotech business division.
From waste to gold
"We hope oyster shells can have multiple industrial applications and interested companies can use it as a raw material to make their products more environmentally friendly and add value to their products," Chen said.
Before the shells get to the factories, farmers in Chiayi -- a county famed for producing oysters -- collect the molluscs at dawn from racks installed along the coast.
They are sorted into baskets before being sent to plants such as Dai Sen-tai's factory, where they are machine-washed before being sent to small family-run businesses that shuck the meat and send the shells south.
Dai, whose family have been in the oyster farming industry for three generations, said he is happy that Taiwan is breathing new life into the sea waste.
"When I was a child, no one wanted oyster shells -- they were dumped and discarded everywhere," he told AFP.
"It's good that the waste has been turned into gold now."



Chili Paste Heats Up Dishes at Northeastern Tunisia’s Harissa Festival

Chahida Boufaied, owner of Dar Chahida Lel Oula, prepares the Harissa in her house in Nabeul, Tunisia, Tuesday, Jan. 7, 2025. (AP Photo/Ons Abid)
Chahida Boufaied, owner of Dar Chahida Lel Oula, prepares the Harissa in her house in Nabeul, Tunisia, Tuesday, Jan. 7, 2025. (AP Photo/Ons Abid)
TT

Chili Paste Heats Up Dishes at Northeastern Tunisia’s Harissa Festival

Chahida Boufaied, owner of Dar Chahida Lel Oula, prepares the Harissa in her house in Nabeul, Tunisia, Tuesday, Jan. 7, 2025. (AP Photo/Ons Abid)
Chahida Boufaied, owner of Dar Chahida Lel Oula, prepares the Harissa in her house in Nabeul, Tunisia, Tuesday, Jan. 7, 2025. (AP Photo/Ons Abid)

For years, Tunisians have been picking bright red peppers, combining them with garlic, vinegar and spices and turning them into a saucy spread called harissa. The condiment is a national staple and pastime, found in homes, restaurants and food stalls throughout the coastal North African nation.

Brick-red, spicy and tangy, it can be scooped up on bread drizzled with olive oil or dabbed onto plates of eggs, fish, stews or sandwiches. Harissa can be sprinkled atop merguez sausages, smeared on savory pastries called brik or sandwiches called fricassées, The Associated Press reported.
In Nabeul, the largest city in Tunisia’s harissa-producing Cap Bon region, local chef and harissa specialist Chahida Boufayed called it “essential to Tunisian cuisine.”
“Harissa is a love story,” she said at a festival held in honor of the chili paste sauce in the northeastern Tunisian city of Nabeul earlier this month. “I don’t make it for the money.”
Aficionados from across Tunisia and the world converged on the 43-year-old mother’s stand to try her recipe. Surrounded by strings of drying baklouti red peppers, she described how she grows her vegetables and blends them with spices to make harissa.
The region’s annual harissa festival has grown in the two-plus years since the United Nations cultural organization, UNESCO, recognized the sauce on a list of items of intangible cultural heritage, said Zouheir Belamin, the president of the association behind the event, a Nabeul-based preservation group. He said its growing prominence worldwide was attracting new tourists to Tunisia, specifically to Nabeul.
UNESCO in 2022 called harissa an integral part of domestic provisions and the daily culinary and food traditions of Tunisian society, adding it to a list of traditions and practices that mark intangible cultural heritage.
Already popular across North Africa as well as in France, the condiment is gaining popularity throughout the world from the United States to China.
Seen as sriracha’s North African cousin, harissa is typically prepared by women who sun-dry harvested red peppers and then deseed, wash and ground them. Its name comes from “haras” – the Arabic verb for “to crush” – because of the next stage in the process.
The finished peppers are combined it with a mixture of garlic cloves, vinegar, salt, olive oil and spices in a mortar and pestle to make a fragrant blend. Variants on display at Nabeul’s Jan. 3-5 festival used cumin, coriander and different spice blends or types of peppers, including smoked ones, to create pastes ranging in color from burgundy to crimson.
“Making harissa is an art. If you master it, you can create wonders,” Boufayed said.