GML Correspondent
Long before bake and shark became one of Trinidad and Tobago’s most recognisable culinary creations, shark was hardly considered food.
At Maracas Bay, where visitors today line up for the famous sandwich-like combination of fried shark married with fried bake and an assortment of sauces and toppings, fishermen once routinely threw shark away.
It was considered dangerous, with generations growing up hearing that sharks ate people.
But one woman saw something different.
Her name was Adelta Pierre, now 94, a Vincentian-born woman who came to Trinidad in the late 1950s and began selling food on Maracas Beach.
According to her son, 67-year-old Michael Pierre, better known as Uncle Sam, his mother’s experimentation with shark eventually transformed an unwanted catch into what would become an iconic Trinidad and Tobago dish.
Pierre recalled the story during an interview with Guardian Media at Uncle Sam and Sons Bake and Shark at Maracas on Sunday.
His mother, he said, initially sold simple beach food including corned beef and bake, fried kingfish and other items. “Shark was nowhere on the menu,” he recalled.
At the time, fishermen who caught shark often discarded it because of the belief that it was unsuitable for eating.
But Adelta began taking some of the discarded shark home, seasoning and cooking it.
Then came the experiment that would change Maracas Beach.
When tourist drivers and visitors arrived, she began encouraging them to taste the fried shark.
“They don’t want it,” Pierre recalled, but his mother persisted: “Taste it.”
Little by little, people did. And they liked it.
From hops and shark to bake and shark
The earliest version of the dish was not what Trinidadians today know as bake and shark.
Pierre said his mother initially served the shark with hops bread, and the first version became known as “hops and shark”.
The price was just four cents.
Eventually, the dish became known as float and shark, which Pierre said was its original name because at that time a fried bake was called a float because it floated on top of the oil when cooked.
The evolution of the name and the food mirrored the evolution of the dish itself.
What began as a simple piece of shark served with bread gradually became an elaborate culinary experience, with customers choosing from a range of sauces, vegetables and chutneys.
And the business spread beyond the Pierre family.
Pierre said his mother taught his mother-in-law how to prepare the dish, while other vendors learned from people already operating in the Maracas food trade.
The dish continued evolving as vendors introduced new toppings and flavours.
“In those days, Bake and Shark was just about three things: pepper, I think ketchup and mustard,” Pierre recalled.
Later came lettuce, mango chutney and an expanding selection of toppings.
Customers eventually became part of the preparation process, selecting what they wanted on their own bake and shark.
That tradition has become one of the dish’s defining features.
The birth of Uncle Sam
Michael Pierre’s own journey into the business is another chapter in the Maracas story.
As a youngster, he was given the nickname “Sambo”, a name he disliked. By age 15, he was being called Sam.
Later, after joining the Lifeguard Service at about age 23, he opened a small shop at Maracas.
He sold pholourie, pies and other items.
It was during this period that a friend, Tulsi, suggested a new name for the little business.
“Sam, what name do you put on this?” he asked.
The answer was Uncle Sam.
More than four decades later, the name remains synonymous with one of Maracas’ best-known bake and shark establishments.
Pierre eventually built his own brand at the location where his mother had started the family’s food business.
Today, Uncle Sam and Sons has expanded beyond its original operation, with other locations, including Beachside and another branch in the Maracas area.
More than a sandwich
For Pierre, however, the business has always been about more than simply selling food.
At one stage, he was travelling to different events, catering and selling bake and shark as he worked to establish the brand.
He recalled selling the dish for $10 and even renting tents for events.
“The main thing was really building a name, spreading the market,” he said. “It was not about making the money.”
He also experimented with packaging the dish in boxes after seeing other foods being sold that way.
The result was another small evolution in how bake and shark was presented.
The business now employs a large pool of workers, particularly on weekends, with Pierre saying between 60 and 70 people can be involved at different times.
And while the Maracas operation remains rooted in tradition, the future is clearly on his mind.
Preparing for a future
without shark
One of the biggest challenges facing the industry is the availability of shark.
Pierre said he recognises that no food source lasts forever and has begun diversifying the menu.
One such addition is “butterfish”, which he described as a salmon fillet.
When shark is unavailable, the alternative gives customers another option while retaining the character of the dish.
He also has plans to expand into other areas, including a possible roti stall.
His children have increasingly taken responsibility for the business, with his son Matthew playing a leading role after spending 15 years in the military.
Pierre sees succession as part of doing business.
“There would be a time when everything would expire,” he said, explaining that business owners have to think about the future.
His advice to young entrepreneurs is equally straightforward: plan ahead.
For Pierre, food remains one of the most dependable areas of business because, as he puts it, people must eat and drink.
A taste of home
Perhaps the greatest measure of bake and shark’s success is not its price, its toppings or even the number of vendors who now sell it. It is the emotion attached to it.
For generations of Trinbagonians, the words “bake and shark” immediately evoke Maracas Bay, the sea, family outings, hot fried fish, freshly prepared fried bake and the anticipation of choosing exactly what goes on top.
At 67, Pierre is already thinking about stepping back as his children take over more of the operation.
But retirement, for him, does not mean disappearing.
“I am just around,” he said.
And so is the story his mother started, still being cooked, seasoned, adapted and served on the shores of Maracas Bay, more than six decades after she first asked a hesitant tourist to do something simple: “Taste it.”
