The Whale as a Dish
That mortal man should feed upon the creature that feeds
his lamp, and, like Stubb, eat him by his own light, as you may say;
this seems so outlandish a thing that one must needs go a little
into the history and philosophy of it.
It is upon record, that three centuries ago the tongue of the Right Whale
was esteemed a great delicacy in France, and commanded large
prices there. Also, that in Henry VIIIth's time, a certain cook of
the court obtained a handsome reward for inventing an admirable sauce
to be eaten with barbacued porpoises, which, you remember, are a species
of whale. Porpoises, indeed, are to this day considered fine eating.
The meat is made into balls about the size of billiard balls,
and being well seasoned and spiced might be taken for turtle-balls
or veal balls. The old monks of Dunfermline were very fond of them.
They had a great porpoise grant from the crown.
The fact is, that among his hunters at least, the whale would
by all hands be considered a noble dish, were there not so much
of him; but when you come to sit down before a meat-pie
nearly one hundred feet long, it takes away your appetite.
Only the most unprejudiced of men like Stubb, nowadays partake
of cooked whales; but the Esquimaux are not so fastidious.
We all know how they live upon whales, and have rare old vintages
of prime old train oil. Zogranda, one of their most famous doctors,
recommends strips of blubber for infants, as being exceedingly
juicy and nourishing. And this reminds me that certain Englishmen,
who long ago were accidentally left in Greenland by a whaling vessel--
that these men actually lived for several months on the mouldy
scraps of whales which had been left ashore after trying
out the blubber. Among the Dutch whalemen these scraps
are called "fritters"; which, indeed, they greatly resemble,
being brown and crisp, and smelling something like old
Amsterdam housewives' dough-nuts or oly-cooks, when fresh.
They have such an eatable look that the most self-denying
stranger can hardly keep his hands off.
But what further depreciates the whale as a civilized dish,
is his exceeding richness. He is the great prize ox of the sea,
too fat to be delicately good. Look at his hump, which would
be as fine eating as the buffalo's (which is esteemed
a rare dish), were it not such a solid pyramid of fat.
But the spermaceti itself, how bland and creamy that is;
like the transparent, half jellied, white meat of a cocoanut
in the third month of its growth, yet far too rich to supply
a substitute for butter. Nevertheless, many whalemen
have a method of absorbing it into some other substance,
and then partaking of it. In the long try watches of the night
it is a common thing for the seamen to dip their ship-biscuit
into the huge oil-pots and let them fry there awhile.
Many a good supper have I thus made.
In the case of a small Sperm Whale the brains are accounted a fine dish.
The casket of the skull is broken into with an axe, and the two plump,
whitish lobes being withdrawn (precisely resembling two large puddings),
they are then mixed with flour, and cooked into a most delectable mess,
in flavor somewhat resembling calves' head, which is quite a dish
among some epicures; and every one knows that some young bucks among
the epicures, by continually dining upon calves' brains, by and by get to
have a little brains of their own, so as to be able to tell a calf's head
from their own heads; which, indeed, requires uncommon discrimination.
And that is the reason why a young buck with an intelligent looking calf's
head before him, is somehow one of the saddest sights you can see.
The head looks a sort of reproachfully at him, with an "Et
tu Brute!" expression.
It is not, perhaps, entirely because the whale is so excessively
unctuous that landsmen seem to regard the eating of him
with abhorrence; that appears to result, in some way,
from the consideration before mentioned: i.e. that a man
should eat a newly murdered thing of the sea, and eat it
too by its own light. But no doubt the first man that ever
murdered an ox was regarded as a murderer; perhaps he was hung;
and if he had been put on his trial by oxen, he certainly would
have been; and he certainly deserved it if any murderer does.
Go to the meat-market of a Saturday night and see the crowds
of live bipeds staring up at the long rows of dead quadrupeds.
Does not that sight take a tooth out of the cannibal's jaw?
Cannibals? who is not a cannibal? I tell you it will be more
tolerable for the Fejee that salted down a lean missionary
in his cellar against a coming famine; it will be more tolerable
for that provident Fejee, I say, in the day of judgment,
than for thee, civilized and enlightened gourmand, who nailest
geese to the ground and feastest on their bloated livers
in thy pate-de-foie-gras.
But Stubb, he eats the whale by its own light, does he? and that is
adding insult to injury, is it? Look at your knife-handle, there,
my civilized and enlightened gourmand, dining off that roast beef,
what is that handle made of?--what but the bones of the brother
of the very ox you are eating? And what do you pick your teeth with,
after devouring that fat goose? With a feather of the same fowl.
And with what quill did the Secretary of the Society for the
Suppression of Cruelty to Ganders formally indite his circulars?
It is only within the last month or two that that society passed
a resolution to patronize nothing but steel pens.
