CHAPTER 65

  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 of Ganders formally indite his circulars? It is only within

the last month or two that the society passed a resolution to

patronize nothing but steel pens.