Whale as Food

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.

A mortal man eats the creature that fuels his lamp and, like Stubb, eats it by its own light, you might say. This seems so strange that we must look a little into its history and philosophy.

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.

Records show that three centuries ago, Right Whale tongue was considered a great delicacy in France. It fetched high prices there. In Henry VIII’s time, a court cook received a handsome reward for inventing an excellent sauce for barbecued porpoises. You may remember that porpoises are a species of whale. Porpoises are still considered fine eating today. The meat is made into balls about the size of billiard balls. When well seasoned and spiced, the balls might be mistaken for turtle or veal balls. The old monks of Dunfermline were very fond of them. They had a substantial grant of porpoises 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.

The fact is, at least among whale hunters, everyone would consider whale a noble dish if there weren't so much of it. But sitting down to a meat pie nearly one hundred feet long takes away your appetite. Nowadays, only the most open-minded men, like Stubb, eat cooked whale. But the Esquimaux are less picky. We all know how they live on whales and keep fine old vintages of the best whale oil. Zogranda, one of their most famous doctors, recommends strips of blubber for infants. He says they are extremely juicy and nourishing. This reminds me of some Englishmen who were accidentally left in Greenland long ago by a whaling ship. They actually lived for several months on moldy scraps of whale left ashore after the blubber had been boiled down. Dutch whalers call these scraps “fritters”. The scraps do look much like fritters, brown and crisp. They smell something like the fresh doughnuts or oly-cooks made by old Amsterdam housewives. The scraps look so good to eat that even the most self-denying stranger can hardly keep his hands off them.

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.

But another thing makes whale less appealing as a civilized dish: it is excessively rich. The whale is the sea’s prize ox, too fat to be a delicate treat. Look at its hump. It would be as fine to eat as a buffalo’s hump, which is prized as a rare dish, if it were not a solid pyramid of fat. But the spermaceti itself is so mild and creamy. It is like the translucent, half-jellied white flesh of a three-month-old coconut. Yet it is much too rich to use in place of butter. Nevertheless, many whalemen soak another substance in spermaceti and then eat it. During the long night watches spent rendering whale oil, sailors often dip their ship’s biscuits into the huge oil pots. They let the biscuits fry there for a while. I have made many a good supper that way.

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.

The brains of a small Sperm Whale are considered a fine dish. The skull is broken open with an axe, and the two plump, whitish lobes are removed. They look exactly like two large puddings. The brains are then mixed with flour and cooked into a delicious dish. The flavor is somewhat like that of calf’s head, which some gourmets consider quite a dish. Everyone knows that some young men among these gourmets dine so often on calves’ brains that they eventually acquire a few brains of their own. They can then tell a calf’s head from their own, which indeed takes unusual discernment. That is why a young man sitting before an intelligent-looking calf’s head is somehow one of the saddest sights you can see. The head seems to look at him reproachfully, 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 paté-de-foie-gras.

Perhaps land-dwellers do not find eating whale so disgusting simply because the whale is so excessively oily. Their disgust seems to come, somehow, from the point mentioned before: i.e., that a man eats a freshly murdered sea creature, and eats it by its own light. But no doubt people regarded the first man who murdered an ox as a murderer. Perhaps he was hanged. And if oxen had put him on trial, he certainly would have been hanged. He certainly deserved it, if any murderer does. Go to the meat market on a Saturday night. See the crowds of living two-legged creatures staring up at the long rows of dead four-legged creatures. Doesn’t that sight take a tooth out of the cannibal’s jaw? Cannibals? Who isn’t a cannibal? I tell you, it will be more tolerable on judgment day for the Fejee who salted a lean missionary in his cellar against a coming famine. Yes, it will be more tolerable for that provident Fejee than for you, civilized and enlightened gourmet. You nail geese to the ground and feast on their swollen livers in your pâté 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.

But Stubb eats the whale by the light of its own oil, does he? And that adds insult to injury, does it? Look at your knife handle, you civilized and enlightened gourmet eating that roast beef. What is the handle made of? 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? A feather from the same bird. And what kind of quill did the Secretary of the Society for the Suppression of Cruelty to Ganders use to write his official circulars? Only in the last month or two has the society passed a resolution to use nothing but steel pens.