THE THINGS WE EAT

Evening Star, Issue 19892, 14 June 1928, Page 10

THE THINGS WE EAT

A NATURALIST AT THE DINNER TABLE

Wordsworth spoke of the botanist, a “fingering slave,” who would botanisc ‘pon bis mother’s grave: and everyone recoils from such irreverence, But the naturalist at a meal is often good company, if one does not take him too seriously (writes Professor J. Arthur Thomson” in ‘John o’ London’s Weekly’). The ichthyologist has sometimes discriminated eight species of “whitebait” on the palatable plateful before him, but the men in Britain who can do that may be numbered on the lingers of two hands. Alter all, it did not matter much, for although “whitebait” should mean young herring, there are many early stages of related fishes that taste almost as plcasntly and digest as easily. THE FLY IN THE OINTMENT. Somewhat grim, however, was the cruditoness of an extraordinarily export Aberdeen professor, who, on the occasion of a summer of scientists in London, identified and pinned down sixteen different species of insects that had been attracted through the hotel windows to the illumined table. H was a tour do force, but just a little grim, and not very appetising. Yet it was not a very serious fly in the ointment after all. it may be a. self-consolatory pleasure to demonstrate to oneself that the “ turbot ” on . the menu is very distantly related to that fish, and that tlio “sole” is only a.dab; but the wise course is to keep such technical criticism to onescli. It took a long time in the law courts to decide when a'“sardine” is really a sardine; CHICKEN —OR BABBIT? In self-respect one must draw- (be line when one finds a rabbit’s bone in the chicken pie, but there’s not much in a name: By any other name ’twill taste as sweet. Most of the names are in French, anyhow. Yet there is a psychological gastronomic factor in the name that cannot be ignored. The fish called Anarrhichas lupus has very palatable flesh, and it is a dainty feeder, depending largely on, molluscs. But it is quite certain that it would not bo popular under its popular name of “catfish.”. It has a better taste when it appears on the menu under‘a pseu-

donym. What it is actually called at (ho table is immaterial; wc will not let the cat out of the bag. The important fact is that the lish is palatable and nutritions. Erasmus Darwin, the grandfather of the great naturalist, told an enthusiastic vegetarian correspondent that, speaking for himself, he preferred his vegetables in the form of beef and mutton; and most peonlo arc now vividly aware that all flesh is grass and all fish diatom. But wo don’t like the naturalist when lie gets on to this tack at the dinner table. Only an autocrat can carry it off well. “One pound of cod-steak is cf|iiivalcnt to ten pounds rA whelks; one pound of whelk implies the devouring of ten pounds of sea worms; one pound of sen-worms involves tho consumption of ten pounds of sea dust.” This circulation of matter is very interesting, but a little appalling ; and in any case wo do not wish to 'hear about biological avatars when we sup. , The fact is that the naturalist at the table becomes a boro when he is too informative. Wc know one who can create an atmosphere of romance when lio gets on the subject of spices, but the vift is rare Romatimes when the bill of fare is a little out of the common the naturalist with a light touch may make a welcome contribution to tho feast; but wc do not wish to hear about tho staple diet of the woodcock or the story of the production of pate de foie gras. On the other hand, one welcomes a theory or two on tho question why some birds and fishes have a much finer taste than others; and there is a farreaching social importance in being able to discriminate between trawled and line-caught fish. Wc know one authority who can at once -toll whether tho liaro soup is made from Lepus vnropoms or from top's limidus, the common or the mountain species. Perhaps this is not a case of great importance, but it would be a happier and healthier world if there were more criticism of consumption! NATURALISTS IN SPITE OF' OURSELVES. Few of ns realise how much our everyday conversation is interpenetrated with Natural History references, in'cuding adjectives and verbs, metaphores and similes, pithy phrases and proverbs. There are many illustrations of this allusiveness in connection with tho dinner-table. Thus there is the favourite feminist watchword: What’s sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. There is the much-apprecia-ted prescription: Take a hair of the dog that bit you. There is the wisi

counsel: First tatch your Inuo. interesting anticipations of modern medicine advise tho coward to eat ol tho heart of a lion, and the simple to dine on the liver of a fox. Do not these previsions point forward to the modern treatment of tho human patent with thyroid extract or with the insulin derived from suehanhvnds as the ox? Does not the saying: What’s one man’s food is another man’s poison, point on to the discovery of anaphyllaxis? FAMILIAR PHRASES. Tho naturalist at the table or thereabouts is heard in such familiar phrases as: “That cooked his goose.” “other fish to fry,” “ out of the frying-pan into the ” fire,” “as hungry as a hawk,” “ho wolfed down his food.” “the wolf is at (lie door,” “ his month watered at the sight,” “hunger is flic best sauce.” Talking of hunger makes one think of the frequent reference to “the lion roaring for its prey.” But has not this been spoiled, like a few others, by careless usage? We speak under correction, but is it not the case that wild lions roar after they have caught their prey, not before? Apart from zoos and the like, is not the lion's uproarionsness postprandial, not preprandial? Thus the prophet Amos, who was brought up in the country, asks: — Does a lion roar in the lorcst, unless he has prey? Docs a young lion send forth his ■ voicei from-his lair, unless ho has seized something?