CHOWDER

"...I thought I would try a little experiment. Stepping to the kitchen door, I uttered the word "cod" with great emphasis, and resumed my seat. In a few moments the savory steam came forth again, but with a different flavor, and in good time a fine cod-chowder was placed before us."
—from chapter 15, "Chowder" of Moby-Dick by Herman Melville

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I have come down with a cold. I am managing fine, but I am tired and my body aches. I arrive home to a bowl of New England Fish Chowder Casserole.

"Awesome, chowder!" I exclaim.

"Actually, its a chowder casserole," The Wife corrects.

"Don't break the spell. It's chowder," I imagine I answer, although I don't. I acquiesce and eat.

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Although any "semi-firm white fish" is allowed in the recipe, cod is recommended. The chowder before me is made with fillets of wild caught cod. It sings. It swims well.

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I am reading Four Fish: The Future of the Last Wild Food by Paul Greenberg. I have completed the first two chapters—"Salmon: The Selection of a King" and "Sea Bass: The Holiday Fish Goes to Work." Tonight, I am to begin "Cod: The Return of the Commoner." I sense an omen in my meal.

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Greenberg's book is well-written and he is wrestling with major questions. What are we doing to our oceans? Is it possible to domesticate fish? If so, should we? If we do, have we chosen the best fish to domesticate? Which makes the least environmental impact: overfishing of wild fish or the effect that escaped farmed fish have on the remaining wild fish? How have we already altered wild stocks of fish? Does it matter what type of seafood is on my dinner plate? Is sustainable aquaculture feasible?

He asks and answers these questions while presenting the history of salmon, sea bass, cod, and tuna. He explores our relationship to these four fish and what it means for their future.

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On the whole, I am not a fan of seafood. I don't like crab or lobster. I don't like clams or mussels or oysters, although I do like clam chowder, as long as the pieces of clam aren't too big. I will eat shrimp or prawns, although not in large quantities. I prefer darker-fleshed fish, such as salmon. I will eat white fish, although I prefer it deep fried or in fish stick form. I like canned tuna. I have never had sushi, nor can I imagine myself eating sea urchin or squid or sea cucumber or shark. That is all a way of saying that I haven't been overly sensitive to how we treat our oceans because I'm not usually eating what comes from its shallows and depths.

In that sense, Greenberg is opening my eyes to items that have made the headlines of the news here and there, but I may have missed because they didn't impact me. Or, rather, I didn't realize how they impacted me, because I have discovered and realized that they do.

This is partly due to my reading and reflecting upon Moby-Dick: (1) with its critique of the hunger for whale oil and the evils of rampant over-consumption, which I can now translate into other areas of our oceans' water columns and food chains; and (2) in pointing me toward intelligent ocean-related books such as Four Fish.

This is also partly due to the simple style of presentation that Greenberg places before me as a reader. He doesn't beat me over the head. Instead, he conveys his passion and concern for fish populations as someone who loves to fish for sport and loves to eat fish.

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Another chapter of Four Fish awaits me this evening. Another bowl of cod chowder awaits me at lunch tomorrow.