Here’s a fine bit of “food writing” from one of my heroes, Sebastian
Snow, the old-Etonian, explorer, walker, and all-round eccentric and good
egg. It appears in his book Half A Dozen of the Other, in a chapter
titled “In Orellana’s Footsteps – the
journey that nearly killed us.” He and
his party are in Ecuadar, in trouble, on foot, trying to get to the city of
Coca, through what we would now call rainforest. Snow is the man on the right, in the picture below.
“Within twenty-four hours of plunging back into the jungle, we had
eaten the last of our food; from now on it was up to the jungle itself to
support us. It made a fairly brave show
for a day or two. The second day after
we had left the river, one of the Indians shot a young female bear, craftily
coaxed down from the uttermost branches of interlocking treetops by our porters
simulating mating calls, which although effective created no headlong thrill in
the breast of one so innocent. But like
Lolita it eventually came under the spell of the ‘heartless’ Humbert Humberts that
lay in wait. The bear having been killed
instantly by a very fine – and sporting – shot while still comprativle high up,
I noticed at once the length and the sharpness of its claws. The men immediately ripped out its heart (a
delicacy I refused). We ate much of her
at once – and ‘smoked’ the rest – supplementing the strong meat with berries
and roots together with palm-shoot hearts – a tough, tasteless and indigestible
‘vegetable.’”
I have only eaten bear once, at a promotional lunch given by Steve
Rinella (above)– a man I thought would absolutely conquer the world of TV chef-dom,
and he does have a perfectly good career, including a program called Meateater on the Sportsman Channel
(whatever that is). But I think the real
reason he isn’t everywhere is because he hunts and kills what he eats, and the
TV foodie world just doesn’t like to admit that animals have to be killed
before gourmet action can take place.
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