CHAPTEE X 



THE CHUB, THE BREAM, AND THE EOACH 



The chub is a strong, compact, but rafclier clumsily-built 

 fish, well adapted to afford capital sport to the angler, 

 but is a very miserable affair in the hands of the cook. 

 Walton gives a recipe which he says will make him 

 eatable, but who will be at the trouble of trying it? 

 The French, who understand this department of cookery 

 as well as, or better, perhaps, than any other people 

 under the sun, pronounce him a villainous fish ; and they 

 are most certainly right. His flesh is woolly and watery, 

 and has a nasty sweetness about it which is absolutely 

 nauseous. Perhaps the best mode of serving up the 

 chub would be to imitate the Irish manager's method 

 of performing Hamlet — send up the richest recipe you 

 can get, hot and piquant, omitting the fish. 



The chub spawns about the time of Easter, and is 

 probably very prolific. His eggs, which are yellow, and 

 about the size of a grain of poppy seed, are deposited on 

 the gravel, in very shallow water. The operation is 

 supposed to occupy a period of about eight days. 



Most of the rivers of England contain chub. He 

 haunts deep, quiet holes, under overhanging banks, 

 frequents the bottoms of old walls, and deep, retired 

 nooks, where piles and old posts stick up out of the 

 bottom, and yet he likes occasionally to fight against 

 strong rushing streams, and to contend with the most 

 rapid waters. The chub of the river is far finer and 

 more active than his brother of the pond or lake; 

 indeed, he is not often found in the latter, except it 



