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MOBY DICK; OR 
maux 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 Green- 
land 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’ 
doughnuts or oly-cooks, when fresh. They have such an eatable look 
that the most self-denying stranger can hardly keep his hands off. 
But what further depreciates the whale as a civilised 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. 
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plump, whitish lobes being withdrawn (precisely resembling two 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 flavour 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 some- 
how one of the saddest sights you can see. The head looks a sort of 
reproachfully at him, with an “Et tu, Brute!” expression. 
