Definitely an acquired taste
is necessary
to appreciate
the earthiness
of this sea creature
- nothing but mere cod -
preserved in barrels full of Atlantic salt
or dried stiff in the cold northern wind.
Baccala, stock fish
an epithet
people less than flexible
in their views, personality, or posture
earn from unsympathetic people.
Yet, unused taste buds need to make
quite an athletic leap
into the unknown
bending over backwards
to reach its depth of flavor
bordering between decay and sublime
like anything worth our love and interest.
Baccala, stock fish
whole empires were built on it.
Maybe we owe it to its proteins
if the Vikings had the energy and skill
to come this way of the Atlantic Ocean
a thousand years before Columbus did.
For us itâs just a treat
a curiosity, a gastronomic leap of faith.
Maybe, if I do it right,
soak it the right amount of time
- changing the water often -
add those Greek olives and capers,
good olive oil and parsley,
some fresh tomato
- a soft polenta on the side is optional -
I might acquire that sophisticated taste
and appreciate its flakiness.
This is what I promise you
in handing out this recipe.
Try it once at least.
You will feel strong and nourished,
ready for great adventures.
The world will stretch its limits,
its possibilities will look endless,
the way they must have seemed
to the people who feasted
on this peculiar dish
since the beginning of history.
I am so delighted by the amount of knowledge and poetry you capture writing about an old salt-dried fish whose name is disparaging of a person’s way of thinking or being!
I’m cautious about your description of the acrobatics of taste needed for this dish (ick?) I can imagine experiencing the deep connection with history in eating it: even being awe struck for the fotitude of those terrifying men thriving on it. Perhaps that’s why they were so fierce – they were hungry!
We’re NOT going to cook it are we??