The present chapter might be made as long as this whole book is, for
the Flavor is what determines the commercial value of nearly all
foodstuffs. I know a young woman who makes deliciously flavored butter
and has no trouble in disposing of it for a dollar a pound. Thousands
of persons who do not like the butter they can buy are now eating
peanut butter, which has the full flavor of the nut. The commercial
value of this is shown by the fact that in 1911 a million bushels of
peanuts were converted into "butter." Fortunes await those who will
manufacture almond "butter," because almonds not only have a more
delicate flavor but are more digestible than peanuts.
Storage eggs are quite as nutritious as fresh eggs; the sole difference
is in the Flavor; and those of us who can afford to do so, gladly pay
twice as much to get the better flavor.
In the preceding chapters I have frequently called attention to the
greater commercial value of the best-flavored foods--as in the case of
the Bresse chickens, Wiltshire bacon, Southdown mutton, Westphalian
ham, Hungarian flour, full-cream cheeses, etc. For a full list see the
index under "Commercial Value of Flavor." In this chapter I will call
attention to only one more way of increasing the value of things we
buy to eat. It is perhaps the most important of all methods--one which
points the way to many large fortunes.
Once when I crossed the Atlantic westward on a German steamer the
supply of eggs, calculated for nine or ten days, gave out on the
fourth because nearly everybody on board was ordering them constantly.
They were the best eggs I had ever eaten. The head steward, on being
questioned, explained that they came from a farm where a special kind
of feed was given to the hens. The farmer had fed that Flavor into the
eggs.
At once it flashed on me that great and profitable industries might
be built up along that line and I wrote an article about it for _The
Epoch_. That was more than two decades ago. At that time there was not
the same interest there is now in dietary questions. More recently, the
Department of Agriculture has taken up the matter and in several of its
bulletins reference is made to experiments in feeding both unpleasant
and pleasant flavors into food.
At the North Carolina Experiment Station, in 1909, hens were fed for
two weeks on onions, the result being so strong an onion flavor in
the eggs that they could not be used. A week after discontinuing the
onions, the hens again laid eggs of normal flavor.
Milk and butter are similarly spoiled when the cows eat wild garlic or
quantities of turnips. Everybody knows, too, that some kinds of ducks
are not fit to eat because of the fish they live on. In Egypt a locust
diet makes poultry unfit to eat, and sometimes there are in our markets
chickens that are unobjectionable except for an insect tang which mars
their flavor. Pork from pigs fed on garbage is spoiled by a worse tang.
On the other hand, most animal foods can be improved by feeding
desirable flavors into them. Grouse are best in blueberry season, and
the flavor of all game varies with its feed. Kongo chickens fed on
pineapples are said to be a morsel fit for the gods. Belgian partridges
owe their excellence to the beetroot they feed on.
Mexican pigs are often fattened on bananas. They must make prime pork.
In the chapter on England I noted that it is chiefly the excellence of
the feed (skim milk and barley) that determines the superior flavor and
commercial value of Wiltshire bacon.
In the good old times, before our forests were destroyed, the beechnut
was the principal food for swine.
"The hogs which are fattened by eating the beechnut and acorn produced
a species of pork of a peculiar and very highly prized flavor," writes
Dr. Wiley. "The celebrated hams and bacons of the southern Appalachian
ranges were produced from the variety of hogs known as the razor-backs
fattened on mast, namely, the chestnut, beechnut, and acorn." Yams
(belonging to the sweet-potato class) also help to flavor these
southern pork products.
The ham and bacon which made Virginia beloved of epicures helped also
to make the neighboring Baltimore one of the country's gastronomic
centers. In the days when canvasback ducks and diamondback terrapin
were abundant Baltimore was the gourmet's headquarters. There were
terrapin palaces in those days, in Baltimore and Philadelphia, as now
there are lobster palaces in all our large cities.
It has been stated frequently that the canvasback and redhead ducks
and the diamondback terrapin owe their superior flavor to the food
they have in common, the so-called wild celery, which grows in
abundance in Chesapeake Bay. Now, this "wild celery" is no celery
at all; it botanical name is _valisneria_. A correspondent of the
Philadelphia "Ledger" has, moreover, cast doubt on the claim that it
is the _valisneria_ grass that so agreeably flavors these birds and
turtles. He found the ducks feeding greedily on the seeds of a species
of pondweed, _potamogeton pectinatus_. Tasting these seeds he found a
distinct flavor of celery and became convinced that it was this and
not the _valisneria_ that gave the bird its peculiar flavor. The point
ought to be settled by scientific experts, for if this sportsman is
correct in his surmise, the efforts that are being made to breed and
multiply these ducks need not be confined to Chesapeake Bay, as that
pondweed is also abundant along the big lakes which separate us from
Canada.
Why should not farmers cultivate this weed in ponds and improve the
flavor of the ordinary domestic duck? The flavor imparted by the
_potamogeton_--or the _valisneria_--is so rich that when a canvasback
is cooked it needs no dressing, not even salt.
An American consul in Mexico calls attention to the fact that the
rivers and lagoons of that country "literally swarm with turtles."
"The wastes of water hyacinth are simply alive with them." These
turtles, he says, are fat and fine of flesh and under careful handling
would give a good return to the man who undertakes to ship them to the
United States. "There is a small swamp turtle called the 'pochitoque,'
which is of extremely fine flesh and flavor. It is found in great
numbers in the swamps and lands that are annually overflowed in the
State of Tobasco and is _very similar and quite equal to the famous
diamondback turtle_. This also could be readily shipped to northern
markets. It is not quite so abundant as the river turtle, but would
find ready sale at fancy prices in view of the diminishing supply of
the diamondback."
In these days, when there is so much complaint about all trades and
occupations being overcrowded, it is strange that no one should have
the sagacity to see the commercial value of catering to the demand for
fine turtles. Sea and pond farming of all kinds holds in it a greater
promise of wealth than all the world's mines. Terrapin-growing will be
one of the great industries of the future.
It is worth noting that the old Roman epicures already had their ponds
for rearing fishes of superior flavor as well as aviaries for feeding
flavor into birds. Nero's fish pond was discovered in 1913. Lucullus
and Apicius had aviaries in which thrushes and blackbirds were fattened
for their tables on a paste made with figs, wheaten meal and aromatic
grain. But such things were only for the very rich. What we want, and
will get if we insist on it, are delicacies for the million.
Most if not all animal foods can be improved by feeding desirable
flavors into them. In Farmers' Bulletin No. 200 the well-known poultry
expert, T. F. McGrew, says that those who grow turkeys for a fancy
market give them chestnuts and celeryseed during the last few weeks
of fattening. Such feeding, he adds, imparts _a flavor which makes
the meat worth from nine to twelve cents a pound more_ than that of
ordinary turkeys. Yet "_to grow the best is quite as easy and but
little more expensive than to grow the poorer grades, and the profit
gained is almost double_."
Could the commercial value of Flavor be more triumphantly demonstrated?
If the best costs but little more to produce than the poorest, why not
cater to the million and make millions? Why pay so much attention to
breed when, as another expert, S. M. Tracey, attests (Farmers' Bulletin
No. 100), "management and feed are more important than breed"?
We have over a hundred varieties of chickens, but the best of them,
improperly fed, are not so good to eat as inferior varieties that have
had the right kind of feed during the last two or three weeks. That
hogs, too, and other animals, need to have fancy feed only a few weeks
to give them a flavor that commands a high price, is a matter of
extreme importance from an economic point of view.
Producers of meat--and other foods--would make much more money if,
instead of offering the poorest that people will buy at the highest
price, they supplied the best at the lowest price. Other merchants
discovered this truth long ago.