Throughout this volume I have used the word Flavor as if it were
virtually synonymous with odor, fragrance, aroma. Strictly speaking,
it is not, for taste usually enters as an ingredient; but from a
gastronomic point of view the taste is usually so subordinate that it
is almost negligible. To say it once more, we hardly enjoy vinegar
unless it is fragrant, and while we like the taste of sugar we gladly
pay from five to thirty times as much for it when it is flavored and
sold as candy.
In the great Oxford Dictionary two definitions of the word _flavor_
are given. It means, in the best literary usage, either a smell, odor,
aroma, pure and simple; or it means "the element in the taste of a
substance which depends on the coöperation of the sense of smell."
If asked for my own definition I should say that "_flavor is the odor
of a substance as perceived in breathing out through the nose while
we are eating, and usually accompanied by a sweet, sour, salt, or
bitter taste_." This distinguishes _flavor_ from _fragrance_, which we
perceive in _breathing in_ through the nose; as, the fragrance of a
rose or a violet--and this is not accompanied by a taste.
A strawberry has both fragrance and flavor. Persons who cannot eat
strawberries may still enjoy their fragrance, which is subtler and
more delicious than the flavor. We must try to overcome the foolish
prejudice against "smelling at things" (apples, oranges, etc.) at
table; for the fragrance of foods also stimulates the appetite and thus
helps digestion. When quinces or "pomegranates" (melon gourds) are ripe
I often carry one in my pocket, so that I may enjoy its exquisite and
beneficial fragrance after meals.
Cantaloupes, pineapples, pomelos (grapefruit), ripe peaches, and some
apples and plums are fruits with a fragrance which is even more
delicious than their flavor. In other cases--particularly cherries and
pears--the flavor is much more important; and in some instances the
fragrance is positively disagreeable while the flavor is exquisite.
This is true of the durion. Dr. Paludanus informs us that "to those
not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions, but
immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." The
great naturalist, Alfred Russell Wallace, says of it in his great work
on the Malayan Archipelago that "the more you eat of it the less you
feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat durions is a rare sensation,
worth a voyage to the East to experience."
I remember reading in the London "Telegraph," many years ago, an
editorial, presumably by Sir Edwin Arnold, entitled "The King Is Eating
Durions." It described His Majesty as being so completely absorbed in
this task that his subjects had orders, on penalty of death, not to
disturb him even if war should suddenly be declared. The natives give
it honorable titles, exalt it, make verses on it. Cannot our Bureau
of Plant Industry acclimate this gastronomic marvel somewhere within
hailing distance?
Tobacco is one of those things the fragrance of which is more agreeable
than the flavor. The time will come when smoking will be given up
and tobacco simply burnt, like incense. That will make it harmless,
although it will still be as offensive to some as to others it is
delightful.