What the shark could be thinking at the sight of me: Food.
What I was thinking when I was looking at him: Food.
The two specimens in the picture are alike in so many ways: their love for the water and rather similar eating habits. Interestingly both are maneaters, albeit at different seasons; one eats men when it gets hungry or smells blood, and the other eats men all the time. Their lives were so intertwined with each other that one of the only differences between is: one’s higher on the food chain than the other.
I can never ever comprehend what is the fascination of shark’s fin as a delicacy – why does everyone enjoy his fin with such glee? And do you like that I just said it as though I don’t? Hyuk! I absolutely adore eating his fin in a thick starchy broth. I’ll dig into it even more when “superior fins” are used, and are swimming in a claypot filled with his crustacean buddies – the lobster and snow crab. Serve it to me simmering in an uncovered claypot as the smell of the sea wafts around the table and straight into my nose. Serve it to me now!!!
Note to self: Must stop hallucinating when writing food blogs. *Snaps out of daydream.
Truthfully, I really don’t understand why some people – including myself – (had once upon a time) loved shark’s fin. Essentially it is a stiff jelly-like substance with a fishy smell, which some think its not worth to be called a delicacy. And to further question the value of the fin, there are those who are quick to say that it has no nutritional benefits. Funnily, I agree with them all, and yet I thought shark’s fin soup was a boon to mankind. Paradox, I know. So if anyone can give me a reasonable answer to an irrational love for fins, do enlighten me.
It could be a very cultural thing – a la the “Japanese eat whales” tradition – point a gun into our heads and the Chinese will still insist on having their fins. Look at the Japanese, even after years of international pressure, they’re not bowing to anyone over their appetite for whales. It could be ingrained in the Singaporean Chinese, and maybe all Southeast Asian Chinese to have shark’s fin. The shark’s fin broth and even the fin itself, is an ubiquitous dish in all Chinese dinners – they are the staple courses of milestone birthdays of the older generation and in Singaporean Chinese weddings. During weddings, the shark’s fin broth is the one that comes right after a cold dish combination which is marked by Kitaro’s Matsuri playing in the background with the wait staff streaming in, and who are usually accompanied by clouds of dry ice for some theatrics. As a munchkin, there is nothing funnier than those wait staff having their left hand behind their backs and coming into the ballroom with a kick in their hips – “Mummy, are they gonna do some kung fu? Do you think they’ll spill my food? Why don’t you give me dinner like them?”; as the kid who goes for wedding dinners to eat and drink as much soft drinks as I would like to, not giving two hoots about the (usually ugly sometimes I say pretty) lady in white and her penguin-looking escort, the shark’s fin dish and endless flow of coke remains one of the fondest memories of childhood events – it is the mainstay of my presence in that dinner.
Shark’s fin was one of my best buddies when I was growing up. It signified that something was special and joyous enough for sharks fin to be on the table. (Don’t I sound pathetic like I’m deprived of food?) Kids… we know nuts about what the adults are doing in their weird world and so I took it that when they served that soft and gummy and fish-cake looking soup, they’re usually in a rather good mood especially when they’ve downed their “ribena” in a very fancy cup. Ribena!!! The worse case of deceit, ever! Whenever sharks fin is served, it is quite evident that everyone’s really happy; if I see shark’s fin and I’ll become happy too, since everyone else is and I get my bottomless supply of coke as well. I’m as happy as a lark while adults would drink like lords.
Later I got to know that the “fish-cake” was a very expensive item, which only made me cherish it more and thus appreciating the value of it in my perception. I elevated it to “treasure chest” status: the shark’s fin to be eaten only when everyone is happy and feeling rich. My increasingly keen sense of taste and first signs of gourmet purism started to appear as well. I scorn at corn in shark’s fin broth (“Spoiling the purity of the fin with cheap food,” I told my parents) and spoke with much contempt when I saw miniscule thread-like shark’s fin on my bowl (“Where is the fin? Is it like the threads of the Emperor’s new clothes, all invisible?!”). Everything was going well for the foodie who started to appreciate shark’s fin and knew the value of it. Everything went well until I got curious and discovered Discovery.
Ignorance is bliss and it tastes like shark’s fin. One of my deepest regrets for as long as I lived to 18 years old (grew out of that regret soon enough), was to tune into that episode of how were shark’s fin brought from oceans to palate. The crimson sea, the heap of fins on the starboard and men cutting the sharks without batting an eyelid – all too disturbing but none filled me with greater disgust that the sharks thrown into the oceans and were left to drown. During swimming class, I attempted to swim without my hands; didn’t last one metre because was too scared to drown. It was silly to mimic what I saw on TV but there wouldn’t be any more apt wake-up call than trying to experience sharky’s dying moments. I felt so depressed at the irony of it all: a born swimmer dies by drowning. How can one of the most glorious hunters of the sea end up with such a sorry death – and worse, I’m a perpetuator of injustice to one of my favourite creatures?! Before Discovery came into my life, I’ve never wondered where my food came from. Oh heck, before my biology book came about, I wouldn’t even give two hoots where my food went after swallowing.
Abstinence from shark’s fin was certainly not easy and I’ve always wanted to break my cold turkey from the fin, often forgetting the little practice of “death without dignity” I had in the pool. I’ve often debated with the spokespeople of Discovery channel, i.e, my household and most of my relatives who vehemently criticise the presence of shark’s fin on any table. They’ll launch, especially my mother, into this argument of animal cruelty and punctuate the sentence with, “Do you want to die like that?!”
Surely if I had insisted on eating fins, I’ll die deaf. The shark’s fin argument has in tow questions of human chauvinism and is closely linked to the ethics in harvesting luxury foods, which could possibly compromise an animal’s well-being or right to a good death. I do care for animals as well. Not all, but at least I do care for some. It’s an ethical and moralistic acccountability: I eat them so much, they die for me, that the least I could do is to not let them die inhumanely. If I can’t stop eating them the least that I can do is to grant them a dignified death. Life is sacred and there’s an uneasy conscience making its slow descent whenever I think of foie gras and Peking ducks (don’t think anyone raises the ducks in that cruel way anymore). Being a licensed diver now, and having been a lot more intimate with the marine creatures, all the more I can’t bear killing the endangered sharks. With a closer proximity and knowledge of my diet, I do consider their welfare. I also try not to eat “flake” for fish and chips too, because flake, on the same modus operandi of ribena deceit, is actually the meat of a gummy shark. I’ve been close to sharks and there are times which I’ll feel like spitting out the breathing device and take a bite at the side of the shark but more often than not, I’ve always wanted to hug it and give it a good rub. In the wink of an eye, it’s been five years since I’ve eaten shark’s fin, but I reckon the real test for my shark’s fin abstinence is a visit to Thailand. I’ve visited Bangkok for approximately ten times and each visit there is a shark fin gluttony exercise; shark’s fin is such a common and cheap commodity there. I also reckon that my love for eating fins stemmed from the visits to Thailand.
The sharks came on land, fought with the Thai Chinese, and wagered that whoever lost the arm wrestling match has his hands chopped off and displayed around shops. Legend also has it that the swallows used to converse very often with the Thai Chinese. They were best buddies and sat around drinking Starbucks until one day when a swallow spoke ill of Thaksin, offending the Thais and had his whole clan killed in the most horrible way: the Thais extracted their saliva so they could not badmouth Thaksin anymore, and their massive balls of saliva showcased as a deterrence to future offenders.
If you’re still on shark’s fin, please seek help immediately. Call the Agnes Kitchen hotline.
