Angulas (baby glass eels), Jellied Eel, Paling in ‘t Groen (smoked eel), Caspian “000” Beluga Caviar, Payusnaya (pressed caviar), Yan Wo Tang (bird’s nest soup)

Source: 1000 Foods (pgs. 254, 16, 157, 407 – 409, 418, 794 – 795)

            Despite my enjoyment of and devotion to this project, I’m not going to put a vulnerable species in any more danger to check off a box, especially when it would also involve breaking the bank. Thus I will not be sampling glass or European eels, any type of caviar, or bird’s nest soup. The invasive lampreys (a type of eel) in the Great Lakes might be an option if I ever get my hands on one, but there’s no guarantee. Plus, a lot of the foods involving threatened species sound gross.

            A key example are angulas, or 3- to 4-inch-long glass eels, which are a delicacy in northern Spain. They are typically eaten whole after a brief sauté in olive oil with garlic. The text compares them to strands of pasta, but I would rather have pasta. It also goes well with garlic oil, isn’t endangered, and can get a bit of “oceanic” flavor from anchovy paste, if so desired. Jellied eel is exactly what it sounds like: chunks of eel cooked in liquid to extract the collagen, then cooled so the broth congeals. It was once commoner’s food and inexplicably is enjoying a renaissance in popularity in Britain. Smoked eel, a Dutch specialty, sounds a bit better, but not worth the cost, both to the wallet and the ecosystem. Plus, eating eel is linked to the death of an English king.

            In 1135, King Henry I of England had lived for 67 eventful years. The youngest son of William the Conqueror, he had fought with his brothers over the succession. Henry took Normandy from his oldest brother Robert when he was away on a crusade and subsequently imprisoned him, and probably had his other brother William killed in a “hunting accident” to gain the throne of England. He reformed the legal code and fathered something like 20 illegitimate children. Despite this, he only had two children by his first wife, a son and a daughter. A few years after the death of his first wife, his son, William Adelin, died in a drunken ship accident in 1120, leaving only his daughter Matilda. At the time she was married to the Holy Roman Emperor and living in Germany.

            King Henry married again, but his second marriage was childless. The reason is unclear, since his second wife remarried after his death and had several children. Regardless of why, the lack of a legitimate son put the succession in doubt, so when the Holy Roman Emperor died Henry recalled his daughter Matilda and had his barons swear loyalty to her as his successor. While she was capable, having ruled Germany as regent during her husband’s absence, and female rulers were not unheard of, guaranteeing her succession was going to be a challenge. A particular issue was that she was a childless widow. To remedy this, Henry married her to a French count named Geoffrey of Anjou, whose lands bordered his own. While the marriage got off to a rocky start, eventually the couple had three sons. In 1135, the eldest, the future Henry II, was 2 years old.

            This is where the lampreys come in. After spending some quality time with his grandchildren and going hunting, the king was hungry. For dinner, he requested lampreys, a parasitic eel with a scary-looking mouth. The story goes that his doctors warned him against it, but King Henry ignored them. Soon after, he became ill and died. Whether the lampreys had anything to do with it or if he simply caught one of the many infectious diseases rampant at the time is unclear, but ultimately doesn’t matter. His death touched off almost 20 years of civil war called The Anarchy, pitting Matilda against her cousin Stephen. Eventually a settlement was reached. Stephen kept the throne but recognized Matilda’s son Henry as his heir, setting the stage for almost 250 years of Plantagenet kings.

            While there are no such stories tied to caviar, obtaining it would not only break the bank, but also international sanctions, at least for the most highly-prized beluga variety. At one time, caviar was less desirable than the sturgeon it came from and so was sold cheap. In some cases, it was even served as a thirst-inducing bar snack, sort of like pretzels or peanuts are today. With multiple people sticking their hands in and with hand washing rates lower than today without running water, I shudder to think of how gross the dishes got. As sturgeon stocks became depleted and people living far from the Caspian Sea became interested in caviar, the price rose. This encouraged overfishing and worsened the problem.

            The shift in interest from the fish to its eggs had another consequence. When the fish were hunted primarily for their flesh, both male and female specimens were equally valuable. While the flesh was still eaten and appreciated, the rising value of caviar created an economic incentive to focus on the females. The resulting imbalance made it harder for the population to recover. Another difficulty is that the prehistoric-looking sturgeon takes a long time to reach maturity. While fishing quotas and breeding programs have been established, and there has even been some success in live-harvesting eggs for market, illegal fishing keeps the species’ future in doubt.

            Then there’s the issue of international sanctions. Only Russia and Iran have sturgeon fishing rights in the Caspian Sea, and as you’re probably aware, both have atrocious human rights’ records. Many countries have rightfully banned or restricted imports from the two countries. Thus beluga caviar, both the regular and pressed (made from eggs damaged in shipping) varieties, is difficult to find. And really, how could fish eggs be a better salty appetizer than cheese, potato chips, or salted nuts? Not only are these a tiny fraction of the cost, they come with the added benefit of not supporting aggressive, murderous dictators. That is something we should all be able to get behind.

            Finally, we come to bird’s nest soup. It has nothing to do with a pile of twigs that robins keep trying to set up behind the porch light. Rather, it is made with the gelatinous saliva of a bird native to Southeast Asia, which hardens to form their nests. While congealed bird spit does not have much flavor on its own, bird’s nest soup is beloved in much of China for its texture. Personally the gelatinous texture sounds unappealing, but different cultures have different tastes, just like different people.

            Here’s how the process works, or is at least supposed to. Tiny swiftlets build their nests in bat caves during the spring. In summer, when the birds are done using them, the nests are harvested from the cave walls. Most commonly they are cleaned, simmered in chicken broth with a few other flavorings, and served for at least $40 per bowl (text, pg. 795). That’s in 2014 dollars, so the number now is probably even higher. The rarity accounts for the cost, as does the danger in harvesting the nests. In addition to being found in bat caves, the nests are built high on the walls. Essentially, the harvesters are risking both falls and rabies.

            If the process works like it’s supposed to, no birds are harmed and the harvesters are well-paid for the danger they face. But with such high profits to be made (the nests cost hundreds to thousands of dollars per pound), there are often unethical characters involved. There are reports of knocking baby birds out of the nests to harvest them earlier, and there is always the concern about workers being exploited by whoever runs the operation. Even if both situations are uncommon, I’m not comfortable with it. Then there’s the issue of paying exorbitant fees for wild animal saliva.