Friday, September 29, 2006
Lunch
As I stood in class, minding my own business.
Maybe teaching.
There was a knock at the door.
One of the administration staff was peering in my classroom window. She waved me over.
I opened the door and slipped out. Escaping for a moment from the hellions inside and braced for whatever extra work or bad news that awaited me.
In her hand was a bowl.
In the bowl was maktak.
That means whale. Pickled pieces of whales blubber and skin. The skin is a good inch thick and an inch of blubber was stuck fast to it.
There was a strong whale-y odor mixed with the pungent smell of pickling.
“It’s your initiation,” she said simply with a smile.
I popped the little morsel into my mouth and chewed.
And chewed.
And chewed.
Whale tastes a bit like pickled mushrooms.
Maybe teaching.
There was a knock at the door.
One of the administration staff was peering in my classroom window. She waved me over.
I opened the door and slipped out. Escaping for a moment from the hellions inside and braced for whatever extra work or bad news that awaited me.
In her hand was a bowl.
In the bowl was maktak.
That means whale. Pickled pieces of whales blubber and skin. The skin is a good inch thick and an inch of blubber was stuck fast to it.
There was a strong whale-y odor mixed with the pungent smell of pickling.
“It’s your initiation,” she said simply with a smile.
I popped the little morsel into my mouth and chewed.
And chewed.
And chewed.
Whale tastes a bit like pickled mushrooms.
posted by Jody @ 8:17 PM 
