Casseroles and Rats

Libby Dulski
10/12/16
Reading Response #7
Secret Ingredients: pg. 103-157 & 277-335

From this reading, I found that two chapters in particular resonated with me. The chapters “Nor Censure Nor Disdain” by M.F.K. Fisher and Peter Hessler’s “A Rat in my Soup” were my favorites to read. Perhaps it is because Sarena talked about casseroles in her memoir, but I was drawn to Fisher’s chapter dedicated to casseroles. The opening statement immediately captured my attention as Fisher describes that “casseroles are, I think, an American phenomenon, like Coke and chewing gum, and by many traditionalists they are put somewhat disdainfully into the same category. [Yet] they are probably well on their way around the world, not far behind the ubiquitous soft drink and pacifier, as more people live hastier lives everywhere” (115). Casseroles are convenient if they are nothing else. I like to think that every American family has grown up with some version of a casserole. I know that in my family my mother likes to make casseroles when there are plenty of leftovers that have gone uneaten. Pounds of stuffing, mashed potatoes, and asparagus eventually end up in a glass dish and baked together into a thanksgiving casserole. Because, after all, anything goes into a casserole.

Along with all-inclusive casseroles, I found that the chapter about Luogang, China was intriguing and memorable. Hessler describes that he had “come here on a whim, having heard that Luogang had a famous restaurant that specialized in the preparation of rats” (303). As I read that statement I had to pause from my reading. Rats? Had I read that correctly? Was this person really going to eat the creature that I often find drowned in water pails outside of our chicken coop? I was not mistaken, Hessler was going to eat rat. But not just any rat: He was going to eat “rats from the mountains… the mountain rats are clean, because up there they aren’t eating anything dirty. Mostly they at fruit-oranges, plums, jackfruit” (304). The thought that a rat could be clean is a ridiculous. I found it even more ridiculous that in Luogang, rats are more expensive than pork or chicken. I try to picture an American buying rat from a grocery store as they compare the prices of packaged rat to those of chicken breast. The idea is absurd. Throughout this reading I kept thinking about the rats that I would scoop out of the water buckets that encircle the chicken coops. The rats would be slimy and wet. Their fur would be matted down onto their skinny bone-riddled body. Their eyes would still be open and the panic would be forever etched onto their little drowned faces. I would have to carry these limp creatures in my gloved-hand over to the forest where I would fling the beast into the woods. I could never imagine gnawing on the bones of rats, or eating rat soup garnished with leeks and carrots. As much as I am disgusted by the thought of eating rat, I cannot help but be intrigued. Perhaps I will add rat to my list of foods I must try.