Essay The death of a crab By Samantha Loong	フレームで見る  英文をプリントする  脚注をプリントする
あるカニの死 ある週末、筆者とその友人たちは海鮮パーティーを開くべく、早朝の市場へ買い出しに出掛けた。 しこたま材料を買い込んだまではよかったが、友人宅で生きているカニをさばく段になって、悲鳴を上げたりパニックびなったりと大騒ぎに——。 命あるものを食べるとはどういうことか、身を持って考えさせられたのだった。

The other weekend, some friends and I decided to have a seafood feast. We forced ourselves out of bed at a ridiculous hour and drove to Billingsgate Market — London's equivalent of Tsukiji.

The brightly lit market was filled with chefs, home cooks, the odd tourist, families, and the four of us girls sloshing through the wet floors in our garishly patterned gumboots, peering at fish through eyes smudged with leftover mascara from several hours earlier. Having been led astray by an equally dozy GPS, we had arrived sleep-deprived and later than planned. However, brought to life by calls of "Legs! Watch your legs!" as merchants pulled carts of polystyrene containers, and surrounded by countless shiny-eyed, glistening sea beasts, the buzz of the market gave us our second wind and we bought up big.

When we got back to our friend's house, the first thing we did was tackle the crabs. They were alive, kicking and could clearly sense their impending doom. Internet sites were referenced and overseas calls were made to bemused parents as we debated the best — and most pain-free — way to dispatch of our clawed friends. In the end, it was decided that a knife straight through the "heart" of the crab was the least traumatic way to proceed — at least for the crab. One friend was given the task of holding down the said crab, while the other did the stabbing. We squealed, we panicked and I was sure at least one friend was going to lose a finger. In the end, all five crabs were killed. And I felt like we needed a stiff drink.

The whole experience was somewhat life-changing, involving the cold, wet, early start to the morning, the attempts to remove the fishy smell from the rental car that involved matches and what would have looked to passers-by like some sort of ancient Chinese ritual to exorcise demons, the descaling and gutting of fish and the death of that first crab. It made me realize I'm finally taking a step towards fulfilling a promise to myself — that I would try to only eat what I would kill and clean with my own hands. It seems only fair to the animal. I think if everyone took this small step of experiencing this side of cooking, we would have less waste and value what goes in our mouths more — where it comes from, how it lives, how it dies and especially how much of it is left out there.

We held this seafood feast to satisfy our greediness for delicious food, but instead I have developed a newfound respect for my food ... and for the friend who delivered the killer blow to the crabs — here's hoping I never get into a fight with her.

Shukan ST: NOVEMBER 19, 2010

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