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This little-studied area bristles with interesting questions. The book has three main sections:
1. Definition. What is a beard? At what stage can stubble — designer or otherwise — be considered a beard? Does a six o’clock shadow count? A single-haired mole? Is a ‘clean shave’ (note the emotive language) included, as a ‘latent’ or ‘incipient’ beard? What is the status of facial hair on women?
2. Ethical considerations. At what stage does ‘latent’ hair become ‘beard’? There are parallels here with foetal development and the formation of a ‘human’. Can a shave be considered to be ethically equivalent to a termination?
3. Follical rights. Who owns a beard? The person upon whom it grows we may consider the ‘substrate’, but there are other stakeholders (wives, children, religious organisations) whose lives and beliefs are affected. What are their rights? And, more profoundly, can the beard itself be said to have rights?
Noel Petty
During the so-called Lenient Period, the losers of the Tiachtli ball game would not be sacrificed, but would instead be forced to eat a ceremonial meal of **** — which could never be mentioned by name. The barracks of the ati-ati warriors would supply the basic ****, which would be thickened with yam, sweet potato and maize flour and flavoured with wild tomato, asafoetida and chilli. The **** would then be heated in the sacred Cauldron of Huitzilopochtli, whose deputy high priest would officiate as the chief ****-stirrer. Finally the losing team would publicly consume the ****, enduring the jeers and ribald laughter of the populace. They would be considered ‘in the ****’ for the next meztli of 20 days. Modern reconstruction of the traditional **** reveals it to have a taste and texture not unlike mulligatawny.
Frank Upton
The thrilling Futurist tang of copper wire in a mercury sauce, the curious juxtaposition of entire basset hounds in filo pastry, the slithering immediacy of freshly harvested human placenta — gourmets prepared to tackle the frontiers of unmentionable cuisine, like Picasso or Stockhausen in their respective spheres, are destined to open new territory for the bourgeois palate. Why confine yourself to lamb and pork while cat and ‘long pig’ go unexplored? The true gourmet never balks at cooking swan, doesn’t flinch at the thought of bonobo crackling and knows the humble slug is the poor man’s wine gum. For this book, I have travelled the world, risking (indeed, enduring) social ostracism to gnaw at pelican legs, hunt and cook pygmies and eat my way out of a whale from the inside in the ultimate quest for fresh fish. This book will change your tastebound life, even at the risk of ending it.
Adrian Fry
It’s a cultural feature unique to the Ranti, the indigenous people of the Pacific’s remote Rantipole Islands, that food is never specified but always referred to as mwa-mwa (lit. mouth-pleasing). Sweet and savoury, fish and fowl, fruit and vegetable — there are no differentiating names in Ranti language. This causes severe problems for the tourist industry: while the concepts of restaurants (mwa-mwa-bata — lit. mouth-pleasing for sale) is grasped by village elders, the notion of menus, with named dishes and ingredients, still proves incomprehensible. Allergy sufferers are at most risk, being unable to ask if plates contain shellfish or nuts, while foodies and restaurant critics are stripped of their favourite topics: tentative identification of such exotic ingredients as armadillo, prickleback radishes and oramango buds is met with blank stares from Ranti mwa-mwa-bairas (waiters). But parents have an unexpected bonus: children’s faddish tastes are not recognised, and mealtimes are no longer a battle ground.
D.A. Prince
No. 2450: Acrostic
You are invited to offer a poem, on any subject, in which the first letters of each line spell out MIDSUMMER NIGHT. Entries to ‘Competition No. 2450’ by 29 June.
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