by Tiéphaine Thomason, @teaphaine
The Jesuit priest Pierre François Xavier de Charlevoix is best known for his eighteenth-century travel narrative and history of New France. Leaving France from the port of La Rochelle in September 1720, Charlevoix’s travels would span several years. Perhaps most memorable in his work are the detailed accounts of Québec city and the interactions with indigenous communities that he describes along the Saint Laurent River and the Great Lakes. Though these interactions must – of course – be read with caution, they have nonetheless proved a rich source for scholars working on the period.[1]
It’s worth pausing on one of the earlier chapters of Charlevoix’s North American journey, which centres on his time aboard a ship to Canada. Afflicted by terrible sea-sickness – which stopped him from putting pen to paper – Charlevoix was cheered up by the taste of the common cod.[2]
Cod-fishing and the production of dried salt cod has been used by historians in recent years as a lens through which to analyse questions of imperial rivalry, overlapping legal jurisdictions, and relationships to the environment.[3] Though Charlevoix was not wholly oblivious to some of these dynamics, he also gave his readers an insight into how cod was best eaten and the joy that could be derived from it.
According to him, cod – or ‘cabillaud,’ ‘morüe,’ and ‘merluche’ depending on the type – was at its best when eaten fresh, with an ‘exquisite sauce’ of oil, vinegar and ‘a little’ pepper.[4] (This ought to sound familiar to those who help themselves to generous portions of vinegar with their fish and chips.) The best parts of the cod, he found, were the head, the liver, and the tongue.[5] These could not be preserved and were thus a delicacy that could only be eaten, according to Charlevoix, by fishermen.
Implicit in Charlevoix’s description is the resounding belief that those bound by land – no matter their rank, class, or wealth – could not always access the best food. There are some things (like fresh fish liver) which money simply cannot buy.
So – when you dream of lobster and caviar in the run up to Christmas and the New Year, do leave a little room for the humble cod.
References:
[1] For a discussion of how scholars can approach indigenous voices in European travel narratives – with a specific emphasis on francophone travel narratives such as that of Charlevoix – see Luc Vaillancourt, Sandrine Tailleur, and Émilie Urbain (eds.), Voix autochtones dans les écrits de la Nouvelle-France (Paris: Hermann, 2019).
[2] Pierre-François-Xavier de Charlevoix, Histoire et description de la Nouvelle-France avec le journal historique d’un Voyage fait par ordre du Roi dans l’Amérique Septentrionnale (Paris: chez Pierre-François Giffart, 1744), p.47.
[3] See, for instance, Arianne Sedef Urus, ‘A Spirit of Encroachment : Trees, Cod, and the Political Ecology of Empire in the Newfoundland Fisheries, 1763–1783’ Environmental History 28.1 (2023): 85-108.
[4] Ibid., p.52.
[5] Ibid., p.54.
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