Chapter II
under the headings of "An Amazing Blunder" and "A New Psychology of Eating," in which I pointed out that there is only one unvarying kind of sour and one unvarying kind of sweet and that all the varied and countless pleasures of the table are due chiefly to the sense of smell which enables us to enjoy them if we breathe out through the nose while munching our food.
To this day it seems almost incredible that it should have remained for me to make this extremely important discovery; yet all my researches have failed to bring to light a psychologist who anticipated me. My surprise abated somewhat at the time when the theory was first announced that mosquitoes are responsible for malaria. Having just read Humboldt's travels in South America and Stanley's "Darkest Africa," I remembered that both of these writers had come within an inch of the truth, yet missed it completely. The case of Stanley is really comic. Emin Pasha had informed him that he "always took a mosquito curtain with him, as he believed that it was an excellent protector against miasmatic exhalations of the night." Now, how in the world could these "miasmatic exhalations" (which were held responsible for malaria) have been kept out by a mosquito net when, as Stanley does not fail to note, the same air "enters by the doors of the house and under the flaps and through ventilators to poison the inmates"?
Just as in this case the fixed idea that bad air (_malaria_) must be responsible for the disease obscured the truth, so the undeserved homage bestowed on the sense of taste blinded those who wrote on this subject, including Brillat-Savarin.
In his "Physiology of Taste" he has a chapter on the senses in which he beats around the bush in the most ridiculous way. He knew that if you have a cold, or hold your nose while eating, "no flavor is perceived in anything that is swallowed"; yet from this he inferred that "all sense of _taste_ is obliterated," although the simplest experiment would have shown him that a cold does not affect the sensations of sweet, sour, salt, bitter, alkaline, or metallic in the least; and after several pages of argumentation he comes to the absurd conclusion that "there is no complete perception of taste unless the sense of smell have a share in the sensation," and that, in fact, "smell and taste form only one sense, having the mouth as laboratory with the nose for fireplace or chimney." You might as well say that sight and hearing form only one sense.
Dr. Charles Henry Piesse, member of the Royal College of Surgeons, is another author who came within half an inch of the truth, yet missed it. He wrote a little volume, "Olfactics and the Physical Senses," which is full of interesting facts and suggestions. Two citations, the first from "The Art of Perfumery," written by Dr. Piesse's father, the second from "Olfactics," will show "how warm" these two men got in their search, as the children say in their play.
To the unlearned nose all odors are alike; but when tutored, either for pleasure or profit, no member of the body is more sensitive. Wine merchants, tea brokers, drug dealers, tobacco importers, and many others, have to go through a regular educational nasal course. A hop merchant buries his nose in a pocket, takes a sniff, and then sets his price upon the bitter flower.
The odors have to be remembered, and it is noteworthy here to remark with what persistence odors do fix themselves upon the memory; and were it not for this remembrance of an odor, the merchants in the trades above indicated would soon be at fault. An experienced perfumer will have two hundred odors in his laboratory, and can distinguish every one by name.
When the breath is held the most odorous substances may be spread in the interior of the nostrils without their perfume being perceived. This observation was first made by Galen. It has been frequently remarked that odors are smelt only during inspiration; the same air, when returned through the nostrils, always proving inodorous. But this is true only when the odor has been admitted from without by the nostrils, for when it is admitted by the mouth, as in combination with articles of nutrition, it can be perceived during expiration through the nose.
Yet this man, who thus came so near the truth, missed it as widely as all the others! Throughout his books he talks as if _taste_ were "it." The number of "different tastes, or flavors" is, "of course, unlimited," he says; whereas, let me say it once more, there are only six tastes: sweet, salt, sour, bitter, metallic and alkaline. Again, he remarks that "the importance of possessing a pure and cultivated sense of taste is very great in certain trades and professions, as, for instance, the occupation of a wine-taster, a tea-taster, a coffee-taster. These persons are all gourmets; the word gourmet signifying a taster." Wrong, from beginning to end. Coffee, tea, and wine "tasters"--the men who sample these articles to adjudge their commercial value--are guided entirely by their Flavor, that is, their appeal to the sense of smell; while epicures owe nine-tenths of their enjoyment of food to that sense and only one-tenth to the sense of taste.
Even Professor Dr. Gustav Jäger, the famous apostle of "all-wool for man's wear," missed the mark. He wrote a book, "Die Entdeckung der Seele," in which he tried to prove that smell is really the most important of our senses, the olfactory nerve being in fact the seat of the soul! Yet this ardent advocate entirely failed to see the truth I have set forth in this book--the fact that to the sense of smell we owe most of the countless pleasures of the table, with all their important digestive and hygienic consequences. Just like all the other misguided writers on this subject, he speaks of differences in _taste_ between lobster and crawfish, or between the eggs of hens, ducks, geese, and so on, although it is the nose and not the tongue that enables us to tell them apart.
HOW FLAVOR DIFFERS FROM FRAGRANCE.
Throughout this volume I have used the word Flavor as if it were virtually synonymous with odor, fragrance, aroma. Strictly speaking, it is not, for taste usually enters as an ingredient; but from a gastronomic point of view the taste is usually so subordinate that it is almost negligible. To say it once more, we hardly enjoy vinegar unless it is fragrant, and while we like the taste of sugar we gladly pay from five to thirty times as much for it when it is flavored and sold as candy.
In the great Oxford Dictionary two definitions of the word _flavor_ are given. It means, in the best literary usage, either a smell, odor, aroma, pure and simple; or it means "the element in the taste of a substance which depends on the coöperation of the sense of smell."
If asked for my own definition I should say that "_flavor is the odor of a substance as perceived in breathing out through the nose while we are eating, and usually accompanied by a sweet, sour, salt, or bitter taste_." This distinguishes _flavor_ from _fragrance_, which we perceive in _breathing in_ through the nose; as, the fragrance of a rose or a violet--and this is not accompanied by a taste.
A strawberry has both fragrance and flavor. Persons who cannot eat strawberries may still enjoy their fragrance, which is subtler and more delicious than the flavor. We must try to overcome the foolish prejudice against "smelling at things" (apples, oranges, etc.) at table; for the fragrance of foods also stimulates the appetite and thus helps digestion. When quinces or "pomegranates" (melon gourds) are ripe I often carry one in my pocket, so that I may enjoy its exquisite and beneficial fragrance after meals.
Cantaloupes, pineapples, pomelos (grapefruit), ripe peaches, and some apples and plums are fruits with a fragrance which is even more delicious than their flavor. In other cases--particularly cherries and pears--the flavor is much more important; and in some instances the fragrance is positively disagreeable while the flavor is exquisite.
This is true of the durion. Dr. Paludanus informs us that "to those not used to it, it seems at first to smell like rotten onions, but immediately they have tasted it they prefer it to all other food." The great naturalist, Alfred Russell Wallace, says of it in his great work on the Malayan Archipelago that "the more you eat of it the less you feel inclined to stop. In fact, to eat durions is a rare sensation, worth a voyage to the East to experience."
I remember reading in the London "Telegraph," many years ago, an editorial, presumably by Sir Edwin Arnold, entitled "The King Is Eating Durions." It described His Majesty as being so completely absorbed in this task that his subjects had orders, on penalty of death, not to disturb him even if war should suddenly be declared. The natives give it honorable titles, exalt it, make verses on it. Cannot our Bureau of Plant Industry acclimate this gastronomic marvel somewhere within hailing distance?
Tobacco is one of those things the fragrance of which is more agreeable than the flavor. The time will come when smoking will be given up and tobacco simply burnt, like incense. That will make it harmless, although it will still be as offensive to some as to others it is delightful.
IMPORTANT FUNCTIONS OF THE NOSE.
1. "The fate of innumerable girls has been decided by a slight upward or downward curvature of the nose," wrote Schopenhauer; and Pascal declared that if Cleopatra's nose had been but a trifle larger the whole political geography of this planet might have been different. Owing to the fact that the nasal organ occupies the most prominent part of the face, Professor Kollmann remarks that "the partial or complete loss of the nose causes a greater disfigurement than a much greater fault of configuration in any other part of the face." Of all our features the nose has always been considered the most aristocratic, as well as an important condition of beauty.
2. No less important is the nose as a condition of beautiful speech and song. Jean de Reszke, the greatest tenor and vocal teacher of our time, goes so far as to say that "la grande question du chant devient une question du nez." Unless the stream of tone, when we speak or sing, goes through the nose it lacks beauty and resonance; yet with consistent stupidity we have bestowed the word "nasal" on the sounds produced when the nose is _not_ used as a resonator or "sounding board!" To fully comprehend the important musico-philological function of the nose in giving beauty and variety to tones, read