She paused, and in this interlude each man appeared to privately assess what might represent the regular dangers of life in the city, and whether he had, in fact, become inured to them. No one protested Allison's description, and in this there seemed to be a collective acknowledgment that she was right, and that, moreover, the burden of the usual dangers was itself tiresome and might require diversion.
"When people think of the most dangerous fugu," Allison resumed, "they usually refer to the torafugu, which is caught off the coast of Korea in the winter. But what is not known by many people is that there are more than three hundred varieties of the fugu, with the one served in Japan the most common. Also not generally known is that the delicacy is originally from China, as are many of the fish in the fugu family. In fact the dish has only been eaten in Japan for the last few hundred years, whereas in China the fugu, both in forms still alive and others now extinct, have been eaten for almost three thousand years. So, when I said we were interested in history here in the Havana Room, I didn't just mean good old Franklin Roosevelt and his pince-nez."
She waited and swept her eyes across the room. Several men were leaning forward attentively. "Of those three-hundred-odd varieties of the fugu, there is one very rare variety, the Shao-tzou, which comes from the Jiangsu region of China. It's pronounced show-zoo." Allison stepped next to the tank that Ha had wheeled out and gazed down into it. "For the last twenty years," she continued, "this fish was understood to be so rare— if not outright extinct— that the occasional specimen never made it out of Jiangsu. This despite the famous willingness of the Japanese to pay nearly any price for a prized fish." Allison looked up. "But somehow Ha discovered a source— a story you'll hear in a moment. Even so, the fish is exceedingly rare and exceptionally expensive. It must be delivered live to the cook, and you can imagine the difficulty of getting living fish from some muddy riverbed in China to this room in New York City. We have a standing order with our supplier, but we never quite know when we'll get a fish. Generally we're able to procure only one or two per month, sometimes none, and when we do get a fish, we immediately schedule the event you are about to witness and perhaps participate in." Allison smiled at me directly, and I wondered if she pushed her jaw outward at me ever so subtly in playful aggression. But then she blinked and resumed her presentation. "This month we've been lucky— I think we've gotten two. The Shao-tzou is also only seasonally available, only dependably caught five months out of the year, when it moves in from deeper waters to feed and spawn off the coast of Jiangsu. Sometimes the fish arrive dead or so damaged as to be useless. The cost is close to two thousand dollars wholesale for one fish. I know that's surprising, especially when you consider that the number of culinarily acceptable portions per fish is only two, three, or four. And never more than that. Once above a certain size the flesh of the Shao-tzou becomes almost inedible and the toxins too concentrated to be safe at any dose. But the cost and trouble are worth it, gentlemen. Because to compare the Shao-tzou with regular fugu fish is like— well, it's like comparing one of our Texan long-horn steaks to a burger at McDonald's. There is no comparison. Both are extremely dangerous, but the effects are different and various."
Ha now wheeled a butcher-block table forward. A white dinner napkin covered whatever lay on the table. He appeared more erect and dignified than when I'd seen him earlier.
Allison looked about the room. "Any questions so far?"
"I'd like to know what the fish does to you if you actually dare eat it," called a man.
Allison nodded in anticipation of this question. "There are a number of effects, but only one that interests us."
"Which is?"
"Paralytic euphoria."
"What?"
She spoke more slowly this time. "Paralytic euphoria. For a short period of time, less than five minutes, the diner is rendered nearly paralyzed— he can breathe and blink his eyes but not much more— and yet he feels euphoric. It's the very inability to move that intensifies the pleasure."
The room fell silent as the men weighed the probability that Allison's statements were true. Given her poise and intelligence and forthright presentation, they well might be. But if such statements were true, the men seemed to ask themselves privately, what did that mean? How might such an altered state compare to the remembered effects of the various opiates, amphetamines, psychotropics, stimulants, antidepressants, or hallucinogens they might or might not have ingested over the years? Allison said nothing in these long seconds. It appeared that, as the roomful of men shuffled through what was, if taken as a whole, no doubt a voluminous drug-taking experience, there were many remembered experiences that might have been called euphoric, and even a few in which a near-paralytic state was achieved, but there were none that could be recalled as both paralytic and euphoric, and so the period of individual contemplation recombined to a collective mood of curiosity.
"Is it sexual euphoria?" came a voice. Some laughter followed, most of it worried.
"This is always asked," said Allison solemnly, somewhat like a clinician responding to an overly earnest patient. "My answer is that different diners explain their experience differently, but they do seem to suggest a general effect, a universal pleasure." Her eyebrows shot up. "However, I confess I have read accounts that claim that the testes of the fish, if served in hot sake, is an aphrodisiac."
This information seemed unnerving, at best, for none of us knew if it was true, few of us wanted it to be false, and everyone now had to reconsider the notion of paralytic sexual euphoria, a concept that seemed as paradoxical as it did tantalizing. Yet Allison would not indulge further speculation. She shook her head coyly and said, "Chinese culture makes many such claims— for deer, bulls, bears, all sorts of creatures. But we're not interested in wishful thinking. And anyway, we're seeking high art here, gentlemen, not low sensationalism."
"Oh, stop that," came a voice again.
"Besides, we don't even know what sex this fish is, assuming it's not obviously pregnant. Ha, isn't that right? Can you tell by just looking?"
He shook his head. "Very messy to find out."
A general murmur followed. The room was becoming impatient. "Gentlemen," Allison called loudly, "there's more I need to tell you. Please listen closely to what follows."
The room quieted.
"Those of you with better short-term memories will recall what I said earlier— that compared to eating regular fugu fish the effects of eating Shao-tzou are different and various. The Shao-tzou offers three recipes for pleasure. The Chinese translation of these are Sun, Moon, and Stars. This is where the skill of the chef is paramount, gentlemen. The Sun effect involves more toxin from the fish's kidneys, the Moon involves more from the liver, and the Stars more from the brain. Now then, what does that mean? With the Sun portion, the diner remains nearly paralyzed and senses great heat, waves of it moving up and down the spinal column. The Moon portion is said to involve a perception of darkness interrupted by a moving luminescence, almost like a moon rising and falling in the night. And the Stars portion, which is always served last, involves a feeling of soaring, spinning, and tumbling, a kind of uncontrolled flying, which probably reflects some kind of disturbance to the nerves traveling from the inner ear to the brain.
"I know this sounds wonderful. It is. But I need to tell you a few more things. We only allow our diners one portion of this fish, ever. I keep a list of the names, in fact. There are two reasons. The first is that the toxins have differential rates of clearance from the body, depending on the health and age of the man who has eaten it, especially from the liver. Many of you are in your forties and fifties, and despite the fact— or indeed, because— you are, as one and as a whole, successful and charming and sexy and terrific, your livers are not what they used to be. Many of you are taking cholesterol medication, blood pressure pills, and so on, to say nothing of whatever drinking you might be doing."
"Don't say nothing of it," replied one wit, "it's the drinking that keeps me alive."
"You said there were two reasons. What's the other one?"
Allison nodded. "The other reason is that it is said that eating the Shao-tzou fish is, or can be, for certain individuals, highly addictive. You may remember I used the word enslaving earlier."
"Addicted to fish?"
"Addicted either physically to the concentrations of the chemical or psychologically to the experience it creates."
"Which is what, again, exactly?"
"Hard to be exact. Patrons describing the experience say they undergo almost complete paralysis, as I said, and within their euphoria, a heightened consciousness of all things— light, sound, the air against their skin. They feel dead yet paradoxically, and exquisitely, alive. Most diners say this— that they felt both alive and dead simultaneously. This seems to be, in retrospect, a very valuable experience for them. A few pass out and wake up with a headache that lasts well into the next day. That could happen to any of you. But those who have a peak experience usually want to repeat it. The problem with being addicted to the fish is that if it doesn't kill you slowly, then it might kill you instantly. Historically, people have been known to eat too large a portion in hopes that the effect will be greater. And it is— they die. There are stories in Chinese literature of nobles stealing each other's portion and falling over dead. Okay, so that's my introduction. It always goes longer than I expect. Now, I'd like to introduce our chef, Mr. Ha, and let him tell you about himself. He will explain how he came to us here in the Havana Room, and then I will come back and say a few things, and then we may begin. Gentlemen, please pay close attention to everything that Mr. Ha has to say."
Ha stepped forward and bowed his head respectfully. I sensed among the men an irritation at this further delay.
"Good evenings every-body. My name is yes, Mr. Ha." He smiled nervously. "I know that sounds like the joke. Ha-ha. Like that. I am from China. I have live here about ten year, so I am not exactly American citizen. But I am very happy here, working for Miss Allison. Now I tell you a story. Before I come to America I live in China all my life and for many of those year I was working for Chinese government. Technically I am working for the People's Republic Army, but that is government in China. I am from the Jiangsu region of China. I was trained in the Jiangsu Institute of Cooking in 1965 and 1966. At this time I go to work in Mao's kitchen in Beijing. My title is deputy assistant inspector of fish. I am learning then everything we know about fish. We learn how to make fish for the diplomats from Soviet Union and North Korea and Cuba. In 1971 I am getting my star chef's hat, so I am official chef of the Chinese government. I am thirty-eight years old. I study Shao-tzou fish. Chairman Mao like this fish. Even though he become very old, he try to have this fish once a month. Mao very careful with this fish. We never make mistake. We clean fish knife after every slice in seawater and vinegar. Then dry in sun every morning. We do it Japanese style, sashi, or chiri, karaage, you know, deep-fry, even hire-zake, very dangerous put fish into hot sake because alcohol make poison travel fast. Also we cook Chinese style in rice and soup. I am very proud doing this for my country. Chairman Mao like my fish very much, say many nice thing to Ha. At this time I remember when Nixon come to China. We joke that we give him Shao-tzou, make him so happy he must die. But that was big joke of course. Mr. Kissinger, everybody say too much trick.
"Then many big thing happen in China. Mao, he die in 1976, China start to change, People's Republic Army change, too, and soon, I am not chef, I am put in office to cook food for factory in small city in western China called Hua Xing, where air is bad because of nickel smelter. I am sent to this city and my children and my wife, they must come and they get dysentery and sad to say now they die. I am a sad man because my children die and my wife has die and I have no good heart. I lost my heart. I spend too much time watching bird, sleep too much in park even though I have good bed. Then I am getting older and I am tired of China. Maybe I am not so old yet but I feel old. Then Deng Xiaoping come to power and I do not know what China is. I know Communism did not work too good but I also do not know new China. So I come to United States, I do not want to say, okay, I come to this country illegally, that is all I say. I never think I am chef again. I come work for Miss Allison. Sweep, fix electric wire, do that. All this big beef is new to me! I never see it before. We do not have this kind of big beef in China at that time. Only some water buffalo. But I say to Allison I know how to cut the fish if she want me to do it. I show her how fillet is done in China and she like this. But I do not have license to be a chef. Then sometime maybe last year I am in Chinatown buying fish for her. I am looking at Chinese fish all frozen. Big bucket, too dirty. Dead fish and dead crabs. No good for you. Fresh fish best. But I see in the dead fish a Shao-tzou. I say it cannot be, I must make mistake. So many year. Shao-tzou very, very hard to find, even in China! Mostly find in rivers. Ugly fish. Shao-tzou mean little pig. But in New York City everything come to city, even funny people I never see before! So why not Shao-tzou fish? Little-pig fish. So, okay, you know, I buy the fish. I think it was three-dollar seventy-five cent even if it is dead. They do not know what fish it is. The woman say she never have see it before. Outside she is Chinese but inside American. Too long in United State. I take little-pig fish to my home and I take very good photograph and I put it in freezer here. Allison not know." He looked at Allison in embarrassment.
She waved her hand, a flourish of indulgence.
"So I hide fish in freezer with my name on little paper in case they find it. Then I go to library with my photograph of fish and they have very big book on every fish in the world. So I find Shao-tzou fish, I look it up, I see picture in book, I see picture in my hand. Same eye. Same gill. Same mouth. I pay for high-quality Xerox copy. I am a little bit happy, a little feel funny. Why does this fish swim to me now?"
Ha looked down at the butcher-block table, took one corner of the white napkin, and lifted it, revealing an array of gleaming knives. He gazed up again. "Then the big French cook here find the fish I put in freezer. He tell Allison. He is very mad at Ha. I am just man who clean up. I say it is no big deal, a little mistake I make. Allison very busy lady, she is not interested in frozen fish belong to old Chinese man. But I go back to Chinatown fish dealer and I show picture. I say can you get me some of this fish and they say let us see picture and we tell you. They send me little paper one month later. They say yes. I say how much. They say if dead, then one hundred and forty dollar, maybe more. Fish is very hard to catch. I say the first time it cost three dollar, seventy-five cent. They say that was big mistake. They say if I want fish alive I pay maybe two thousand dollar. Very expensive for fish to live on airplane. More than for me or you. So I say send me dead fish, biggest one. They send me fish. Cost me two hundred and sixty dollar, because they lie so much to me. But I don't care. I want to see if I can cut it up, if I remember from Jiangsu Institute of Cooking. I get fish downtown. It is big. Somebody has tear off fin. But I take it and I put it in big beef freezer. This time I get good fish knife."
He held up one of the knives. Curved, thin, maybe fourteen inches long. "I let fish get soft and cut up. Allison find me and I say it is nothing just a mistake I am very sorry. But she say why you freezing these funny fish in my beefs? I tell her the story because I like Miss Allison too much. Maybe like you, heh. She says can you cook the frozen fish and make it do funny thing like fugu fish. I say no, only live fish, frozen no good. So she say get live fish, we will see. She will pay. I say fish is two thousand dollar and she says we will pay, get fish. I say I do not know if it good idea—"
"But of course I was curious, gentlemen, very curious," Allison interrupted. "More curi
ous than I have been about many things." And what those things were would be left to our imaginations, her expression said. "When I saw Ha handling the live fish, preparing it, I realized how unusual he was! How skilled! As I said before, there are maybe one or two Japanese restaurants in this entire city that serve fugu, but no one, and I mean no one, serves Chinese Shao-tzou fish. The fish itself may be illegal. Well, yes, it is, technically. But, as I say, I was curious—"
"I am ready," Ha said.
"Gentlemen, if anyone would like to leave now, please feel free. We only want you to stay if you feel comfortable." She looked around. "Everyone is staying? Very good." She nodded at Shantelle, who disappeared up the stairs to close the door.
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