Fish

An essay by Béla Hamvas

I arrived early in the morning. I wasn’t in the mood to rest, I
changed and went loitering at the port. There I discovered the
restaurant under the oleander trees, I read the menu, and let’s say
I understood it right away. All the fish of the season were on it,
none of them missing. This set me at ease. At the same time the
innkeeper appeared in the door and greeted me respectfully,
aloud. He had the exact sort of belly that an innkeeper should
have.
“This is the menu from yesterday, he said, there will be more
courses made for tonight, welcome, you are a foreigner, but I can
tell a serious man, an artist, I have insight into the character, you
haven’t even looked toward the Bellevue, there, Sir, believe me
(he points to the big three-story resort with endless pity).”
“I live in a country – I say – with no sea.”
He suddenly turns sad and looks at me compassionately.
“Sir, how can you live in a country like that?”
“Only – I respond –, if you come away as much as you can. But
you know there is still a sky there.”
At dusk I stepped under the oleander trees and looked for the
chubby innkeeper. He grabbed my arm and took me under the
gate to a large chest – tin padded and full of ice. On top of the ice
the whole aquarium: Salpa – Tuna – Molo – Scombretti Barboni
– Dental – Sanpiero – Sardella –Kalamari. –
“Scombri”, I say, and point to the metal blue fish. He makes a
bow almost as low as the ground and makes a hand gesture
indicating that he understands everything perfectly. He is raising
his hands protestingly.
 “I know, he says, I know everything. With hot rice, mixed salad
and cellar-cool red wine. Would you please take a seat.”
I sit down and start drinking. Then the fish comes, grilled over
charcoal on a slow fire, the chubby guy carefully spread the oil on
it, it was soft as much as crispy, juicy and tender. I couldn’t pay
attention to anything else.
I didn’t even notice that five-six people stepped in and are now
standing in front of the fish on the ice. The names of the fish are
flying back and forth in the air and the chubby guy is making
himself busy. All at once I can hear:
“Sir, you cannot force me to do this!” The guest asserts
determinedly that he wishes to have the Dental fried, with onion
and paprika. The chubby guy is polite, but huffiness and
pungency are in his voice.
“Sir, would you please walk over to the Bellevue, they will do
anything for money, even the Dental – although – maybe even
better than, – but at my restaurant, Sir, never, – I prepared fish
in my entire life, I know what I’m doing, -- this way the Dental is
unpalatable – since my childhood – you can request anything, cut
my hands off, never – respectable hands (stretches them out), cut
them off, but I won’t make it with paprika, – respectable hands,
they grew old preparing the fish (almost weeping), cut them off,
but don’t force me, never, never – “
The man starts to yell. The chubby guy throws his napkin to the
ground.
“Never! At the Bellevue, maybe there, not at my restaurant, I’m
not making a fool of myself (guffaws bitterly), Sir, there’s the
Bellevue, three hundred feet, would you please, there, Sir, they
cook the Scombri and marinade the Tuna, even more, since my
childhood, in my entire life.”
The stranger is screaming. The chubby guy stomping and
raging.
 “Never!”
The other members of the group are now encroaching and
pleading their friend. He does not listen. Sends for the police. The
policeman is coming. Dental with paprika? The policeman was an
expert and he was shaking his head. The chubby guy is roaring.
“Is that possible? Possible?” – He grabs the fish, smashes it to
the ground and jumps on it. Then stomps. And screams. The
stranger wants to beat him up but he is held back. The policeman
is becalming the chubby one.
“There’s the Bellevue, if you pay they’ll do it, such a place (spits
out), never, never!”
Commentary
The chubby guy is not a man of wide perspectives, but he is a
believer. His sacred position in life is preparing the fish. A cult.
The maintenance of life. Necessary tools: the chest with ice, the
grill, the pan, the pot, the fire. His ritual is strict. The Dental
cannot be fried. That is a sacrilege. The Scombri needs to be
grilled on charcoal, incised at four places and smeared with oil.
The modern Tower of Babel (the Bellevue) betrays the tradition
for money. “You’ll get it there for money.” His life wasn’t
resultless. He grew old preparing the fish. “These respectable
hands.” The Dental has always been cooked from times
immemorial, in a slightly vinegary vegetable broth, you can eat it
with tomato sauce, or spaghetti, or potatoes baked to red and
salad. It has a white soft and tender body, perfectly boneless, and
you can eat a lot of it. The temptation of the chubby guy is to
betray the tradition for money. Therefore he is sensitive to this
sin. In the last moment of his life, if he could resist, he will let his
soul part with a relief that he did not commit the betrayal. He
despised financial gain and never fried the Dental. This kind of
fish, when fried, is straw-tasting, tough: completely unpalatable.
The chubby one is an enthusiastic man, just like everyone who
feels truth being threatened by themselves. He is at the market at
five in the morning waiting for the boats to arrive. If he doesn’t
see one seasonal fish he quarrels with the fishermen and swears
that he himself is going to go out fishing tonight. “You just have to
do everything yourself...you cannot trust anyone…look at these
lousy Barbonis!...Take them to the Bellevue, I don’t want them,
I’m not going to be laughed at by my guests.” He places the fish
next to one another, looks at them, weighs them in his hands and
smells them around. He pronounces the names of the fish as
someone who realizes the cosmic position of the fish. No
exaggeration, no underestimation. He knows the hierarchy of
fish. The chubby guy does not look at the fish as a being, as a
scientific object, or a subject of a painting, but as nourishment.
The fish as the most important maintainer of human existence.
Food itself. The significance of the rest is only to emphasize it
(flour, vegetable, fruit, wine). He ignores meat, because he is
dogmatic, and the advantage (disadvantage) of the dogma is to
ignore something. The sea is the place where fish are caught. The
fisherman catches the fish. The guest eats the fish. And he
prepares it. He is in a key position. He has to hold his ground. He
cannot succeed without faith. The Bellevue is the faithless one.
If someone is engaged in something like this, it’s needless to
commit a sin that you only do because oftentimes you just need to
defile yourself – out of pure loyalty toward God.
Translated from Hungarian by Andras Palyer