Lanes Saturday, March 3 1990

Where, in another time, spiders, bats, maggots, and the lipid creatures of estuaries might be taken for sustenance as a matter of survival, these latter-day Germans chew shrimp. In the mouth go the muscles, striped of their keratinous lets, eyes, and tails. In the pan, pot, or dishkettle they prepare them with liquid fats and sundry seasonings, like some fatuous pig.
Through connections between the orient and occident, the wearing years of eating has left only farms, poached, imitation, and synthetic troves, and these they aim to quickly expend. Not out of ravishing hunger, for the delicacy is a staple only of the fishmonger and boatsman who nets it, but out of restlessness and an implenitude of satisfactions have the humans of this era won the war for extinction despite themselves.
Is it that their shape, even served as meat, can be distinguisht and related to that of a living animal? Or is it their rosy hue, so carefully effected by injexion? Perhaps it is, like gold, the raw fact of thier price and rarity that stamps them with the mark of desire.