Ordinarily, I am engaged in work related to cooking.

  My daily routines are writing for magazines and participating in TV cooking programs, presenting dishes using seasonal vegetables and simple cooking that can be done by children. I cut vegetables, boil fish, and cook meat in a frying pan. My job forces me to stand in the kitchen every day, and, thanks for that, my legs, arms and body grew quite muscular.

  Probably because of my avid interest in dietary matters, I was invited to join in the first symposium on whales sponsored by the Group to Preserve Whale Dietary Culture. I felt somewhat strained because there I was a mere panelist, sitting in front of a table without a carving knife or a chopping board. But I was happy to have learned many things about whales of which I had very little knowledge. The presentations made at the symposium were very interesting to me. And, of course, I renewed my knowledge that whale dishes are really palatable.

  The conclusion I drew from the symposium was: "Let's eat whales."

  I wish to say with confidence that eating tasty whale meat with much care is part of the Japanese culture. I think the people who do not have a habit of eating some particular food--for example, dried horse mackerel or dried sardine or salted fish guts--are not in a position to intrude into the food habits of other people who do so. Of course, I am ready to lend my ears to any criticisms and try to understand. But as I try harder to understand, I began to find too adamant the minds of those who oppose. I simply don't understand why it is good to eat cattle, sheep, pigs, deer and rabbits and not whales.

  Here I jump to another topic. A certain Mr. Suzuki with whom I became acquainted through my job, said to me that he doesn't feel well if he sees his children leave vermiculated anglefish on their dishes.

  He said: "It cannot be helped if children can't finish a voluminous amount of fish meat. But anglefish, no matter how small it is, is one whole living creature. I am led to think what was the meaning of this tiny fish coming into the world when I see it left over in the midst of grated radish. I think the purpose of its life is well served when man eats it all with satisfaction." Japanese adages say that life is a valuable thing or that even a tiny insect has its small soul. I think it is in a sense a part of our culture to care also for tiny creatures."

  Mr. Suzuki related his experience about whales as follows.

  "I was born in 1959. This memory goes back to the days when I was a first or second grader in elementary school (of course my mother says it was when I was in kindergarten.)"

  "Oshika Peninsula is in Miyagi Prefecture, northern Japan. You can go there by taking a local train from Sendai to Ishinomaki and then from there take a five-to-six-hour ride by bus. Ayukawa is a whaling town in that peninsula. My mother's relatives lived there, running a public bathhouse, a restaurant and a bar. I could feel the whole town become activated when whales were landed. The bar owned by my relatives had a slight rough atmosphere with crews of whaling boats as customers, who are not like more elegant sailors you find in large port cities like Yokohama."

  "The bar prospered when whales were landed because the crews of whaling boats squandered their money. On the eve of the whale landing day, I heard people talking 'Tomorrow whales will be landed' with anticipation and expectation that they will become busy. Just to add, my aunt had a talent for entertaining, which she acquired when she moved to Ayukawa during war time."

  "A variety of whales were caught: sperm, fin, pilot, minke... Big whaling boats towed some whales when they came back to the port. Each whale was the same size as the boat or larger. All the townfolk went to the port to welcome the coming back of the boats. The whales were taken to the flensing station."

  "A number of flensing workers with large flensing knives in their hands mounted the back of the whale and started cutting it up. I heard a crumping sound as the flensing proceeded. Streams of blood flew around and along the waterway, which went into the sea. The sea all around changed to red. It was a striking sight."

  "As a child, I was sent to the flensing site with a bucket to receive some whale meat. The meat was cut into 30-meter square blocks. As the whale was so huge, the whaling company could give out as much as the people wanted. When whales were landed, the town's economy went up. The whale was the foundation of the town and the symbol of vitality. But whaling in Ayukawa gradually declined, and along with it, the town itself lost its vigor. It was as though the town itself disappeared. In the end, almost all the townsfolk, including my relatives, moved to Ishinomaki, a larger fishing town in the prefecture."

  I asked Mr. Suzuki how they cooked whales, and he phoned his 76-year-old mother. He repeated to me what she was saying: "First of all, we ate whalemeat raw with soy sauce and grated horseradish. We used horseradish, and not ginger, because the meat was so fresh. The whale was in a prime condition. The best part was the tail meat. I had tasted no better meat than that. Prime tuna was no comparison. We also made whale steaks and also kept it in soybean paste or broiled and ate it with salt, pepper and lemon. We also cooked the meat in a pot with vegetables. Blubber, the part between the skin and the meat, in thickness of about 30cm, was made into bacon or cooked with vegetables and devil's tongue in a piece about 2cm. At times we cooked it with soy sauce or soybean paste. Devil's tongue was a must. It always accompanied whale blubber. We also salted some meat and roasted it quickly and served it as relish to be eaten with sake. What impressed me most was flensing. I was watching the work and tried to find out the best part I wanted to receive."

  Hearing this, I felt a joy in my heart although it was not my own experience. I thought it was because the memory of whale is deeply woven into the fabric of my DNA as a Japanese.

  So, let's eat whales with gratitude.