Steve Dufour
October 19th, 2003, 09:43 PM
Jewsweek.com
Fishing for answers
If you thought sturgeon were kosher, think again. If you thought
figuring out if a fish is kosher was easy, think even harder. Victor
Wishna does the research and tells you all about four sets of scales
and this ichthyological dilemma.
by Victor Wishna October 11, 2003
Yom Kippur hadn't even started, and already we were talking about food
-- specifically, what we would eat as soon as we could eat again. The
discussion drifted to the topic of smoked fish, when someone raised a
red herring. Or, rather, a sturgeon.
"You know, I saw something on the Internet that says sturgeon isn't
kosher," said a friend who keeps kosher and likes sturgeon.
Around our pre-Kol-Nidre dinner table, this elicited gasps from other
friends who keep kosher and like sturgeon. A debate ensued, first,
over the reliability of information found on the Internet and, then,
over what makes sturgeon kosher, and, eventually, the kosher-ness of
other seafood, such as monkfish (which prompted someone to make the
somewhat obvious joke that if it were kosher it would be called
"rabbifish"). But the sturgeon issue went unsettled.
A bit of personal disclosure: I am not that big a fan of the sturgeon.
I love lox enough to know that Nova is better, and if I'm feeling bold
I will dabble in a bit of whitefish salad, particularly after a long
fast. That's about it. However, I have always respected the reverence
that smoked fish commands in Jewish gastronomic tradition, and since
coming to New York, I have learned the strict hierarchy. Lox, Nova,
whitefish, sable -- these are all very nice, but for the true Jewish
brunch enthusiast, sturgeon swims above them all.
"I consider this the finest, most elegant of smoked fish," says Mark
Russ Federman, owner of Russ & Daughters, the preeminent Lower East
Side appetizing shop that was founded in 1914 by his grandfather (and
his mother and her sisters). Unlike salmon or trout roe, only sturgeon
eggs earn the distinctive title of "caviar." In the Russian Empire,
some Jewish communities would welcome conquerors like Peter the Great
by presenting him with a live sturgeon. A few Torah scholars (and the
occasional humorist) have theorized that the "big fish" which
swallowed Jonah -- whose story is read on Yom Kippur afternoon -- was,
in fact, a sturgeon.
So how could it be treif? For my friends who keep kosher and like
sturgeon, I tried to find out.
I started at the source: When it comes to sanctioning seafood,
Leviticus is pretty straightforward. "These you may eat of all that
live in water," begins Chapter 11, Verse 9. "Anything in water ...
that has fins and scales -- these you may eat. But anything ... that
has no fins and scales -- they are an abomination for you and an
abomination for you they shall remain."
Fins and scales. That seems clear enough, until you consider (and
believe me, I hadn't) that there are different types of scales -- and
I don't mean C-major or B-flat. According to the Union of Orthodox
Congregations, "of the four types of scales -- clenoid, cycloid,
ganoid, and placoid -- only clenoid and cycloid scales are valid
according to the Torah." Sharks, for example, are sheathed in hard,
platelike placoids, while ganoids are the thick, shiny scales you will
find on a sturgeon.
It doesn't end there. There are 24 different species of sturgeon, from
the Caspian Sea to the Great Lakes to any number of rivers and
streams. Some breeds have "kosher scales" as young fish, but lose them
later in life. This is good enough for many Conservative kashrut
authorities. And according to an online press release of the New York
State Department of Agriculture's Division of Kosher Law Enforcement
(yes, such an agency exists -- the purpose is to prevent labeling
fraud), sturgeon is perfectly OK, if not OU.
For those who trust the Internet, there is also a Web site dedicated
to the ichthyological dilemma entitled "Sturgeon: A controversial
fish" (www.bluethread.com/kashrut/sturgeon.html), which presents both
sides and then invites visitors to join an online discussion on the
topic.
With neither Yahweh nor Yahoo offering conclusive answers, I consulted
some higher authorities.
"It's a tough question, a shayla," expounded Gary Greengrass, who is
not a rabbi, but the hereditary heir of "Sturgeon King" Barney
Greengrass and owner of the hugely popular, 95-year-old Upper West
Side smoked-fish shop that bears his grandfather's name. The week
leading up to Yom Kippur is Greengrass' busiest. In just a couple
days, the store sells "hundreds and hundreds" of pounds of sturgeon --
at $48 per pound -- and ships it across the country, from the Deep
South to the Pacific Northwest. "It's funny, I was just talking to a
customer," Greengrass told me, "and he said an Orthodox rabbi was
ruling that swordfish and sturgeon are kosher because -- under a
microscope -- they can see scales. Well, I don't think swordfish is
kosher. Sturgeon, I think sometimes it can be."
A few blocks away at Murray's Sturgeon, another Upper West Side
institution, proprietor Ira Goller agreed there is little agreement.
"This has been an argument for eons and eons, and it comes up all the
time," he said, noting that he has plenty of kosher customers who
won't order sturgeon, and many others who simply don't care. When
asked about the different types of scales, he shrugged. "There are
also different types of kosher," he replied. "Sturgeon is a debatable
item, and always will be."
Perhaps. In the end, the closest I got to a real answer was back at
Russ & Daughters. Federman's nephew, Joshua Russ Tupper ? who left his
job as a chemical engineer to become the fourth generation of Russes
to mind the family store -- offered a simple, sensory-based
dispensation. When religious authorities can't agree, it comes down to
a matter of taste. "Basically, it's delicious," he said, the
sturgeon's shiny coat of scales glistening in the display case. "For
some people, that's enough to make it kosher."
For my friends who are more particular, I can only say this: Don't
distress.
There are lots of other fish in the sea.
Fishing for answers
If you thought sturgeon were kosher, think again. If you thought
figuring out if a fish is kosher was easy, think even harder. Victor
Wishna does the research and tells you all about four sets of scales
and this ichthyological dilemma.
by Victor Wishna October 11, 2003
Yom Kippur hadn't even started, and already we were talking about food
-- specifically, what we would eat as soon as we could eat again. The
discussion drifted to the topic of smoked fish, when someone raised a
red herring. Or, rather, a sturgeon.
"You know, I saw something on the Internet that says sturgeon isn't
kosher," said a friend who keeps kosher and likes sturgeon.
Around our pre-Kol-Nidre dinner table, this elicited gasps from other
friends who keep kosher and like sturgeon. A debate ensued, first,
over the reliability of information found on the Internet and, then,
over what makes sturgeon kosher, and, eventually, the kosher-ness of
other seafood, such as monkfish (which prompted someone to make the
somewhat obvious joke that if it were kosher it would be called
"rabbifish"). But the sturgeon issue went unsettled.
A bit of personal disclosure: I am not that big a fan of the sturgeon.
I love lox enough to know that Nova is better, and if I'm feeling bold
I will dabble in a bit of whitefish salad, particularly after a long
fast. That's about it. However, I have always respected the reverence
that smoked fish commands in Jewish gastronomic tradition, and since
coming to New York, I have learned the strict hierarchy. Lox, Nova,
whitefish, sable -- these are all very nice, but for the true Jewish
brunch enthusiast, sturgeon swims above them all.
"I consider this the finest, most elegant of smoked fish," says Mark
Russ Federman, owner of Russ & Daughters, the preeminent Lower East
Side appetizing shop that was founded in 1914 by his grandfather (and
his mother and her sisters). Unlike salmon or trout roe, only sturgeon
eggs earn the distinctive title of "caviar." In the Russian Empire,
some Jewish communities would welcome conquerors like Peter the Great
by presenting him with a live sturgeon. A few Torah scholars (and the
occasional humorist) have theorized that the "big fish" which
swallowed Jonah -- whose story is read on Yom Kippur afternoon -- was,
in fact, a sturgeon.
So how could it be treif? For my friends who keep kosher and like
sturgeon, I tried to find out.
I started at the source: When it comes to sanctioning seafood,
Leviticus is pretty straightforward. "These you may eat of all that
live in water," begins Chapter 11, Verse 9. "Anything in water ...
that has fins and scales -- these you may eat. But anything ... that
has no fins and scales -- they are an abomination for you and an
abomination for you they shall remain."
Fins and scales. That seems clear enough, until you consider (and
believe me, I hadn't) that there are different types of scales -- and
I don't mean C-major or B-flat. According to the Union of Orthodox
Congregations, "of the four types of scales -- clenoid, cycloid,
ganoid, and placoid -- only clenoid and cycloid scales are valid
according to the Torah." Sharks, for example, are sheathed in hard,
platelike placoids, while ganoids are the thick, shiny scales you will
find on a sturgeon.
It doesn't end there. There are 24 different species of sturgeon, from
the Caspian Sea to the Great Lakes to any number of rivers and
streams. Some breeds have "kosher scales" as young fish, but lose them
later in life. This is good enough for many Conservative kashrut
authorities. And according to an online press release of the New York
State Department of Agriculture's Division of Kosher Law Enforcement
(yes, such an agency exists -- the purpose is to prevent labeling
fraud), sturgeon is perfectly OK, if not OU.
For those who trust the Internet, there is also a Web site dedicated
to the ichthyological dilemma entitled "Sturgeon: A controversial
fish" (www.bluethread.com/kashrut/sturgeon.html), which presents both
sides and then invites visitors to join an online discussion on the
topic.
With neither Yahweh nor Yahoo offering conclusive answers, I consulted
some higher authorities.
"It's a tough question, a shayla," expounded Gary Greengrass, who is
not a rabbi, but the hereditary heir of "Sturgeon King" Barney
Greengrass and owner of the hugely popular, 95-year-old Upper West
Side smoked-fish shop that bears his grandfather's name. The week
leading up to Yom Kippur is Greengrass' busiest. In just a couple
days, the store sells "hundreds and hundreds" of pounds of sturgeon --
at $48 per pound -- and ships it across the country, from the Deep
South to the Pacific Northwest. "It's funny, I was just talking to a
customer," Greengrass told me, "and he said an Orthodox rabbi was
ruling that swordfish and sturgeon are kosher because -- under a
microscope -- they can see scales. Well, I don't think swordfish is
kosher. Sturgeon, I think sometimes it can be."
A few blocks away at Murray's Sturgeon, another Upper West Side
institution, proprietor Ira Goller agreed there is little agreement.
"This has been an argument for eons and eons, and it comes up all the
time," he said, noting that he has plenty of kosher customers who
won't order sturgeon, and many others who simply don't care. When
asked about the different types of scales, he shrugged. "There are
also different types of kosher," he replied. "Sturgeon is a debatable
item, and always will be."
Perhaps. In the end, the closest I got to a real answer was back at
Russ & Daughters. Federman's nephew, Joshua Russ Tupper ? who left his
job as a chemical engineer to become the fourth generation of Russes
to mind the family store -- offered a simple, sensory-based
dispensation. When religious authorities can't agree, it comes down to
a matter of taste. "Basically, it's delicious," he said, the
sturgeon's shiny coat of scales glistening in the display case. "For
some people, that's enough to make it kosher."
For my friends who are more particular, I can only say this: Don't
distress.
There are lots of other fish in the sea.