The clink of an ice cube in a tall glass is almost like poetry. I look at the different shapes of ice that float in a summer drink these days — stars or little rings, depending on the designs that the ice tray promises. The trays have evolved with time, as have refrigerators, which spew out ice like slot machines. But I recall the time when we had to work hard to dislodge ice cubes from a tray. We had to twist it hard, hold it under water, and then pick up the slippery ice from the floor where it would invariably land.
But what we did was nothing compared to what a young man called Frederick Tudor accomplished back in the early 1800s. He transported ice from Boston to what was then Calcutta. A book called Empires of Food: Feast, Famine and the Rise and Fall of Civilizations by Evan D.G. Fraser and Andrew Rimas tells the story. The book is a fascinating account of how food, nourishment, climate change et al shaped civilisations.
As Americans moved from villages to cities, food travelled too, underlining the role that ice played as preservative. “In places like New England, which possessed a wealth of frozen pond water for much of the year, ice could be cut, packed in straw, and used to preserve food from rotting on its way from the field to street,” they write.
Slippery speculation
Young Tudor — a Harvard drop-out and son of a Boston lawyer — realised that there was money to be made in ice. He decided to transport it to the Caribbean: “His idea was to sail a cargo of pond ice 2,000 miles to Martinique and sell it to the sweating natives.” He convinced his investors to buy a brig, and sailed off on ‘The Favourite’ with 80 tonnes of ice, evoking considerable mirth. “We hope it does not prove to be a slippery speculation,” the Boston Gazette said.
The voyage was a fiasco. Most of the ice melted on the way, and there were no takers for what was left “since no one in Martinique had any idea what to do with this weird, evaporating substance.” Tudor lost $4,300, was sued and imprisoned, but didn’t give up. He was in jail for much of 1812 and 1813, but after being released, still full of pep, set off for Havana, where he built a warehouse insulated with sawdust.
It’s a steal
“Discontented with mere success he decided to export ice to India. This was a plan of magnificent foolhardiness. The journey from Boston to Calcutta was 15,000 miles and, barring bad weather, took four or five months.”
He lost one-third of the cargo in the first Calcutta run, but the British colonists bought what was left, happy to have a cold drink at last. They even helped him build an insulated warehouse. “In return, he kept prices low, turning a profit of a mere three cents per pound, so that even the humblest colonial servant could afford a lump of ice in an afternoon cocktail. Ice was now cheaper to buy in India than in London or Paris.”
The book quotes an observer as noting:
“It was long before the natives could be induced to handle the crystal blocks. Tradition reports that they ran away affrighted, thinking the ice was something bewitched and fraught with danger. But now they come on board in a long line, and each of them takes a huge block of ice upon his head and conveys it to the adjacent ice house, moving with such rapidity that the blocks are exposed to the air only a few seconds. Once deposited, the waste almost ceases again, and the ice which cost in Boston four dollars a ton is worth 50 dollars.”
Good for Tudor, I say, as I look at the tub of ice cream in my freezer. Kesar Pista, anyone?
The writer likes reading and writing about food as much as he does cooking and eating it. Well, almost.
