Doris Lynch Inupiat Eats Kivalina, Alaska Whale oil donuts— white man's flour sealed with aroma of wild sea. Frozen quaq raw meat sliced off caribou rump, buried all winter in permafrost. My journey from bean sprout-loving vegetarian to savorer of caribou shanks, moose jerky. Precious willow leaves, serak, tempered in seal oil. Summer green pickled to a purple black, Vitamin C burst on the palate. Eskimo ice cream, highlight of every feast, gallons of whipped Crisco, berry-bled, sugar-dolloped. One taste more than enough. Gunniuk—sea's trash fish, we jig for all winter long. Sitting on lawn chairs in the cold dark, waiting for life to quicken beneath the frozen lagoon. Ruthlessly, slam fish against the ice. In minus forty-degree air, they freeze instantly. Simmer for hours, then eat heads and all. For our final feast in May our neighbors bring out muktuk, outer fat of whale— pinnacle of Inupiat cuisine. My favorite—pannituk wrinkled ebony in a jar. To chew this leathery seal is to taste the sea's navel.

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