On September 22, 1901, near the Berezovka River in Siberia, two scientists stood in awe before a woolly mammoth that had been locked in the permafrost, ground that stays frozen solid all year, for about 44,000 years. It was almost perfectly preserved: hide, flesh, most of its hair, and a belly full of undigested autumn grasses. Before long, the men were debating whether to eat it.
Dinner options on the riverbank
Dr. Otto Herz and paleontologist Dr. Eugen Pfizenmayer had come 3,000 miles by road and river from Irkutsk, the nearest stop on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. Telegraph reports hailed the find as "a remarkable Christmas present to science," though the press guessed the ice was 100,000 years old and missed by more than half. The massive legs were bent strangely beneath the body, so the men figured the animal had tumbled from a precipice above and died instantly.
Then came the question: "What to do with the penis of this enormous prehistoric carcass?" The organ was nearly three feet long, and "The meat was dark and marbled, like properly hung beef." The men had been living on horse flesh, and they wondered whether this might be an improvement. They passed. Their dogs had no such scruples.
Digging it out was brutal. No tool they had could punch through the permafrost, so they lit a ring of fires to soften the ground, put up a shed against the cold, spent a fortnight thawing the monster, and finally hacked it into pieces. The skin alone made up one load. The flesh was cut into sections and packed with hundreds of pounds of salicylic acid. Today it treats acne and dandruff, but back then, with no food laws, it was a common meat preservative. On the grueling trip back to St. Petersburg, the men survived on "dried fish, horse milk, and stewed tree bark," and not all of them made it. With a menu like that, who could blame a man for eyeing the mammoth?
A planet built for mammoths
Mammoths first appeared about 300,000 years ago. They roamed the steppe tundra, a vast cold, dry grassland that stretched from Western Europe across Siberia to Alaska and the Yukon and south into Central Asia and Northern China. Adults stood 10 to 12 feet tall and weighed six to eight tons. Their coarse hair grew longer than two feet over several inches of insulating fat. Stalking them were giant short-faced bears that stood 11 feet tall on their hind legs and scimitar-toothed cats as big as a modern lion.
Humans hunted mammoths for meat, hides and ivory, but a warmer, wetter climate helped finish them off. The last herd hung on at Wrangel Island in the Arctic Ocean until a little more than 3,700 years ago, while the age of the Great Pyramids was at its peak. Scientists once imagined the herd dwindling down to a single lonely mammoth. Now they believe the last of them died all at once in some catastrophe.
Their frozen remains became big business. In 1821 a Yakut man, from the ethnic group that has lived in Russia's frozen north for centuries, brought 2,000 pounds of mammoth ivory to market. By 1840, Siberia was turning out an estimated 110,000 pounds a year.
The most famous mammoth dinners never served mammoth. Dr. Herz's ancient banquet was invented outright, and the Explorers Club's legendary 1951 delicacy turned out, 63 years later, to be green sea turtle.
Banquets that never happened
Word soon spread that Dr. Herz had hosted a banquet where every dish was more than a thousand years old. The star was a mammoth tenderloin, cut thick, grilled, and served with a strong, piquant sauce. The other courses supposedly included "Bread made from wheat stored in the pyramids by the Pharaoh Ramses the Great," wine buried in the ruins of Corinth, and fruit preserved under the ashes of Pompeii, all served on plates dug up at Babylon. Reports even claimed the blood ran freely when the steak was cut. The story became a global sensation.
None of it had happened. About 20 years later, I.P. Tolmachoff, a Russian geologist and expert on Siberia, looked into the story and found the banquet was pure fiction. Some of the flesh really was "fibrous and marbled with fat and looked as fresh as well-frozen beef or horse meat," but the stench was unbearable. One scientist managed to swallow a bite, and "the poor man immediately vomited." "Only the expedition's dogs had any real enthusiasm for the meat."
That didn't stop anyone. In 1915 R.A. Fox, a prospector from Alaska, rolled into Dawson with a sack of stringy white fiber. He said it came from a mammoth he'd blasted out of a bluff with dynamite. He tossed some to his cats, then tried it himself: "And I think that mammoth steak is all right." This was the same Fox who swore a dead acquaintance had once dropped by his cabin to rock in a rocking chair. In 1936 Dr. Logan Clendening, a newspaper columnist, treated a gout patient who had served mammoth steak from Siberia at his birthday party. The patient swore every plate was licked clean, though he admitted it might have been dog meat. In 1947 a traveler said mammoth was pitch black and "tasted like a cross between whale and bear."
Turtle with a backstory
The most legendary mammoth feast of all came in 1951, at the Explorers Club's 47th annual banquet in the Grand Ballroom of the Roosevelt Hotel in New York City. Commander Wendell Phillips Dodge told the press that about 500 guests would eat prehistoric meat, billed as "an especially delectable epicurean connoisseurs experience never put before man on earth." Real mammoth steaks would have cost nearly $6,100 a plate in today's money. So the plan shrank to cocktails, each garnished with a small cube of meat and chilled with ice flown in from the Juneau ice cap. The meat supposedly came from the private stock of the Reverend Bernard Hubbard, known as the Glacier Priest.
Paul Griswold Howes, a club member who couldn't attend, asked for a sample. His parcel was labeled megatherium, the scientific name for the extinct giant ground sloth, but the mammoth story stuck anyway. The withered scrap sat on display at the Bruce Museum in Greenwich, Connecticut, and then, starting in 2001, at the Yale Peabody Museum of Natural History. In 2014, two curious students got permission to test its DNA, with help from Explorers Club funding. "The meat served that night in 1951 was green sea turtle."
Dodge had once been a Hollywood agent, and his biggest client was Mae West. He managed to fool "some of the people about mammoth meat and the rest of the people about sloth meat." Afterward, he joked that he might have found a formula for turning green sea turtle into giant sloth. Today's Explorers Club sounds mostly relieved that nobody served a priceless specimen for dinner.
The mammoth may yet come back to the table, in a sense. Asian elephants are more closely related to mammoths than to African elephants. Scientists are sequencing genomes and pinpointing the genes behind the mammoth's cold tolerance, shaggy coat, fat humps and tusks, aiming to place them in an Asian elephant egg carried by a surrogate through a 22-month pregnancy. The calf should be fluffy, adorable and miraculous, and absolutely not on the menu.
