From the Vineyard Gazette edition of Dec. 13, 1940:

Today, the Vineyard diner is able to order just about what he likes for his Christmas dinner with full assurance that he will receive it. But a very few generations ago there was a decided limit as to what might or might not be served on Vineyard tables at Christmas time. The thoughts of the conditions which existed then associate themselves closely with the wildfowl season, now drawing to a close, for the early Vineyarders, and many later ones, depended upon wild fowl for meat, and it was well for them that there was no scarcity and no closed season.

When it is realized that there was little livestock on the Island, so little that each animal was prized for its natural products, it may be readily understood why a draught animal could not be butchered, neither a milch cow nor its feminine offspring. As for the sheep, their wool was the only material from which the people could manufacture cloth suitable for wearing apparel. The moderate supply of flax sufficed to provide only a limited amount of linen, and few Vineyarders could either wear it or use it in their households. Tablecloths were rarities, underwear was virtually unknown, and beds were made up of blankets throughout the year in the majority of homes.

Thus, when the question of food was considered, the Vineyarders turned to the water for their main dishes. Fish were plentiful, shellfish as well, but the wildfowl held a place of no less importance on the regular menu.

The weather could not be considered, when meat was desired for the table. The Vineyard hunter did much of his hunting in the darkness because he could move with more freedom under its cover. He lay in snowdrifts, in rain and sleet, waiting for a shot at the ducks and geese, while his clothing became saturated with melting snow and froze stiff on his body. There was no waterproof clothing in that day, nor boots, save occasional knee-length footwear of leather.

The hunter must guard the priming on his flintlock against dampness, and his single shot must not be wasted. Ammunition was expensive and scarce. Moreover, if he missed a shot, it required so long to load that he might not get another for hours. No, he must wait for the fowl to bunch up and strive to cover as many birds as possible at each shot. It did not matter how many birds he killed, none would be wasted. His neighbors would take all that he could spare, and share their own with him when luck came their way. And the early Vineyarder was skilled in ways of curing wildfowl, with salt, with smoke and with drying, or all three.

He was not particular as to the variety of the fowl that fell to his gun. The choice species of duck, goose and brant, were duly prized, but the humble coot and other varieties not so choice today, all went into the pot. “Nothing beat a green har’n,” declared some old-timers, and many shot gulls at certain times of year, serving them on the table like chicken. The loon, largest of the native wildfowl and furnishing many pounds of meat, was frequently served in various ways.

It is not strange, in view of this practice, that fowl of any kind should be a favorite dish on the Vineyard. Generations of Islanders have fed on fowl and seafood.

Although little mention has ever been made of the fact, the early Vineyarder ate whale meat to some extent. That he did not relish it too keenly is evidenced by certain anecdotes that have been handed down through the years, but necessity obliged him to turn to this variety of food at times.

So he ordered his Christmas dinner, with the wildfowl, scallops, clams, smoked or fresh eels, salt cod, smoked herring, and very probably salt swordfish, which was a choice dish.

He had corn in various ways, ground into meal, which provided his bread, porridge, and pudding, or was parched and eaten in place of nuts. The wild cranberry and the other wild fruits, preserved or dried, were on his table, and there were hickory nuts, acorns and hazelnuts as well.

His drink was sassafras tea, or a tea of boxberry leaves. There was no tea, coffee or cider in the early days, although an occasional bottle of rum might come his way. Sweetening of any variety was scarce and expensive, and was principally molasses, and the milk and butter, if any, were sufficiently scarce to be regarded as extreme luxuries.

Yet, dining on these viands mentioned, as he sat before his fireplace, the Vineyard pioneer reckoned himself well off indeed. His Christmas was a merry one, in the midst of his friends and relatives, and he took comfort in the statement that had been carried, even in that early day, to his king:

“Their (Vineyarders’) houses are but small and mean, but the poorest among them warms himself at a fire that even the lords of England cannot afford.” His table also bore dishes that his lords of that day, and their descendants of the present, never tasted.

Compiled by Hilary Wall
library@mvgazette.com