Whale Milk & the Very Rich

Visitors to the Hamptons may have noticed that the number of whales vaulting out of the ocean just offshore has dramatically increased in recent years. It’s such an exciting thing. Seawater sprays everywhere as they breach up, squeak out a chittering sound, arch overhead, and then bang down with a great crash to disappear into the deep.

Experts have put forth theories about why this increase is happening. But none suggest the correct answer, which is the whale’s enthusiastic response to milking time, when surfer Batwing McCracken, a thermos bottle strapped to his back, paddles out on his surfboard to do the job.

McKracken, now in his late 30s, is well known in the local surfing community. Born and raised in an oceanfront cottage in Amagansett, at 15 he traveled abroad to enter surfing competitions around the world. His first prize cups, from the Sandwich Islands, the Azores, New Zealand, and Australia, sit on the mantel above the fireplace at his family’s home here. What he’s done since is not much talked about. But today he runs a very successful business that produces whale milk for the ultrarich in a small factory on Industrial Road in Montauk.

The factory is not well marked. There’s no “whale milk” sign on the door — just the words “McCracken Enterprises” above the entrance to a small building between Montauk Building Supply and Toro Landscaping.

Frankly, I was surprised when McCracken asked me to stop by last week. I’ve known of him for about 15 years and he doesn’t talk to the media much. Must be he wants to talk about something now, whatever it is.

Driving out from our office in Southampton, I recalled how I met him.

I was the guest of the bride at an oceanfront wedding reception on Gin Lane in Southampton. A long table on the back lawn had been set up with seating for 50 people for lunch. At the sound of a gong, 50 uniformed waiters came out with the appetizers on silver trays, to stand behind one of the seated guests. The gong sounded again. With that, they served their trays over our shoulders in unison. Black caviar with a white cream atop it. Each of us had a menu on a small card. The first course cream, it said, was whale’s milk. Something I’d never heard of.

After lunch, I walked over to the kitchen tent and was introduced to McCracken, who had supervised the whale’s milk service. He was not very forthcoming about how he got it. All he said was “from the sea, from the  females.” I asked if he could be more specific, but he declined. And I’d not heard anything further about it, from that day to this.

At the appointed hour last week, I knocked at the factory door. McKracken, wearing a white apron over a Hawaiian shirt, answered it personally.

“Welcome,” he said, motioning me in with the sweep of his arm. There was a hallway and a nearby sound of machinery coming from a dimly lit workroom where two employees stood beside a conveyor belt putting labels on tiny bottles while others put bottles into boxes. McCracken led me through, to a small office beyond.

“Palm Beach, Paris, Venice, Tokyo, Saudi Arabia,” he said, referring to the boxes.

                   *   *   *

No whale milk is sold in supermarkets, delis and farm stands that I know.

And no whale’s milk is served at any of the expensive restaurants in the Hamptons where the rich eat. Frankly, if you haven’t had it, it’s because you’re not rich enough.

Whale milk is on the menu at two of the five private restaurants now operating in the Hamptons. Private? You only get to eat at one if a member recommends you. Dinners will be created using the most expensive ingredients in the world.

                      *   *    *

As for me, I’m hoping McCracken might offer a taste.

Entering his darkened office, he motioned me to a chair facing his desk then walked around to seat himself on the other side. He still looks very fit for his age. His great shock of red hair was still in place. Surfboards were hung on all the walls.

“And no,” he smiled. “I’m not going to tell you how I get the whale milk,” he said for openers.

“Well, I looked up how it’s gotten on Google,” I said. “Females give birth to pups, then open folds in their bodies to allow the pups to suckle on nipples there. As mammals, they’re nourished with milk.”

“Tell you what. Come by tonight, I’m going out. You surf? Thought not. Use binoculars. Maybe you’ll see something.”

“Okay.”

“Indian Wells Beach. 11 p.m.”

“Wait. What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s Trump and Kennedy. I need you to get the word out.”

“What word?”

“My whale’s milk is authentic. Others are junk. And the Pure Food and Drug Act people smoke them out when they present bottles saying they have it.”

“And?”

“Last week, Musk fired all the Pure Food and Drug employees. With the milk unchecked, it’s going to be chaos. Fake whale milk will pop up everywhere, they’ll flood the market with junk. And I’ll go under.”

“And Kennedy?

“He’s talking about using it as a vaccine killer. If you’ve been vaccinated, even long ago, whale milk will reverse it. Many will die.”

“I will do my best.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He stood, I stood, and he escorted me through the factory and out to my car. It was almost sunset.

At 11 p.m., I parked at Indian Wells in Amagansett and walked out to stand on the beach. He was not yet around.

The sea was calm, there was no moon, but I could see by starlight a bit.  However, it was difficult to make out what was out there. But I could hear splashes and thumps.

Soon, the chittering of a whale could be heard. But in moments it gave way to a chorus of very quick and higher pitched chittering noises.  Must be the hungry pups. Then I heard another quick chitter from a pup, but it was a baritone. A very deep voice. But very friendly and soulful. Almost human.

After that, everything splashed down into the deep.

McCracken never showed. I need to talk to him about this.

What a waste of time.

To read more of Dan’s columns, go to any search engine and search “Dan Rattiner’s stories.”

Thanks to Dan’s Papers managing editor Michael Malaszczyk for bringing the issue of Whale Milk to my attention.