Science in the Kitchen and the Art of Eating Well Read Online Free PDF Page A

Apicius, or the art of preparing every sort of victual; Rome, 1807), a six-volume gastronomic encyclopedia introduced by what is likely to be the first historical profile of Italian cuisine, 37 and Giovanni Nelli’s
Il re dei cuochi
(The king of cooks; Milan, 1868), an ample culinary dissertation whose shaky claims of universality are shored up by “lessons” in hygiene, food preservation, table setting for both intimate and deluxe meals, and a special section of recipes for children and convalescents.
    Artusi knew both Nelli’s and Leonardi’s books well (he borrows substantially from the latter), as he did many of the “regional” treatises. Furthermore, he had a keen eye for yet another kind of cooking manual: those that were no longer aimed at professional chefs but at middle-class family cooks, housewives, and their domestic helpers.Throughout the nineteenth century, in the north as well as in the southern regions of the nation, such manuals compulsively recommended that the pleasures of the table be seasoned with the principles of temperance and, above all, thriftiness. Such is the case with Vincenzo Agnoletti’s
La nuovissima cucina economica
(New economical cooking; Rome, 1814), from which Artusi borrows “his”
zuppa di visciole
(sour cherry delight). 38
    The author is so much aware of this new middle-class audience – and so in agreement with their economic and ethical values – that he worries about his ability to communicate to them. At times his recipes read like answers to queries gleaned from the columns of a daily paper: “My fear of not being understood by everyone leads me to provide too many details, which I would gladly spare the reader. Still, some people never seem to be satisfied. For instance, a cook from a town in Romagna wrote to me: ‘I prepared the blood pudding described in your highly esteemed cookbook for my employers. It was very well liked, except that I didn’t quite understand how to pass the almond and the candied fruit through the sieve. Would you be good enough to tell me how to do this?’ Delighted by the question, I answered her: ‘I am not sure if you know that you can find sieves made especially for this purpose. One type is strong and widely spaced, and is made with horsehair. Another is made of very fine wire. With these, a good mortar and
elbow-grease
, you can puree even the most difficult things.’” 39
    Artusi’s voice may be that of the well-meaning schoolteacher with a sense of humor as preposterous as the nonchalance with which it is proffered, yet his style is never obscure and ridiculous (or ridiculously obscure), as was often the case in the history of culinary writing. 40 One never knows whether Artusi’s mixture of “sacred and profane” is a deliberate stylistic statement, or simply the outcome of a prodigiously active inertia. Of this critical incertitude, the entry with the recipe for minestrone is a sublime example. It opens with the story of a cholera outbreak that struck Tuscany in 1855 and showed no special concern for Artusi:
I had taken lodgings in the Piazza del Voltone, in a whitewashed villa run by a certain Mr. Domenici. That night, I felt the onset of a frightening disturbance in my body … “Damned minestrone! You will never fool me again!” …
     
Morning came, and feeling myself totally drained, I caught the first train and escaped to Florence, where I immediately felt much better. Monday the sad news reached me that cholera had broken out in Livorno, and the first to be struck dead was no other than Domenici himself.
     
And to think that I had blamed the minestrone!
     
After three attempts, improving upon the dish each time, this is how I like to make it … 41
     
    And so on, without batting an eyelash. Indeed, Artusi seems to be as unaware of any impropriety in the juxtaposition of essentially incompatible materials as Peter Sellers, in the guise of Chief Inspector Clouseau, is of the equally unmitigated dangers he is