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Kitchen gadgets

Book>> Consider The Fork • By Bee Wilson • Basic Books • Rs 500

 
By Urmila Shome
Published: Wednesday 30 April 2014

BookTraditionally, the wooden spoon is given as a prize to the loser of a competition. It does not look like sophisticated “technology”. It does not switch on and off or make funny noises. It has no patent or guarantee. There is nothing futuristic or shiny or clever about it. But the humble eating tool has science on its side. Wood is non-abrasive and, therefore, gentle on pans—you can scrape away without fear of scarring the metal surface. It is non-reactive: you need not worry that it will leave a metallic taste or that its surface will degrade on contact with acidic citrus fruits or tomatoes.

It is also a poor conductor of heat, which is why you can stir hot soup with a wooden spoon without burning your hand. Beyond its functionality, however, people cook with wooden spoons because they always have. They are part of our civilisation. This is one of the arguments of Consider the Fork. The author, Bee Wilson, is an acclaimed food writer with a diverse oeuvre. She has written on the sandwich, bee keeping and food scandals.

Consider the Fork seems light-hearted at first glance but, through its deep inquiry into our changing relationship with food and cooking, throws light on the evolution and development of humanity itself. 

The book is a delightful blend of history, science and anthropology. Wilson shows us, through discussion of spoons, forks, fridges and hobs, how the entire history of our species can be navigated in a journey around the kitchen. She even takes us to futuristic “smart fridges” with Wi-fi and Twitter feeds. And there is that über-utensil, the food processor, which has replaced the mortar and pestle to play a huge role in our diets, almost certainly contributing to the current obesity epidemic. Studies cited by Wilson show that by reducing the need to chew our food, processors eliminate some of the work it takes our body to digest it. Although the calories on paper may be identical, the body receives more energy (translating into pounds) from 100 calories of processed food than it does from 100 calories of whole food.

traditionally

Wilson approaches the global range of spoons from two ends: the hand that lifts the bowl and the contents of that vessel. Chimpanzees fashion their own variety of spoons from blades of grass to carry termites to their lips while mother-of-pearl spoons from the Edwardian era reflect a cultural preference for the soft-boiled egg, as yolk stains silver. She details a profusion of specialist spoons for marrow, shellfish, potato chips, communal soup pots and individual bowls of ramen.

But the spoon that conquered all was invented by the English in the second half of the seventeenth century for that most genteel of ceremonies: afternoon tea. The pointed bowl of the teaspoon was made for blending milk, sugar and tea. Somehow, from that limited beginning, the teaspoon became part of every flatware set (sometimes in double the number, since teaspoons tend to go missing). Wilson proposes that the teaspoon was simply good enough: for measuring, for scooping, for getting food from plate to mouth. Sometimes, specialisation is overrated.

But we don’t get to what seems the main character of the book from its title—the fork—till Chapter 6, long after we have learned the history of the pot, the spit, the Chinese tou and the American eggbeater. When the fork first appeared, it was in the hand of an eleventh-century Byzantine princess, gold, two-pronged. “StÔÇêPeter Damian damned her for ‘excessive delicacy’ in preferring such a rarefied implement to her God-given hands,” Wilson writes. But in the seventeenth century, forks were still a joke, mocked as useless and even obscene. The idea that the hand was manlier than the fork lasted, among some subcultures, until the late 19th century.

Urmila Shome is a New York-based anthropologist

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