Have you ever ordered a pizza over the Internet? It is an
experience in illiterate cooking. The image on the screen allows
clients to prepare the most individualized pizza one can think
of: they decide what the shape, size, and thickness of the crust
will be; which spices and how much; what kind of cheese; and
which toppings. They can arrange these the way they want, layer
them, and control how much tomato sauce, if any, should be used.
Done? Ask your children, or your guests, whether they want to
correct your design. The on-line chef is open to suggestions. All
set? The pizza will be delivered in 20 minutes-or it's free. The
entire transaction is illiterate: selection is made by clicking
an image. With each choice, prices are automatically calculated
and listed. Addition is as error-free as it can get. Taxes are
calculated and automatically transferred to the IRS. A voice
announces over the Internet, "Food is ready! Thank you for your
order. And please visit us again."
No, this is not fantasy. Pizza shops and hamburger joints figure
visibly on the Internet (still in its infancy). Their structure
and functioning, as well as the expectations connected to them,
are what defines them as belonging to the civilization of
illiteracy. But the picture of what people eat and how their
food is prepared is more complicated than what this example
conveys. This chapter will describe how we arrived at this point,
and what the consequences of the fundamental shift from the
civilization of literacy in our relation to food are.