CHAPTER XXI

DIET STANDARDS

(Discusses various foods and their food values, the quantities we

need, and their money cost.)

I think there is no more important single question about health than the

question of how much food we should eat. It is one about which there is

a great deal of controversy, even among the best authorities. We shall

try here for a common-sense solution. At the outset we have to remind

ourselves of the distinction we tried to draw between nature and man. To

what extent can civilized man rely upon his instincts to keep him in

perfect health?

Let us begin by considering the animals. How is their diet problem

solved? Horses and cattle in a wild state are adjusted to certain foods

which they find in nature, and so long as they can find it, they have no

diet problem. Man comes, and takes these animals and domesticates them;

he observes their habits, and gives to them a diet closely approaching

the natural one, and they get along fairly well. But suppose the man,

with his superior skill in agriculture, taking wild grain and planting

it, reaping and threshing it by machinery, puts before his horse an

unlimited quantity of a concentrated food such as oats, which the horse

can never get in a natural state--will that horse's instincts guide it?

Not at all. Any horse will kill itself by overeating on grain.

I have read somewhere a clever saying, that a farm is a good place for

an author to live, provided he can be persuaded not to farm it. But once

upon a time I had not heard that wise remark, and I owned and tried to

run a farm. I had two beautiful cows of which I was very proud, and one

morning I woke up and discovered that the cows had got into the pear

orchard and had been feeding on pears all night. In a few hours they

both lay with bloated stomachs, dying. A farmer told me afterwards that

I might have saved their lives, if I had stuck a knife into their

stomachs to let out the gas. I do not know whether this is true or not.

But my two dead cows afford a perfect illustration of the reason why

civilized man cannot rely upon his instincts and his appetites to tell

him when he has had enough to eat. He can only do this, provided he

rigidly restricts himself to the foods which he ate in the days when his

teeth and stomach and bowels were being shaped by the process of natural

selection. If he is going to eat any other than such strictly natural

foods, he will need to apply his reason to his diet schedule.

In a state of nature man has to hunt his food, and the amount that he

finds is generally limited, and requires a lot of exercise to get.

Explorers in Africa give us a picture of man's life in the savage state,

guided by his instincts and very little interfered with by reason. The

savages will starve for long periods, then they will succeed in killing

a hippopotamus or a buffalo, and they will gorge themselves, and nearly

all of them will be ill, and several of them will die. So you see, even

in a state of nature, and with natural foods, restraint is needed, and

reason and moral sense have a part to play.

What do reason and moral sense have to tell us about diet? Our bodily

processes go on continuously, and we need at regular intervals a certain

quantity of a number of different foods. The most elementary experiment

will convince us that we can get along, maintain our body weight and our

working efficiency upon a much smaller quantity of food than we

naturally crave. Civilized custom puts before us a great variety of

delicate and appetizing foods, upon which we are disposed to overeat;

and we are slow observers indeed if we do not note the connection

between this overeating and ill health. So we are forced to the

conclusion that if we wish to stay well, we need to establish a

censorship over our habits; we need a different diet regimen from the

haphazard one which has been established for us by a combination of our

instincts with the perversions of civilization.

Up to a few years ago, it was commonly taken for granted by authorities

on diet that what the average man actually eats must be the normal thing

for him to eat. Governments which were employing men in armies, and at

road building, and had to feed them and keep them in health, made large

scale observations as to what the men ate, and thus were established the

old fashioned "diet standards." They are expressed in calories, which is

a heat unit representing the quantity of fuel required to heat a certain

small quantity of water a certain number of degrees. In order that you

may know what I am talking about, I will give a rough idea of the

quantity of the more common foods which it takes to make 100 calories:

one medium sized slice of bread, a piece of lean cooked steak the size

of two fingers, one large apple, three medium tablespoonfuls of cooked

rice or potatoes, one large banana, a tablespoonful of raisins, five

dates, one large fig, a teaspoonful of sugar, a ball of butter the size

of your thumbnail, a very large head of lettuce, three medium sized

tomatoes, two-thirds of a glass of milk, a tablespoonful of oil. You

observe, if you compare these various items, how little guidance

concerning food is given by its bulk. You may eat a whole head of

lettuce, weighing nearly a pound, and get no more food value than from a

half ounce of olive oil which you pour over it. You may eat enough lean

beefsteak to cover your plate, and you will not have eaten so much as a

generous helping of butter. A big bowl of strawberries will not count

half so much as the cream and sugar you put over them. So you may

realize that when you eat olive oil, butter, cream, and sugar, you are

in the same danger as the horse eating oats, or as my two cows in the

pear orchard; and if some day a surgeon has to come and stick a knife

into you, it may be for the same reason.

The old-fashioned diet standards are as follows: Swedish laborers at

hard work, over 4,700 calories; Russian workmen at moderate work, German

soldiers in active service, Italian laborers at moderate work, between

3,500 and 3,700 calories; English weavers, nearly 3,500 calories;

Austrian farm laborers, over 5,000 calories. Some twenty years ago the

United States government made observations of over 15,000 persons, and

established the following, known as the "Atwater standards": men at very

hard muscular work, 5,500 calories; men at moderately active muscular

work, 3,400 calories; men at light to moderate muscular work, 3,050

calories; men at sedentary, or women at moderately active work, 2,700

calories.

In the last ten or fifteen years there has arisen a new school of

dietetic experts, headed by Professors Chittenden and Fisher of Yale

University. Professor Chittenden has published an elaborate book, "The

Nutrition of Man," in which he tells of long-continued experiment upon a

squad of soldiers and a group of athletes at Yale University, also upon

average students and professors. He has proved conclusively that all

these various groups have been able to maintain full body weight and

full working efficiency upon less than half the quantity of protein food

hitherto specified, and upon anywhere from one-half to two-thirds the

calory value set forth in the former standards.

When I first read this book, I set to work to try its theories upon

myself. During the five or six months that I lived on raw food, I took

the trouble to weigh everything that I ate, and to keep a record. It is,

of course, very easy to weigh raw foods exactly, and I found that I

lived an active life and kept physical health upon slightly less than

2,500 calories a day. I have set this as my standard, and have

accustomed myself to follow it instinctively, and without wasting any

thought upon it. Sometimes I fall from grace; for I still crave the

delightful cakes and candies and ice cream upon which I was brought up.

I always pay the penalty, and know that I will not get back to my former

state of health until I skip a meal or two, and give my system a chance

to clean house. The average man will find the regimen set forth in this

book austere and awe-inspiring; I do not wish to pose as a paragon of

virtue, so perhaps I should quote a sarcastic girl cousin, who remarked

when I was a boy that the way to my heart was with a bag of

ginger-snaps. I live in the presence of candy stores and never think of

their existence, but if someone brings candy into the house and puts it

in front of me, I have to waste a lot of moral energy in letting it

alone. A few years ago I had a young man as secretary who discovered

this failing of mine, and used to afford himself immense glee by buying

a box of chocolates and leaving it on top of my desk. I would give him

back the box--with some of the chocolates missing--but he would persist

in "forgetting it" on my desk; he would hide and laugh hilariously

behind the door, until my wife discovered his nefarious doings, and

warned me of them.

Professor Chittenden states quite simply the common sense procedure in

the matter of food quantity. Find out by practical experiment what is

the very least food upon which you can do your work without losing

weight. That is the correct quantity for you, and if you are eating

more, you certainly cannot be doing your body any good, and all the

evidence indicates that you are doing it harm. You need not have the

least fear in making this experiment that you will starve yourself.

Later on, in a chapter on fasting, I shall prove to you that you carry

around with you in your body sufficient reserve of food to keep you

alive for eighty or ninety days; and if you draw on a small quantity of

this you do not do yourself the slightest harm. Cut down the amount of

your food; eat the bulky foods, which contain less calory value, and

weigh yourself every day, and you will be surprised to discover how much

less you need to eat than you have been accustomed to.

One of the things you will find out is that your stomach is easily

fooled; it is largely guided by bulk. If you eat a meal consisting of a

moderate quantity of lean meat, a very little bread, a heaping dish of

turnip greens, and a big slice of watermelon, you will feel fully

satisfied, yet you will not have taken in one-third the calory value

that you would at an ordinary meal with gravies and dressings and

dessert. The bulky kind of food is that for which your system was

adapted in the days when it was shaped by nature. You have a large

stomach, many times as large as you would have had if you had lived on

refined and concentrated foods such as butter, sugar, olive oil, cheese

and eggs. You have a long intestinal tract, adapted to slowly digesting

foods, and to the work of extracting nutrition from a mass of roughage.

You have a very large lower bowel, which Metchnikoff, the Russian

scientist, one of the greatest minds who ever examined the problems of

health, declares a survival, the relic of a previous stage of evolution,

and a source of much disease. The best thing you can do with that lower

bowel is to give it lots of hay, as it requires; in other words, to eat

the salads and greens which contain cellulose material. This contains no

food value, and does not ferment, but fills the lower bowel and

stimulates it to activity.

If you eat too much food, three things may happen. First, it may not be

digested, and in that case it will fill your system with poisons.

Second, it may be assimilated, but not burned up by the body. In that

case it has to be thrown out by the kidneys or the sweat glands, and

this puts upon these organs an extra strain, to which in the long run

they may be unequal. Or third, the surplus material may be stored up as

fat. This is an old-time trick which nature invented to tide you over

the times when food was scarce. If you were a bear, you would naturally

want to eat all you could, and be as fat as possible in November, so

that you might be able to hunt your prey when you came out from your

winter's sleep in April. But you are not a bear, and you expect to eat

your regular meals all winter; you have established a system of

civilization which makes you certain of your food, and the place where

you keep your surplus is in the bank, or sewed up in the mattress, or

hidden in your stocking. In other words, a civilized man saves money,

and the habit of storing globules of grease in the cells of his body is

a survival of an old instinct, and a needless strain upon his health.

Not merely does the fat man have to carry all the extra weight around

with him, but his body has to keep it and tend it; and what are the

effects of this is fully shown by life insurance tables. People who are

five or ten per cent over weight have five or ten per cent more chance

of dying all the time, while people who are five or ten per cent under

weight have five or ten per cent more than the average of life

expectation. There is no answer to these figures, which are the result

of the tabulation of many hundreds of thousands of cases. The meaning of

them to the fat person is to put himself on a diet of lean meat, green

vegetables and fresh fruits, until he has brought himself down, not

merely to the normal fatness of the civilized man, but to the normal

leanness of the athlete, the soldier on campaign, and the student who

has more important things to think about than stuffing his stomach.

There is, of course, a certain kind of leanness which is the result of

ill health. There are wasting diseases; tuberculosis, for example, and

anemia. There are people who worry themselves thin, and there are a few

rare "spiritual" people, so-called, who fade away from lack of

sufficient interest in their bodies. That is not the kind of leanness

that I mean, but the active, wiry leanness, which sometimes lives a

hundred years. Nearly always you will find that such people are spare

eaters; and you will find that our ideal of rosy plumpness, both for

adults and children, is a wholly false notion. We once had in our home

as servant an Irish girl, who was what is popularly called "a picture of

health," with those beautiful flaming cheeks that Irish and English

women so often have. She was in her early twenties, and nobody who knew

her had any idea but that her health was perfect. But one morning she

was discovered in bed with one side paralyzed, and in a couple of weeks

she was dead with erysipelas. The color in her cheeks had been nothing

but diseased blood vessels, overloaded with food material; and with the

blood in that condition, one of the tiny vessels in the brain had become

clogged.

In the same way I have seen children, two or three years old, plump and

rosy, and considered to be everything that children should be; but

pneumonia would hit them, and in two or three days they would be at

death's door. I do not mean that children should be kept hungry; on the

contrary, they should have four or five meals a day, so that they do not

have a chance to become too hungry. But at those meals they should eat

in great part the bulky foods, which contain the natural salts needed

for building the body. If a child asks for food, you may give it an

apple, or you may give it a slice of bread and butter with sugar on it.

The child will be equally well content in either case; but it is for

you, with your knowledge of food values, to realize that the bread with

butter and sugar contains two or three times as much nutriment as the

apple, but contains practically none of the precious organic salts which

will make the child's bones and teeth.

So far I have discussed this subject as if all foods grew on bushes

outside your kitchen door, and all you had to do was to go and pick off

what you wanted. But as a matter of fact, foods cost money, and under

our present system of wage slavery, the amount of money the average

person can spend for food is strictly limited. In a later book I am

going to discuss the problem of poverty, its causes and remedies. All

that I can do here is to tell you what foods you ought to have, and if

society does not pay you enough for your work to enable you to buy such

foods, you may know that society, is starving you, and you may get busy

to demand your rights as human beings. Meantime, however, such money as

you do have, you want to spend wisely, and the vast majority of you

spend it very unwisely indeed.

In the first place, a great many of the simplest and most wholesome

foods are cheap--often because people do not know enough to value them.

We insist upon having the choice cuts of meats, because they are more

tender to the teeth, but the cheaper cuts are exactly as nutritious. We

insist upon having our meats loaded with fat, although fatness is an

abnormal condition in an animal, and excess of fat is a grave error in

diet. I live in a country where jack rabbits are a pest, and in the

market they sell for perhaps one-fourth the cost of beef, and yet I can

hardly ever get them, because people value them so little as food; they

prefer the meat of a hog which has been wallowing in a filthy pen, and

has been deliberately made so fat that it could hardly walk!

I have already spoken of prunes, a much despised and invaluable food.

All the dried fruits are rich in food values, and if we could get them

untreated by chemicals, they would be worth their cost. I was brought up

to despise the cheaper vegetables, such as cabbage and turnips; I never

tasted boiled cabbage until I was forty, and then to my great surprise I

made the discovery that it is good. Raw cabbage is as valuable as any

other salad; it is a trifle harder to digest for some people, but I do

not believe in pampering the stomach. Both potatoes and rice are cheap

and wholesome, if only we would get unpolished rice, and if we would

leave the skins on the potatoes until after they are cooked. Nearly all

the mineral salts of the potato are just under the outer skin, and are

removed by the foolish habit of peeling them.

The prices of food differ so widely at different seasons and in

different parts of the world, that there is not much profit in trying to

figure how cheaply a person can live. I have found that I spend for the

diet I have indicated here, from sixty to eighty cents a day. I do not

buy any fancy foods, but on the other hand, I do not especially try to

economize; I buy what I want of the simple everyday foods in their

season. Most everyone will find that it is a good business proposition

to buy the foods which he needs to keep in health. If the average

workingman would add up the money he spends, not merely in the

restaurants, but in the candy stores, the drug stores, the tobacco

stores, and the offices of doctors and dentists, he would find, I think,

that he could afford to buy himself the necessary quantity of wholesome

natural foods. For a family of three, in the place where I live, enough

of these foods can be purchased for a dollar a day, and this is about

one-fourth what common labor is being paid, and one-eighth of what

skilled labor is being paid. I will specify the foods: a pound and a

half of shoulder steak, a loaf of whole wheat bread or a box of shredded

wheat biscuit, a head of cabbage, a pound of prunes, and four or five

pounds of apples.

There are many ways of saving in the purchase of food if you put your

mind upon it. If you are buying prunes, you may pay as high as fifty

cents or a dollar a pound for the big ones, and they are not a bit

better than the tiny ones, which you can buy for as low as eight cents a

pound in bulk. When bread is stale, the bakers sell it for half price,

despite the fact that only then has it become fit to eat. If you buy

canned peaches, you will pay a fancy price for them, and they will be

heavy with cane sugar; but if you inquire, you find what are known as

"pie peaches," put up in gallon tins without sugar, and at about half

the price. The butcher will sell you what he calls "hamburg steak" at a

very low price, and if you let him prepare it out of your sight, he will

fill it with fat and gristle; but let him make some while you watch, and

then you have a very good food. One of my diet rules is that I do not

trust the capitalist system to fix me up any kind of mixed or ground or

prepared foods. I have not eaten sausage since I saw it made in Chicago.

Also there is something to know about the cooking of foods, since it is

possible to take perfectly good foods and spoil them by bad cooking.

Once upon a time our family discovered a fireless cooker, and thought

that was a wonderful invention for an absent-minded author and a wife

who is given to revising manuscripts. But recent investigations which

have been made into the nature of the "vitamines," food ferments which

are only partly understood, suggest that prolonged cooking of food may

be a great mistake. The starch has to be cooked in order to break the

cell walls by the expansion of the material inside. Twenty minutes will

be enough in the case of everything except beans, which need to be

cooked four or five hours. Meat should be eaten rare, except in the case

of pork, which harbors a parasite dangerous to the human body; therefore

pork should always be thoroughly cooked. The white of eggs is made less

digestible by boiling hard or frying. Eggs should never be allowed to

boil; put them on in cold water, and take them off as soon as the water

begins to boil. It is not necessary to cook either fresh fruit or dried.

The dried fruits may be soaked and eaten raw, but I find that several

fruits, especially apples and pears, do not agree with me well if they

are eaten raw, so I stew them for fifteen or twenty minutes. I have no

objection to canned fruits and vegetables, provided one takes the

trouble in opening them to make sure there is no sign of spoiling. If

you put up your own fruits, do not put in any sugar. All you have to do

is to let them boil for a few minutes, and to seal them tightly while

they are boiling hot. The whole secret of preserving is to exclude the

air with its bacteria.

If you live on a farm, you will have no trouble in following the diet

here outlined, for you can produce for yourselves all the foods that I

have recommended; only do not make the mistake of shipping out your best

foods, and taking back the products of a factory, just because you have

read lying advertisements about them. Take your own wheat and oats and

corn to the mill, and have it ground whole, and make your own breads and

cereals. Try the experiment of mixing whole corn meal with water and a

little salt, and baking it into hard, crisp "corn dodgers." I do not eat

these--but only because I cannot buy them, and have no time to make

them.

Another common article of food which I do not recommend is salted and

smoked meats. I do not pretend to know the effects of large quantities

of salt and saltpetre and wood smoke upon the human system, but I know

that Dr. Wiley's "poison squad" proved definitely that a number of these

inorganic minerals are injurious to health, and I prefer to take fresh

meat when I can get it. I use a moderate quantity of common salt on meat

and potatoes, because there seems to be a natural craving for this. I

know that many health enthusiasts insist that I am thus putting a strain

on my kidneys, but I will wait until these health enthusiasts make clear

to me why deer and cattle and horses in a wild state will travel many

miles to a salt-lick. I have learned that it is easy to make plausible

statements about health, but not so easy to prove them. For example, I

was told that it is injurious to drink water at meals, and for years I

religiously avoided the habit; but it occurred to some college professor

to find out if this was really true, and he carried on a series of

experiments which proved that the stomach works better when its contents

are diluted. The only point about drinking at meals is that you should

not use the liquid to wash down your food without chewing it.

I can suggest two other ways by which you may save money on food. One is

by not eating too much, and another is by eating all that you buy. The

amount of food that is wasted by the people of America would feed the

people of any European nation. The amount of food that is thrown out

from any one of our big American leisure class hotels would feed the

children of a European town. I think it may fairly be described as a

crime to throw into the garbage pail food which might nourish human

life. In our family we have no garbage pail. What little waste there is,

we burn in the stove, and my wife turns it into roses. It consists of

the fat which we cannot help getting at the butcher's, and the bones of

meat, and the skins of some fruits and vegetables. It would never enter

into our minds to throw out a particle of bread, or meat, or other

wholesome food. If we have something that we fear may spoil, we do not

throw it out, but put it into a saucepan and cook it for a few minutes.

If you will make the same rule in your home, you will stop at least that

much of the waste of American life; and as to the big leisure class

hotels, and the banquet tables of the rich--just wait a few years, and I

think the social revolution will attend to them!

The Book of Life · 第 21 / 50 章