Cookery, or the art of preparing good and wholesome food, and of
preserving all sorts of alimentary substances in a state fit for human
sustenance, of rendering that agreeable to the taste which is essential
to the support of life, and of pleasing the palate without injury to the
system, is, strictly speaking, a branch of chemistry; but, important as
it is both to our enjoyments and our health, it is also one of the
least cultivated branches of that science. The culinary processes of
roasting, boiling, baking, stewing, frying, broiling, the art of
preserving meats, bacon, and hams; the preparations of sauces, pickles,
and other condiments; the conserving of fruits; the care and keeping of
vegetables; the making of jellies, jams, and marmalades, are all founded
upon the principles of this science, and much waste of the material, as
well as labour to the parties might often be spared, were those to whom
the performance of such tasks is committed, made acquainted with simple
chemical truths which would invariably lead to certain results. And,
besides, the same knowledge would enable them to attain a much greater
degree of perfection in curing and preserving all kinds of animal and
vegetable aliments, and in combining the three grand requisites of
taste, nutriment, and salubrity, in whatever manner they may be
prepared. And, though this art is at present in rude hands, as all
branches of chemistry were originally, there is no reason that it should
remain so. A kitchen is, in fact, a chemical laboratory; the boilers,
stew-pans, and cradle spit of the cook, correspond to the digestors, the
evaporating basins, and the crucibles of the chemist. And numerous as
the receipts of cookery are, the general operations (like the general
process of chemistry) are but few. In some the object aimed at is, to
extract the constituent parts of the food, so as to exhibit them in a
separate state, or to combine them with other substances, to produce new
compounds which differ widely from those from which they originated. In
others, the qualities of the substances are simply altered by the
action of fire, to render them more palatable and nutritious.
From the multiplicity of circumstances to be attended to in this art,
the whole of which is founded upon the principles of chemistry, we may
easily see that it must be a very precarious one; and, there is reason
to believe, that among the variety of circumstances which produce
diseases, the improper modes of cooking food, are often the primary
cause. Will it be believed, that in the cookery books which form the
prevailing oracles of the kitchens in this part of the island, there are
express injunctions to “_boil greens with halfpence, or verdigrise_, in
order to improve their _colour_!”[1] That our puddings are frequently
seasoned with laurel leaves, and our sweatmeats almost uniformly
prepared in copper vessels?[2] Why are we thus compelled to swallow a
supererogatory quantity of poison which may so easily be avoided? And
why are we constantly made to run the risk of our lives by participating
in custards, trifles, and blancmanges, seasoned by a most deadly poison
extracted from the _prunus lourocerasus_?[3] Verily, where such
detestable systems of cookery are practised, we may exclaim with the
sacred historian, that there is “Death in the Pot.”
[1] The Ladies Library, vol. ii. p. 203; and also Modern Cookery, 2nd
Edition, p. 94.
[2] Literary Chronicle, No. xxii. p. 348, 1819.
[3] Philosophical Magazine, No. cclviii. vol. 54, p. 317.
Food badly cooked is wasted to no purpose. It seems to have been a
complaint familiar in the mouth of our ancestors, and which we have too
often seen reason to re-echo in the present day--“_That God sends good
meat, but the devil sends cooks_.”