Yesterday, while discussing food with coworkers, one person described baking as science and cooking as an art. Or baking as organic chemistry and cooking as messy. Whichever way you lean, both pursuits involve using recipes.
We keep recipes in our heads, in boxes, between the pages of a book, slipped into a binder, crumpled at the bottom of a purse, in a drawer, and in my case in a little notepad that comes with me everywhere. Just the simple idea of a recipe - the mere concept - can inspire a foodie to experiment. Curiosity led me to learn more about the concept of a recipe... the thing around which my obsession revolves.
According to Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Recipe), recipes go back 3700 years, the earliest of which was found in Babylonia (think Mesopotamia, and if that doesn't ring any bells, think Iraq). The Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans all got in on the act, too. Well, civilizations all over the world probably had recipes, but didn't write or provide lasting visual evidence of them. Even King Richard II of England, notorious for bland food, sponsored the publication of a recipe book. Mutton and meade, anyone?
It seems early written recipes provided the means to share methods for preserving foods (focusing on spices and curing meats), which makes sense. The Joy of Cooking of the middle ages. Focus on the basics. Crawl before you walk. Etc. Now, recipe books have evolved to the point of fine literature. (This is how we justify owning so many.)
I didn't invent the food obsession. My generation didn't invent it, either. Turns out food-focused writing has been pop culture for... oh, about 400 years, with publishing houses competing for contracts. So there you have it. A little historical food perspective.
(Credit for image: friend and loyal blog follower, Benji S, who texted me to get my email address so he could scan and send me this recipe so I could save it and upload it. That's technology for you.)
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