It matters not whether we share this pessimism, nor what we may have to say pro or con this question of “progress” or “retrogression” in eating (or in anything else for that matter). In fact we are not concerned with the question here more than to give it passing attention.
If “classic” cookery is dying nowadays, if it cannot reassert itself that would be a loss to mankind. But this classic cookery system has so far only been the sole and exclusive privilege of a dying aristocracy. It seems quite in order that it should go under in the great Götterdämmerung that commenced with the German peasants wars of the sixteenth century, flaring up (as the second act) in the French revolution late in the eighteenth century, the Act III of which drama has been experienced in our own days.
The common people as yet have never had an active part in the enjoyment of the classic art of eating. So far, they always provided the wherewithal, and looked on, holding the bag. Modern hotels, because of their commercial character, have done little to perpetuate it. They merely have commercialized the art. Beyond exercising ordinary salesmanship, our maîtres d’hôtel have not educated our nouveaux riches in the mysteries and delights of gastronomy. Hotelmen are not supposed to be educators, they merely cater to a demand. And our new aristocracy has been too busy with limousines, golf, divorces and electricity to bemourn the decline of classic cookery.
Most people “get by” without the benefit of classic cookery, subsisting on a medley of edibles, tenaciously clinging to mother’s traditions, to things “as she used to make them,” and mother’s methods still savor of Apicius. Surely, this is no sign of retrogression but of tenacity.
The only fundamental difference between Roman dining and that of our own times may be found in these two indisputable facts—
(First) Devoid of the science of agriculture, without any advanced mechanical means, food was not raised in a very systematic way; if it happened to be abundant, Roma lacked storage and transportation facilities to make good use of it. There never were any food supplies on any large, extensive and scientific scale, hence raw materials, the wherewithal of a “classic” meal, were expensive.
(Second) Skilled labor, so vital for the success of any good dinner, so imperative for the rational preparation of food was cheap to those who held slaves.
Hence, the culinary conditions of ancient Rome were exactly the opposite of today’s state of affairs. Then, good food was expensive while good labor was cheap. Now, good food is cheap while skilled labor is at a premium. Somehow, good, intelligent “labor” is reluctant to devote itself to food. That is another story. The chances for a good dinner seemed to be in favor of the Romans—but only for a favored few. Those of us, although unable to command a staff of experts, but able to prepare their own meals rationally and serve them well are indeed fortunate. With a few dimes they may dine in royal fashion. If our much maligned age has achieved anything at all it has at least enabled the working “slave” of the “masses” to dine in a manner that even princes could hardly match in former days, a manner indeed that the princes of our own time could not improve upon. The fly in the ointment is that most modern people do not know how to handle and to appreciate food. This condition, however, may be remedied by instruction and education.
Slowly, the modern masses are learning to emulate their erstwhile masters in the art of eating. They have the advantages of the great improvements in provisioning as compared with former days, thanks chiefly to the great lines of communication established by modern commerce, thanks to scientific agriculture and to the spirit of commercial enterprise and its resulting prosperity.
There are two “Ifs” in the path to humanity’s salvation, at least, that of its table. If the commercialization of cookery, i.e., the wholesale production of ready-made foods for the table does not completely enthrall the housewife and if we can succeed to educate the masses to make rational, craftsmanlike use of our wonderful stores of edibles, employing or modifying to this end the rules of classic cookery, there really should be no need for any serious talk about our journey back to the primitive nuts. Even Spengler might be wrong then. Adequate distribution of our foods and rational use thereof seem to be one of the greatest problems today.