Batalla de Termópilas

La cultura popular se ha fosilizado en el tiempo con ‘leyendas urbanas’ que a pesar de los siglos aún hoy damos como ciertas. Ni la Gran Muralla de China se ve desde el espacio ni Cristóbal Colón quiso demostrar que la Tierra era redonda.

Hollywood ha reescrito la historia en múltiples ocasiones, pero pocos mitos fílmicos han tenido tanto recorrido como el de los espartanos de Leónidas, que resistieron ferozmente el empuje de los persas en el paso de las Termópilas.

El estreno en 2006 de la película 300 de Zack Snyder, adaptación de la popular novela gráfica del mismo nombre, puso de moda en todo el mundo el austero modo de vida de estos recios guerreros peloponesios y sus hazañas en el campo de batalla. Pero Hollywood contó sólo una parte de la historia, dando nueva vida a un viejo mito histórico que dignificó a los espartanos convirtiéndolos en mártires de la libertad en la lucha contra hordas de ‘bárbaros’ orientales. En realidad en el desfiladero de Termópilas no únicamente se inmolaron 300 espartanos. El contingente griego estaba formado por más de 5,000 hoplitas, procedentes de Arcadia, Corinto, Tegea, Mantinea, Tebas o Tespia. Muchos otros griegos, sin embargo lucharon en favor de la causa persa. Y los espartanos no eran, precisamente, una sociedad democrática sacrificándose por la causa de una Grecia que tenía entonces un rostro político y social muy heterogéneo. Sí es cierto que el rey Leónidas, consciente de que la causa griega estaba perdida, y que su ejército pronto se vería completamente rodeado, decidió permanecer en el paso con un selecto grupo de combatientes dispuestos a morir matando.

Pero en realidad junto a los 300 espartanos defendieron la posición hasta el final 300 ilotas (esclavos), al servicio de aquéllos, que lucharon como infantería ligera, además de 400 hoplitas espartanos y 700 tespieos al mando de Demófilo. De hecho, aunque el ‘marketing’ histórico los ha olvidado por completo, fueron los tespieos los verdaderos héroes de las Termópilas. El contingente espartano sólo constituía una mínima parte de la población masculina de Esparta, mientras que los 700 tespieos eran la práctica totalidad de varones en edad de luchar, y su muerte supuso un golpe irreversible para la polis, que fue destruida, indefensa, pocos días después de la decisiva batalla de Termópilas.

Los Vikingos

Cuernos y vikingos

El estereotipo dice que los fieros guerreros nórdicos eran violentos y extremadamente crueles con sus víctimas, y que se dedicaban exclusivamente al pillaje portando el característico casco rematado por cuernos que les confería una imagen tan terrorífica.

Si bien es cierto que los vikingos no eran una excepción en un periodo, la Edad Media, de extrema violencia en todo el viejo continente, se trata de una imagen completamente distorsionada. En realidad la historia de los vikingos fue fundamentalmente escrita por sus víctimas, que no dudaron, con toda probabilidad, en exagerar la faz diabólica de estos hábiles comerciantes llegados de Escandinavia, inmortalizando sus razzias y saqueos con alguna que otra licencia.

Más leña al fuego aún echó la literatura romántica en el siglo XIX contribuyendo a forjar el retrato robot del vikingo estándar distinguido por el característico casco de cuernos. En realidad no existe absolutamente ninguna evidencia de que éstos existieran nunca. Fue el pintor August Malmström quien a mediados de ese siglo representó a los vikingos por vez primera con estos singulares yelmos para ilustrar La saga de Frithiof, un poema épico que acabaría definiendo el estereotipo visual del vikingo bárbaro, sediento de sangre e intimidante bajo los imponentes cuernos.

Richard Wagner hizo el resto con el estreno en 1876 de la ópera El Ocaso de los Dioses, que contenía numerosas referencias a la mitología nórdica. En realidad, sólo se conserva intacto un casco de la era vikinga, datado en el siglo X, que nada tiene que ver con los fantasiosos cascos románticos de Malmström. Es cierto que se han hallado ocasionalmente cuernos entre los ajuares funerarios de algunos guerreros vikingos, pero se trataba sólo de objetos de prestigio utilizados como recipientes para bebida, nunca como elementos ornamentales en la panoplia nórdica.

La Gran Muralla China

Desde el espacio

No hay duda de que la Gran Muralla china es una de las construcciones arquitectónicas más colosales de la historia de la humanidad. Sus más de 21,000 kilómetros de longitud, que surcan el país asiático desde el desierto del Gobi hasta la frontera con Corea, la convierten en la estructura militar-defensiva, con diferencia, más grande del mundo. Desde finales de los años 30 la muralla dio pie a uno de los mitos-bulos más recurrentes del siglo XX, que exageraba hasta el límite su leyenda. El bulo, no obstante, ha perdurado, pese a los múltiples desmentidos protagonizados por astronautas de la NASA. La idea de que la muralla es visible a ojos vista desde el espacio, y más específicamente desde la Luna, se gestó en realidad antes de que el hombre pusiera el pie por primera vez en el satélite.

El mito, inevitablemente, se derrumbó cuando las primeras misiones estadounidenses hollaron suelo lunar a finales de los años 60. Alan Bean, tripulante del Apolo 12, misión tripulada a la Luna organizada por la NASA, desmintió tajantemente la leyenda urbana asegurando que desde la Luna, en verdad, únicamente se veía una esfera azul con manchas marrones y amarillas. En realidad es imposible distinguir la muralla desde el espacio por la sencilla razón de que la textura, color y materiales de construcción del monumento se mimetizan completamente con el entorno.

En 2004 Leroy Chiao, astronauta de la NASA, intentó fotografiar por vez primera la muralla desde el espacio, utilizando una lente de 180 milímetros, y sólo unos fragmentos de la misma eran visibles, a duras penas, a su paso por Mongolia Interior. Los resultados de un segundo intento realizado con una lente mucho más potente, de 400 milímetros, no fueron mucho mejores.

La Gran Muralla China no es visible, en modo alguno, desde el espacio, a simple vista; e incluso con cámaras de alta precisión, es difícil de identificar.

Antiguos Samurais

El “código” samurái

Impasibles ante la proximidad de la muerte, leales hasta la última sangre, celosos por preservar un código de honor ancestral que contemplaba el suicidio ritual como honrosa salida ante la pérdida de una batalla o la muerte de su señor, excepcionales espadachines, guerreros ascetas imbuidos de un espíritu zen que no conocían el miedo.

Así eran los samuráis del Japón feudal, o al menos eso es lo que nos han hecho creer la literatura, el cine y el manga. En realidad esa imagen romántica del guerrero infalible que miraba a la muerte a los ojos sin pestañear es enteramente un mito.

Todos los estereotipos relativos a la ética samurái se gestan después de 1615, año en el que finalmente Japón es pacificado tras siglos de guerras en los que los samuráis habían regido el destino del país. Comienza entonces el periodo Edo, 250 años de paz prácticamente ininterrumpida en el que los samuráis se encierran en sus castillos feudales, reciclados como funcionarios, llevando a cabo tareas administrativas y rituales que nada tienen que ver con la guerra. Es en este periodo de paz cuando nace el mito del bushido, el código del samurái, que forja la imagen del guerrero, completamente adulterada, que perdura hasta el día de hoy.

En realidad los samuráis del siglo XVII no sabían lo que era el combate, y raramente desenfundaban su preciada katana. El bushido es, de hecho, poco más que una coartada para mantener sus privilegios de casta, ocultando que en realidad se habían convertido en un estamento inútil. En realidad hasta antes de 1615 carecían por completo de código marcial alguno huían, si podían, para contarlo otro día; traicionaban a su señor si la recompensa valía la pena, y sólo se suicidaban en situaciones total y absolutamente desesperadas.

Tampoco eran espadachines; de hecho el arma ofensiva samurái por antonomasia fue el arco, y a partir del siglo XV la lanza. Serán, ya avanzado el siglo XVII, obras como El Libro de los Cinco Anillos, de Miyamoto Musashi, uno de los pocos samuráis fieles al estereotipo del que se tiene noticia, y el Hagakure de Yamamoto Tsunetomo, un samurái que apenas salió de los muros de su castillo, las que forjarán un mito alimentado a finales del siglo XIX por un nacionalismo nipón exacerbado.

Solis Invictus

Sin acta de nacimiento

No existe documento alguno, ni siquiera la Biblia, que proporcione pista alguna sobre la fecha de nacimiento de Jesucristo, y sin embargo cada 25 de diciembre en los países de tradiciones cristianas nos reunimos alrededor de una mesa familiar para conmemorar su ‘cumpleaños’. Lo cierto es que, de la misma manera que sabemos que Jesús no nació en el ‘año 0’, sino, paradójicamente, en la era precristiana, sabemos que la tradición del 25 de diciembre no tiene relación alguna con la figura histórica que representa.

Bien al contrario, en ese día se celebraba una de las festividades paganas más populares e importantes del mundo antiguo. Las Saturnalias, que rendían culto y homenaje al dios Sol (Sol Invictus), se celebraban desde tiempos inmemoriales en el Imperio romano en la semana del solsticio de invierno, llegando a su punto culminante, precisamente, el día 25 de diciembre.

Con el objetivo de facilitar la conversión de los paganos al cristianismo, sin que por ello tuvieran que renunciar a sus tradiciones más arraigadas, el papa Julio I optó en el año 350 por situar la fecha de celebración del nacimiento del llamado Mesías en el día cumbre de las Saturnalias. Fue una decisión meramente práctica, que se formalizó de manera definitiva cuatro años después cuando el nuevo pontífice, Liberio, convirtió la voluntad de Julio en decreto.

Desde entonces la Navidad se celebra en diciembre, solapándose con otras muchas tradiciones precristianas extendidas, aún hoy, en países del hemisferio norte, que saludan la llegada del solsticio de invierno con rituales de lo más diverso. Así pues, en realidad, la Navidad, en origen, tiene un fondo netamente pagano. Lo cierto es que no sabemos cuándo nació Jesucristo, y que el 25 de diciembre no tiene ninguna relación real con su figura histórica.

George Washington

¿El primero?

George Washington fue el primer presidente de Estados Unidos. Con seguridad, no habrá libro escolar de historia que se atreva a cuestionar esta aparente evidencia. Washington es el padre de la nación de las barras y estrellas, y aunque la realidad histórica no cuestiona en absoluto ese rol determinante en la historia de ese país, sí se basa en una certeza total o parcialmente errónea. La realidad es que George Washington fue el primer presidente de Estados Unidos bajo el amparo de la Constitución aprobada en 1787, pero en modo alguno fue el primer presidente de los Estados Unidos de América. Los libros de historia olvidan por completo recordar esta circunstancia, enterrando en la amnesia la oscura figura de sus casi anónimos predecesores.

Antes de la aprobación de la Constitución la confederación tuvo hasta ocho presidentes. El primero de ellos fue John Hanson, quien fue elegido para el cargo en 1781 y tuvo un papel determinante en la implementación de un servicio postal y un banco nacional.

Después de él vendrían otros siete, siendo Cyrus Griffin el último máximo mandatario que rigió los destinos del ‘país’ antes de que se votara la ley suprema aún hoy vigente en el territorio estadounidense, aún bajo el amparo de los llamados ‘Artículos de la Confederación’, precursores de la Constitución, que entre otras cosas definían las funciones del Congreso, el rol de presidente y los mecanismos comunes que atañían a los trece estados miembros.

Es cierto que no resisten comparación las competencias asociadas al cargo en tiempos de los ocho ‘pioneros’ y en tiempos de Washington. De hecho, los Artículos de la Confederación fijaban sustanciales restricciones a la acción política del presidente, que ejercía un papel esencialmente simbólico en un tiempo en el que los estados querían evitar a toda costa la excesiva concentración de poder en manos de una sola persona.

Emperador Caligula

El caballo de Calígula

Calígula es, sin duda, uno de los emperadores más célebres de la historia de Roma. No, naturalmente, por sus dotes como político o militar, sino por sus incontables excentricidades, su incontrolada demencia y una crueldad sin precedentes.

Pero entre todas esas rarezas, detalladas por el historiador y biógrafo Suetonio en su Vida de los Doce Césares, la más célebre es, probablemente, el desmedido afecto que sentía por su caballo Incitatus. Según su relato el emperador mandó construir un establo de mármol con pesebres de marfil, mantas púrpura y guarniciones de perlas. Además le proporcionó una casa con sirvientes. Pero la anécdota más célebre, y que da la medida de la presunta demencia del princeps, tiene que ver con su intención de nombrar cónsul al animal, frente a la estupefacción de los miembros del Senado. Sólo su muerte, asesinado, en el año 41, impidió, al parecer, que se saliera con la suya.

En realidad la mayoría de los expertos e historiadores contemporáneos ponen seriamente en tela de juicio el relato de Suetonio sobre Incitatus. En primer lugar, el historiador romano escribió sus biografías de emperadores varias décadas después de la muerte del emperador, y sus textos son, fundamentalmente, una colección de rumores y leyendas urbanas. Todo ello cubierto de un halo de sensacionalismo nada desdeñable. Suetonio está muy lejos de ser un historiador ejemplar, y su hostilidad hacia la figura de Calígula nos obliga a poner prudentemente en tela de juicio todos los excesos que le atribuye.

Es improbable que el emperador llegara tan lejos, ni que se planteara realmente nombrar cónsul a su caballo. Con todo, algunos historiadores dan crédito a los dichos de Suetonio, y argumentan que el empeño de entregar a su caballo la magistratura más importante de la antigua Roma no era sino una manera de mostrar, con una excentricidad de las suyas, el profundo desprecio que el emperador sentía hacia los miembros de la clase senatorial.

Combate Gladiatorio

Los que van a morir...

El gladiador es uno de los personajes del mundo clásico predilectos de Hollywood, y como no podía ser de otra manera, la gran pantalla ha contribuido sustancialmente a la deformación del mito, expandiendo leyendas inexactas a diestra y siniestra.

Lo cierto es que todo empezó con un cuadro, una espectacular recreación del desenlace de un combate gladiatorio obra del pintor francés Jean-Léon Gérôme que, en buena manera, forjó la imagen del gladiador que impera hoy en la cultura popular. En la pintura puede verse a un murmillo (una de las especialidades de la gladiatura) presionando el cuello de un retiarius vencido que pide clemencia mientras aguarda el veredicto de la grada Los espectadores extienden el pulgar hacia abajo, lo que fue interpretado en su momento como una ‘autorización’ del público para ejecutar al perdedor.

En realidad, lo del pulgar hacia arriba o hacia abajo como sinónimos de vida y muerte es nada más que un mito. Al contrario, en la antigua Roma, el pulgar hacia arriba (cual espada desenvainada) significaba muerte, mientras que el gesto de clemencia era el puño extendido con el pulgar contraído y oculto. Tampoco es cierto que los gladiadores pronunciaran aquel “Ave César, los que van a morir te saludan” antes del combate.

Ningún individuo de tan baja extracción social habría osado dirigirse directamente al emperador. El mito nace a partir de una anécdota de Suetonio, quien describe un espectáculo gladiatorio específico donde, al parecer, se pronunció una frase semejante. No existe ningún otro testimonio ni anterior ni posterior en el que la fórmula se repita por lo que, en el mejor de los casos, no fue más que un hecho aislado.

Pirámides de Giza

Arquitectos milenarios

La inversión de recursos humanos necesaria para levantar las pirámides en el antiguo Egipto fue, no cabe duda, algo fuera de lo común.

Heródoto habla de hasta 100,000 trabajadores implicados en la hercúlea tarea, y aunque algunos historiadores contemporáneos han puesto en duda la viabilidad de la cifra, otros la consideran plausible teniendo en cuenta la dimensión logística del desafío.

Durante mucho tiempo se dio por hecho, sin evidencias demasiado sólidas, que esta colosal fuerza de trabajo sólo pudo ser movilizada en un régimen de esclavitud, razón por la cual el cine estadounidense ha inmortalizado la estampa del esclavo hebreo cruelmente azotado por los látigos de los capataces egipcios mientras construían pirámides, templos y palacios en el país de los faraones.

Una vez más se trata de una invención muy posterior o, en el mejor de los casos, de una errónea interpretación de las evidencias histórico-arqueológicas. Al día de hoy ya nadie duda de que quienes construyeron las Pirámides de Keops, Kefren y Micerinos en la llanura de Giza no eran, en absoluto, siervos. Bien al contrario, se trataba de trabajadores libres, que percibían un salario por su esfuerzo. El hallazgo en los últimos años de sepulturas de estos empleados del Estado egipcio en las proximidades de las pirámides no ha hecho sino confirmar lo que ya era un secreto a voces.

Los obreros que erigieron las pirámides gozaban de un gran prestigio social, como demuestra el hecho de que se les permitiera enterrarse tan próximos a la última morada del faraón, un honor del que no cualquiera podía disfrutar. El análisis osteológico de los esqueletos y huesos encontrados confirma que vivían y trabajaban en condiciones durísimas, como demuestran las recurrentes evidencias de artritis, entre otras muchas lesiones. Pero el sacrificio no era en balde: percibían un salario por su trabajo y además gozaban del reconocimiento del faraón. Nada que ver con las miserables condiciones de vida de un esclavo.

Colombo (tela de José Maria Obregon)

La redondez

Existe un mito popular muy arraigado tejido alrededor de un presunto interés por parte de Cristobal Colón de navegar la ruta del oeste con destino a las Indias con el propósito de demostrar a una sociedad cerrada y anclada en el pasado que la Tierra no era plana, sino redonda.

En realidad al genovés universal jamás le pasó nada semejante por la cabeza. Habría sido completamente absurdo considerando que hacía siglos que ya se daba por hecho que la Tierra era redonda. Eratóstenes, Posidonio, Estrabón, Tolomeo o el califa Al-Ma’mum, amante de la cartografía, ya habían desarrollado ampliamente esta hipótesis con mediciones más o menos precisas.

En el siglo XV ya nadie dudaba de la esfericidad de la Tierra. Incluso, el temerario proyecto de Colón de navegar hacia el oeste en busca del continente asiático había sido formulado en numerosas ocasiones desde tiempos de los romanos.

El genovés fue el primero en aventurarse a ejecutar la arriesgada empresa, pero la resistencia de los expertos designados por el rey Fernando el Católico para valorar la viabilidad del proyecto nada tenía que ver con un presunto enroque en una atávica creencia en la forma plana de la superficie terrestre. Todo lo contrario, los expertos recelaban, y con razón, de los dudosos cálculos de Colón, que estimaba la distancia entre España y las Indias mucho menor de lo que realmente era. Es ahí donde residieron las dudas de la corona española, y el tiempo le dio la razón:el genovés basándose en una estimación demasiado optimista de Tolomeo había confundido la milla árabe de Al-Ma’mum con la milla romana, por lo que sus cálculos estaban equivocados. La empresa llegó a buen puerto, pero de ningún modo Colón demostró algo que ya se sabía desde antiguo: que la Tierra era redonda.

Texto de Roberto Piorno en "Muy Interesante", Mexico,  n.12, diciembre 2016. pp. 56-61. Adaptación y ilustración para publicación en ese sitio por Leopoldo Costa.

Drinking three cups of coffee a day staves off mental decline reducing the risk of Alzheimer's disease by more than a quarter, say scientists.

Moderate consumption of caffeine helps protects the brain against rogue proteins that destroy neurons, according to new research.

The world's most popular beverage is rich in anti-inflammatory chemicals and antioxidants which are believed to boost cognitive function.

A study found regular, long term intake may reduce the risk of dementia by up to 27 per cent. It could also prevent other neurodegenerative diseases such as Parkinson's.

The amount recommended is between three and five cups a day, said the Institute for Scientific Information on Coffee (ISIC) report.

Professor Rodrigo Cunha, of the University of Coimbra in Portugal, said: “Healthcare professionals have an important part to play in providing patients with accurate research based information, to help them to follow a healthy diet and lifestyle, and in turn, reduce their risk of age related cognitive decline.

“Moderate coffee consumption could play a significant role in reducing cognitive decline which would impact health outcomes and healthcare spending across Europe.“

The findings presented at the European Union Geriatric Medicine Society's 2016 Congress in Lisbon are particularly relevant given the ageing population.

The number of over 60s across the continent is expected to rise to 217.2 million by 2030.

So understanding and communicating diet and lifestyle factors that may limit age related cognitive decline will help improve the quality of life for this growing demographic.

The report cited the HALE Study (Healthy Ageing: a Longitudinal study in Europe) that concluded moderate coffee drinking was associated with a reduction in cognitive decline, particularly in elderly men.

It said: “It has been suggested habitual coffee intakes beneficially affect cognition, probably by attenuating regular cognitive decline.

“Since this effect is not seen with decaffeinated coffee it is likely that caffeine is key to the association.

“Whilst most studies agree that regular, lifelong coffee intake is key, rather than occasional coffee drinking, the differences between the effect on men and women are less clear.

“Coffee appears to reduce the risk of developing Alzheimer's Disease. Lower than average levels of caffeine in the body are associated with a greater chance of developing the disease.

“Research published in 2016 suggests that moderate coffee consumption can reduce the risk of developing Alzheimer's by up to 27 per cent.

“Research has suggested that it is regular, long-term coffee drinking that is key to helping to reduce the risk of Alzheimer's Disease.

“A 2015 meta-analysis concluded that in the short-term, coffee/caffeine consumption may have a protective effect against Alzheimer's, likely due to its stimulation of the central nervous system.

“The systematic review also showed a long-term favourable influence in decreasing new incidence Alzheimer's Disease risk.”

ISIC is a not for profit organisation devoted to the study and disclosure of science related to coffee and health,

The European Food Safety Authority (EFSA) concluded intakes of up to 400mg of caffeine, the equivalent of up to five cups of coffee a day, do not raise any concerns for healthy adults.

One cup of coffee provides approximately 75-100mg caffeine.

Extracted from "Daily Express", London,November, 30,2016. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

Le cochon est une véritable bénédiction pour nombre de peuples quand d’autres le considèrent comme un animal impur.

Toutes les sociétés ont leurs dilections et leurs refus alimentaires fondés sur ce qu’elles ont pris l’habitude de tirer de leur environnement, sur ce qu’elles pensent bon ou néfaste pour leur santé, mais aussi sur des croyances qui viennent parfois de fort loin, transmises par tradition orale ou par des textes sacrés.

Le cochon fait l’objet d’attitudes contrastées. De l’équateur jusqu’au cercle polaire, pour la plupart des peuples, sa chair est une bénédiction tant l’animal est facile à élever, profite vite et bien de tout ce qu’il trouve à manger. Une fois le cochon abattu, toutes les parties de sa carcasse, que l’on appelle alors plutôt porc sont délectables, depuis le groin jusqu’aux sublimes pieds, d’où le glorieux qualificatif d’« encyclopédique » que Grimod de La Reynière lui donne.

En revanche, au Proche-Orient, où il a pourtant été domestiqué il y a environ onze mille ans, certains peuples l’ont considéré comme un animal impur et ont proscrit la consommation de sa viande. Les Egyptiens furent les premiers à adopter cette attitude à certains moments de leur histoire. Chez les Hébreux, il semble que l’interdit soit apparu dans le royaume de Juda vers le IXe ou le VIIIe siècle av. J.-C., alors que l’on a continué à en consommer dans le royaume d’Israël au nord. Le Deutéronome et le Lévitique qui déclarent l’animal impur parce qu’il ne rumine pas sont postérieurs de plusieurs siècles et témoignent surtout du désir de distinction des Juifs visà-vis des païens. Les Moabites ou les Philistins, par exemple, continuaient à s’en délecter. L’explication de l’interdit par le climat ne tient évidemment pas car, sinon, le porc ne serait pas aussi populaire depuis des millénaires dans les cuisines de bien des pays tropicaux.

Son élevage demeure très présent à l’est d’Israël au temps de Jésus, comme en témoigne la parabole du fils prodigue qui part au loin et s’abaisse à en devenir gardien pour survivre, ou l’épisode des démons que Jésus chasse d’un homme de l’autre côté du Jourdain et qui, s’emparant d’un troupeau de deux mille porcs, se noient dans le lac de Tibériade.

Sans surprise, comme en d’autres matières, le Coran perpétuera l’interdit biblique, alors que le christianisme le balaie en vertu du principe édicté par Jésus lui-même (Mt 15, 1-20) selon lequel « ce n’est pas ce qui entre dans la bouche de l’homme qui le rend impur, mais ce qui sort de sa bouche »

Par Jean-Robert Pitte dans "Le Figaro Histoire", decembre 2016/janvier 2017, n.29. p.29. Adapté et illustré pour être posté par Leopoldo Costa.

Explore os rituais, deuses e demónios do mundo dos mortos.

Poucas culturas invocam tanta intriga e curiosidade como a dos antigos egípcios. A civilização que se ergueu ao longo das margens do Nilo por volta de 3.000 a.C. estava entre as mais poderosas da Terra. Embora a maior parte do Egito fosse terra deserta inabitável, o rio era uma fonte de vida que nutria o solo e regava as culturas.

Fez nascer uma sociedade de agricultores, médicos, construtores e soldados, cujas realizações e invenções eram maiores do que quaisquer outras jamais vistas. Criaram um dos primeiros sistemas de escrita, foram pioneiros na prática da ciência e a sua arte inspirou os mestres do Renascimento. Mas as concretizações pelas quais os antigos egípcios são melhor lembrados são as altaneiras pirâmides e os complexos rituais da mumificação. A morte era uma indústria – e uma indústria próspera.

A religião era o pilar sobre o qual esta sociedade foi construída e guiava todos os aspetos da vida. Os egípcios acreditavam em múltiplos deuses, cada um com o seu papel – de Sekhmet, deusa da guerra, a Hapi, deus do Nilo, responsável pelas cheias anuais. Mas talvez o elemento mais importante da religião do Antigo Egito fosse a crença na vida após a morte. Quando alguém morria, cria-se que a sua alma continuava a viver, mas apenas se percorresse com êxito o mundo dos mortos.

Primeiro, teria de combater demónios e guardiões, antes de chegar à Sala do Julgamento, onde teria de se mostrar digno da paz eterna. Os que passavam o teste prosseguiam para o Campo dos Juncos – um reflexo paradisíaco da vida na Terra. Os que chumbavam viveriam para sempre no desassossego, retidos num purgatório pior do que a própria morte.

Por causa destas crenças, os antigos egípcios passavam a vida inteira a preparar-se para esta viagem pelo mundo dos mortos – o que implicava não só evitar ao máximo o pecado, como garantir que o seu ser físico teria um local de repouso e que seria acompanhado por tudo aquilo de que o espírito precisasse para prosperar no Além. Os egípcios ricos passavam anos a construir túmulos amiúde mais elaborados do que as suas próprias casas e a enchê-los com tesouros inestimáveis. No Antigo Egito, a morte era uma grande aventura.

Criar uma múmia

O processo de embalsamamento era moroso e complexo, mas os antigos egípcios acreditavam que era necessário para a alma sobreviver.

A chave para a vida eterna não era apenas a preservação da alma. Os antigos egípcios acreditavam que o espírito tinha de regressar periodicamente ao corpo para sobreviver, pelo que também este tinha de ser mantido intacto. Criam igualmente que o defunto devia assemelhar-se o mais possível ao ser vivo que fora, para que a alma reconhecesse a sua morada física. Inicialmente, faziam-no enterrando os mortos no deserto, onde a areia quente desidratava os corpos e atrasava a decomposição. Com o passar do tempo, desenvolveram um método artificial de preservação que conservaria os restos mortais por milénios – a mumificação.

As primeiras múmias remontam a 2.600 a.C., mas só por volta de 1.550 a.C. foi desenvolvido o método de mumificação mais eficaz e bem conhecido. Envolvia a remoção dos órgãos internos do defunto e a desidratação do corpo, que era depois totalmente envolvido com ligaduras de linho. O processo demorava cerca de 70 dias e era extremamente dispendioso, pelo que apenas os muito ricos podiam suportá-lo. As famílias mais pobres usavam outro método de embalsamação, que implicava liquidificar os órgãos com óleo de cedro e drená-los através do reto, antes de colocar o corpo numa substância salina chamada natrão, que ajudaria a secá-lo.

Devido ao clima, o embalsamamento era executado assim que possível. O corpo era primeiro levado para um ibu, ou “local de purificação” – por norma, uma tenda perto do Nilo. Aí, era “purificado” com água e vinho de palma, que representava o renascimento do defunto e ajudava a que mantivesse um cheiro doce por mais tempo. O corpo era então levado para o per nefer, outra tenda onde tinha lugar o embalsamamento. Apenas os sacerdotes podiam executar tal procedimento. O sumo sacerdote, o hery seshta, representava Anúbis, deus dos mortos e da embalsamação, e usava amiúde uma máscara de chacal para mostrar a sua importância. O hery seshta era responsável por envolver o corpo com as ligaduras de linho e praticar os ritos religiosos – um elemento do processo de embalsamamento tão vital como a preservação física do corpo. Graças ao engenho dos antigos egípcios, podemos hoje olhar os rostos de homens, mulheres e crianças quase como eram há 3.000 anos.

Funeral e enterro

Os egípcios deixavam este mundo com todos os confortos do lar.

Muito antes da sua morte, os egípcios abastados construíam os seus túmulos e enchiam-nos com tudo aquilo de que poderiam necessitar no Além. Com mesas e cadeiras, carruagens, joias e até animais de estimação mumificados, podiam garantir que o seu espírito não precisaria de mais nada. A alimentação era tão importante na vida após a morte como na terrena, pelo que quantidades copiosas de vinho, fruta e cereais eram também enterradas com o defunto. Até carne era incluída, amiúde salgada ou mesmo mumificada para evitar que apodrecesse. Na pior das hipóteses, pintavam alimentos nas paredes – os antigos egípcios acreditavam que, no reino dos mortos, as pinturas eram tão comestíveis como os produtos físicos.

Também colocados nas tumbas eram os shabtis, pequenas figuras amiúde em barro, pedra ou madeira, que atuariam como criados no Além. Alguns defuntos eram enterrados com apenas um ou dois, enquanto outros, como o faraó Taharka, eram sepultados com mais de um milhar. Os egípcios mais pobres tinham túmulos menos elaborados e os que estavam no fundo da pirâmide social eram simplesmente enrolados em tecido e enterrados no deserto com objetos do dia a dia como potes e talvez algum tipo de arma.

Todos, porém, ricos ou pobres, tinham direito a uma cerimónia, tida como necessária para que o espírito passasse para o mundo dos mortos. Os mais ricos tinham um funeral sofisticado, em que o corpo do defunto era transportado para o sepulcro acompanhado por um cortejo de carpideiras e dançarinas. Duas mulheres em particular tinham a função de carpir de forma manifesta. Segundo a religião do Antigo Egito, quanto maior a exibição de pesar, melhor se saíria a alma na Sala do Julgamento.

Já no túmulo, um sacerdote realizava a “Abertura da Boca”: a múmia era colocada de pé e uma lâmina cerimonial era pressionada contra a boca, para permitir que respirasse, falasse e comesse no Além. A ação era repetida nos olhos e membros, para que o espírito pudesse ver e mover-se. O ataúde era colocado num sarcófago, as oferendas depositadas, as orações ditas e o túmulo selado.

Viagem para o Além

Assegurar um lugar nos céus era mais fácil de dizer do que de fazer.

Nenhuma quantia de dinheiro gasta em túmulos ou tempo despendido a memorizar fórmulas mágicas podiam garantir a um antigo egípcio um lugar no Além. Primeiro, a alma tinha de consquistar os obstáculos e demónios do mundo dos mortos e depois enfrentar o juízo dos deuses na cerimónia da pesagem do coração. Apenas as almas mais meritórias podiam prosseguir para o Campo dos Juncos, onde viveriam uma existência de prazer para toda a eternidade.

Os antigos egípcios acreditavam que, quando uma pessoa era enterrada, o espírito separava-se do corpo e descia ao mundo dos mortos (Duat). Aí, tinha de ultrapassar 12 “portões”, cada um guardado por uma divindade diferente, que o espírito tinha de reconhecer e nomear. Pode parecer fácil, mas também havia monstros, demónios e lagos de fogo para enfrentar.

O Livro dos Mortos fornecia uma lista de fórmulas mágicas para ajudar o espírito a ultrapassar estes obstáculos. Se tivesse êxito, a alma chegava à Sala do Julgamento, onde tinha de provar o seu valor frente a 42 divindades. O Livro dos Mortos ajudava também o espírito a responder acertadamente às perguntas colocadas, para que passasse esta fase do teste mesmo sem estar totalmente inocente.

A seguir, o espírito podia prosseguir para a pesagem do coração. Esta cerimónia era supervisionada por Osíris, o deus principal do mundo dos mortos. Os egípcios criam que o coração continha o registo de todas as ações do defunto em vida, pelo que o seu peso era comparado com o da pena da deusa Maat, para determinar quão virtuoso tinha sido. Se a balança ficasse equilibrada, o espírito era acolhido no Além por Osíris. Se o coração pesasse mais do que a pena, era atirado ao demónio Ammut e a alma era condenada à escuridão e a uma eternidade de desassossego. É claro que os defuntos podiam sempre confiar no seu fiel livro para ajudá-los. Uma simples recitação da fórmula 30B podia ajudar a impedir que o coração denunciasse um passado suspeito.

Os que tinham a sorte de garantir um lugar no Além experimentariam a magnificência do Campo dos Juncos. Os mortos tinham direito a uma talhão de terra para cultivar, ajudados pelos shabtis com que foram enterrados, e podiam aspirar a um futuro de paz eterna.

Texto publicado na revista "Quero Saber", Lisboa, edição 74, novembro 2016, pp. 76-81. Adaptado e ilustrado para ser postado por Leopoldo Costa.

In the fifth century CE, the historian Priscus of Panium damningly wrote of Roman emperor Theodosius II (r. 408-450) that ‘everything he did was under the influence of eunuchs’. Despite them not featuring in the usual spotlights of ancient history, this is not the only time that such power was attributed to eunuchs. At several ancient courts, these castrated men became masters of the shadowy palace corridors, influencing matters small and large, and rising from humble origins to great heights. Who were they and how did they do it?

Eunuchs were often slaves or criminals that were punished by castration, typically at a young enough age where it seriously disturbed their hormonal development. Imagine high-pitched voices and less body hair and muscles. Often foreigners, the eunuchs were clear outsiders from society, transplanted away from everything they knew and placed in environments such as the court, where they depended on the ruler for protection. Because eunuchs obviously could not threaten the royal succession, they could be trusted in the most private areas of the court, even those of the royal women. Already in Achaemenid Persia (559-331 BCE), eunuchs were go-betweens between the king and the royal women, gathering information and relaying messages and gossip back and forth. In the Roman Empire, they were gradually promoted to chamberlains, and around the fourth century CE, began ruling the roost in the royal bedchamber, which put them at a mere whispering distance from the emperor. Thus, these outsiders became important insiders deep within the palace walls.

Many eunuchs fulfilled the purpose for which they were intended and discreetly aided the ruler. However, the opportunities that existed to go above and beyond their job description were definitely exploited by some. As servants, guards and chamberlains, eunuchs often found doors open to them that were shut to others; their far-going access within the palace meant they were in a good position to gather information, which, just like it does today, aids the road to power. As intermediaries, they must have heard a lot of interesting things, too.

Moreover, eunuchs positioned close to the ruler often decided who could enter his quarters or meet with him; a powerful tool to begin with, but it also meant that they could amass huge personal wealth by taking bribes. In the first century BCE, the eunuch Pothinus was even appointed regent for the underage pharaoh Ptolemy XIII. It is argued that he started a civil war by using his influence to turn Ptolemy’s sister Cleopatra VII against him, and even had Pompey murdered in order to curry favor with Julius Caesar.

Another powerful eunuch was Chrysaphius, who is said to have ‘controlled everything’ and ‘wielded the royal power’ under Theodosius II (mentioned before). Around 440, Chrysaphius plotted to isolate the emperor from those closest to him, first removing the important advisor Cyrus of Panopolis, who complained he was ousted from the emperor’s favor by ‘baneful drones’. He then played the empress Eudocia and the emperor’s powerful sister Pulcheria against each other, having Eudocia suggest to Theodosius that Pulcheria should be made a deaconess (as she had taken a vow of virginity). Realizing she had been plotted against, Pulcheria chose exile instead. Eudocia’s own permanent exile from 443 onward coincides perfectly with the start of Chrysaphius’ tenure as imperial bodyguard – a coincidence? After removing these obstacles, Chrysaphius was left alone to whisper self-serving poison into the emperor’s ears.

All in all, eunuchs were untraditional candidates for power, but potentially powerful nonetheless; these men from humble origins could cast large shadows indeed.

By Emma Groeneveld in "History Magazine", Canada, vol.18, n.2, December 2016/January 2017, excerpts pp.6-7. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.  

We now enter the familiar world of cabbage. A vegetable that we have all known forever. Because that’s what cabbage is: a concentrate of affective memory, a substantial food for the body, but also a vegetable that speaks to us of a territory, a country, a past, a history, a vegetable that has made its way into our everyday

All cabbages—and there are many—belong to the Brassicaceae family (formerly Cruciferae), one of the most diverse families. The genus Brassica derives its name from the Greek "prasike": “vegetable.” Since early antiquity, cabbage has reigned as the vegetable par excellence. The French chou comes from the Latin "caulis": “stalk,” no doubt an allusion to the tall stalk of wild cabbage. Delicate or hearty cabbages (white or red cabbage, or green cabbages from Milan), cauliflower and romanesco cabbage, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, kohlrabi, turnip-cabbage, or rutabagas: countless varieties of European cabbages, joined by their Chinese cousins, pei tsai and pak choy, found in their country of origin since the fifth century.

This diversity testifies to the versatility of the species, its ancient domestication, and the widespread interest it has aroused. Nor should we forget the varieties of wild or semi-wild cabbages, often imported into a very circumscribed area.

Most of our cabbages have descended from distant ancestors, which grew freely on the European coastline. You can still find them on the cliffs of the English Channel—wild cabbages with yellow flowers that resemble cultivated fodder cabbages. Only cauliflower and broccoli are native to the Mediterranean area.

Cabbage is one of our oldest vegetables, already present in the Paleolithic, where it was gathered on riverbanks. It was cultivated in the Neolithic, around seven thousand years ago, one of the first plants to have been domesticated. Cabbage seeds have even been found in lakeside caves in Switzerland, far from its original habitat.

Also very early on, cabbage was cultivated and eaten in quite varied forms. Today every country produces its specialty: cauliflower in France, hearty cabbage for sauerkraut in Germany, "broccoli" in Italy, Brussels sprouts in the United Kingdom. Chinese cabbage—of which the largest producers of course are China, Japan, and India—is grown widely in Spain, Denmark, and the Netherlands.

Brussels sprouts are descendants of fodder cabbage, not primitive cabbage. Originally from Italy but cultivated in Belgium in the thirteenth century, they were grown in the dried marshland of the commune of Saint-Gilles, following the construction of the second ramparts of Brussels.

Cauliflower made its entry into Western Europe at the end of the fifteenth century, under the name of Syrian cabbage or Cypriot cabbage. Under Henry IV, however, it kept its Italian name "cauli-fiori", similar to the English “cauliflower.” Still rare at the time, it was considered a delicacy until the eighteenth century, and it wasn’t widely cultivated in France until around 1830. Today it is the vegetable most commonly grown in France. Have you ever seen a bouquet of cauliflower up close? Or, better yet, a romanesco cabbage? It is a fractal: each flower is itself composed of smaller flowers, and so on ad infinitum.

Broccoli (from "broccolo": “shoot,” in Italian), originally from the eastern Mediterranean, has been cultivated over the ages in Italy. In France it was long confused with cauliflower or the buds of green cabbage. Broccoli spread throughout the world following Italian emigrants who left to make their fortunes in the United States at the beginning of the twentieth century, and it returned to Europe in the 1980s. Its color varies: it is white in England (possibly a cross between cauliflower and broccoli), green in Italy and Switzerland, and purple in Sicily, where it originated.

Here it’s worth mentioning the rutabaga, which saw the light of day in Scandinavia in the Middle Ages by means of crossing a cabbage with a turnip. Its name comes from the Swedish "rotabaggar".

The French word for soup, "potage", encompasses everything that is brought to a boil in a pot with water, vegetables, and/or meat (the Roman "olus"). The later word, "soupe", derived from the Germanic "suppa" (modern German "Suppe"), once designated the slice of bread onto which the soup was poured (the reverse of dunking), but then came to mean the soup itself. Every gastronomer will tell you his or her version—the only true one—of the distinction between the words "soupe" and "potage". Is soupe thicker? Less refined? This nuance is recent. In Le Repas ridicule, for example, Boileau uses both interchangeably. Bouillon, brouet, soupe, potage, consommé. I personally prefer Joseph Delteil’s definition: “Soupe is the same as the hare: there is only one in the world.” And he adds, magnanimously: “One dish in three persons: in spring it is bean soupe; in summer, soupe with green beans; in winter, cabbage soupe” (La Cuisine paléolithique).

Everything suggests that cabbage soup is one of the most ancient of dishes. It is found in various forms in most of Europe, including the south of France, as is seen in Louis Stouff ’s study* of food and supplies in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Provence: for many months, cabbage soup, along with bread, was a basic food for the people of Provence,just as borscht was for Russian peasants. In medieval educational establishments, it was served to the boarders more than half the year.

In the Middle Ages, indeed, cabbage was a staple for peasants throughout Europe. It was easy both to grow and to store. It grew in vegetable gardens, which weren’t taxed. In Normandy, cabbage cultivation on rented farms was regulated by tradition. Local custom in the region of Avranches, for example, as late as 1930 specified that one-quarter of a garden must be reserved for common cabbage, one-quarter for hearty cabbage, one-quarter for peas, and one-quarter for various other vegetables; so half of the garden was devoted to cabbages. I know a number of villages called Les Choux (“The Cabbages”), and you can smell the sauerkraut in the name of one Alsatian town, Krautergersheim.

In the countryside, cabbage soup was eaten daily, occasionally more than once a day, sometimes thickened with turnips, beans, or other root vegetables, at other times—in the richest homes—accompanied by bacon or meat. It would thus become the symbol of peasant culture well beyond the Middle Ages: nutritious and hearty, it warms you up in cold weather, fills you up when you’re hungry.

We find an example in Eugène Le Roy’s novel Jacquou le Croquant, set in early nineteenth-century Dordogne. Jacquou, famished, is welcomed in by the village priest. The priest’s servant fills a bowl with cabbage soup, which the child devours, still standing, at the end of the table. When he has finished, the servant pours him a little red wine, which he drinks before eating a second bowlful of soup, more calmly, seated in front of the priest.

This comforting soup scene is the counterpoint to another scene at the beginning of the novel, when Jacquou and his mother return to their icy hovel after escaping from a wolf: the entire meal that Jacquou’s mother sets down in front of him consists of “a bowl of corn flour dissolved in water, cooked with cabbage leaves, without a scrap of bacon in it, and quite cold.” Cabbage soup could represent abundance and even a certain refinement. Invited to the table of some rich peasants, Jacquou discovers their table manners:

"The soup was poured, we sat down, and the old woman served each person a dish filled with good cabbage and bean soup. I was surprised to see Duclaud eat his soup with his spoon and fork at the same time. At home we didn’t use that method, for the good reason that we didn’t have any forks. When we had a stew of potatoes or beans for supper, we ate it with spoons. For meat, we used a knife and our fingers; but that was only once a year, at Carnival time".

Cabbage soup also exemplified food at its most basic in a text from Émile Zola’s Le Ventre de Paris, in which the seller of cabbage soup and  her customers manifest the essence of early humankind, still close to animals in their needs and fears:

"At one corner a large circle of customers had gathered round a vendor of cabbage soup. The enameled tin cauldron full of broth was steaming over a small brazier, through the holes of which could be seen the pale glow of the embers. The woman, armed with a ladle, took some thin slices of bread out of a basket lined with a cloth and dipped some yellow cups into the soup. She was surrounded by neatly dressed saleswomen, market gardeners in overalls, porters with jackets that bore the marks of the loads they had carried, poor ragged devils—in fact, all the hungry early-morning crowd of the markets, eating, scalding their mouths, and sticking out their chins to avoid staining their clothes as they lifted the spoons to their mouths. Claude blinked, delighted with the sight, trying to position himself so as to get the best perspective, trying to compose the scene into a satisfactory group. But the cabbage soup gave off a terrible smell. Florent turned away, put off by the sight of the full cups, which the customers emptied in silence, glancing sideways like suspicious animals."

The “terrible smell” of the cabbage (due, in fact, to sulfur molecules, glucosinolates) gradually became the cabbage smell that signifies the crude nature of peasants, then simply implied poor food. Traces of this symbolism can be found in Roger Martin du Gard, as well as in George Orwell’s 1984, where it illustrates all that is sordid. The strong smell of cabbage constitutes a distinctive, and negative, social symbol. We are at the very heart of the notion of taste—in both senses of the term. The truffle, too, has a strong odor. But in that case, the rarity of the product, beginning in the seventeenth century, made its smell a sign of distinction, even of luxury, whereas the odor of cabbage, a common vegetable, thought of as rural, evoked poverty or crudeness.

Gradually, cabbage soup became a prime element in caricatures of the life of peasants, depicted as vulgar and stupid.

In Jean Giraud’s film La Soupe aux choux, two peasants, both drunk, are visited by an extraterrestrial. As a sign of hospitality, they offer it some cabbage soup, the starting point for a scene of flatulence to very good effect. The degeneration of the image of the peasant into burlesque is all the more obvious since the scene borrows a theme from ancient mythology: Philemon and Baucis, the legendary couple who became a symbol of fidelity, welcome Zeus, whom they don’t recognize, and offer him “a dish of cabbage topped by a thin slice of salt pork”—in other words, the best they have to offer. This legend shows how highly cabbage was regarded in antiquity, praised among the Greeks by Aristotle and Theophrastus and among the Romans by Cato the Elder.

Thus, cabbage, a substantial peasant food in the Middle Ages, became the emblem of a popular, inelegant food that smelled bad and had uncomfortable side effects.

It would take all of Grimod de La Reynière’s gastronomic intelligence to rehabilitate the cabbage in his Almanach des gourmands (1803, p. 145), while nonetheless associating it with country dishes:

"Cabbage is a great help in cooking, even in sophisticated cooking. A talented artist knows how to derive an advantageous result from this vegetable, unjustly scorned by the arrogant, to vary his soups, garnishes, and side dishes. We have seen that a cut of beef, and even a mature fowl, are honored to be flanked by a thick wall of cabbage. Everything depends on the seasoning. Just as the most vulgar terms are ennobled under the pen of a great poet, a cabbage à la bavaroise, which by that name is the preferred bed of an andouille sausage, is no ordinary stew. Indeed, throughout all of Germany, and even in Alsace, they make a dish with fermented red cabbage known by the name of sauerkraut, which, shedding the cabbage of all of its negative qualities, makes it into a food that is as healthy as it is agreeable".

Early on, in northern regions of Europe, the question arose of how to conserve cabbage. Brine provided an answer: after cutting the hearty cabbage into strips, salt was added to promote lactic fermentation for a month or two. Conserving in brine is very ancient and practiced throughout the world, particularly in northern Europe, from Flanders to Russia. It can be found in different forms and for various foods, including turnips and beets or even meat; picklefleish, beef conserved in brine and thinly sliced, is a traditional Ashkenazi dish. Brine has the advantage of preserving the natural qualities of fresh cabbage, especially its vitamin C, which protects against scurvy. A diet including sauerkraut contributed to the rise of the Dutch navy in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Thomas Cook also pointed out the advantages during his second trip around the world (1772–75): none of his sailors were stricken with scurvy, which was decimating crews at the time.

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, sauerkraut had become “the main food of the natives of the land,” noted a doctor, referring to Alsace. Sauerkraut thus proved to be a marker of national or regional identity, food and nationality being closely linked. For example, since the seventeenth century the Hungarians had made sauerkraut their national dish, although it was eaten throughout all of central Europe. Why? Because it enabled the unification of all the subjects under the Hungarian crown around a common dish, which neither language nor religion could do. But since sauerkraut existed in other regions of Europe, it didn’t work as a symbol beyond the Hungarian borders. Starting in 1870, therefore, goulash, a local rural specialty made of beef and paprika, was promoted to symbolize Hungary.

Recipe - Sauerkraut

Cooking time: 3 hours. Serves 8
4½ lbs. unboiled cabbage
8 Strasbourg sausages
1 smoked pork shoulder
1 pork knuckle
1 rack of pork (1½ lbs.)
8–12 knockwursts
8 thin slices of smoked pork belly
¼ lb. goose fat
6 juniper berries in a small muslin bag
1 onion stuck with 2 cloves
2 cups Riesling
1 bay leaf

· Blanch the cabbage, and then rinse it several times under running water. Drain well.
· Melt the goose fat in a heavy pan. Line the bottom of the pot with the slices of pork belly. Add the cabbage, onion, cloves, juniper berries, bay leaf, salt, and pepper. Add the Riesling and boil uncovered for 1 hour on low heat. Add the rack of pork and boil for another 1½ hours, watching the level of the juices. Add a little water if necessary.
· In the meantime, boil the smoked shoulder in another pan. When it is fully cooked, add it to the cabbage and let simmer for 30 minutes. Steam or boil some peeled potatoes.
· In a third pan, poach the pig knuckle and the sausages, taking care that they don’t burst.
· Ladle the cabbage onto a very warm serving platter; arrange the meats around it and the sausages on top.

Inhale!

And since we are in Hungary, it would be a pity not to make a detour through stuffed cabbage, a true cult dish in all of Eastern Europe. Stuffed cabbage feeds the soul: it is a dish that speaks to us of patient work, slow cooking, and considerable culinary skill; and it is never the same twice.

“To prepare stuffed cabbage: alchemy of cooking, happiness of heat, seduction of melting, glory of perfection, sincerity of tradition, rhetoric of invention,” writes Allen S. Weiss in a little book entirely devoted to the celebration of this dish: "Reflections on Stuffed Cabbage".

For the singer Michel Jonasz, of Hungarian origin, the odor of stuffed cabbage recalls distant Sundays with his family before everyone scattered. Cabbage is filled with nostalgia, that of a united tribe, still connected to its roots thanks to grandmother’s cooking:

"Et ça sentait le chou farci
Ça sentait l’amour aussi
On avait tous le coeur au chaud
Comme la soupe sur le réchaud."*

* "And it smelled like stuffed cabbage / It smelled like love, as well / All our hearts were warm / Like the soup on the warmer".

The fashion designer Paul Poiret, in 1929, offered a recipe that is as short as it is surprising: “Cabbage with jam: take a small leaf of very white and very curly cabbage. Spread it with good gooseberry jam. Eat!”

And Serge Gainsbourg, whose father was Russian, turns cabbage into a sort of self-portrait hovering between self-derision and tragedy:

"Je suis l’homme à tête de chou
Moitié légume moitié mec".

There is a lot of wordplay here, for 'le chou' in Parisian argot is also “the head,” which is perfectly logical since the 'cabus', the smooth hearty cabbage, is known as capu, or “cabbage-head,” and probably derives from caput, “head.” Years ago, 'piquer un cabus' (literally, “stabbing a cabbage”), in the argot of schoolchildren, meant to have a temper tantrum. To have les oreilles en feuilles de chou, “ears like cabbage leaves,” implies ears that stick out, which is saying a lot in Serge Gainsbourg’s case.

“Why stupid as a cabbage?” wondered Marcel Proust. “Do you think cabbages are more stupid than anything else?” Something as stupid as a cabbage, we might respond, is within reach of the simplest among us, no doubt a trace of the negative connotation of rurality. Moreover, berza, Spanish for cabbage, has led to the term berzas, “idiot”; Italian testa di cavolo or English “cabbage-head” are further examples. When in the seventeenth century someone was sent to “plant his cabbages,” it was a bad sign, indicating that he was being dispatched from the court to the countryside.

In horse-racing parlance, when a horse ends up “in the cabbages,” it has gone off track; in other words, it’s a loser.

Ménager la chèvre et le chou, “to handle the goat and the cabbage,” means to avoid taking sides between two adversaries, through personal interest—and sometimes at one’s own risk if one is to believe Mme de Sévigné: “He likes to handle the goat and the cabbages. He has  the goat badly and will not even be able to eat the cabbage.” Hence the pejorative 'mi-chèvre, mi-chou'—“half-goat', half-cabbage.”

The term of endearment mon chou, however, has nothing to do with the vegetable but is thought to derive from the verb choyer, “to pamper.”

In France, children are told that baby boys grow in cabbages and girls in roses. (It should be noted that in Alsace, the land of sauerkraut, all babies are brought by the stork.) For girls, the rose is the symbol of beauty but is also associated with the cult of Mary. For boys, should the cabbage simply be interpreted as a symbol of fertility? In some regions, cabbage soup is given to newlyweds to eat. Another explanation, implausible but better suited to questions children ask, is that a nice soft cabbage, sheltered by the layers of leaves, may serve as a better cradle than other vegetables. But here we may also see a trace of the Greek legend linked to the origin of the cabbage. The cabbage was believed to have been born of the tears of Lycurgus, king of Thrace, rendered insane by Rhea, goddess of the Earth. Taking his son for a vine sprout, the king was about to chop it down. His subjects overcame him and put him to death. Cabbages started to grow in the places where Lycurgus’s tears had fallen.

There is still much more to be said about the dietary and medicinal qualities of the cabbage. It used to be called “the medicine of the poor.” Cabbage juice was used in the Orne to treat stomach ulcers; cabbage leaves served as poultices. Cato the Elder declared that “it cured melancholy, it cured everything.” Dried stalks of certain cabbages were fashioned into canes, most famously the one used by Charlie Chaplin in his movies, made out of a cabbage stalk from the island of Jersey.

But there has been a disturbing decline in varieties. In 1890 the Vilmorin-Andrieux family inventoried the vegetables cultivated in France. The list of cabbages, with a painstaking description of their origin, and of their mode of cultivation and reproduction, included 1,012 varieties.

Today the Vilmorin seed catalog lists only a few units of each type of cabbage. In 2007 Willemse Seeds listed thirty-three. Many seem to have completely disappeared, though a few have been preserved in a herbarium in the Museum of Natural History or in the collections formed since 1945 by the Institut National de Recherche Agronomique (INRA). These are used as reserves, from which different varieties are derived; combined in a laboratory, the varieties become hybrids and are marketed under registered patents. The sale of seeds is strictly controlled in France. But still to be found in gardens are some ancient varieties, which are at risk of gradually disappearing, such as the perpetual cabbage, the only one not to flower or to reproduce year after year. Fortunately, trading is fully permitted, and the conservatories that practice the exchange of cuttings or plant seeds each year save dozens of local varieties.

Clearly, cabbage continues to feed us, as illustrated by a recent weightloss fad, the cabbage soup diet, which consists in eating freeze-dried cabbage soup three times a day for one week. As Joseph Delteil wrote in Les Cinq Sens, “Cabbage soup is reputed to be a brain food, favorable to developing thought. It is good for people with rickets, for unwed mothers, and for rabbits.”

By Evelyne Broch-Dano in "Vegetables - A Biography" (translated by Lavender Fagan. Originally published in French as "La Fabuleuse Histoire des Legumes"), The University of Chicago Press, USA, 2012, excerpts pp. 42-52. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

In March 2016, Britain introduced a “sugar tax” to be applied to high-sugar drinks (excluding fruit juices and milk-based drinks). The levy will be based on volumes produced in two total sugar categories: >50–80 g/L and >80 g/L. The most popular cola drinks in Australia, for example, contain at least 106 g/L sugar. During the recent federal election, the Greens again raised a sugar tax as policy.

If sugar taxes hit their target, it may be assumed at least some portion of the consumer base will switch to artificial sweeteners, particularly in the soft drink market.

Obesity is a growing problem in Australia. According to the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare, 63% of adults and 25% of children are overweight or obese. These rates are increasing faster than anywhere else in the world (ab.co/2amR6WO), with Australia already ranked as one of the world’s most obese countries.

A 2013 study published in The Lancet concluded: “Not only is obesity increasing [globally], but no national success stories have been reported in the past 33 years. Urgent global action and leadership is needed to help countries to more effectively intervene.” (bit.ly/2aK6Khw)

However, obesity is a complex issue. The sugar taxes that have been introduced or mooted only address one causal factor. And if artificial sweeteners are one logical alternative to sugar, then do artificial sweeteners offer any advantage? Sure, the calorific value of the drinks may be lower, but are we just swapping one problem for another? Questions have been raised about the safety of artificial sweeteners – potential carcinogenic and mutagenic effects, metabolic changes, and the potential to actually trigger weight gain.

Let’s start with the basics. Artificial sweeteners are used as sugar replacements for two reasons. First, they offer the body lower energy on consumption, either by requiring substantially less material to achieve the same sweet taste intensity, or by not being metabolised by the body. And second, the most common artificial sweeteners are substantially cheaper than sugar. Aspartame, for example, is typically one-third of the cost of sugar per litre of soft drink.

In principle, it would seem logical that artificial sweeteners should be a viable replacement for sugar. Not only should lower energy intake reduce obesity, particularly if this is balanced with lifestyle improvements such as increasing exercise, but reduced sugar intake should also improve dental health.

However, for decades artificial sweeteners have been subject to an evolving series of serious health concerns and complaints. There do appear to be some genuine causes for concern – certainly worthy of serious study.

International regulatory agencies have engaged in in-depth considerations of the available information, but the field is complex. The science is tarnished with claim and counter-claim, duelling studies with mutual criticism, selective study design and/or data selection. All of this is underlaid with the distorting influences of vested interests/science for sale, politics and the hysterical non-science of the antifluoride/antivaccination variety. Throw in a solid dose of media sensationalism, and the truth is incredibly difficult to discern.

Aspartame is a good example. It has been anecdotally blamed for a huge range of health problems, from headaches and seizures to chronic fatigue syndrome and multiple sclerosis, Alzheimer’s disease and cancer. Of these, the cancer threat grabs many of the headlines. This may be linked to the legacy of cancer studies associated with saccharin (no longer widely used), which may have “bled over” in the public perception to the wider range of sweeteners. Yet regardless of how the concerns arose, and despite aspartame’s long-standing use, its safety remains a current issue and an ongoing area of active investigation for health authorities worldwide.

Aspartame is unusual among artificial sweeteners in that it fully breaks down during digestion into phenylalanine, aspartate and methanol. While these are normal compounds as part of our diets, it has been argued in a 2011 study at Gujarat’s Government Medical College in India that at high levels, they can cause problems to the central nervous system, and/or that their negative effects are increased in the absence of the other amino acids that would normally be ingested at the same time (bit.ly/2auPMmD). Similarly, the methanol produced as a breakdown product of aspartame has been argued to significantly exceed recommended daily allowances.

In response to the concerns, regulatory authorities globally have conducted multiple studies and reviews, including of large populations. The consensus appears to be that aspartame is safe at reasonable consumption levels (bit.ly/2auPMmD) (the European Food Safety Authority’s acceptable daily intake is 40 mg/day per kilogram of body mass; an average can of diet soft drink in Australia contains less than 200 mg of aspartame)

Even if artificial sweeteners are not directly toxic, there is still the important concern as to whether they are actually effective in combating obesity. In this, there does seem to be a growing consensus that the artificial sweeteners may actually have the opposite effect to that intended, via one or more mechanisms.

Following a 2005 study of more than 1500 adults in the US, Dr Sharon Fowler of the University of Texas Health Science Center stated that: “There was a 41% increase in risk of being overweight for every can or bottle of diet soft drink a person consumes each day” (wb.md/2auQ7pe). Fowler was careful to note that this is not necessarily a causal link, but is exemplary of wider observations. One possibility is that psychology comes into play. A person may say something along the lines of “I’ve been good with this diet soft drink, so I can afford to have a little extra treat”. Alternatively, the extra ingestion might not be a conscious choice.

In a 2004 study at Purdue University in the US, two groups of rats were offered sugar-sweetened food after having been first primed with either artificial sweeteners or standard sugared food. The rats who ate sugar all the way through controlled or reduced their intake, while the rats fed with artificial sweeteners did not (go.nature.com/2b4g133).

A 2013 review of multiple similar studies at Purdue University argued that our taste receptors play an important function in regulating our energy intake (bit.ly/2amWcCC). Under this hypothesis, our taste receptors detect the total sweetness of our food intake, giving an indication of when we have “had enough”.

By using artificial sweeteners, it is argued that the “calibration” of the learned behavioural link is thrown off, so that we no longer receive accurate signals on when to stop ingesting other sugary foods. “This somewhat counter-intuitive result may reflect negative consequences of interfering with learned relationships between sweet tastes and typical post-ingestive outcomes, which may result in impaired ability to compensate for energy provided when caloric sweeteners are consumed.”

The review was emphatically attacked by various people and organisations with apparent links to the vested interests in the beverage industries, such as the Calorie Control Council. This potential conflict of interest may not eliminate the criticisms, but it leaves room for doubt.

There is also some evidence to suggest that artificial sweeteners may be addictive. In a 2007 study at the University of Bordeaux in France, rats were given a choice of water sweetened with saccharin or intravenous cocaine; 94% of the animals selected the saccharin, with specific indicators of addiction observed through variations in the methodology (bit.ly/2azhEI0).

Emerging studies also point to the importance of the balance of our digestive flora to the extraction of energy from food. For example, a 2014 study at the Weizmann Institute of Science in Israel found that even short-term ingestion of artificial sweeteners may favour the growth of bacteria that maximise the energy extracted from our food (bit.ly/2aOQm0y). High levels of these bacteria have been associated with obesity in rats, and also potentially in humans, but again it is not yet certain whether this is a causal link.

What is indisputable among the various viewpoints is that with obesity as a growing public health issue, it is critical not only that action is taken to induce behavioural change (including decreasing sugar consumption), but that the direction of that change doesn’t lead us down the wrong path. There is an urgent need for independent, consensus science to determine whether artificial sweeteners are effective in reducing obesity, or are actually worsening the problem.


How Taste Works

How does our body actually perceive flavour? What we see on our tongue are three forms of taste papillae. These structures host the much smaller taste buds, and perform various specific functions to enhance our perception of taste, temperature and touch. The taste buds themselves (2000–4000 in total, spread throughout the oral and nasal cavities) each contain 10–50 sensory cells, which are in turn connected to nerve fibres. When the chemicals in our food come in contact with proteins on the surface of the “taste pore” at the outer reservoir of the taste bud, the cell is activated and produces messenger chemicals to inner nerve cells. These, in turn, pass the information for a particular perception of flavour to the brain.

About half of the sensory cells are “coded” to react to just one taste, and transmit the intensity of the stimulus. The other half have varying sensitivity profiles for all of the five basic tastes: sweet, sour, salty, bitter and umami (savoury). One cell might be particularly sensitive to salty, then sour and bitter, while another might have a completely different profile. The combined signals give the full experience of flavour.

Most artificial sweeteners are said to be “sweeter” than sugar. The intensity of the sweet response is much greater than for the equivalent amount of sugar. For example, saccharin is 300–500 times sweeter than sugar. However, such measurements are empirical, relying on statistical analysis of perceptions from trained panellists, typically compared to 0.1 M sucrose solutions.

By Dave Sammut in "Australasian Science", Australia, vol. 37, n. 10, December 2016, excerpts p. 18-21. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

Flibanserin has become the first FDA-approved drug for female sexual dysfunction. But does lack of sexual desire require treatment?

Hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) – lack of female sexual desire – is a controversial condition. Many cite it as an example of ‘disease mongering’ – the widening or construction of diagnoses to expand the market for existing drugs.

How pervasive is sexual dysfunction? A 1999 study sought to find out. It posed seven questions, including: ‘Have you experienced low sexual desire?’ or ‘Failed to find sex pleasurable?’, and an affirmative response to any one of these led to the classification of ‘sexually dysfunctional’. We may laugh at a model that labels 43% of women as sexually dysfunctional, but the study is extremely influential; cited nearly 2300 times since publication.

It emerged that two of its three authors had connections to Pfizer which – having reaped astronomical profits manufacturing Viagra – was preparing to launch an HSDD treatment. Exerting subtle influence on scientific publications was just one approach, along with bankrolling conferences and producing learning resources, pharmaceutical companies took to reclassifying HSDD as a widespread condition in need of a ‘cure’.

Meanwhile, the medical consensus was moving in the opposite direction. In 2013, the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders replaced HSDD with a more loosely defined disorder; merging libido and arousal disorders. Sexual desire was less standardised; responsive to individuals’ circumstances. Dr John Bancroft, Director of the Kinsey Institute at Indiana University, warned that “the danger of portraying sexual difficulties as a dysfunction is that it is likely to encourage doctors to prescribe drugs to change sexual function when the attention should be paid to other aspects of the woman’s life.”

Allegedly, the cure for this dysfunction is flibanserin. Originally developed as an antidepressant, flibanserin is not really a ‘female Viagra’. Its precise mechanisms are unknown, although the manufacturer claims that it rebalances the neurotransmitters responsible for sexual excitement. In 2010, UK pharmaceutical company, Boehringer Ingelheim, submitted an early version of flibanserin to the FDA. It was rejected; its risks outweighing its benefits. Boehringer passed the rights to Sprout Pharmaceuticals.

Flibanserin’s clinical trials involved women with HSDD taking flibanserin or a placebo, and counting the number of ‘satisfying sexual events’. The results were disappointing: it increased the number of these events by an average of 0.5 to 1 per month over the placebo, and more women experienced awkward side effects than meaningful benefits. When Sprout submitted flibanserin to the FDA in 2013, it was rejected again. Sprout Pharmaceuticals responded not by adapting flibanserin, but by adapting their strategy.

At first glance, the Even the Score campaign looked like a grassroots organisation of women wanting to ‘even the score’ on sexual function. It was, however, brought together by a Sprout consultant, funded by Sprout and managed by an elite PR firm. No wonder it was so invested in campaigning for flibanserin’s approval. Its main line of argument was centred on the injustice of the FDA approving multiple treatments for male sexual (erectile) dysfunction, but none for women. In framing the FDA’s decision as an issue of sexual politics, Even the Score detracted attention from the questionable efficacy of the drug.

Even the Score boosted flibanserin’s media profile (such as with its spurious #WomenDeserve campaign), and persuaded members of Congress to write to the FDA backing the drug. Their timely activism paid off. In August 2015, flibanserin, marketed as ‘Addyi’, gained qualified approval.

Unlike Viagra, Addyi comes with strict safety requirements, including complete abstention from alcohol. Addyi costs the same per pill as Viagra, but must be taken daily. For $780 per month, a woman with sexual difficulties may benefit more from therapy, or a romantic weekend away.

Useless and most likely unnecessary, flibanserin only made it to market through persistent manipulation of scientific and public discourse. Rendering lack of sexual desire as a dysfunction narrows the definition of ‘normal’ sexuality, and brushes away the social, psychological and personal roots of the difficulties which need addressing. This only serves the interests of Big Pharma, doubling the size of its market for sexual dysfunction treatments.

By Hilary Lamb in "I, Science", Imperial College London, Summer 2016, excerpt p.19. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

È boom di vendite tutto l’anno, non solo a Natale. Le nostre prove lo hanno conciato per le feste.

I piatti degli italiani si tingono sempre più di rosa. Salmone a Capodanno, salmone tutto l’anno. Da grande classico della tavola delle feste a una delle più apprezzate alternative salutiste alla carne. Sì, perché il salmone è osannato dai nutrizionisti: è ricco di proteine nobili e di acidi grassi omega 3 a catena lunga (Epa e Dha), i grassi buoni che aiutano a mantenere in salute cuore, mente e occhi. L’exploit di vendite è sorprendente e Coop nel suo ultimo rapporto non manca di sottolinearlo: da un lato registra “la grande fuga dalla carne”, dall’altro un più 12,5% di vendite di salmone in confezione (tranci o filetti) nel primo semestre del 2016 rispetto al corrispondente periodo dello scorso anno.

Il salmone affumicato fa addirittura meglio, più 15,3%, collocandosi al quarto posto tra i prodotti che crescono di più. Con prezzi capaci di accontentare tutte le tasche. Il salmone fumé più economico del test (La Nef ), che tra l’altro guadagna sia il titolo di Miglior Acquisto sia il punteggio più alto da parte degli assaggiatori esperti, costa 1,99 euro l’etto. Al contrario quello più caro (Labeyrie Bio) ha un prezzo di 7,12 euro l’etto, ma, oltre a non brillare in qualità, è uno dei quattro prodotti sui quali il nostro laboratorio ha acceso una lucina rossa per via della carica microbica
troppo alta.

Un leitmotif dei nostri test, che dimostra ancora una volta che il detto “come spendi mangi” non è una buona regola per assicurarsi in automatico prodotti di qualità. Si tratta in entrambi i casi di salmone allevato, di origine norvegese. Un’altra credenza da sfatare è che il salmone proveniente da attività di pesca in mare o fiume sia più caro: uno dei due prodotti “selvaggi” inclusi nel test ha un prezzo inferiore alla media, l’altro superiore, ma superato da quello di tanti altri esemplari allevati.

Norvegese o scozzese?

Spesso si confonde il luogo d’origine con la varietà. Molti sono convinti che salmone scozzese, salmone irlandese e salmone norvegese siano tre specie diverse. In realtà si tratta in tutti i casi di Salmone dell’Atlantico (Salmo salar): in etichetta è d’obbligo riportare il nome latino. È una specie ormai prevalentemente allevata, alla quale appartiene gran parte del salmone consumato in Europa, sia fresco sia affumicato. Appartiene invece al genere Oncorhynchus il tanto anelato pescato nel Pacifico arriva sui nostri banchi del pesce con il contagocce. E per questo a volte si tenta di spacciare per selvaggi esemplari allevati, cosa resa più facile dal fatto che il salmone è generalmente venduto a filetti o tranci. Inoltre, poiché la famiglia del salmone che proviene dal Pacifico annovera cinque specie, non tutte ugualmente pregiate, a volte capita che quelle con un valore commerciale inferiore — salmone rosa o salmone keta — vengano fatte passare per specie più nobili, come il salmone reale o quello argentato.

Anche sotto il profilo nutrizionale ci sono differenze, ma sono maggiormente legate al tipo di alimentazione (i mangimi nel caso del pesce allevato) che alla specie. In generale si può dire che tutte, allevate o selvagge che siano, forniscono un buon apporto di proteine e di acidi grassi omega 3. E pare che lo stesso faccia il salmone transgenico, stando alla Food and drug administration (Fda), che ha dato il via alla sua commercializzazione negli Stati Uniti, dopo anni di arroventate polemiche. Per quanto riguarda la percentuale di grassi non è vero che in quelli selvaggi risulti sempre e comunque più bassa, sebbene sia questa la tendenza.

In due salmoni provenienti da allevamenti norvegesi, Hyttels Originale e Esselunga, il laboratorio ha riscontrato una percentuale di grassi comparabile a quella dei due salmoni selvaggi del nostro test: Harbour Salmon Co. e Fior Fiore Coop. Anche sul sale, aggiunto nei salmoni affumicati per ridurre il futuro sviluppo di microbi – operazione pertanto necessaria – le cose sono migliorate rispetto al passato. Tutti i campioni hanno una percentuale di sale che si colloca in un intervallo giudicato buono, cioè tra il 2,4 e il 3,4% . Con due sole eccezioni: Hyttels Originale, che eccede, e Carrefour, che difetta.

Il giro del fumo

Il salmone affumicato, contrariamente a quello che si è portati a pensare, è un prodotto crudo. La salatura e l’affumicatura dovrebbero riuscire a garantire la sua buona conservazione. In passato era in effetti così, perché l’affumicatura, associata a salagioni più intense (ottenute per immersione in salamoia o per salatura a secco), raggiungeva temperature tra i 50 e 100°C, ed era quindi in grado di ridurre l’umidità del prodotto e di inattivare i batteri. Lo svantaggio del metodo tradizionale, a parte i costi e il tempo, è che la combustione del materiale vegetale sprigiona molecole dannose per la salute. Ragioni, queste, che hanno fanno optare per metodi di affumicatura industriali a freddo.

Che da un lato sono più sani, dall’altro non assicurano però alcuna efficacia antimicrobica, essendo poco più che sistemi di aromatizzazione. Addirittura ci sono produttori che si limitano a incorporare nel salmone fumo liquido purificato dai composti più dannosi; nel caso dell’affumicatura elettrostatica, l’evoluzione di quest’ultima tecnica, le particelle liquide di fumo sono caricate di elettricità statica, in modo che si “attacchino” al salmone. Purtroppo non è obbligatorio segnalare le modalità di affumicatura in etichetta e i pochi prodotti su cui si trova, lo riportano a mo’ di slogan e in maniera fuorviante: per esempio “affumicato sul fuoco di faggio”. Per essere sicuri che nessuno dei salmoni contenesse sostanze pericolose derivanti dal processo di affumicatura, i cosiddetti idrocarburi policiclici aromatici, abbiamo sottoposto i prodotti del test a specifiche analisi di laboratorio. «Tutti i nostri campioni sono risultati “puliti” da contaminanti, i cui limiti negli alimenti sono normati da un apposito regolamento europeo.

In quattro campioni, il laboratorio ha comunque riscontrato molecole della stessa famiglia: fenantrene, fluorantene e pirene» spiega Emanuela Bianchi, esperta di alimentazione di Altroconsumo che ha seguito il test. «Però l’unico in cui questa presenza era a nostro avviso inaccettabile è il salmone biologico di Carrefour».

Quattro rimandati in microbiologia

Metodi di affumicatura poco “conservativi”, come quelli in uso, suggerirebbero maggiore prudenza nella definizione della data di scadenza, che non dovrebbe superare le tre-quattro settimane. Invece, a differenza di quanto succede in altri paesi europei, sul nostro mercato i produttori si spingono oltre, arrivando anche a un mese e mezzo.

Evidentemente le richieste della grande distribuzione, che vorrebbe allungare il più possibile la vita a scaffale dei prodotti, hanno la meglio sulla sicurezza alimentare. Cosa davvero molto rischiosa considerando la deperibilità del salmone affumicato. Inoltre, quando si lavorano prodotti che vanno consumati crudi l’igiene deve essere impeccabile.

Conservazione e igiene sono state valutate attraverso diverse analisi di microbiologia e non hanno lesinato sorprese. Sommando i risultati relativi a questo tipo di esami, sono quattro i prodotti che ottengono una valutazione negativa: Carrefour, il salmone scozzese Va comunque sottolineato un fatto molto positivo: nessuno dei prodotti è risultato contaminato da batteri in grado di provocare infezioni alimentari, come Salmonella e Listeria monocytogenes» chiarisce Bianchi. Fatto non scontato, visto che nei primi dieci mesi dell’anno sono stati almeno cinque i salmoni affumicati contaminati da Listeria segnalati dalle nostre autorità nell’ambito del sistema di allerta europeo.

Per quanto riguarda la carenza d’igiene i risultati non sembrano essere casuali. «Coop e Harbour Salmon Co. — spiega Bianchi — provengono dallo stesso stabilimento polacco, mentre Carrefour e Labeyrie sono stati prodotti entrambi in uno stabilimento francese. Esiti che suggeriscono, dunque, una lavorazione non impeccabile». Nulla di allarmante, però, «sia perché non sono emersi batteri pericolosi per la salute come Escherichia coli e stafilococchi, sia perché va tenuto in debito conto che la presenza di microrganismi è stata misurata alla data di scadenza dei campioni, cioè nell’ultimo giorno utile per consumarli. Inoltre, se si guarda al complesso delle analisi di laboratorio di tutti i salmoni, la qualità è risultata buona o addirittura ottima».

Fare la tinta al salmone

La colorazione del salmone è un elemento di grande attrattiva per il consumatore, che lo utilizza come elemento principale per scegliere il prodotto da mettere nel carrello. Per simulare quella del salmone selvaggio, il cui colore rosa più o meno intenso dipende da ciò che mangia (plankton), il salmone allevato è alimentato con mangimi in cui vengono aggiunte miscele di carotenoidi. Addizionare i mangimi con pigmenti è comunque una pratica consentita per legge nel salmone come in altri animali (per esempio le galline ovaiole).

Quando si sceglie un salmone, più che alla colorazione, è meglio stare attenti all’uniformità della stessa, che è indice di una corretta alimentazione. I bordi delle fette non devono essere secchi né di colore giallo-bruno. Le fette devono essere larghe e staccate, senza macchie scure (muscolo bruno e macchie di sangue). Sono tutti elementi che abbiamo valutato nei nostri campioni tramite un esame ispettivo svolto da un super-esperto.

La facilità di separazione delle fette e la tendenza a sfaldarsi sono i parametri risultati più critici. Comunque, nessuna bocciatura, anche se la maggior parte dei campioni non va oltre la sufficienza. Per il consumatore è difficile fare una valutazione, anche parziale, di questi elementi in fase d’acquisto, dal momento che la “finestrella di osservazione” sulle confezioni ha una superficie limitata: è circoscritta alla parte centrale delle fette, quella in generale più bella.

Più articolata la prova dei sensi. Dopo aver valutato aspetto, odore e gusto, i nostri giudici esperti hanno premiato a pieni voti solo il salmone La Nef Reale di Norvegia. Non è decisamente piaciuto invece uno dei due salmoni affumicati selvaggi: si tratta di Fior Fiore Coop.



Si dice che il successo si misuri con il numero di maldicenze che esso genera. Se nessuno avesse registrato il boom di vendite del salmone, potremmo capire quanto sia ormai amato e apprezzato dal numero di bufale che girano sul suo conto. Grazie anche a quel formidabile moltiplicatore, di buono e di cattivo, che è la Rete. Basta inserire in un motore di ricerca la parola salmone e giù una caterva di pagine piene di mistificazioni mascherate daraccomandazioni, del tipo “dieci buoni motivi per non mangiare salmone”.

La conclusione cui arrivano è che il «salmone di allevamento andrebbe evitato come la peste»: parole messe in bocca a un presunto scienziato statunitense, di cui non è dato sapere il nome. Le ragioni citate per scoraggiarne il consumo sono tra le più disparate e vanno dalle condizioni igieniche degli allevamenti agli ingredienti dei mangimi, fino all’avvertimento da parte dei medici norvegesi alle donne incinte di non mangiare salmone. La realtà, per fortuna, è molto meno allarmante e per certi versi molto lontana da ciò che viene diffuso ad arte.

Ci siamo chiariti le idee con un viaggio in Norvegia, dove abbiamo potuto vedere da vicino le grandi gabbie galleggianti in cui sono allevati i salmoni, entrare in un impianto di trasformazione e incontrare ricercatori e rappresentanti delle istituzioni del Paese scandinavo da cui l’Europa importa l’80% del salmone che consuma. Gli allevamenti sono in Norvegia, ma gran parte della lavorazione, che comprende anche l’affumicatura, viene fatta nei confini dell’Ue, prevalentemente in Polonia.

Il salmone con il pancione

In Norvegia, un acceso dibattito a livello nazionale sulla salubrità del salmone in effetti c’è stato. Risale a tre anni fa. A innescarlo furono due medici dell’ospedale universitario Haukeland di Bergen, che lanciarono un allarme sulla presenza di sostanze chimiche nocive nei mangimi dati ai salmoni. In via cautelativa, il Governo norvegese consigliò alle donne in gravidanza e ai bambini di non consumare più di due porzioni di salmone a settimana. Non di evitarlo del tutto, come viene riportato. I dati presentati dai due medici si riferivano, però, a livelli di diossina rilevati in uno studio del 2004, quando la composizione dei mangimi era molto diversa.

La raccomandazione restrittiva è comunque durata poco, il tempo necessario al Nifes, National Institute of Nutrition and Seafood Research, di controbattere. Il risultato è che oggi le autorità sanitarie norvegesi non pongono alcuna limitazione al consumo di pesce grasso da parte di soggetti particolarmente sensibili, come le donne in gravidanza. Anzi, è dimostrato che una carenza di omega 3 nella dieta è una condizione che predispone alla depressione post partum. Ingvild Eide Graff, direttrice della ricerca al Nifes, premette che «come qualsiasi alimento, anche il pesce allevato contiene piccole quantità di sostanze indesiderate.

Detto questo, il salmone è un prodotto sicuro, oltre che sano. Una porzione di salmone da allevamento assicura la dose di omega 3 necessaria per cinque giorni». Quanto alla drastica riduzione della presenza di diossina e PCB nei salmoni — «più che dimezzata dal 2006 ad oggi e comunque molto lontana dai limiti previsti a tutela della salute, fissati dalla normativa europea» sottolinea Graff — è stata possibile grazie a sostanziali modifiche nell’alimentazione del salmone allevato.

Sempre più vegetariano

«Un tempo la parte preponderante dei mangimi — continua Graff — era costituita da farine di pesce, oggi invece sono state in gran parte sostituite da farine di origine vegetale, in grado comunque di garantire un adeguato apporto proteico. Allo stesso modo, la parte grassa, cioè l’olio di pesce, è stato in parte sostituito con oli di origine vegetale» (vedi a fianco). «Diossina e PCB sono presenti a livelli più elevati nei salmoni biologici, nella cui razione alimentare rimane preponderante la quota di ingredienti derivanti dalla filiera ittica» specifica Graff. Non siamo invece in grado di sapere se e quanti ogm (soprattutto soia) sono presenti nei mangimi che vengono dati ai salmoni.

Questo perché la normativa europea impone che vengano indicati in etichetta solo se presenti negli ingredienti del prodotto finito e soltanto se il loro contenuto è superiore allo 0,9%. Se invece gli ogm sono stati usati nella filiera, per esempio sotto forma di mangimi, i consumatori non possono saperlo. Un altro aspetto su cui insistono i detrattori del salmone allevato è che l’Ue ha alzato il limite ammesso di un erbicida tossico (endosulfano) nei mangimi, proprio in virtù del fatto nel pasto dei salmoni la componente vegetale si è fatta preponderante. Le analisi del Nifes però mostrano chiaramente che la concentrazione di endosulfano che si riscontra poi nei salmoni e nelle trote da allevamento non rappresenta un problema, visto che è nettamente inferiore a quella rilevata in mele, pomodori, carote, arance, uova e riso.

Fermi tutti, per due mesi o più

Un’accusa molto forte è che negli allevamenti intensivi i reflui non vengono mai lavati via e si lasciano semplicemente cadere attraverso le reti. Il gruppo ambientalista norvegese Green Warriors denuncia che gli allevamenti di salmone norvegesi sporcano il fondo marino quanto 70 mila maiali di 90 chili ciascuno, “soffocando” così le altre specie. Oltre agli escrementi, ci sono altri rifiuti organici: alcuni salmoni muoiono nelle gabbie. Anche le fughe accidentali dei salmoni dagli allevamenti rappresentano una minaccia per la biodiversità e per l’ecosistema circostante, per questo motivo in Norvegia si usano salmoni sterili.

Premettendo che non esistono allevamenti a impatto zero, Christopher Grøvdal Rønbeck del Direttorato della Pesca spiega che, in Norvegia, «per limitare la contaminazione delle acque, esistono delle distanze di sicurezza tra una vasca e l’altra. La legge norvegese prevede che i pesci non occupino più del 2,5% del volume complessivo della gabbia galleggiante, per potersi muovere agevolmente: il 97,5% dello spazio deve restare libero». Il regime di concessione delle licenze è molto severo. «Gli allevamenti di salmone sono consentiti dove ci sono correnti tali da garantire un adeguato ricambio d’acqua.

Nelle gabbie galleggianti i salmoni ci restano per 14-22 mesi, fino a raggiungere la taglia commerciale di circa 4-6 kg. Tra un ciclo di produzione e l’altro c’è un periodo di fermo di due mesi, eventualmente prolungabile, in cui le vasche vengono completamente svuotate dai pesci». L’impatto ambientale sull’ecosistema dei fiordi è monitorato con regolarità. «Se l’impatto peggiora, il produttore deve diminuire la produzione, per tornare nei parametri», conclude Grøvdal Rønbeck. Tutto questo a garanzia sia dell’ambiente sia della salute dei pesci.

Il “pidocchio” del salmone

Uno dei problemi principali che affliggono la produzione di salmone è quello dei parassiti, in particolare un tipo di pidocchio di mare (“sea lice”), contro il quale è necessario usare farmaci antiparassitari, altrimenti le perdite economiche potrebbero essere ingenti. Per limitare il loro uso si sta lavorando all’introduzione di alternative più sostenibili. Solvig van Nes, esperta di acquacoltura per Bellona, fondazione che si occupa di soluzioni produttive ecosostenibili, spiega che sistemi alternativi alla chimica esistono: «Si può ricorrere all’uso di un pesce, il Cyclopterus lumpus, che si nutre di pidocchi e potrebbe essere immesso nelle vasche insieme ai salmoni».

Come si comportano le marche

Altroconsumo ha raccolto la documentazione pubblica sulle politiche sociali e ambientali di tutti i marchi di salmone affumicato del test. Tali evidenze sono state trasmesse alle aziende per raccogliere commenti e correzioni e sono poi state usate per fare le nostre valutazioni (qui a fianco). Le marche del test appartengono a tre tipi di aziende: quelle che controllano tutta la filiera (dalla pesca e/o allevamento fino alla commercializzazione), poi ci sono i supermercati, infine le aziende distributrici (acquistano il prodotto finito per commercializzarlo in Italia).

Le prime dimostrano un impegno etico limitato: quando questo c’è, è maggiore per gli aspetti ambientali che per quelli sociali. Fa eccezione Marine Harvest, premiata come “scelta etica”, insieme a due supermercati, Carrefour e Coop. Questi non pubblicano informazioni specifiche sul salmone, però hanno politiche socio-ambientali estese a tutti i fornitori dei prodotti che riportano il loro marchio. I supermercati che non ottengono giudizi positivi (Esselunga e Conad) dimostrano comunque maggiore impegno rispetto ai distributori (La Nef, Aqua Food, KV Nordic, Sal Seafood, La Riunione), nessuno dei quali comunica il proprio impegno sui temi etici.

Di Matteo Metta, estratti "Altroconsumo", anno XLII, n.309, dicembre 2016,  Milano, Italia,  pp.34-40.  Adattato e illustrato per essere pubblicato da Leopoldo Costa

Nelle città italiane il vecchio Comune si trasformò in Signoria, cioè nel dominio di un signore che assoggettò i sudditi. Talvolta accadde che fossero i cittadini a scegliere il dominatore, cui delegarono ogni potere, cosicché esso rappresentò la volontà popolare. Quindi la Signoria dovette considerarsi, tutto sommato, un fenomeno democratico. L’Italia centro-settentrionale pullulò di Signorie: i Della Scala a Verona, i Da Carrara a Padova, i Da Camino a Treviso, gli Estensi a Ferrara, i Da Polenta a Ravenna, i Bonaccolsi, poi i Gonzaga a Mantova, gli Scotti a Piacenza, i Da Correggio a Parma, i Pepoli a Bologna, i Manfredi a Faenza, gli Ordelaffi a Forlì, i Malatesta a Rimini, i Da Varano a Camerino, i Montefeltro a Urbino. Signorie notevoli furono però quelle genovesi, veneziane, milanesi, fiorentine.

Nel Trecento Genova possedette, soprattutto nel Levante, quasi un impero nel mar Nero e nel Bosforo e detenne le vie di sbocco dei fiumi attraverso cui si avviarono i commerci da e verso la Russia meridionale. Importanti furono le colonie di Focea, ricche di allume, di Chio, ricca di mastice, della Corsica e della Toscana. Legata in particolare allo sviluppo economico della Repubblica genovese fu la fondazione della «Maona», associazione finanziaria garantita dallo Stato, ma con amministrazione autonoma.

Per contendersi le ricchezze si accesero lotte fra Grimaldi, Doria, Fieschi e Spinola. Nel 1339 il popolo tentò la riconquista del potere mediante l’istituzione del Dogato. Simon Boccanegra fu eletto Doge a vita e attuò una politica vòlta a sganciare la repubblica dall’interesse dei nobili. Questi ultimi però, furono talmente interessati a mantenere il potere che si coalizzarono contro il doge Boccanegra, dopo soli cinque anni costretto a dimettersi.

La storia di Venezia si contrappose alla genovese per più motivi, tra cui significativo quello della serietà e della preparazione della sua classe dirigente che, dopo la «Serrata del Maggior Consiglio» (1297), stabilì che nell’organo costituzionale più importante per lo Stato entrassero solo le famiglie che già allora ne facevano parte, riuscendo ad organizzare una classe dirigente unita da cui, in seguito, si scelsero i dogi, gli ammiragli, gli ambasciatori e i grandi dignitari dello Stato. Baiamonte Tiepolo, nel 1310, cercò inutilmente con una congiura di modificare quell’orientamento oligarchico. Fu costituito, allora, il Consiglio dei Dieci, suprema magistratura, con il compito di svolgere inquisizioni sulla condotta dei cittadini, doge compreso. Si consolidò così una repubblica aristocratica, affidata nelle mani di un gruppo di potere permanente. Ciò rese salde le istituzioni e sviluppò la forza della repubblica volta a porre le basi della «politica di terra ferma» realizzatasi in principio con la conquista del veronese e del trevigiano (1339). A metà Trecento scoppiò il conflitto fra Genova e Venezia per il dominio incon-trastato sul commercio intemazionale e sui mari. Violenta fu la guerra per il possesso di Chioggia fra il 1378 e il 1381. Venezia, dapprincipio vittoriosa, fu poi sconfitta a Pola e i Genovesi assediarono Chioggia, al comando di Vittor Pisani. Una pace di compromesso, mediata da Amedeo VI di Savoia, il Conte Verde, pose termine al conflitto (1381). La trattativa conclusa a Torino evidenziò come potenza italiana i Savoia che, stabilendo la capitale della contea da Chambéry a Torino e interessandosi attivamente della situazione italiana, assunsero ruolo ed orientamento precisi nella penisola.

Dal conflitto fra i Torriani e i Visconti sbocciò la Signoria milanese di cui si scorsero i bagliori, quando Guido della Torre divenne capitano del popolo (1307) e poi quando, con la discesa di Enrico VII, assunse pieno potere la famiglia dei Visconti.

Matteo Visconti ebbe una posizione di rilievo nel conflitto fra Giovanni XXII e Ludovico il Bavaro. Galeazzo Visconti consolidò la potenza familiare prendendo Cremona. L’astro visconteo fu, quindi, in continua ascesa: nel 1350 Giovanni Visconti acquistò per denaro Bologna e dominò su Genova; Galeazzo II conquistò Pavia e il Monferrato. Con Gian Galeazzo (1378-1402), Milano fu il più forte degli Stati italiani che potesse aspirare al predominio sulla penisola. Dotati di disponibilità finanziaria, i Visconti assoldarono abili capitani di ventura, eressero fastose costruzioni, quali il duomo di Milano, svilupparono l’industria della lana e l’agricoltura che, giovandosi di preesistenti opere idrauliche e di irrigazione (il Naviglio grande, il canale della Muzza, il potenziamento delle «Marcite») divennero moderne e progredite. Inoltre fu introdotta la coltura del riso, tesa ad attivare una fiorente industria. Fu incrementato, poi, l’allevamento del bestiame che conferì un aspetto del tutto particolare alla Lombardia, già nel Trecento all’avanguardia fra le colture più progredite.

Diversa da quella di altre città fu la storia trecentesca di Firenze, i cui cittadini si divisero in due partiti, i Bianchi e i Neri, originariamente di ispirazione guelfa, i primi capeggiati dai Cerchi, più moderati, i secondi dai Donati, guelfi intransigenti. La differenza non risiedette nella divisione in partiti, prerogativa questa comune a tutti i centri urbani, ma nella virulenza che, specie in taluni momenti, la passione politica assunse nella città del fiore. All’inizio del Trecento ascese al potere la parte bianca, in cui militarono Dante Alighieri - il poeta della Divina Commedia - e Dino Compagni, autore di una celebre cronaca cittadina. Nel 1301 prevalsero i Neri, con l’aiuto sia di Bonifacio VIII sia di Carlo di Valois e Dante fu esiliato. Certo la vivacità delle fazioni e la febbre politica mantennero più vivo in Firenze il concetto di libertas. Infatti, mentre Genova e Venezia, alla fine del Duecento, si avviarono verso forme di oligarchia, Firenze con gli «Ordinamenti di giustizia» di Giano della Bella privilegiò istituzioni più democratiche, basate sulla collaborazione al governo delle Arti maggiori e medie. Tali ordinamenti rafforzarono la prosperità della popolosa città, che andò conquistandosi la fama di Atene d’Italia. In essa, infatti, ai tempi di Dante vivevano almeno 100 mila abitanti, circa 10 mila bimbi sapevano leggere e scrivere, quasi 1500 avevano appreso i procedimenti del calcolo e più di 600 frequentavano scuole superiori.

Economicamente e culturalmente all’avanguardia Firenze lo fu forse meno dal punto di vista militare. Infatti, il suo esercito fu sconfitto due volte dal pisano Uguccione della Faggiuola a Montecatini (1315) e dal lucchese Castruccio Castracani ad Altopascio (1325). Dopo la crisi successiva alla peste (1348) la città cadde per un anno nelle mani di Gualtieri di Brienne, detto il «Duca di Atene»; poi fu travagliata dalle guerre contro Pisa, i Visconti e il papa, che, per preparare il ritorno in Italia, tentò una restaurazione negli Stati ecclesiastici, da troppo tempo in abbandono. Quest’ultima guerra, denominata degli «Otto Santi», costò molto alle provate finanze fiorentine, così originò una crisi sociale, oltre che economica, sfociata nel Tumulto dei Ciompi (1378).

Le Arti si dividevano in maggiori, medie e minori. Queste le maggiori: Giudici e Notai, Medici e Speziali, Calimala (raffinamento dei panni rozzi). Cambio (banchieri), Lana, Seta, Vaiai (pellicciai). Solo le maggiori, in pratica, costituirono il predominio su Firenze, determinando la preponderanza dei nobili e della borghesia mercantile o «Popolo grasso». I Ciompi, popolo minuto dei cardatori di lana, si erano riuniti in tre Arti minori e il loro rappresentante, Michele di Lando, divenne Gonfaloniere di giustizia. In città scoppiarono violenze, le case dei Magnati furono bruciate, il Bargello fu impiccato ed i Signori furono rinchiusi in palazzo Vecchio.

Pur senza la Sicilia, dopo la pace di Caltabellotta, il regno di Napoli fu lo Stato più grande della penisola, capace di conservare durante il Trecento, leggi, ordinamenti e caratteristiche omogenee. Oltre all’agricoltura, gli Angioini svilupparono anche l’industria. Cotone e lana, prodotti con abbondanza, vennero avviati verso i mercati milanesi e fiorentini soprattutto durante la Guerra dei Cento Anni e la conseguente chiusura dei mercati del Nord. In Abruzzo si avviò inoltre l’industria dello zucchero e dello zafferano. Città come L’Aquila, il secondo centro del regno, oltre a Napoli, ebbero sensibile incremento, pur se non paragonabile allo sviluppo urbano del Nord della penisola.

Roberto d’Angiò rafforzò il suo prestigio e la sua funzione di campione del guelfismo cosa che lo rese una personalità di spicco del Trecento italiano. Il regno sembrò avviarsi su un cammino di progresso, attraendo artisti come Giotto e Tino da Camaino, simile a quello di Firenze e Milano. Nella seconda metà del secolo, poi, durante il regno di Giovanna I, che vide morire in circostanze tragiche e misteriose tre suoi mariti prima di spegnersi anch’essa, non certo di morte naturale, la situazione si capovolse e divenne critica.

Di Ludovico Gatto, estratti "Il Medievo", 1994, Newton Compton, Italia, capitolo 46.  Adattato e illustrato per essere pubblicato da Leopoldo Costa.

Bousculés par le succès grandissant des ventes directes, industriels et enseignes de l’agroalimentaire s’emploient à développer les circuits courts. Véritable mue ou simple opération marketing ?

Ce soir-là,la terrasse fermée du Numa, un incubateur de start-up du Sentier, devenu le point de ralliement de l’écosystème numérique parisien, c’est l’effervescence. Tout le gratin de la « foodtech » est là pour discuter big data, nouveaux usages et dernières applis tendance autour d’un buffet composé de biscuits apéritifs fabriqués à base d’insectes et de plats imaginés par une intelligence artificielle.

Lorsque la conférence glisse sur les bonnes pratiques à adopter, Alexandre Mulliez, directeur de l’innovation à Auchan Direct et petit-fils du fondateur de la chaîne d’hypermarchés, croit bien faire en vantant les mérites des circuits courts. Et ajoute, l’air de rien : « Travailler avec “La ruche qui dit oui” ? Pourquoi pas ! » Une révolution, dans le petit mond la terrasse fermée du Numa, un incubateur de start-up du Sentier, devenu le point de ralliement de l’écosystème numérique parisien, c’est l’effervescence. Tout le gratin de la « foodtech » est là pour discuter big data, nouveaux usages et dernières applis tendance autour d’un buffet composé de biscuits apéritifs fabriqués à base d’insectes et de plats imaginés par une intelligence artificielle.

Lorsque la conférence glisse sur les bonnes pratiques à adopter, Alexandre Mulliez, directeur de l’innovation à Auchan Direct et petit-fils du fondateur de la chaîne d’hypermarchés, croit bien faire en vantant les mérites des circuits courts. Et ajoute, l’air de rien : « Travailler avec “La ruche qui dit oui” ? Pourquoi pas ! » Une révolution, dans le petit mond de la distribution. Mais la riposte de la start-up qui met en relation depuis 2011 producteurs locaux et consommateurs ne s’est pas fait attendre: « Nous ne travaillerons jamais avec la grande distribution », lit-on le lendemain matin sur Twitter.

Quelques jours plus tard, son président, Marc-David Choukroun, s’en explique : « On ne pouvait pas faire autrement. Cela fait partie de nos engagements, c’est gravé dans le marbre de notre charte. On ne doit pas faire d’affaires avec les supermarchés. »

A la cantine, des paupiettes de lapin made in China

Au départ, les industriels et les grandes enseignes ont ignoré, souri, puis ironisé sur ces consommateurs qui se fournissent directement auprès des agriculteurs, que ce soit sur les marchés de plein air, via des associations pour le maintien d’une agriculture paysanne (Amap) ou des sites Internet.

Ils n’allaient quand même pas s’affoler et prendre au sérieux ce qu’ils pensaient n’être alors qu’une lubie de bobos citadins en mal de nature. Avant de se rendre à l’évidence : en faisant passer les produits tout droit de la ferme à l’assiette, la désintermédiation pourrait menacer à terme la toute-puissance des hypermarchés et des industriels de l’agroalimentaire.

Et ce n’est pas fini. Le mouvement s’est répandu comme une traînée de poudre jusque dans les cantines scolaires. Depuis que des éleveurs ont débusqué des paupiettes de lapin made in China dans une école du Lotet-Garonne, les entreprises de la restauration collective sont montrées du doigt. On ne compte plus les municipalités qui imposent des menus bio et locaux dans leurs établissements scolaires. Agacés, industriels et chaînes d’hypermarchés se défendent comme ils peuvent en expliquant qu’ils se sont attachés, ces dix dernières années, à renforcer les logiques de proximité pour satisfaire les consommateurs et les pouvoirs publics. Las. Le mois dernier, alors que les agriculteurs en colère manifestaient un peu partout en France, un rapide sondage sur le site Internet de FranceTV Info a jeté un froid: 86,4 % des internautes se disaient prêts à favoriser les circuits courts face à la grande distribution.

Après avoir été dans le déni, industriels et distributeurs ont décidé d’agir. Ils rivalisent aujourd’hui d’imagination pour surfer sur la vague des circuits courts. Il y a d’abord eu ce propriétaire d’un Supermarché U à Dévecey (Doubs), qui a acheté 5 hectares de terres pour y élever des vaches et vendre, au rayon boucherie de son magasin, du boeuf du pré d’à côté. Il s’en explique : « La viande est vendue au même prix mais l’éleveur,lui, gagne mieux sa vie, car on prend en charge les aliments et les frais vétérinaires. » Quelques mois plus tard, c’est l’enseigne Casino qui rachetait une entreprise de transformation de volailles promise à la fermeture.

Cette incursion d’un distributeur en amont de la filière visait autant à optimiser la traçabilité qu’à maîtriser les coûts. Fleury Michon peaufine encore son projet industriel de construire des fermes autour de ses usines vendéennes pour approvisionner ses lignes de production de plats préparés. Pour cela, le groupe cofinance une ferme expérimentale à Montlouis-sur-Loire (Touraine), portée par l’association Fermes d’avenir et basée sur les principes de l’agroécologie.

Le principe : rémunérer le travail à sa juste valeur

Difficile de faire le tri dans toutes ces initiatives, entre l’opération marketing et la démarche authentique d’entreprises responsables. « Ça va dans le bon sens. Mais ce que les industriels et les distributeurs oublient trop souvent, c’est que les circuits courts ne se limitent pas à la vente en direct. Un des actes fondateurs, c’est la redistribution de la valeur au profit du producteur. Et je ne vois pas les entreprises renoncer à ça », diton à La ruche qui dit oui.

Dans l’écosystème des « locavores », les fermiers, les éleveurs et les maraîchers sont les mieux placés pour évaluer le prix qui prérémunère à sa juste valeur leur travail. Ce sont donc eux qui fixent leurs prix de vente.

Rapprocher le producteur du consommateur

Léo Coutellec, porte-parole du mouvement interrégional des Amaps, avertit lui aussi les géants de l’industrie agroalimentaire et de la grande distribution: « Il ne faudrait pas qu’ils pensent que, en prenant à leur compte seulement un aspect de notre philosophie, ils vont pouvoir récupérer comme par magie des parts de marché. Ils se trompent. C’est un vrai projet de société. »

On l’aura compris, les circuits courts ne se résument pas à de la vente directe. Leur finalité, c’est aussi de créer du lien social entre producteurs et consommateurs, de soutenir une agriculture fermière, de livrer des produits à maturité, et de permettre aux consommateurs d’en savoir plus sur ce qu’ils achètent.

« C’est un formidable moyen d’échanger avec les producteurs, de les questionner sur l’origine des viandes, le mode d’élevage, le recours ou non aux OGM et aux antibiotiques. Ça fait toute la différence », résume Xavier Denamur, restaurateur militant, propriétaire entre autres des Philosophes et du Petit Fer à cheval, dans le Marais. Non seulement il achète son lait cru, ses oeufs, sa viande, ses fruits et légumes en direct auprès de producteurs majoritairement bio, mais en plus il en fait profiter les Parisiens. Ils peuvent commander des produits à des prix défiant toute concurrence et venir retirer leurs cagettes une fois par semaine. Des restaurateurs d’un nouveau genre voient le jour. A tel point que la sélection du guide Michelin distingue désormais les établissements des chefs « locavores », soucieux de concilier la pratique de la cuisine avec le respect des producteurs et de l’environnement.


Terroirs d’avenir, le bon filon des chefs étoilés parisiens

C’était il y a sept ans. Alexandre Drouard et Samuel Nahon, deux jeunes fraîchement diplômés d’écoles de commerce, adeptes du «slowfood», du respect de l’environnement et de la saisonnalité des produits, créaient Terroirs d’avenir, une société chargée de sélectionner et de livrer pour le compte des restaurateurs, du boeuf nacré de Gascogne, des potimarrons du potager du château de Courances, dans l’Essonne, des coques pêchées à pied dans la baie du Mont-Saint-Michel, des oursins de Galice, ou encore des yuzus cultivés dans les Pyrénées-Orientales.

Les produits frais dûment sélectionnés arrivent la veille directement en provenance des fermes, des bateaux de pêche et des producteurs dans un entrepôt, à Bercy. Toutes les nuits, de minuit à 8 heures le matin, des préparateurs réceptionnent les palettes, vérifient la qualité et préparent les commandes qui seront livrées au petit matin dans des camions frigorifiques à Cyril Lignac, à Jean-François Piège et à d’autres chefs étoilés de la capitale. Le succès est tel que Terroirs d’avenir a ouvert, rue du Nil, dans une venelle du IIe arrondissement à Paris, une poissonnerie, une primeur, une boucherie et une boulangerie pour les consommateurs toqués de légumes rares, de produits artisanaux et de viande d’exception.

Par Géraldine Meignan dans "L'Expansion",mars 2016, n.812, pp. 50-52. Adapté et illustré pour être posté par Leopoldo Costa.

Avec sa peau couverte de petits cônes et sa chair fibreuse, le fruit du jacquier (Artocarpus heterophyllus) n’est pas très ragoûtant. Pourtant, il séduit de plus en plus de végétariens.

Car, comme le tofu ou les steaks de soja, ce fruit originaire d’Inde est un substitut à la viande. Sa texture rappelle celle du poulet ou du porc et possède un goût assez neutre, facile à accommoder. «On peut en faire ce qu’on veut», s’enthousiasme la chef Kajsa Alger, qui le cuisine dans son restaurant de Los Angeles. Riche en sucres lents et en fibres, il recèle aussi de nombreuses protéines végétales.

Autant de qualités qui pourraient bientôt séduire la clientèle française. Dans l’Hexagone, la consommation de viande a chuté de 8,5 % entre 1998 et 2014, d’après une enquête de France AgriMer. Tandis que les ventes de substituts de viande ont bondi de 11,9 % en 2015, selon le cabinet IRI.

Seul bémol: le fruit du jacquier peut peser près de 50 kg. Très lourd, il est donc difficile à manier et à préparer. D’autant que du latex collant s’en échappe. Il est néanmoins possible de s’en procurer, en conserves et à bas prix, dans les épiceries asiatiques ou d’en goûter dans certains établissements.

(Un fruit de jacquier peut peser près de 50 kg. Celui-ci, qui est entier, atteint environ 10 kg.)

Par Stacie Stukin et Olivier Liffran dans "National Geographic France",décembre 2016, p.22. Adapté et illustré pour être posté par Leopoldo Costa.

Jerky has many meanings. As a verb, it relates to movement. To twitch is to jerk. A quick pull, twist, push, thrust, or throw is a jerk. An unexpected muscular contraction caused by a reflex action is a jerk. Convulsive or spasmodic movements and sudden starts and stops are known as jerks. Speech isn’t without its jerks. To utter anything with sharp gasps is to jerk out.

Jerkin sounds like slang, but in the sixteenth century, it was an article of clothing—a short, close-fitting, often sleeveless coat or jacket. In more recent times, a jerkin became a short, sleeveless vest worn by women. A jerkin is also a type of hawk, the male gyrfalcon.

The noun jerker has two meanings: one is a British customs agent who searches vessels for unentered goods. One who, or that which, jerks is also known as a jerker.

My favorite movie is The Jerk , starring Steve Martin. However, a real jerk, the kind we’ve all encountered, is a person regarded as stupid, dull, maybe eccentric. Jerks—and jerkers, for that matter—can come from jerkwater towns.

Jerky is most commonly known as meat preserved by slicing it into strips and drying it in the sun, over a fire, or in a dehydrator, smoker, or oven. It’s called charqui , pronounced “sharkey” in Spanish. In Africa, jerky is referred to as biltong and is generally quite thick and made with ostrich, python, and impala—in other words, any available red meat protein. In Central and South America, this portable ancient food was called tasajo . Eventually dried meat became known as jerky or jerked beef . Caribbean cooks popularized a style of cooking that typically calls for a marinade laced with allspice, and that too is jerky.

REAL JERKY

Making jerky can be as simple as sprinkling salt and pepper onto meat, fish, or poultry strips and drying them over a smoky fire. Although that’s a valid way to make jerky, this book will introduce you to a bolder dimension of flavor blending. Jerky can be like fine wine, a mingling of characteristics, some subtle, others robust.

When you make your own, you can select the quality and type of meat and choose from an almost endless combination of flavoring ingredients for marinades, brines, or dry cures. In addition, you get to determine if you want to add chemicals, preservatives, and flavor enhancers.

Then think about price. A single ounce of commercial jerky can cost more than $2. At $32 a pound, jerky is more expensive than spiny lobster from the coldest waters of Maine. However, homemade jerky is not only delicious, but it is also a better product and costs less money. A pound of fresh meat ($4 o $6), a cup of teriyaki sauce (50 cents), and a few pennies of electricity transforms into 6 to 8 ounces of fabulous homemade jerky.

I think it’s fair to say that many of us were first introduced to jerky via an in-store purchase. According to a 2015 Nielsen report, the popularity of jerky continues to soar. “… meat snack sales (which include jerky and sticks) have risen from $1.7 billion in 2010 to $2.5 billion in 2014.” The market demand for meat snacks has been explosive, making it the fastest growing segment of the snack food industry.

A quick check of a store-bought jerky label will list ingredients that often include water, salt, corn syrup, dextrose, spices, smoke flavoring, monosodium glutamate (MSG), sodium erythorbate, garlic powder, sodium nitrate, BHA, BHT, potassium sorbate, and citric acid. Commercial jerkies are made from either strips or formed ground meats with textures that vary from hard and tough to moist and tender.

Jerky is most commonly made from dried and flavored raw meat, but can be made from fresh, frozen, canned, or even luncheon meats such as pepperoni, venison sausage, ham, salami, pastrami, smoked turkey, and chicken breasts. Originally, venison meant any game, but today it’s synonymous with deer meat but actually includes elk, moose, antelope, and reindeer. Many critters have been turned into jerky, including kangaroo, rattlesnake, ostrich, mountain sheep, whale, ducks, geese, blue gills, smelt, carp, beef, buffalo, rabbit, lamb, goat, chicken, turkey, emu, sole, flounder, halibut, tuna, rock cod,sunfish, crappies, perch, walleye, bass, salmon, trout, and catfish. Liver, heart, and even blood has been used to create jerky.

THE HISTORY OF DRYING

Humans have benefited from dried foods since the Cro-Magnon era. Our ancestors responded to the same hunger we feel and needed to eat and feed their families just like us. Early people observed and copied the natural drying process. Animals were cached in trees and left to dry in the sun and wind. Dried grasses, seeds, fruits, and nuts were gathered and stored. The sun, wind, and smoke from fires served as methods of preservation by removing water from food.

For centuries, dried meat and salted fish, along with bread and beans, have been staples. Archaeological digs have provided clues about our ancestors’ diet. They have presented evidence of dried bison, elk, deer, antelope, wolves, coyotes, badgers, beaver, fox, rabbits, squirrels, salmon, catfish, cod, perch, carp, prairie chickens, grouse, geese, turtles, and snakes. Humans have long recognized the value of camping near the sea, lakes, rivers, and streams. Shellfish, crustaceans, and sluggish fish were netted, harpooned, or scooped by hand. Long before the luxury of electricity, fish were salted and sun-dried on riverbanks. Stored grains, berries, and meats kept people alive throughout the year.

Worldwide dried fish continues to be a principal food source. With approximately 27,300 species of fishes, it’s clear why they’ve been called “the wheat of the sea.”

As pioneers spread westward, they relied on a Native American staple called pemmican . This became a mainstay as the West was settled. This high-protein, calorie-rich, concentrated, portable food was made by combining powdered or finely chopped dried meat, dried berries, and melted animal fat (bone marrow was preferred) and then mixed it into a thick paste and stuffed into airtight animal skins. This survival food was used by the Arctic explorers Admiral Robert E. Peary and Admiral Richard E. Byrd and served as an important World War I survival ration.

After a hunt, fresh meat was brought to camp, cut into strips, and dried over the warm circulating air of a campfire. When dry, it was packed in skin bags called parfleches . Bones were boiled and the fat marrow was kept in a bladder to use to make pemmican.

Partially dried fish fillets were placed on sheets of birch bark and then mashed smooth. Maple sugar was added to sweeten and serve as a preservative. Salmon was dry cured or soaked in brine and then smoked over an alderwood fire or dried in the sun. For centuries, cleaned fish and meat were packed in crocks of salted water. (A brine drew moisture out of the soaking food and the salt replaced water.) Once brining was completed, the liquid was drained off and the fish or meat was ready to be dried.

Today, we air-dry food by placing it in direct or indirect light so that dry, warm air can circulate around and through it. The more air movement, the faster drying can happen. You can place food on screens placed high above campfires, but you could also put it on cookie sheets or baking racks and place near heat registers, on radiators, near warm refrigerator air exhaust, or on sun-warmed rocks, in car windows, and even laid on flat rooftops. Clotheslines and fishing lines can be been strung up with meat and fish strips where hot air circulates. They can be hung with clothespins, or pierced with hooks, rods, wire, or hangers and draped over hot, rising air. Creative folks have even utilized the hot radiating air from their woodstove to make jerky.

When drying jerky outdoors, the meats must be brought inside or tightly covered at night to prevent them from absorbing nighttime dew. Drying jerky outdoors can be difficult because you cannot control the temperature—not to mention dirt and insects, which can present more than a few problems.

DRYING FISH

While researching the history of drying fish, I found that almost every kind of fish has been dried throughout time and in almost every corner of the world. However, fresh fish begin to deteriorate the moment they leave water, especially in hot, humid weather. To overcome the perishability problem, fish were either coated with salt or soaked in a heavily salted brine. Most dried fish was never intended to be eaten as jerky and required soaking before use in cooking.

Fish was dried in the sun and wind, hung over smoky fires, strung on hooks, suspended from poles, lay on bamboo racks, or placed on hot flat rocks. Big fish were filleted and de-headed, leaving the collarbone to hang to dry. Medium-sized pieces took about three days to air-dry and larger pieces took more than a week.

When selecting fish for drying, always choose fresh fish that have bright, shiny, bulging eyes, pink or red gills, smooth scales that are tight against the body, and no disagreeable odor. The flesh should be firm and spring back when touched.

Frozen fish can be used to make jerky and, when thawed, will absorb flavorings faster because the cell structure was broken. Generally, fish are filleted and deboned and the skin is removed, but when I dry smelt, I do not remove the skin. I remove the scales of lake trout, but leave the skin on. Fish is more delicate than meat and absorbs flavor easier and driesfaster.

Throughout the jerky-making process, cleanliness and sanitation are very important. Rinse fish in fresh, clean, cool water. Cut fillets into ¼-inch-thick, ½-inch-wide strips that are 3 to 4 inches long. Making slashing cuts crosswise into the flesh helps flavors penetrate.

To keep your house from smelling like fish, you can, after your dehydrator is loaded, set it in the garage, but make sure it is sheltered from any strong winds. If oil beads up, pat it off before packaging it. I’d been trying to make a good-tasting fish jerky to eat as lightweight, high-protein snack for years, but until I understood it didn’t need as much salt as was called for in many traditional brine/marinade recipes, I’d been unsuccessful.

It is also true that, as a Midwesterner, I was not as familiar with preserving fish and compensated for my inexperience by touring several fish smokehouses. I had the good fortune to talk with skilled fisherpersons who had firsthand experience drying bluegills, smelt, carp, catfish, crappies, perch, trout, salmon, red snapper, sea bass, tuna, and more. After applying what I’d learned about drying other meat, and by reducing the salt, my fish jerky tasted absolutely delicious.


Blood Jerky

In times of scarcity, even blood was dried and stored. In Reay Tannahill’s book Food in History , a French traveler noted that seventeenth-century Irish peasants “… bled their cows and boiled the blood with milk and butter from the same beast.” Then they added a mixture of savory herbs and considered this to be one of their most delicious dishes. “In the counties of Tyrone and Derry, blood was preserved by allowing it to coagulate in layers, each layer was strewn with salt until a little mound formed, then it was cut in squares and stored.”


The Drying Stage

One of my all-time favorite books is Buffalo Bird Woman’s Garden , which is about how Buffalo Bird Woman, of the Hidatsa tribe, lived along the Missouri River and planted, harvested, and preserved food. Drying meat, fruit, and vegetables was extremely important and each community had a drying stage. The stage was a place of respect and honor because it supported their way of life.

Each summer, cottonwood timbers were cut, the bark was peeled, and the posts were left to dry throughout the winter. In late spring, the men raised the heavy posts and the forks used to support the floor beams. Then the women built the thirty-foot-long and twelve-foot-wide platform floor. Poles about two inches thick by thirteen feet long, called drying rods , were placed so that their ends projected over each rail end. Then on sunny, windy days, strips of raw meat were hung on these rods and dried in forty-eight to seventy-two hours. Sometimes a low, smoky fire was lit under the stage floor to speed up the drying process.


LUTEFISK—JERKY BY ANOTHER NAME

Traditionally, dried cod was bathed in a lye-based brine and was heavily salted. Dried cod, also known as lutefisk, has been considered a miracle food because just a few servings has fed extremely large crowds.

To eat lutefisk, wash in cold water and soak overnight in clean cold water. While soaking, it can develop a gelatinous consistency. Drain and put in a glass or enamel pan (not aluminum) and bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes.

By Mary T. Bell in "Jerky- The Complete Guide to Making It", Skyhorse Publishing, New York, 2016, excerpts chapter 1. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

A good oyster smells like the sea breeze skipping over the shore. A bad oyster smells like a murder victim. I prefer the former. But I like how even the latter helps exemplify the essence of the interface: An oyster conveys its life experience directly to your senses.

Was it raised in the briny Atlantic or a brackish bayou? Warm water or cold? Rich or thin? Did it develop down in the pluff mud of the Carolina Lowcountry, or in a floating bag tossed by wind and waves in Willapa Bay? Did its ancestors hail from Japan or the James River? The whole story is there in front of you. You can read some of that story with your eyes, but to really understand, of course, you have to eat it. And when you do, even if you aren’t yet familiar with the language of oysters, you can usually get the essence right away. Every oyster is a tide pool in miniature, a poem built of salt water and phytoplankton that nods to whatever motes of meaning shaped it. It is the sea made solid. The bay gone sentient.

Not that solid. And not that sentient. An oyster is basically seawater with a purpose. It threatens to collapse back into sea-ness at any moment, the way an emulsion looks for an excuse to give up. This in-betweenness, neither solid nor liquid, can be the oyster’s unique allure or its primary offense, depending on the audience. Assuming that you are in the first camp—and if not, gentle reader, you have made a terrible mistake—then you already know that an oyster’s charm lies in straddling realms, in being animal, vegetable, and mineral all at once. It’s also wicked salty and goes great with beer. Sometimes I think it’s that simple.

SACRIFICE, RENEWAL

A decade ago, I wrote a book called A Geography of Oysters that helped accelerate the oyster mania we now find ourselves in. There have always been oyster lovers, of course, and I’d been one of them since my teens, but it wasn’t until the early aughts that I got a little clarity on why I loved them. It was because they were landscape. I’d been drinking a lot of wine and thinking a lot about terroir, the “taste of place.” I loved the idea that wine nods to the natural conditions where its grapes grew, but I knew it was no more than a nod: Wine doesn’t literally taste like its landscape. In terms of terroir, oysters make wine look like Hawaiian Punch. They are their terrain, and their flavors are a pure condensation of the place they grow. It’s the  salinity and temperature of the water, the particular mix of plankton they graze on, the wildness of the waves, and the essential mojo of the spot. I did my research and put together my book, hoping that there were a few other oyster geeks out there who might be interested. Turns out there were a lot. We all need living landscapes.

But strip away the veneer of terroir (or “merroir,” the marine equivalent), and you find something much more primal going on. Like sushi, oysters are best eaten raw, when the living chi has not yet fled. They have a life force in them that leaves you feeling flushed. And you will pay what it takes to get that feeling. That’s why oysters, nutritional nobodies, can cause people to part from their economic senses in a way generally reserved for drugs and sex. I consider them more mood than food. They won’t fill you up. But they’ll make you feel like the coolest alpha predator in the ecosystem.

The next time you’re holding a particularly chi-laden oyster in your hand, sharpen your most prized oyster knife, go in through the oyster’s bill (the rounded front), and cut the bottom muscle tight against the shell. Turn over the oyster in your hand and remove the bottom shell. Nestled against the white disk of muscle, you’ll see a pale, pulsing drum. This is the heart. It flutters just like the pulse on your lover’s neck. Or on the neck of a bull about to get the axe on the altar of a Greek mystery cult, which is probably more to the point. Oyster culture is one of our last vestiges of live animal sacrifice, a Bronze Age atavism best experienced in places like New Orleans, where the oyster bar still serves as a temple. You walk in and immediately feel the heightened atmosphere. You take your seat with the other supplicants at the marble altar. The high priest greets you; ritual conversation ensues. Then he raises his knife and cuts the muscles of a dozen oysters as you follow his clean, rehearsed motions with your eyes: Hoc est enim Corpus meum, quod pro vobis tradetur. He sets the offering before you, you anoint it, and the deed is done. Wine is splashed, a little tithing for the priest, the gods are pleased, and the universe has been renewed for another day. Really, it’s the least you can do.

SHARDS OF TIME

The tastiest oysters the world has yet produced can be found in the bays and bars of America at this very moment. Do not let the nostalgists tell you otherwise. The renaissance that began twenty years ago keeps making more diverse and delicious oysters in more new places. These are not your grandfather’s oysters. They blow his away.

How did this happen? It’s a beautiful feedback loop. Even ten years ago, as a new generation was falling in love with oysters, many of the objects of that affection were not that lovable. Some regions that had traditionally harvested wild populations were scraping the bottom of the barrel, dumping skinny critters onto the market. Other places were just beginning the transition to oyster farming and hadn’t yet learned the best way to grow them. And many potentially interesting regions simply weren’t producing oysters at all. Even when you did find good oysters, they were often mangled, drowned in cocktail sauce, or served as anonymously as a glass of the house white.

Today, what a world of difference. There’s no coastline from BC to Baja, from New Iberia to New Brunswick, that isn’t producing great oysters. These oysters are, for the most part, deeper cupped, stronger shelled, finer flavored, and more stylish than their predecessors. For that, thank innovative new farming techniques, but also credit the surge of interest from both producers and consumers. Everybody wants to be an oyster farmer. And everybody else wants to eat their local farmer’s oysters.

To me, the watershed moment may have been the day in 2011 when I walked into the newly opened Island Creek Oyster Bar in Boston and took in the weathered gray woods, the acute light, and the caged wall of oyster shell. It was a space that could have been designed only by people who understood where oysters come from, and cared to share that story. The menu listed not just the name of each oyster and its provenance but the name of the oyster farmer. CUTTYHUNK: Cuttyhunk, MA, Seth Garfield. EAST BEACH BLONDE: Ninigret Pond, RI, Nick Papa.

That was the beginning of a beautiful trend of oyster bars run by oyster farmers, or closely affiliated with them. From Merroir on the Virginia coast to Hog Island on California’s Tomales Bay, the journey from bay to plate has grown ever shorter, and the knowledge base of those on the front lines ever greater. I almost take for granted the platters of immaculate oysters being turned out by lightning-quick shuckers who will gladly debate the relative merits of tide tumbling and beach finishing as they work.

So we find ourselves with an unparalleled diversity of oysters to try, and places to try them. There are more than three hundred different oysters in North America, and god knows how many oyster bars, many popping up in places just beginning to come out of their Red Lobster shells.

Which brings me to this book. It is no comprehensive field guide. So many oysters, so little time (and space). Of those three-hundred-plus oysters, we’ve managed to give a third their moment in the strobes. Think of this as the book to accompany a new exhibition: “Ninety-nine Ways of Looking at an Oyster.” It should tell us a bit about the many things an oyster can be, and even more about the ways we respond to that unique coastal landscape that has sustained and inspired us for 160,000 years.

Criteria for inclusion? Flat-out yumminess, of course. Or historical significance. Or uniqueness. Some had colorful stories to tell. Some had quirks. But above all, we wanted character. Oysters are stunning. Oyster farms are stunning. Oyster farmers are stunning, in a Swamp Thing sort of way. Oyster culture crackles with wabi-sabi authenticity. What oyster growers actually farm are poignant shards of time, miraculously transportable. They make you aware of mortality—yours, theirs, the guy wielding the knife—and profoundly thankful for the beautiful ride.

By Rowan Jacobsen in "The Essential Oyster", Bloomsbury Publishing, USA, 2016, excerpts Introduction. Adapted and illustrated  to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

Australia Day is celebrated on 26th, January, the day Captain Phillip raised the English flag at Sydney Cove.

On the last Thursday of November every year, Americans of all ethnic backgrounds, colours and religions gather in their family homes to eat a ritual meal, comprising a mix of Native American, European and, latterly, ingredients from their own food cultures. This is a feast whose roots can possibly be found in an expression of joy at bringing in the first harvest in a new land, but which has transformed into a celebration of the idea of America.

I write ‘possibly’ because there are arguments among historians about the term ‘thanksgiving’. They need not concern us here. What is relevant to us is the food on the table and the people around it at the celebratory meal in 1621. Here’s how it happened.

On 16 September 1620, 102 passengers seeking religious freedom set off from Plymouth, Devon. They arrived at the mouth of the Hudson River on 6 November, after a difficult and uncomfortable journey, and at what is now Plymouth in Massachusetts in December. After a terrible winter, they planted their first crops in the spring of 1621.

‘On March 16’, James W. Baker wrote in Thanksgiving: The Biography of an American Holiday, ‘a lone Indian entered the settlement and astonished the colonists by greeting them in English. This was Samoset, a Native Sagamore from Maine.’ Samoset introduced them to Squanto, who also spoke English and who was to become the colony’s translator and instructor in the planting of corn and other local resources. In autumn, ‘the all-important corn harvest that would insure Plymouth Colony’s survival proved successful, although some of the English crops were a disappointment.’

The claim for a first thanksgiving in 1621 to celebrate that crop was not made until 1841 by Alexander Young, author of the Chronicles of the Pilgrim Fathers of the Colony of Plymouth. In that book he published a letter from the pilgrim (and later third governor) Edward Winslow, dated 11 December 1621. Originally published in England in the hope of attracting settlers, the letter was promptly forgotten, only to be rediscovered in the 1820s. It described a three-day event at the Plymouth Plantation, the dates of which were not given. Winslow wrote:

"Our harvest being gotten in, our Governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a more special manner rejoice together, after we had gathered the fruit of our labours. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help besides, served the Company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and amongst the rest their greatest king, Massasoit, with some 90 men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted. And they went out and killed five deer which they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our Governor and upon the Captain and others."

In a footnote to Winslow’s letter, Young claims this as the first Thanksgiving, offering as support Governor William Bradford’s report that in the fall of 1621 the settlers had accumulated ‘a great store of wild turkeys, venison, cod, bass, waterfowl and corn’.

At the centre of this national feast was, and is, the turkey. In her chapter ‘The invention of Thanksgiving: a ritual of American nationality’ in Carole M. Counihan’s Food in the USA: A Reader, Janet Siskind says that ‘more than just a part of the wilderness that had been civilized, the thanksgiving turkey powerfully symbolizes the Indians.’

A native animal at the centre of a ritual feast that defines Americans as Americans. Other native foods at the table were – and still are – pumpkins and cranberries (recipes for which appeared in the first American cookbook, American Cookery by Amelia Simmons, published in 1796) and barberries.

There are parallels and there are striking differences, the most obvious of which is that America was founded on the idea of liberty, and Australia as a penal colony. Another obvious difference was between Native Americans and the Indigenous people encountered by the British here: the Native Americans had recognisable farm crops and were clothed.

But at the heart of this narrative is the story of first contact, a story which involves co-operation, acceptance of native foods, a shared meal and, eventually, the emergence of one item from that table as a symbol of both the Indigenous and the idea of America. If you have read this book up to here, you won’t need to be reminded of the contrast between these first contacts. But let us examine the Australian version of first contact a little more closely.

Governor Arthur Phillip had orders from King George III to ‘endeavour, by every possible means, to open an intercourse with the natives, and to conciliate their affections, enjoining all subjects to live in amity and kindness with them’. Unfortunately, the locals wanted nothing to do with these newcomers, and stayed away from them after February 1788. This so frustrated Phillip that he kidnapped a local called Arabanoo by subterfuge.

Two boats were sent to Manly Cove, where, according to Watkin Tench, ‘several Indians were seen standing on the beach.’ They were enticed by ‘courteous behaviour and a few presents to enter into conversation’. The presents were most likely the beads and red baize that were given to the people at Botany Bay, where the fleet landed briefly. Once the group approached ‘our soldiers rushed in amongst them and seized two men.’ But only one, Arabanoo, was secured.

He was fastened by ropes to the boat, where he ‘set up the most piercing and lamentable cries of distress’. After being offered some fish he ‘sullenly submitted to his destiny’. Which was to be taken by force to the governor’s residence.

As we have since learnt, the Indigenous inhabitants had extraordinary methods of communication and doubtless stories like Phillip’s capture and chaining of Arabanoo, although the man came to no harm, would have been alarming. This was not how guests behaved with their hosts.

There was a meal. The captured man was taken to a side table at the governor’s residence – not the main table – and according to Tench ‘ate heartily of fish and ducks which he first cooled’. He smelled at the bread and salt meat but wouldn’t eat it, and would drink nothing but water, disdaining the ‘liquors’ offered him.

He was careful with his table manners, having closely watched others eating, and only made two mistakes: wiping his hands on his chair, and throwing his plate out the window as he would have a leaf or a piece of bark. We know that relations with Native Americans deteriorated rapidly, as did those with the Indigenous inhabitants of Australia. But those contrasting stories of first contact are revealing: one a meal of celebration, and one where the guest had been kidnapped. The relationship did not begin with trust; certainly not with celebration. European Australians have a lot of bridges to build to restore relations with their Indigenous neighbours.

At the head of this chapter I quote Bruce Pascoe: ‘Having said sorry, we refuse to say thanks.’ And there is the germ of an idea.

In writing this book I came across one author, Laklak Burarrwanga (she also credits her family), whose book Welcome to My Country, although sold as a children’s book, is a book for all ages. In it she tells the story of the life she and her family live in north-east Arnhem land. Laklak is of the Yolnu (often spelt Yolngu) people. At the end of the book, she writes: ‘When my grandmothers collected food, they saved it in a basket and shared it. Now we are putting our knowledge in a basket and we share it – mother to grandchildren – and now you have to share it with your family.’

I am attempting, with this book, to share the food that non-Indigenous Australians have turned their backs on for so many years. And here, at the end, I would like to make a proposal.

Australia Day on 26 January celebrates the day Captain Phillip raised the English flag at Sydney Cove. It continues to be a contentious day; some even call it Invasion Day.

I would like to suggest that we celebrate the day, in our cities and towns, with a meal of native Australian foods shared between European and Aboriginal Australians. To take up Pascoe’s suggestion, the meal would be giving thanks to the Indigenous inhabitants for caring for the country, and – admittedly belatedly – showing us the foods of the land.

How this would be achieved and who would organise it would need to be carefully worked out. The obvious organisers would be the various Australia Day Committees, in conjunction with ANFIL. But this would, I believe, entirely change the meaning of Australia Day. We might even change the name. But one thing at a time – first, sharing a meal. It’s never too late.

As I wrote in the introduction, ‘non-Indigenous Australians must accept that the original inhabitants have carefully stewarded this land for the entire time they have lived here, and have the oldest unbroken culture in the world, before that racism – culinary and otherwise – will disappear.’ At the end of The Biggest Estate on Earth, Bill Gammage writes: ‘We have a continent to learn. If we are to survive, let alone feel at home, we must begin to understand our country. If we succeed, one day we might become Australian.’

One way of achieving this may well be to sit down as brothers and sisters and share a meal.

By John Newton in "The Oldest Foods On Earth - A History Of Australian Native Foods With Recipes", University of New South Wales, Sydney, Australia, 2016,  excerpts chapter 11. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

No meio de tantas dietas novas e de tantas pesquisas contraditórias, fica difícil entender o que é uma alimentação saudável. Mas acredite: é mais fácil do que parece.

Nada é mais importante do que comida: 80% das doenças de coração, 90% dos casos de diabetes e 70% dos casos de alguns tipos de câncer podem ter uma ligação estreita com hábitos de vida e alimentação. Dieta inadequada é uma das duas maiores causas de morte no mundo, junto com o tabaco. E uma dieta saudável tem influência positiva em todos os aspectos da vida. Comer bem é fundamental. Mas… o que é comer bem?

Informações sobre nutrição estão em toda parte. Hoje, quase toda embalagem no supermercado contém uma tabela cheia de números pequenos, além de letras grandes anunciando “50% menos disso”, “50% mais daquilo”. Novidades médicas sobre alimentação são alardeadas nas revistas e nos jornais com a mesma freqüência com que você almoça, e o prazo de validade delas é quase sempre menor que o de uma caixa de leite. Dietas novas surgem como relâmpagos, sempre desmentindo o que a anterior dizia – e impulsionando a venda de uma porção de livros.

É claro que o acesso às informações é uma vantagem. Mas a confiança que depositamos em cada novo estudo é desproporcional. Faz só meio século que os cientistas começaram a investigar os efeitos da dieta em humanos e a maioria das pesquisas divulgadas com barulho não comprova a eficiência de uma dieta ou um alimento. No máximo, demarcam um ponto de partida para pesquisas mais aprofundadas. A dura realidade é que os cientistas provavelmente têm mais dúvidas que certezas quando o assunto é dieta.

E o pior é que muitos de nós nos aproveitamos dessa bagunça para comer errado. “Enquanto pudermos culpar um estado de confusão geral, não temos que nos responsabilizar pelo tamanho de nossas cinturas”, escreveu a jornalista americana Christine Gorman na revista americana Time. É como se tudo fosse culpa dos cientistas, que não chegam a um acordo.

Temos então duas notícias para você – e, como de costume, uma é boa e outra é ruim. A boa: apesar de discordarem, cientistas sabem o suficiente para que você consiga comer de maneira saudável. Grãos integrais e vegetais variados fazem bem. Achar que não existe refeição sem bife faz mal. Comer pelo menos três vezes por dia faz bem. Basear a dieta em arroz branco e açúcar faz mal. Fazer da refeição um ritual tranqüilo e prazeroso faz bem. E, definitivamente, comer demais faz mal.

A notícia ruim é que você pode esquecer a desculpa de que você come errado por causa da confusão que cerca o assunto. Ela não cola. Você é o maior responsável por sua dieta e certamente vai arcar sozinho com as conseqüências dela, mais cedo ou mais tarde. Melhor então saber o que está fazendo. E então, vai comer o quê?

E vai comer quanto?

Rodízio ou à la carte? Quando uma das perguntas mais fundamentais da vida moderna pega você sentado à mesa de um restaurante japonês, não há dúvida. Quase ninguém é capaz de trocar o coma-o-quanto-quiser pelas modestas porções de seis rolinhos, mesmo sabendo que, no rodízio, os sushis são preparados de forma tão mecânica que fariam corar o oriental mais amarelo. Tudo bem, ninguém se importa com detalhes quando pode comer por quanto tempo o estômago agüentar.

Quando a refeição termina, você devorou algo perto de 350 gramas de carboidratos, 40 gramas de proteína, 30 gramas de gordura e 1 800 calorias. Um jantar que daria para nada mais nada menos que quatro pessoas. “O principal problema hoje é que estamos comendo demais”, diz o médico americano James Hill, diretor do Centro de Nutrição Humana, da Universidade de Colorado, nos Estados Unidos.

Moderação é a palavra-chave quando o assunto é alimentação. O problema é que moderação pode significar coisas muito diferentes para pessoas diferentes. E, por isso, o único jeito eficiente de controlar o quanto comemos continua sendo prestar atenção nas famigeradas calorias – do mesmo modo que o único jeito de economizar na conta de luz é controlar o consumo de energia elétrica ao longo do mês. Caloria é o nome dado à unidade de medida de energia térmica. Para saber o quanto as calorias influem no nosso peso, a conta é simples. Pegue o quanto de energia você põe para dentro (X) e o quanto de energia você gasta (Y). Se X é maior que Y, você engorda. Se X é menor que Y, você emagrece. Se X é igual a Y, você se mantém no peso.

É verdade que alguns fatores podem interferir no processo. Os genes, por exemplo. Além disso, o corpo pode ajustar a variável Y em algumas situações e gastar menos energia do que o normal. Se você passa um longo período comendo pouco (X baixo), seu corpo entende que está numa época de escassez e reduz o ritmo do metabolismo para gastar menos energia (tornar Y tão baixo quanto X). Assim, se você comer de repente algo mais calórico, como um chocolate, tende a engordar mais facilmente. Ou seja, dietas radicais e repentinas podem aumentar a tendência a engordar.

O problema dessa equação é que, nos dias de hoje, as pessoas simplesmente não são capazes de se exercitar com a mesma compulsão com que comem. X fica sempre maior que Y. É provável que essa nossa compulsão por comida seja genética – nossos ancestrais aprenderam a comer tudo o que estivesse disponível, para criar reservas e suportar as épocas de escassez. A diferença é que comida disponível era coisa rara há milhares de anos e é uma constante hoje.

A oferta, além de incessante, é cada vez mais democrática. Se, até poucos anos atrás, você tinha que resistir apenas aos biscoitos de morango ou chocolate, agora há os de capuccino, baunilha, frutas vermelhas, chocolate alpino, frutas cítricas… Sempre haverá algo engordativo que se encaixe no seu gosto. Os tamanhos das porções também acompanham nosso instinto ancestral por fartura – e nosso instinto, bem atual, por barganhas.

Nas lanchonetes ou supermercados, você pode levar o dobro de refrigerante por apenas 20% a mais do preço. E a lógica do rodízio faz com que porções à la carte se tornem um péssimo negócio. Enquanto investimos em pechinchas, nossas artérias e corações pagam a conta. Para você ter uma idéia, estamos comendo 230 calorias por dia a mais do que comíamos na década de 70. Para não ganhar peso, teríamos que aumentar proporcionalmente o gasto de energia. E o que fizemos? Fomos ficando cada vez mais sedentários.

Isso significa que é preciso levar a sério a instrução “coma menos” – mesmo que você esteja satisfeito com o ponteiro da balança. À medida que envelhecemos nosso corpo precisa de menos comida para realizar as mesmas atividades. E, ao que parece, engordar quando adulto é um problemão. Dois estudos de longo prazo realizados pela Escola de Medicina de Harvard mostraram que homens e mulheres que engordaram de 5 a 10 quilos depois dos 20 anos têm três vezes mais chance de desenvolver doenças cardíacas, hipertensão e diabetes do que aqueles que engordaram 2 quilos ou menos.

Uma boa dica para evitar que você coma em excesso é restringir as opções. “Quanto mais variedade temos, mais comemos. Isso funciona para qualquer espécie testada”, diz Susan Roberts, professora de nutrição da Universidade Tufts, em Boston. Se você come em restaurantes self-service, sabe do que Susan está falando. É quase impossível escolher apenas uma opção quando há pizza, nhoque à bolonhesa e lasanha vegetariana. Nessas horas, lembre-se: você tem que fazer algum esforço.

Para controlar a ingestão de calorias, determine – com a ajuda de um médico – uma média que você deve consumir por dia. A Anvisa, agência do governo brasileiro que cuida da vigilância sanitária, recomenda 2 500, uma quantia considerada alta por muitos nutricionistas. A Pirâmide de Alimentação, criada em 1992 pelo Departamento de Agricultura americano e que se tornou referência mundial, recomenda 2 800 por dia para homens e adolescentes ativos e 2 200 para mulheres ativas e homens inativos. Mulheres inativas não precisam de mais que 1 600 calorias.

Alguns truques podem ajudar a reduzir quantidades – e, assim, as calorias ingeridas. Use um prato menor. “Ele vai ficar cheio mais rápido e obrigar você a parar de comer”, diz o médico Walter Willett, que coordena a Departamento de Nutrição da Escola de Saúde Pública de Harvard. Evite se servir mais de uma vez e comece com saladas. Ao contrário do que sua mãe falava, “estrague” seu apetite antes das refeições. Coma pequenos lanches ao longo do dia – frutas ou castanhas. Outra boa sugestão é começar o almoço ou jantar com uma tigela de sopa (sem creme de leite). Estudos recentes sugerem que a textura e a consistência da sopa mantêm o apetite controlado enquanto outros líquidos, como sucos, não ajudam nessa tarefa. O médico Willett dá outra dica preciosa: “Não precisa cortar a sobremesa. Basta dividi-la. A quantidade de gordura e caloria em uma fatia de torta doce é suficiente para a uma família inteira”.

E preste atenção nos rótulos. Geralmente, os números que aparecem nas embalagens se referem a porções bem menores do que as que imaginamos à primeira vista. Por exemplo, o rótulo de um chocolate pode indicar que uma porção do alimento tem 230 calorias. Se você ler com atenção, vai ver que uma porção são 15 gramas, e não as 30 da barrinha. Ou seja, no chocolate todo há nada menos que 460 calorias.

Pouco, mas com prazer

Equações, variáveis X e Y, meia porção, contar calorias… Agora que você entendeu tudo, esqueça. Se você se tornar compulsivamente preocupado, não vai conseguir manter uma dieta saudável. “Calorias contam, mas você não precisa contar cada uma delas”, diz Willett, autor de Coma, Beba e Seja Saudável, livro que se tornou uma bíblia da alimentação saudável nos Estados Unidos. Se comer virar um suplício recheado de números e cálculos, é bem capaz que você passe a odiar as refeições. E aí vai bastar aparecer um problema na sua vida para você descontar tudo em si mesmo – comendo sem controle. Isso é exatamente o contrário do que os médicos querem.

Desde muito jovens aprendemos que quem nos ama nos dá comida. E, se nos ama muito, nos dá muita comida. Está aí um dos motivos pelos quais não conseguimos nos manter por muito tempo em dietas. Dieta é a privação do prazer, daquilo que amamos mais.

Portanto não adianta ser radical. Nas duas próximas semanas, descubra a quantidade de calorias das porções que você consome com freqüência. Duas colheres de sopa de arroz branco, por exemplo, têm 105 calorias; um bife de frango pequeno grelhado, 160. (Confira outros exemplos na página 65. O Ministério da Saúde está investindo na elaboração de uma tabela completa. A partir do dia 24 de setembro, ela vai estar disponível no endereço http://www.unicamp.br/nepa/taco) Ajuste-as para que se encaixem na sua média de ingestão diária. Essas duas semanas de treino vão ajudar você a entender a lógica das calorias. A partir da terceira semana, use apenas o bom senso.

Um estudo americano chamado Registro Nacional de Controle de Peso, que investiga os hábitos de 3 mil pessoas bem-sucedidas nas dietas que fazem, descobriu que três dos quatro pontos em comum entre elas estão diretamente ligados ao estilo de vida: todas monitoram com freqüência seu peso e o consumo de comida, todas se exercitam por mais de uma hora todos os dias e nenhuma pula a primeira refeição do dia, o café da manhã. “Não é que o café da manhã emagreça. Mas, em geral, quem toma café da manhã tem uma alimentação mais equilibrada ao longo do dia. É isso que faz a diferença”, diz a endocrinologista Annete Abdo, integrante do Projeto de Atendimento ao Obeso, ligado à USP.

Cuidar da alimentação precisa ser algo prazeroso. E isso significa que o sabor não deve ser sacrificado. “É impossível se alimentar só de coisas que você acha horrível”, escreveu o médico Andrew Weil no livro Alimentação Ideal para uma Saúde Perfeita. Weil acredita que o ditado “tudo o que é bom engorda” não poderia estar mais longe da verdade. E você vai ver que ele tem razão se decidir se divertir enquanto se alimenta. Procure explorar novos sabores, usar temperos diferentes, experimentar frutas ou folhas que você nunca comeu antes. Use sua inclinação para barganhas quando tiver que escolher entre uma refeição feita em casa ou uma comprada de uma lanchonete ou restaurante: comer em casa é muito mais barato. E você pode controlar os ingredientes usados, além de descobrir um passatempo relaxante e saudável.

Gorduras x carboidratos

Quarto ponto em comum entre os 3 mil “dieteiros” bem-sucedidos: todos limitam a ingestão de gordura. E é aqui que mora o maior dilema nutricional da atualidade: qual é o vilão da dieta moderna? Gorduras ou carboidratos?

Desde 1950, médicos de todo o mundo tentam encontrar diretrizes confiáveis para conter a expansão de barrigas e cinturas. Nos anos 60, pesquisas indicaram que a gordura aumenta a taxa de colesterol e facilita a obstrução das veias. Assim, ela se tornou o inimigo número 1. Bacon e manteiga, nozes e azeite de oliva foram banidos do cardápio ideal. Milhões de pessoas em todo o mundo seguiram as recomendações e os fabricantes de alimentos estamparam “sem colesterol” ou “50% menos gordura” nos mais diversos produtos. Para matar a fome, muita gente aumentou o consumo de carboidratos.

E o que aconteceu? As cinturas continuaram crescendo. Nos Estados Unidos, segundo o Centro Nacional de Estatística de Saúde, a taxa de obesidade pulou de 13% (nos anos 60) para 22% (em 80). E países que consomem muita gordura, como França e Grécia, têm taxas de obesidade e de ataques cardíacos menores que os americanos.

Em 1972, um médico americano lançou uma dieta que soava como heresia criminosa. Ela limitava o consumo de frutas e pães, os alimentos mais recomendados pelos caçadores de gordura, e liberava a ingestão de gorduras e carnes. Robert Atkins vendeu mais de 15 milhões de livros no mundo e ganhou fama de picareta. Ele acreditava que o açúcar (e o nível de insulina provocado por ele) era o verdadeiro responsável pelo aumento de peso e doenças entre seus conterrâneos. As gorduras, ele dizia, estão longe de ser vilãs.

E ele tinha razão. Pelo menos em parte. Os avanços da endocrinologia permitiram que os estudos acompanhassem a reação do corpo aos diferentes tipos de alimento e provassem que as gorduras não fazem só mal. Elas realmente elevam o colesterol ruim (conhecido como LDL), mas algumas elevam também o colesterol bom (conhecido como HDL). O HDL faz bem ao coração. Além disso, está ficando claro que comer um pouco de gordura sacia a fome. Assim, quando ingerimos gorduras de menos, acabamos comendo açúcar demais.

A questão é que nem toda gordura é igual – há muitos tipos delas, cada uma com uma estrutura molecular diferente e, conseqüentemente, com um efeito distinto sobre o corpo. Para resumir, gorduras sólidas são piores que as líquidas. As sólidas são de dois tipos: saturadas (como a manteiga) e trans – também chamadas de gorduras vegetais hidrogenadas (como a maior parte das margarinas). Já as gorduras líquidas são insaturadas, como azeite e óleos presentes em castanhas. Essas são melhores porque aumentam o HDL. As gorduras líquidas também são divididas em dois grupos: monoinsaturadas (abacate, nozes, azeite) e polinsaturadas (peixe, óleo de soja). As gorduras polinsaturadas são as únicas que o corpo não produz sozinho, e elas também vêm em dois tipos: ômega-3 e ômega-6. A ômega-6, que está no óleo de soja, nas carnes e nos laticínios, é muito abundante nos alimentos, e portanto você não precisa se preocupar em consumi-la. Mas a ômega-3 é rara, daí a importância de comer peixe, frutos do mar e óleos de canola e linhaça.

Por muito tempo, a gordura saturada foi vista como a pior. Mas hoje se sabe que ela, ao mesmo tempo em que aumenta o LDL, aumenta também o HDL – ou seja, não faz só mal. Hoje é na gordura trans que a etiqueta “Livre-se disso!” se dependura. O processo de hidrogenização – que consiste em adicionar hidrogênio à gordura vegetal – permite que o produto dure mais tempo na prateleira do supermercado, mas eleva muito o LDL no sangue. Um ótimo negócio para os fabricantes, um péssimo negócio para você. Seu corpo vai agradecer se sorvete, batata frita de saquinho e margarina forem trocados por sorbet, brócolis e azeite. Além disso, é bom ficar atento aos rótulos e evitar produtos que têm “gordura vegetal hidrogenada” na lista de ingredientes.

A reabilitação das gorduras fez emergirem acusações contra outro grupo de alimentos: os carboidratos. A idéia de emagrecer comendo bacon no café da manhã convenceu muita gente cansada de privações na tentativa de perder peso. Hoje, milhões de pessoas (26 milhões só nos Estados Unidos) seguem dietas que limitam a ingestão de carboidratos. Muitos nutricionistas estão esperneando, afinal não há estudos que garantam que tanta proteína e gordura não tenha efeitos negativos a longo prazo. Para atender à nova demanda, a indústria de alimentos estampou “sem carboidratos” ou “baixo índice glicêmico” nas embalagens.

“Índice glicêmico” é a medida do nível de glicose que o alimento gera no sangue. Carboidratos como grãos integrais e frutas têm índice glicêmico baixo – eles são ricos em fibras, que retardam a absorção de açúcar. Outros, como pão e arroz brancos, batata e açúcar têm índices altíssimos. Eles elevam rapidamente a taxa de glicose no sangue e forçam o corpo a armazenar o excesso dentro das células. Quem faz o trabalho de armazenamento é a insulina. Quando comemos alimentos de alto índice glicêmico, produzimos muita insulina de uma só vez. O excesso do hormônio diminui o nível de glicose no sangue e a queda faz o corpo pedir mais, gerando a sensação de fome. Ou seja, consumir muita comida com alto índice glicêmico pode aumentar a compulsão alimentar. E não é só isso: está ficando mais claro que esses altos e baixos na produção de insulina podem levar a diabetes tipo 2, uma doença séria, cuja incidência está explodindo.

A má notícia é que isso significa abrir mão de comer arroz branco e batata todo dia. Além de índice glicêmico altíssimo, eles têm poucos nutrientes comparados a substitutos como brócolis ou ervilhas. E, se você acha impossível substituir arroz, passe em uma loja de produtos naturais. Amaranto, cevada, e quinoa são só alguns dos grãos que você deixa de lado ao optar pela monotonia alva do arroz nosso de cada dia.

Para resumir: não há heróis ou vilões. Gorduras e carboidratos devem estar presentes nas dietas. Entre as gorduras, prefira as dos peixes, nozes e azeite de oliva. E, entre os carboidratos, escolha aqueles presentes em grãos integrais, frutas e verduras. Arrume substitutos para manteiga, margarina, carne vermelha, arroz branco, batata… Substituir alimentos pode ser mais importante do que cortá-los. Experimente trocar a alface-americana da sua salada por espinafre, que tem diversos nutrientes e fibra. E alterne bifes com soja, frango ou peixes. Há muitos indícios de que carne vermelha tenha relação com diversos tipos de câncer.

Conta corrente

Lembre-se de que todo grupo de alimentos tem uma função importante. “Os carboidratos são nossa conta corrente. Possibilitam os esforços físicos diários, como subir uma escada. Já a gordura forma nossa caderneta de poupança. O corpo só usa gordura para esforços mais longos, como exercícios físicos prolongados”, diz Annete Abdo. Nesse cenário, proteínas seriam nossa credibilidade. Formam a estrutura que nos permite abrir a conta no banco – ou seja, são a massa corporal. Sem elas, não há conta corrente nem caderneta de poupança.

A metáfora é valiosa em tempos em que a economia fala tão alto. Se você tira todo seu dinheiro da conta corrente (consome poucos carboidratos), vai usar o dinheiro da caderneta de poupança (gordura). O gerente do banco vai achar estranho que você esteja gastando suas reservas e vai cortar seus benefícios (para se proteger da escassez, o corpo reduz o metabolismo). Sem investimentos você perde credibilidade (a massa corporal) e se você precisar de um empréstimo (comer algo mais calórico) seu banco vai cobrar juros altíssimos (você engorda muito mais rápido). É por isso que o único jeito eficiente de mexer em investimentos sem conseqüências desastrosas é ganhar credibilidade. Comer com moderação e fazer exercícios físicos regularmente, que aumentam a massa corporal e dão agilidade ao metabolismo.

Evite ações de alto risco (dietas muito radicais), diversifique investimentos (não coma apenas um grupo de alimentos: variedade é o outro mantra da alimentação). E, lembre-se, muito lucro pode sair caro. Nossa obstinação por barganhas pode se reverter em alguns anos de vida a menos.

Texto de Bárbara Soalheiro publicado em "SuperInteressante", Brasil, edição 204, setembro 2004. Adaptado e ilustrado para ser postado por Leopoldo Costa.

For primitive humans, meat was the most valuable and nutritious food. For pregnant women it was an indispensable source of protein and, more importantly, of iron, which is not easily absorbed from plant foods. Blood uses iron to transport oxygen which is necessary for the functioning of the energy-consuming human brain. The current trend in favor of vegetarianism underestimates the central importance of meat in the human diet. In prehistoric times, there were no diary products to make up for meat as a source of protein, nor were there any dietary supplements which today's vegetarians can resort to in order to compensate for the lack of protein. Of the 20 amino acids that compose the various proteins, the human organism cannot compose 8. These are called basic amino acids, and they must be taken from foods. Children are unable to compose 2 additional amino acids240. Meat contains all basic amino acids, while plants contain only a few. As a consequence, vegetarians need an exceptional variety of plant foods to avoid protein deficiency. And meat is even more essential to the woman-gatherer than to the man-hunter. “A man adopting a vegan diet is at low risk for developing a serious anemia. A woman in her reproductive years without access to modern nutritional knowledge who makes the same choice cannot avoid anemia.”241 [emphasis in original].

Our related primates, while feeding primarily on fruits and various plants, supplement their diet with insects and small rodents. The first European settlers in Australia were perplexed when they saw Aborigines living a lazy life, eating insects and mice242. They thought they did so because they were hungry, while in fact they were just taking advantage of an easily obtainable source of iron.

What pushed our male ancestors to hunt big animals was (partly) the value of meat. Not only its nutritional value, but also its exchange value: prehistoric men exchanged meat for sex. Helen Fisher argued that this was the first human “contract” in her book characteristically en titled The Sex Contract (1982)243.

Buying sex with meat is actually a widespread practice in many species. Its extreme expression is, of course, the praying mantis and some arachnids that eat the male after copulation. In other species of insects, the male prepares a ball from a nutritious substance, similar to a spider's web, and offers it to the female in exchange for sex. In primates, males offer small rodents to their potential mates. In many human tribes, exchange of meat for sex is a standard custom.

The huge value of meat, which men supplied, counter-balanced the huge value of sex which women “supplied”, and was the basis of a prehistoric equality of the sexes. “The anthropologist Ernestine Friedl does accept that in the few societies, for instance among Australian aborigines, in which meat was the central component of the diet, men were more highly ranked than women.”244 Prehistoric society was a society of “enough”: (under normal circumstances) it was neither a society of deprivation, nor a society of abundance. If men limited the provision of meat, this was a real problem for women – maybe as serious as when women limited the provision of sex to men. Without meat women could not survive – and without sex men could not reproduce. Women's control over sex was balanced by men's control over meat. This dynamic equilibrium between the sexes was crucial for mankind. It was hard-wired in the basic psychology of each sex. Man could never do without sex – and woman, perhaps using looser terms, without man supplying her with meat.

What happens now in the “affluent society”? When women have guaranteed access to food, the value of the man-as-provider plummets. But his biology has not had time to catch up with the new (social and economic) circumstances. He still needs sex in the same degree. As a result, we have the tilting of the balance in favor of women, which has characterized the more recent period of humanity.

Notes

240 Sex, Time and Power, p. 123.
241 Sex, Time and Power, p. 41.
242 Sex at Dawn, ch.1.
243 Fisher, Helen E. The Sex Contract: The evolution of Human Behavior. USA: William Morrow & Co (1982).
244 Harman, Chris. “Engels and the Origins of Human Society”. International Socialism, No. 65, Winter 1994. https://www.marxists.org/archive/harman/1994/xx/engels.htm

By Adam Leonas in "The Empress Is Naked - From Female Privilege To Gender Equality And Social Liberation", WordPress, USA, 2015, excerpts chapter 21. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

The old story about Stone Soup, in which a glorious stew is created by placing stones in hot water and inviting guests to contribute vegetables and bones, may have its roots in one of the earliest of cooking techniques: stone boiling.

Stone boiling is what archaeologists and anthropologists call an ancient cooking technique that involves placing stones into or next to a hearth or other heat source until the stones are hot. The heated stones are then quickly placed into a ceramic pot, lined basket or other vessel holding water or liquid or semi-liquid food. The hot stones then transfer the heat to the food. Stone boiling is a way of heating food without direct exposure to flames, which is trickier if you don't have hot pads and insulated oven mittens.

Boiling stones typically range in size between large cobbles and small boulders, and for safety's sake they should be of a type of stone that is resistant to flaking and splintering when heated.

The technology involves a considerable amount of work, including finding and carting around appropriately sized stones and building a large enough fire to transfer sufficient heat to stones to make it useful.

Invention of Stone Boiling

Direct evidence for using stones to heat liquid is a little hard to come by: hearths by definition generally have rock in them, and identifying whether the stones have been used to heat liquid is difficult at best. So, we have to look at the history of hearths. The earliest evidence that scholars have suggested for the use of fire dates to ~790,000 years ago; although that is somewhat debated, and even if it was a real fire, it's possible it was used for warmth and light, not necessarily cooking.

The first real hearths date to the Middle Paleolithic (ca. 125,000 years ago. And the earliest example of hearths filled with heat-fractured round river cobbles come from the Upper Paleolithic site of Abri Pataud in the Dordogne valley of France, about 32,000 years ago. Whether those cobbles were used to cook with, is probably speculation, but definitely a possibility.

According to a recent study conducted by Nelson using a handful of ethnographic databases, the method of stone boiling is used most heavily by people who live on that part of the earth that lie in the temperate zones on earth, between 41 and 68 degrees latitude. All kinds of cooking methods are familiar to most people, but in general, tropical cultures more often use roasting or steaming instead; arctic cultures rely on direct-fire heating; and in the boreal mid-latitudes, stone boiling is most common.

Why Boil Stones?

Thoms has argued that people use stone boiling when they don't have access to easily cooked foods, such as lean meat that can be direct-cooked over a flame. He indicates support for this argument by showing that the first North American hunter-gatherers didn't use stone boiling intensively until about 4,000 years, when agriculture became dominant.

Stone boiling might be considered evidence of the invention of stews or soups. Pottery made that possible. Nelson points out that stone boiling requires a container and a stored liquid; stone boiling involves the process of heating liquids without the dangers of burning a basket or the contents of a bowl by direct exposure to fire. And, domestic grains such as maize in North America and millet elsewhere require more processing in general to be edible.

Any connection between boiling stones and the ancient story called "Stone Soup" is sheer speculation. The story involves a stranger coming to a village, building a hearth and placing a pot of water over it. He (or she) puts in stones and invites others to taste the stone soup. The stranger invites others to add an ingredient, and pretty soon, Stone Soup is a collaborative meal full of tasty things. Not to mention a stone or two.

The Benefits of Limestone Cookery

A recent experimental study based on assumptions about American southwestern Basketmaker II (AD 200-400) stone boiling used local limestone rocks as heating elements in baskets to cook maize. Basketmaker societies did not have pottery containers until after the introduction of beans: corn was an important part of the diet, and hot stone cookery is believed to have been the primary method of preparing maize.

Ellwood and colleagues adding heated limestone to water, raising the pH of water to 11.4-11.6 at temperatures between 300-600 degrees centigrade, and higher yet over longer periods and at higher temperatures. When historical varieties of maize were cooked in the water, chemical lime leached from the stones increased the availability of digestible proteins.

The technology involves a considerable amount of work, including finding and carting around appropriately sized stones and building a large enough fire to transfer sufficient heat to stones to make it useful.

Invention of Stone Boiling

Direct evidence for using stones to heat liquid is a little hard to come by: hearths by definition generally have rock in them, and identifying whether the stones have been used to heat liquid is difficult at best. So, we have to look at the history of hearths. The earliest evidence that scholars have suggested for the use of fire dates to ~790,000 years ago; although that is somewhat debated, and even if it was a real fire, it's possible it was used for warmth and light, not necessarily cooking.

The first real hearths date to the Middle Paleolithic (ca. 125,000 years ago. And the earliest example of hearths filled with heat-fractured round river cobbles come from the Upper Paleolithic site of Abri Pataud in the Dordogne valley of France, about 32,000 years ago. Whether those cobbles were used to cook with, is probably speculation, but definitely a possibility.

According to a recent study conducted by Nelson using a handful of ethnographic databases, the method of stone boiling is used most heavily by people who live on that part of the earth that lie in the temperate zones on earth, between 41 and 68 degrees latitude. All kinds of cooking methods are familiar to most people, but in general, tropical cultures more often use roasting or steaming instead; arctic cultures rely on direct-fire heating; and in the boreal mid-latitudes, stone boiling is most common.

Why Boil Stones?

Thoms has argued that people use stone boiling when they don't have access to easily cooked foods, such as lean meat that can be direct-cooked over a flame. He indicates support for this argument by showing that the first North American hunter-gatherers didn't use stone boiling intensively until about 4,000 years, when agriculture became dominant.

Stone boiling might be considered evidence of the invention of stews or soups. Pottery made that possible. Nelson points out that stone boiling requires a container and a stored liquid; stone boiling involves the process of heating liquids without the dangers of burning a basket or the contents of a bowl by direct exposure to fire. And, domestic grains such as maize in North America and millet elsewhere require more processing in general to be edible.

Any connection between boiling stones and the ancient story called "Stone Soup" is sheer speculation. The story involves a stranger coming to a village, building a hearth and placing a pot of water over it. He (or she) puts in stones and invites others to taste the stone soup. The stranger invites others to add an ingredient, and pretty soon, Stone Soup is a collaborative meal full of tasty things. Not to mention a stone or two.

The Benefits of Limestone Cookery

A recent experimental study based on assumptions about American southwestern Basketmaker II (AD 200-400) stone boiling used local limestone rocks as heating elements in baskets to cook maize. Basketmaker societies did not have pottery containers until after the introduction of beans: corn was an important part of the diet, and hot stone cookery is believed to have been the primary method of preparing maize.

Ellwood and colleagues adding heated limestone to water, raising the pH of water to 11.4-11.6 at temperatures between 300-600 degrees centigrade, and higher yet over longer periods and at higher temperatures. When historical varieties of maize were cooked in the water, chemical lime leached from the stones increased the availability of digestible proteins.

By K. Kris Hirst available in  http://archaeology.about.com/od/sterms/qt/stone_boiling.htm. Adapted and illustrated to be posted by Leopoldo Costa.

"Marriage Romain", toille d' Emilio Vasarri

L'expansion romaine s'est accompagnée de la transmiSSion d'un mode de vie : quand ils conquièrent un nouveau territoire, les Romains imprègnent le peuple vaincu des différents aspects de leur quotidien. Ils sèment derrière eux des cités aux structures rigoureuses, des types d'habitation, des modes vestimentaires, mais aussi une certaine idée du fonctionnement de la cellule familiale.

Cité

En reproduisant la structure de leurs cités aux quatre coins de l'Empire, les Romains diffusent leur mode de vie sur le territoire conquis. Lieu de rassemblement des populations, la ville est le cadre des activités qui les intègrent à la nation romaine : une métropole bien conçue est plus efficace que des camps militaires pour faire régner la paix et la sécurité.

Le choix et le découpage d'un lieu

On bâtit une ville selon les qualités de son environnement (présence d'eau, campagne fertile, salubrité des éventuels marécages ... ) et l'accord des dieux, consultés par les augures.

On fixe la taille et la population maximales qu'atteindra la ville, pour que les urbanistes puissent la quadriller selon un plan en damier. Ils attribuent les espaces nécessaires aux maisons et aux équipements publics et fixent une hauteur limite aux bâtiments pour que les rues soient ensoleillées. Ils déterminent la dimension des rues, des trottoirs et des égouts. Ils évaluent les besoins en eau.

On trace ensuite le pomoerium (enceinte sacrée) de la ville et ses axes principaux, le cardo et le decumanus. Ces lignes fondatrices sont faites à la charrue, par des légionnaires se servant de leur campement comme coeur de la cité, ou par des géomètres et des arpenteurs. Puis on dote la ville de fortifications et de tours de guet qui assurent sa protection, de portes monumentales permettant le contrôle des chars et des piétons, avant de s'intéresser aux constructions utilitaires.

Les constructions utilitaires

On construit rapidement les routes et les ponts pour faciliter le transport des matières premières, avant de s'occuper de l'approvisionnement en eau : dans l'enceinte de la ville, des puits sont creusés. Puis on pose des canalisations détournant l'eau des fleuves et des rivières et construit des aqueducs amenant l'eau des lacs de montagnes. On développe le réseau en alimentation de l'eau (citernes, tuyaux de plomb alimentant fontaines publiques, latrines et thermes) et le réseau d'évacuation (égouts, canalisations, collecteurs d'eau).

Enfin, les rues de la ville sont édifiées. Des trottoirs permettent le déplacement des piétons : surélevés, ils empêchent les véhicules de grimper et d'écraser les marcheurs. Des blocs sont encastrés dans la route pour forcer les chars à respecter les limitations de vitesse et faciliter les déplacements à pied, lors de fortes pluies.

Une vie bien 

Pierre, argile, bois et mortier sont ensuite acheminés vers la cité pour créer des structures essentielles : le forum et le marché.

Au croisement du cardo et du decumanus se trouve le forum : centre administratif, politique et religieux de la ville, il est le carrefour des vies des futurs habitants. On y trouve un temple voué à la triade capitoline (Jupiter, Junon, Minerve) qui est le lieu de culte le plus important de la cité, mais aussi la curie, où se réunissent les conseillers municipaux, le tribunal ou la basilique, le tabularium (archives publiques) et les bureaux du Trésor. Le forum est entouré d'un portique (arcades couvertes bordées de colonnades), permettant de séparer les bâtiments (boutiques, écoles) de l'agitation de la rue. Il peut se doter d'autres temples, selon les cultes qu'importent ses habitants.

Le marché central est l'autre coeur de la vie économique : dans cette zone découverte, des marchands dressent leurs étals et proposent aux habitants leurs articles ou les denrées qu'ils ont importées. Il est entouré d'un portique, à l'étage duquel on trouve des bureaux d'hommes d'affaires, des avocats, des banquiers ... D'autres marchés spécialisés, des boutiques et des ateliers rendent la ville économiquement dynamique. Des entrepôts, construits en marge, conservent les marchandises importées et le fruit des récoltes locales.

Les rues sont parsemées de bars, d'auberges, de bordels et de thermes, qui offrent plaisirs et délassement aux citoyens, avant que ceux-ci ne regagnent leurs habitations. Théâtres et amphithéâtres sont les dernières constructions à être édifiées. Plus la ville est importante, plus elle comportera de centres de spectacles.

Une fois toutes ces constructions types mises en place, la ville romaine se développe, jusqu'à ce que ses murailles lui rappellent ses propres limites.

Famille

Les Romains accordaient à leur famille une grande importance : honorant leurs ancêtres, tirant fierté de leur nom, remerciant leurs parents de leur avoir offert la citoyenneté romaine, ils exerçaient avec ferveur la piété familiale.

Pater familias

Prêtre de la cellule familiale, unique détenteur de l'autorité, le père est le maître absolu des biens et des personnes. Il marque de son nom, comme d'un sceau, ceux qui résident sous son toit et lui doivent le respect.

Il a alors un droit de vie et de mort sur eux : si un enfant naît infirme, il a le droit de l'abandonner, de le vendre ou de le laisser mourir. S'il reconnaît l'enfant, ille prend dans ses bras et l'élève pour lui conférer sa légitimité. Il peut aussi battre ou mettre à mort sa femme si elle se rend coupable d'adultère.

Représentant légal de ses enfants et de son épouse, il doit donner son autorisation pour qu'ils soient libérés de sa tutelle. Le pater familias peut déshériter un fils indigne : aucun instinct paternel ne le pousse à aider ses enfants ; la tendresse paternelle est un héritage du christianisme. Il n'hésite alors pas à adopter pour transmettre ses biens, son titre et sa place de patriarche.

Le nom romain

Il est divisé en trois parties : prénom, nom, surnom. Un surnom supplémentaire peut être ajouté.

• Le prénom est souvent celui d'un ancêtre ou souligne une particularité de l'enfant (Lucius, « celui qui est né à la première lueur » ). Il est abrégé, dans les textes historiques et les dédicaces : T. pour Titus, Ti. pour Tiberius, par exemple. Les plus courants sont Gaius, Lucius, Aulus, Cnaeus, Publius, Sextus, Servius, Tiberius, Titus et Quintus.

• Le nom est commun à toute la famille. Il permet d'identifier la gens à laquelle appartient le Romain (Caius Julius César, de la famille des Iule). Les femmes portent le nom de la gens dans leur nom, mis au féminin (Vipsania Agrippina, fille de Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa).

• Le surnom souligne une caractéristique de la branche de la gens: Cicéron est un surnom déviant de cicer, le pois chiche, car sa famille aurait prospéré dans la culture de cette légumineuse ou aurait eu un ancêtre doté d'une verrue sur le visage.

Le surnom supplémentaire vient d'un trait de caractère (Tarquin le Superbe, Antonin le Pieux), d'un succès militaire (Scipion l'Africain, Claude le Gothique); il sert aussi à opérer une différence avec un ancêtre (Pline l'Ancien et Pline le Jeune).

Matrone

La femme est considérée comme mineure aux yeux du droit romain : elle reste toute sa vie soumise à la tutelle masculine, celle de son père, de son mari ou, dans le cas de leur décès, d'un autre membre de la famille.

Elle doit obéissance absolue à son époux, qui peut la répudier ou en divorcer en cas de stérilité, de tentative d'avortement ou de falsification des clés de la domus.

Elle doit faire de nombreux enfants, qu'elle élève avant qu'ils aillent à l'école. Elle est la gardienne du foyer : restant à la maison, elle file et tisse la laine, fait le ménage, gère la nourriture, dirige ses servantes et ses esclaves. Les clés de la domus, portées à la taille, lui confèrent de l'autorité et lui valent le titre de domina (maîtresse de maison) ou de patrona (patronne).

Elle assiste son mari dans sa vie publique : elle l'accompagne aux cérémonies et aux jeux et agrémente les banquets de sa conversation aimable. Elle ne doit toutefois pas surpasser intellectuellement les hommes : quoique plus libérée que la femme grecque confinée dans son gynécée, la Romaine conserve une certaine réserve et une douceur passive.

Mariage

Le mariage est un acte solennel réservé aux citoyens. C'est le père qui crée des alliances politiques et économiques : Rome ne connaît pas les mariages d'amour. Peu importe l'affection: chaque époux a un rôle bien défini à tenir et n'éprouve aucune honte à ne pas aimer son conjoint.

Fiançailles

Les fiançailles scellent l'accord politique, économique et religieux conclu entre les deux familles : on prend les augures pour s'assurer de l'accord des dieux, on invite des amis qui servent de témoins, on échange des anneaux marquant physiquement l'engagement entre fiancés et on signe un contrat déterminant la nature et le montant de la dot de la future épousée. Cet acte juridique permet d'intenter une action en justice, si l'une des deux parties ne respecte pas ses engagements.

Formes de mariage

L'âge légal pour se marier est de 12 ans pour les filles, 14 ans pour les garçons, mais ceux-ci se marient vers la trentaine. Il existe plusieurs sortes de mariages : le plus ancien est le mariage cum manu, qui fait passer la jeune épousée de l'autorité (manus) du père à celle du mari et qui évoluera, à partir de 450 avantJ.-C., en mariage sine manu, où la jeune fille reste sous la tutelle du pater familias.

La corifàrreatio rend le mariage indissoluble : après avoir pris les auspices, les nouveaux époux offrent à Jupiter un gâteau de froment (jàrreum), qu'ils se partagent devant l'autel domestique. Cette union au caractère religieux était réservée aux familles des patriciens.

La coemptio est le mariage plébéien. Il consiste en l'achat symbolique de la jeune fille par le fiancé :une formule rituelle du père sacralise la vente de la tutelle de la mariée.

Le mariage per usum entérine une cohabitation pendant laquelle la jeune fille a vécu, durant un an, dans la famille de son mari : il est déclaré nul si l'épouse a découché plus de trois nuits consécutives.

À la fin de la République, une nouvelle forme de mariage apparait, les nuptiae (du latin nubere, mettre le voile), fondées sur le consentement mutuel.

Cérémonie

La veille des noces, la fiancée revêt une tunique blanche et coiffe ses cheveux à la manière des vestales, en six tresses symbolisant sa virginité et sa pureté.

Le matin, elle endosse un manteau et des sandales couleur de safran - signe de richesse et de fécondité - et se couvre la tête d'un voile orangé sur lequel elle dépose une couronne de fleurs. Ses parents sacrifient sur l'autel domestique et consultent les auspices avant la cérémonie. Les nouveaux époux joignent leurs mains droites en signe d'engagement mutuel, en se plaçant sous l'égide d'une femme n'ayant été mariée qu'une seule fois.

Ils conduisent leurs invités vers un grand festin, qui prend fin lorsque l'étoile Vesper apparaît dans le ciel. Le marié fait alors mine d'en lever sa femme et l'emmène vers son domicile, escorté d'un cortège qui porte des torches symbolisant ses aptitudes sexuelles, chante des hymnes au dieu Hyménée et multiplie les plaisanteries grivoises.

Il demande son nom à son épouse, pour que celle-ci prononce la formule rituelle qui signe sa soumission : « Où tu seras Gaius, je serai Gaia. »

Munie d'une quenouille et d'un fuseau (symboles de ses vertus domestiques), la mariée passe le seuil de la porte dans les bras de son mari, qui lui présente l'eau, le feu et les clés de la maison (symboles de leur vie commune et de son nouveau foyer). L'épouse offre une pièce de monnaie à son époux, une aux Lares de la maison, une au dieu gardant le carrefour le plus proche (symbole de sa destinée), avant que la nuit de noces commence.

Habitations

L'habitat romain est un des vecteurs de la romanisation : il symbolise et transmet un mode de vie.

Domus et villa

Hérités des Étrusques, ces habitats s'organisent autour d'une cour centrale, l'atrium. La domus en est la variation urbaine, la villa la version campagnarde, servant de lieu de repos ou de coeur d'une exploitation agricole.

Elle abrite une seule famille (parents, enfants, proches et esclaves) et reflète le niveau social de son propriétaire, qui peut agrémenter sa maison d'une boutique qu'il loue à un commerçant.

Sa taille peut varier mais la distribution des pièces reste la même. Passé le vestibulum (entrée), on arrive dans l'atrium. Ce centre de la maison est une pièce à ciel ouvert, au centre de laquelle on trouve un impluvium, ce bassin destiné à recueillir les eaux de pluie. L'atrium sert d'accueil aux visiteurs, hôtes et clients. Vitrine du propriétaire, il est luxueusement décoré : quand un banquet est organisé, on y dispose meubles, sculptures et statues pour divertir les invités, avant de passer au triclinium pour le repas.

Une fois accueilli, le visiteur emprunte des corridors pour passer dans le tablinum, le bureau du maître. Le maître reçoit les clients de moindre qualité sociale dans de petites pièces, les alae. Garnies de grandes fenêtres, elles permettent à la lumière de mieux entrer dans la

Certaines pièces restent inaccessibles aux invités, comme les chambres à coucher (cubicula) et leurs procoeton (petites pièces où dort un esclave affecté au service du dominus ou de la domina).

La cuisine (cu/ina) est réservée à la maîtresse de maison et à ses esclaves : cette petite pièce brille par son organisation pragmatique.

Les maisons les plus riches possèdent des bains privés et des jardins (hortus) garnis de péristyles invitant à la promenade méditative, des bassins à poissons et une exèdre, une pièce ouverte sur la verdure faisant office de salon de jardin.

Insula

Sous la République, l'accroissement de la population entraîne la nécessité de développer des logements d'habitations collectives, rapidement constructibles et accessibles à toutes les bourses : les insulae.

Au départ dotées de cinq étages, ces constructions atteindront jusqu'à douze paliers avant que des législations ne limitent leur hauteur à 21 mètres. Elles sont divisées en appartements de taille variée (entre 10 et 100 m2), accueillent des familles entières  abritent parfois des boutiques au rez-de-chaussée.

Ces immeubles ne bénéficient pas de l'eau courante et sont insalubres. Ils sont réalisés dans des matériaux grossiers (briques, bois, tuiles de céramique), qui se détériorent facilement, s'effondrent quand les crues du Tibre attaquent les fondations et sont rapidement consumés en cas d'incendie.

Les loyers, au départ raisonnables, flambent au 1er siècle après J.-C., quand les insulae deviennent des logements luxueux et recherchés.

Parure

Premier moyen de se distinguer et de séduire, l'habit est aussi un rempart à la débauche et un signe de civilisation. Il symbolise le statut social du Romain, tout comme le feront ses bijoux ou sa capacité à prendre soin de son corps.

Le vêtement du citoyen

La toge est le vêtement du citoyen, l'instrument de sa dignitas et de son rang social : les esclaves ne portent que des tuniques en toile de jute et les citoyens les plus pauvres des toges sombres. Couvrant le corps, la toge montre la capacité à se maîtriser, à masquer l'intime et à se protéger de ses propres passions.

Le tissu (5,6 mètres sur 2) est drapé de manière architecturale et ajusté avec une ceinture. Il est d'une qualité variée (laine, grosse toile de lin, toile fine venue d'Égypte, coton venu d'Inde et soie importée de Chine) et se porte sur des sous-vêtements (le pagne et le laticlave, une tunique de laine sans manche).

Il existe différents types de toge : la prétexte, bordée de pourpre, est portée par les magistrats en exercice ; la piete, bordée de pourpre et d'or, par le général triomphant; et la laena, sorte de robe d'apparat, par le Roi ou les flamines lors de sacrifices. La trabée est une toge d'apparat: pourpre, elle est destinée aux empereurs ou aux statues de dieux ; safran, aux augures ; blanche à bande pourpre, aux consuls et aux chevaliers.

Le citoyen porte des manteaux : le pallium grec laisse une grande liberté de mouvement ; le lacerna, léger et élégant, est signe de richesse.

À ses pieds, des sandales ou des bottes de cuir : celles des patriciens sont rouges et ornementées d'une boucle d'ivoire en forme de croissant.

Certains sont entourés d'un portique censé arrêter la propagation du feu, souvent déclenché par la négligence d'un locataire laissant son brasero allumé. La loi impose aux locataires de garder des cruches d'eau dans les appartements pour limiter les départs d'incendie.

Le vêtement féminin

Les femmes romaines portent la stola, une tunique à courtes manches tombant jusqu'aux pieds, agrémentée d'une ceinture pour souligner la taille. Sous cette tenue, un strophium sert de soutien-gorge bandeau : il est porté sur la tunique faisant office de sous-vêtement. À partir du ne siècle avant J.-C., la stola se teinte de vives couleurs, sous l'influence gréco-orientale.

Pour sortir, les matrones revêtent une palla munie de grandes coudées et de plis qui leur permettent de se voiler et de signaler leur statut d'honnête femme. Ce manteau peut être complété par une écharpe voilant la tête (mitra) et une ombrelle, pour se protéger le teint.

Aux pieds des Romaines, de jolis souliers fins, blancs ou de couleur, s'ornent de broderies, de pierres et de perles.

Coiffure

La mode de se raser a été introduite lors des guerres puniques. On offre sa première barbe aux Lares avant d'entretenir une légère barbe jusqu'à ses 40 ans. Un homme cesse de se raser quand il porte le deuil.

Les cheveux du citoyen romain sont courts et plats ; ils dégagent le front et la nuque. Le fer à friser (une tige creuse de roseau dans laquelle on glisse une autre tige chauffée dans de la cendre) et le parfum sont mal vus : ils sont l'apanage des femmes.

Sous la République, celles-ci portent de simples chignons. Seul le mariage exige une coiffure complexe : six tresses enroulées au sommet du crâne symbolisent la chasteté de la fiancée.

Les cheveux frisés se développent sous l'Empire : encadrant le visage féminin, ils forment des diadèmes et des chignons extravagants.

Au Ive siècle après J.-C., les femmes rassemblent leurs cheveux dans des filets d'or tissé et portent parfois des postiches, emmêlés de perles et de pierres fines. Elles se teignent les cheveux en blond avec de la graisse de chèvre mêlée de cendre de hêtre.

Maquillage

La noble Romaine entretient son teint de lait avec une crème aux ingrédients douteux (excréments de crocodile, résidu de plomb en pâte, craie), à laquelle elle rajoute un soupçon de nitre rouge pour rehausser ses pommettes. Elle maquille ses lèvres en rouge vermillon, ses sourcils avec de la purée de mouches et d'oeufs de fourmis et ses paupières avec du safran, pour souligner sa richesse.

Elle prend soin de sa peau grâce à du lait d'ânesse ou des cataplasmes nocturnes composés de farine d'orge, d'oeufs séchés, de corne vive de cerf, de gravelle de vin, de bulbes de narcisse, de farine et de miel. Elle dissimule ses boutons et ses rougeurs sous de la fiente d'oiseau.

Elle se lave les dents avec de la pierre ponce en poudre, mélangée à des pétales de roses broyées, de la noix de Galle, de la myrrhe et de l'urine de jeune garçon. Elle maintient son haleine fraîche en suçant des pastilles de myrrhe pétrie dans du vin vieux avec des baies de lierre.

Les odeurs sont fondamentales, pour séduire : la femme romaine se ruine en parfums -jusqu'à 300 deniers le flacon (soit environ 1 000 € aujourd'hui)!

Bijoux

Les hommes portent des fibules décoratives sur leur toge et un anneau-sceau à l'annulaire gauche. Leur carrière militaire peut les amener à recevoir des torques ou des bracelets.

Qgant aux femmes, elles rêvent de bijoux en or égyptien ou en argent espagnol, incrustés de pierres fines. Elles portent des boucles faisant résonner des sardoines, des émeraudes, des cornalines ou des perles à leurs oreilles. Elles agrémentent de breloques de cuivre ou de cristal leurs châles, ornent leurs bras de bracelets à l'orfèvrerie délicate et soulignent la finesse de leurs mains par de lourdes bagues en or serties de pierres précieuses ou de verre travaillé.

Par Julie Proust Tanguy dans "L'Antiquité Romaine",Eyrolles,Paris, 2015, pp. 103-114. Adapté et illustré pour être posté par Leopoldo Costa

A gastronomia virou um importante impulso para o turismo, inclusive em destinos que antes não eram tipicamente associados à comida. França e Itália sempre atraíram gourmets. Mas Espanha, Peru ou México passam recentemente por essa onda, e outros países vêm investindo na área.

Hoje, 10% dos turistas vão à Espanha para comer — são 6 milhões de pessoas por ano, mais do que o total de turistas do Brasil. O Peru cresceu 340% no turismo desde que começou a promover sua comida, quinze anos atrás. O México teve sua gastronomia declarada patrimônio da humanidade (logo, atração turística) pela Unesco.

Já o Brasil não consegue projetar sua gastronomia nem usá-la como chamariz para o turismo. Não que eu sonhe com isso por impulsos nacionalistas— aliás, detesto o nacionalismo, que considero, com a religião, a forma mais eficiente de produzir preconceitos, ódios e guerras fraticidas (em geral, a favor de minorias manipuladoras). Estou fora.

Mas, depois de perder alguns milhares de leitores com o parágrafo anterior, defendo a qualidade em qualquer campo, valorizo a boa comida e acho que o Brasil já teria condições de oferecer ao mundo as delícias de uma cozinha original.

Que condições? O Brasil tem uma gastronomia rica e variada; ingredientes de qualidade e inéditos para o paladar do gourmet curioso; chefs com cultura universal e domínio técnico se debruçando sobre pratos de origem brasileira.

O que falta, então? Uma mirada somente nos países que usei como exemplo mostra que eles, cada um por uma via, criaram uma força de chefs e restaurateurs que promoveram sua cozinha e pressionaram governos a adotar sua causa. É exatamente o que falta no Brasil.

A maioria dos chefs importantes são tão vaidosos e ególatras que se recusam a congregar outros chefs para criar um movimento de promoção da gastronomia.

Nossos governos tampouco entendem o potencial turístico e econômico da  gastronomia, mas isso é comum: países que passaram a investir na área só o fizeram depois que chefs tomaram a iniciativa, criaram seu movimento. As vedetes brasileiras só reclamam que não há dinheiro do Estado; pois nunca existirá se o setor não se mobilizar.

A mídia também tem sua responsabilidade: fascinada pelas tatuagens e formosuras de cozinheiros e cozinheiras, está sempre pronta a promovê-los (e há enormes talentos, claro), mas são acríticos diante da danosa marquetagem narcisista de tantos, calando-se diante da persistente omissão dos chefs estrelas diante das demandas coletivas de toda uma categoria.

Com tantas condições favoráveis, o Brasil já poderia ter explodido no cenário internacional, mas não teve a sorte de ter chefs carismáticos que,no lugar da autopromoção (ainda que utilizando temas brasileiros), tivessem investido em promover a categoria e seu país. Isso teria ajudado a encurralar os governos para mudar o jogo.

Mas,mesmo perdendo essa chance, as condições principais — a rica cozinha regional, os produtos originais e atraentes e os chefs com preparo interessados em modernizar nossa cozinha — continuam dadas.

Resta esperar uma união de chefs e restaurateurs. Não em um pensamento único,uma tatuagem só, perdendo individualidades, mas em uma ação comum que atraia outros setores, como pequenos produtores, para exigir atenção do Estado e promover nossa gastronomia.

O que falta agora é um gesto político. Atenção: não me refiro a um gesto “dos” políticos, mas de política em um sentido mais amplo: forças sociais em movimento.A começar pelas categorias mais interessadas na área. E, claro, também pressão sobre  ospolíticos envolvidos nesta tão bela área do conhecimento.

Texto de Josimar Melo publicado na "Folha de S. Paulo", caderno D-10 Turismo do dia 8 de dezembro de 2016. Adaptado e ilustrado para ser postado por Leopoldo Costa.