At Home - Bill Bryson [89]
Why it is that these two, out of all the hundreds of spices and flavorings available, have such a durable venerability is one of the questions with which we began the book. The answer is a complicated, dramatic one. I can tell you at once that nothing you touch today will have more bloodshed, suffering, and woe attached to it than the innocuous twin pillars of your salt and pepper set.
Start with salt. Salt is a cherished part of our diet for a very fundamental reason. We need it. We would die without it. It is one of about forty tiny specks of incidental matter—odds and ends from the chemical world—that we must get into our bodies to give ourselves the necessary zip and balance to sustain daily life. Collectively, those specks are known as vitamins and minerals, and there is a great deal—a really quite surprising amount—that we don’t know about them, including how many of them we need, what exactly some of them do, and in what amounts they are optimally consumed.
That they were needed at all was a piece of knowledge that was an amazingly long time coming. Until well into the nineteenth century, the notion of a well-balanced diet had occurred to no one. All food was believed to contain a single vague but sustaining substance—“the universal aliment.” A pound of beef had the same value for the body as a pound of apples or parsnips or anything else, and all that was required of a human was to make sure that an ample amount was taken in. The idea that embedded within particular foods were vital elements that were central to one’s well-being had not yet been thought of. That’s not altogether surprising, because the symptoms of dietary deficiency—lethargy, aching joints, increased susceptibility to infection, blurred vision—seldom suggest dietary imbalance. Even today if your hair started to fall out or your ankles swelled alarmingly, it is unlikely your first thoughts would turn to what you had eaten lately. Still less would you think about what you hadn’t eaten. So it was with bewildered Europeans who for a very long time died in often staggering numbers without knowing why.
Of scurvy alone it has been suggested that as many as two million sailors died between 1500 and 1850. Typically, scurvy killed about half the crew on any long voyage. Various desperate expedients were tried. Vasco da Gama on a cruise to India and back encouraged his men to rinse their mouths with urine, which did nothing for their scurvy and can’t have done much for their spirits either. Sometimes the toll was truly shocking. On a three-year voyage in the 1740s, a British naval expedition under the command of Commodore George Anson lost fourteen hundred men out of two thousand who sailed. Four were killed by enemy action; virtually all the rest died of scurvy.
Over time, people noticed that sailors with scurvy tended to recover when they got to a port and received fresh foods, but nobody could agree what it was about those foods that helped them. Some thought it wasn’t the foods at all, but just a change of air. In any case, it wasn’t possible to keep foods fresh on long voyages, so simply identifying efficacious vegetables and the like was slightly pointless. What was needed was some kind of distilled essence—an antiscorbutic, as the medical men termed it—that would be effective against scurvy but portable,