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HOW TO EAT

An Ancient Guide for Healthy Living

Selected and translated by Clair Bubb

Princeton   ISBN 978-0-691-25699-3  £14.99

reviewed by Alan Dent

The relationship between food and health is an ancient preoccupation but if you’re looking for advice about to how to control your type-two diabetes, avoid heart disease or lose weight, you’d be well advised no to follow what’s in this book. It’s interest is not as a contemporary advice manual but in what it tells us about its authors and their epochs. Chief among them, naturally, is Hippocrates who is credited with the birth of medicine and whose rational oath is still operative. He advises diets according to season: eat as few vegetables as possible in winter as this will keep the body dry and warm, in summer on the other hand vegetables are fine, especially stewed, as soft food will render the body cool. We can laugh at his advice today, as people may laugh at ours in 2,000 years ((if we last that long), but he is on the right track. Having no microscope, he was unable to identify the micro components of foodstuffs, but he recognised that relationship between food and health and groped for reasonable conclusions. Diet, he counsels, should be adjusted to age and body type as well as season, but to this he adds that walking, briskly in the cold, more sedately in the heat, is an aid to good health. Diet and exercise, just what the medics prescribe today. His belief that infants should be served their wine diluted might not go down too well in a culture which understands the operation of alcohol on the body and the danger of addiction from early consumption and his discrimination between foods good for men and women might be seen as sexist, though there is some sense in his view that pregnant women should take their wine as children should. If running makes you sore, switch to wrestling. Here he seems not to distinguish between men and women. No doubt wrestling is good for fitness, but his paucity of alternatives must strike us as regrettable.  

If you follow Diocles, soon after getting out of bed you’ll be using olive oil; not for cooking but rubbing over your body. In summer it should be diluted, in winter used straight. A brisk walk before a meal provokes appetite but after eating a walk should be sedate. Next might come attending to a bit of business and subsequently, a massage, once again with plenty of oil or grease. People of his era must have been accustomed to being almost permanently oily. The massage over, lunch. You can see who the advice applied to and your bos might ntot be too happy if you spent your morning walking and being oiled, though it beats most modern employment. Drink white barley mixed with wine, eat stewed cucumber, this will keep your weight down during the summer. Stewed cucumber is a little hard to imagine. After lunch, a nap, followed by a bit of gentle housework or business, a stroll, the gym. You can imagine what the advocates of economic growth might make of that as a daily routine for the workers. Everyone, Diocles prescribes, should drink as much as they like. Units per week? Bah, spoilsports. Sex should not be engaged in too much at once. It is good for the cold, moist, melancholic and flatulent but not for the narrow-chested or those without much flesh around the hips. Too bad for them. 

Celsus thinks laziness weakness the body but exertion firms it up and keeps you young. He doesn’t include enforced exertion in menial work, but rather the pleasant sort engaged in by free will. Sex during the day is bad for you and if you ache afterwards, you’re overdoing it. He believes academic types are less robust (it might be interesting to do a survey) and such people should live in a house full of light. Whether the strong should inhabit gloomy places he doesn’t say. If you’re healthy, your urine will be pale in the morning and darker later. The best start to a meal is pickled fish. He disdains “culinary concoctions” because they provoke over-eating and are hard to digest. Quite what this means it’s hard to know. Be familiar with your own body, it will have a weak point and that is what you should pay attention to. Sex should be avoided in the summer. Think what that would do to the tourist trade. 

Galen believes basil is unwholesome, bad for the digesting, but he rejects the myth that if you grind it and leave it in a bowl for a few days it will spontaneously produce scorpions. Dioscorides also takes against the herb: it will ruin your eyesight. Seneca would have nothing to do with mushrooms which he believed were not a food but a mere relish. Lettuce, Galen observed, is bad for the blood, even boiled. Cabbage, on the other hand, is the supreme vegetable, according to Cato. Eat it for breakfast. Dioscorides thought Arugula an aphrodisiac. Hippocrates thought onions good for vision but detrimental for the rest of the body. The humble lentil is recommended by Plutarch, who argues that less expensive things are healthier, not quite the message promulgated by our supermarkets. Galen, however, judges that lentils cause cancer and elephantitis. Still, Pliny the Elder believed they make you good-tempered.  

Much of this contradictory advice is amusing, but the value of the book is its revelation that the ancients were as interested in the relationship between food, lifestyle and health as we are. We have science at our disposal, they were groping in the dark. Here and there they hit on what today we would recognise as scientifically well-founded, but often they relied on intuition, which has no power to comprehend digestion or metabolism. Few of us would think much of a meal of boiled lettuce, but this book reminds us we should eat wisely, and enjoy it.