New Book Traces Unusual Gastronomical History

Toward the end of the raw food chapter in Frederick Kaufman's new book, "A Short History of the American Stomach," he interviews a woman named Jo-Jo, who describes herself as a "canine nutritionist." The two are at a covert raw-milk drop-off spot, picking up their unpasteurized, unregulated dairy products. Jo-Jo tells the story of why she went au naturel: "When one of Jo-Jo's dogs developed colitis, she started feeding it raw milk, saw health improvements, then went raw herself. 'Kibble is a dead food.'"

Gems like this elevate "A Short History" above a straightforward historical novel. Kaufman is adept at tracing the evolution of strange food habits-from Cotton Mather's obsession with whey to the raw milk crowd, from Benjamin Franklin's temperance to Suzanne Somer's "Get Skinny on Fabulous Food."

The book ranges over gastronomical history, switching from competitive eating to cannibalism within only a few pages. Usually, Kaufman connects subjects skillfully, showing quotes from ancient documents and interviewing key players in today's movements. In the first chapter, Kaufman watches the Food Network with a pornography director named Barbara Nitke. The parallel between the two tactile industries may not seem obvious at first, but after technical and often hilarious deconstruction, it's hard to think of Giada De Laurentiis and Rachel Ray the same way.

The scientific facts-like the creation of high-tech triploid oysters-are easily slipped in with simplistic, straightforward descriptions. Kaufman's subjects are unusual, and the accompanying numbers are just as odd. For example, in 2003 Indonesia imported more than 13,000 tons of cow viscera from the United States. Maybe this statistic isn't the best to share with friends over dinner at Crossroads, but it's a number that lingers even when the book is finished.

Kaufman has a bemused tone that keeps the reader intrigued, even if the science and history seems overwhelming. He has a talent at finding magnificent quotes, great anecdotes that add another dimension to the book. Talking to an oyster specialist near the Chesapeake Bay, he observes the scientist fetching and counting mollusks covered in green and black slime.

"The shed was sweltering and he was soon sweating, soaked with salt water, his face splattered with muck. 'I feel like we're in the oyster version of a meth lab,' he said as he punched the keys of a filthy calculator."

Although Kaufman's engaging writing style is one of the key highlights of this book, he resorts to a few descriptive clichés, cringe-worthy in their feebleness. He details the oyster scientist, writing "Standish K. Allen is a stocky man with a deep-lined, sunbaked face, and his wavy hair, streaked with gray, often falls across but never obscures the intensity of his light blue eyes." Missteps like this are painful to read.

Kaufman's connections also weaken as the book continues. His assertion that "our food mania reflects our titanic geography, our belief in social experimentation, our political idealism" seems a stretch, a valiant attempt to reach a greater insight instead of reveling in the information he reveals. Several chapters in the second half of the book fizzle in their attempts to shed light on the human condition.

Kaufman's tremendous research skills and his journalistic eye for anecdotes and quotes are impressive and combine to make a funny, informative novel. The book may have flaws, but true gourmets will sink their teeth into this overflowing tale of food fascination.

Tags: BOOK REVIEW