One of my many odd callings has been to be a food writer who also happens to do most of the shopping, prepping, cooking, and garbage-hauling in my own homeÖ As a household cook, for example, Iím an apostate from the religions of food and diet that now plague this once-great nation. (Iím not talking about fast food: I happen to think Big Macs and Egg McMuffins are fine.) What bothers me is the late-twentieth-centuryís penchant for doctrinaire pronouncements on the subject of cooking and eating.†For example: Itís gotten so bad that when people are watching me at the stoveówhen Iíve turned off the heat and start to stir four tablespoons of cold butter (yes, I said†butter!) into my†Bolognese sauce to round out the flavor and take up the floating grease (yes, that†works!)ó I have to chase the true believers out of the kitchen lest their pious consciences be offended. Such people donít cook or dine; they sniff around for heresiesóand have fits when they find them. Does that sound like the trouble religion gives preachers in their congregations, or what?
-Robert Farrar Capon,†The Foolishness of Preaching, 57.