FOOD fit only for hogs. Unnatural and dangerous, rumoured to cause sickness. No, not the latest scare story on genetically modified crops but the early 18th-century reaction to potatoes. For 200 years after its introduction, the Andean tuber was strictly animal feed. It wasn鈥檛 until King Louis XVI of France was persuaded of its nutritional virtues that the spud made its way to our plates 鈥 helped along by Marie Antoinette wearing a headdress of potato flowers at a royal ball.
Plus 莽a change. Today, insects provoke similar reactions. Although much of the world eats insects, Westerners tend to turn up their noses when offered a six-legged snack 鈥 unless it鈥檚 being presented as a culinary novelty. That鈥檚 a pity: cultivating insects is more environmentally friendly than livestock, although it poses its own challenges (see 鈥Six legs tasty: First edible insect farm opens in US鈥).
Perhaps better marketing is needed. One way is to downplay the creepy-crawly, by grinding crickets into flour, say. Boston-based start-up Six Foods avoids insect imagery on its marketing and packaging 鈥 even though that鈥檚 exactly what the firm sells.
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Is this the best approach? Recent food labelling spats 鈥 whether over horse sold as beef, genetically modified ingredients or halal butchering 鈥 highlight how much consumers prize transparency. Whether they care about crushed insects in their tortilla chips remains to be seen.
Let鈥檚 turn to history again. Boston harbour crawled with lobsters in the 18th century, but they were considered food fit only for prisoners. The crustaceans鈥 ascent to gourmet foodstuff began when their flesh could be canned and shipped to diners who judged them mostly by their taste.
Processing, then, can help. But the lobster鈥檚 rise was also aided by urbanites seeking to amuse their jaded palates. As with potatoes, it may take style gurus, as well as snack-food vendors, to persuade the doubtful public to develop a taste for insects.
This article appeared in print under the headline 鈥淟et them eat crickets鈥