Steven Shapina prominent historian of science, explores in his monumental work Eating and Being: A History of Ideas about Our Food and Ourselves (University of Chicago Press, 568 pages), how our ideas about the body and food have evolved from ancient analogy-based systems to the quantitative parameters of modern science. This deeply documented book invites us to reflect on how dietary theories have shaped not only the perception of the human body, but also the social and moral dynamics surrounding food.
In the chapter dedicated to the emergence of the modern science of nutrition, Shapin traces a journey that begins in the 18th century, when advances in chemistry and physics began to displace humoral interpretations of the body. In this new paradigm, the body stopped being a fluid system influenced by natural elements and became a machine powered by energy units. This change was driven by figures such as Wilbur Olin Atwaterwho at the end of the 19th century introduced the concept of the calorie as a unit of measurement to calculate the energy needs of the human body.
Atwater not only calculated how much “fuel” different bodies needed, but linked these figures to a social goal: optimizing the productivity of the working class. His famous respiration calorimeter made it possible to quantify the caloric expenditure of various activities, from weaving to metal forging, revealing that, for example, a well-fed blacksmith could need up to 5,000 calories a day. These figures, although revolutionary, were not without tensions. As Shapin points out, while calories simplified diet in numerical terms, this approach ignored the emotional, cultural, and sensory complexities associated with food.
The transition to modern nutrition was not limited to calorie calculation. During the 19th century, chemists such as Justus von Liebig They further refined the analysis of foods by breaking them down into chemical compounds such as proteins, carbohydrates, and fats. Liebig was a pioneer in the study of the nutritional value of foods and developed the famous concentrated broth that would give rise to bouillon cubes. Oxosymbol of food industrialization. However, as Shapin reflects, this shift toward technical language displaced the participation of ordinary people, especially women, in understanding the diet.
While in previous times food preparation was seen as an art closely linked to physical and spiritual well-being, nutritional science turned the kitchen into a space of subordination to the laboratory. However, figures like Eliza Actonauthor of the influential Modern Cookery for Private Familiescontinued to advocate that food preparation, although devoid of formal chemical knowledge, could be carried out in a “scientific” and, above all, intuitive manner.
In Eating and BeingShapin reminds us that although modern notions of nutrition have radically transformed how we understand food, premodern practices and their symbolism persist today. This anchoring to the past, according to the author, is not merely anecdotal: it shows how ideas about the body and food have evolved without completely erasing their historical layers.
In premodern societies, diet was not just a matter of survival; It was deeply intertwined with self-care, spirituality, and personal identity. The humoral system, in force for centuries, dictated that each food had specific qualities—hot, cold, dry or moist—that could balance or alter the individual’s temperament. For example, peaches, considered cold and moist, were recommended to counteract a hot or dry state. Shapin describes how this knowledge was practical tools, accessible even to people without formal education, who could adjust their diets to maintain internal harmony.
Although advances in chemistry and physiology displaced these theories, Shapin argues that the language of analogies lives on in our relationship with food. Expressions such as “good digestion” or “comfort foods” evoke the humoral approach, which saw the act of eating as an exchange between the body and the world. Even practices such as herbal medicine or popular recommendations to “fight the heat with cold foods” refer to this tradition.
A notable example is the persistence of the concept of balance in contemporary diets. Although we no longer talk about humors, the notion of balance—between proteins, carbohydrates and fats—dominates nutritional recommendations. Similarly, the current focus on functional foods—those that supposedly “strengthen the immune system” or “boost energy”—resonates with the ancient belief that diet could shape both body and character.
Shapin highlights how premodern food practices also survive in cultural and family rituals. Chicken soup, recommended for centuries to alleviate illnesses, remains a food of choice, not for its macronutrients, but for the associations of care and human warmth that it carries with it. In fact, figures like Descartesknown for their extreme rationalism, defended simple and traditional dishes as a remedy for the body and spirit.
The author emphasizes that this resistance to change is not a sign of ignorance or rejection of science, but rather a reminder that eating has never been just a physiological activity. In a world saturated with calorie labels and industrial diets, Foods that evoke ancient practices offer a symbolic refuge, a connection to a past where food was synonymous with belonging and community.
Steven Shapin points out that the transition from ancient dietetics to the modern approach to nutrition not only transformed our relationship with food, but also the ethical and moral framework that accompanies it. In the pre-modern era, food was linked to concepts of personal virtue and spiritual balance. Eating “well” was not just a matter of health, but a reflection of self-discipline and morality. However, the arrival of scientific nutrition broke this connection, reducing eating to a functional act aimed at efficiency and survival.
Today, as Shapin points out, food decisions are not entirely unrelated to ethical values, but they have taken on new forms. Food has become a vehicle for political and social identities: choosing organic foods, avoiding meat consumption or prioritizing local products are modern expressions of ethical values. However, these decisions can also become symbols of individual virtue, displacing the emphasis on collectivity and mutual care that defined premodern dietetics.
In his work, Shapin does not reject the advances of modern nutrition, but he does advocate for a more integrated vision that recognizes both science and the cultural traditions and emotional meanings of food. In doing so, it invites reflection on how layers of the past still shape our current practices, and how we can regain a balance between the functional and the symbolic in our diets.
Eating and Being It is much more than a historical chronicle about food. It is an invitation to reconsider the way we relate to food and, by extension, ourselves. Steven Shapin masterfully weaves history, science, and philosophy to offer a rich, nuanced look at how our ideas about the body and diet have evolved over the centuries. Upon closing its pages, the reader is left with the impression that food, beyond its nutritional properties, is a mirror of our humanity: a reflection of our beliefs, values and aspirations. In a world increasingly dominated by numbers and metrics, Shapin’s book is a reminder that eating is, above all, a deeply human act.
