Tuesday, July 16, 2019

Pot in Pans: A History of Eating Cannabis


    Robyn Griggs Lawrence discusses the use of cannabis in history as mainly ingestion, rather than smoking. She brings forth accepted historic proof that the herb was cultivated for the fiber and seeds,  which were known in the ancient era for mind-altering properties.  Then she buttresses her claim with the research of the French botanist Jean Baptiste-Lamarck. He described cannabis’ properties as “going through the head and disrupting the brain,” and making the user feel drunk and happy. He also researched, and noted, that there were different species of the plant and each one had different strengths. However, Lawrence also claims that the plants controversial status hampered the scientific research into its use. Medieval physicians suggested it as a way to relieve gout, but without modern studies it’s difficult to argue in its favor. The anti-cannabis lobbyists, even the early Reefer Madness films (based on sensationalism and exaggeration) have always been powerful.

   The author doesn’t say it outright, but it seems that pot was considered foreign to the USA, and that may have fed the distrust. It came through Asia before reaching Europe, and was banned by Napoleon. Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas both consumed it in the form of cakes, with the recipe included in Toklas’ famous cookbook. Unfortunately for her (and the US readers) the recipe was removed by the US publishers in an effort of self-censorship, given that it was the 1960’s, and the publishing houses were still in their “Mad Men” stage. Something tells me if they’d waited until the 70’s, Gale Sheehy of New York Magazine would’ve hyped up the recipe in one of her radical chic campaigns. There were high-society characters who brought cannabis to the upper crust of America, like the food writer  Jeremiah Tower, who served cannabis chicken stock in his lavish dinner parties. He would put the cannabis infused soups right between the meat and the watercress, so that it would kick in around dessert time, and the simplest dessert would feel like a religious experience.

   Amsterdam’s cannabis industry, well-written in this book, was ground zero for its use in food, and the city’s tolerance of the herb was a complete opposite of the USA. The Netherlands, aware of the increase in heroin use worldwide, decided to ignore anything that was not scientifically proven to be addictive. There was never any solid conclusive study as to the health risks, but cannabis addicts weren’t going though withdrawal, and there was no prof that it was a gateway drug. However, the Netherlands did not legalize the importation of cannabis, nor write any laws regarding cultivation, so the source was in the hands of criminals.

    Lawrence writes that Cambodia is a country where cannabis as rarely smoked (American backpackers did that) but was used in soups, and the word “happy” became a code word for any food with the herb in it. It found its way into drinks with the multitude of spices available in the region, but thanks to US pressure, Cambodia banned it. Fortunately, the country never had the resources to do a large-scale crackdown.

    While this book is a wonderful trove of history of cannabis in cooking, the author spends a little too much time on the legal issues, and not enough on the benefits. I’m eager to see how it will make its way into the restaurant industry now that states are loosening the laws. Will it find its way into drinks? Will it replace beer and wine? Maybe it will be to 21st Century USA what Absinthe was to 19th Century France.

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