Epicure [antikvár]

IntroductionThere is a communion of more than our bodies when bread is brolcen and wine drunk. And that is my answer, when people ask me: Why do you write about hunger, and not wars or love? M.F.K. FisherOF MAKING MANY COOKBOOKS THERE IS NO END, AND MUCH k study of them is a weariness of the flesh. Every year, ' maybe every week, rafts of new cookery advice float out onto treacherous seas, sails set for their special harbors, their particular culinary niches. Niches exist to be filled, but it says much for the restless inventiveness of cookery in our time that there are any still empty.For ourselves, we aim to make an end run around the niches. As a four-headed team with the unholy crust to call ourselves Epicure, we have been writing since the early seventies about restaurants, food shopsand home cooking, from which these recipes are cuUed. Now in our third decade, we have been observers, a quadricephalic Mme Defarge, at a revolution of mind-bending proportions, as the ancien régime of North America's flaccid old eating habits rumbled past in the tumbrils. In a world shiftingly based on any number of uncertainty principles, anything is possible, but it is hard to believe that the next 20-odd years could conceivably produce change on so radical a scale.February, 1973, when we first tucked in, was a slow month. In the U.S. the Watergate inquiry got gingerly under way. In Canada construction began on Toronto's CN Tower, tallest freestander on earth. The U.S. Treasury accused Canada of dumping aluminum. Wally Cox died. And Epicure, wet and squealing, cut our teeth on veal.