On the Virtues of Historical Entomophagy

“Why Not Eat Insects?” inquires a short book, really a pamphlet, first published in London in 1885. Working against the common perception of bugs as pests—at best, an absurdly obvious nonfood, and at worst, a toxin—the author, Vincent M. Holt (who provided no autobiographical details that might establish his credentials) aimed at reversing his readers’ general disdain for insects as low and troublesome forms of being, as well as the specificWestern objection to entomophagy. Cockchafers, caterpillars, and grubs, he asserted in his opening pages, were “clean, palatable, and wholesome” foods. Indeed, as eaters, these insects were more discerning “than ourselves.” It followed, therefore, that eating insects was not a form of pica (themental and physiological disorder of consuming nonfood items); rather, refusing to eat them was merely a provincial prejudice of Europeans, born of ignorance about the consumption of insects, a practice Holt assured his readers was common around the world. We pose a variant of Holt’s deceptively simple question by bringing to the fore the underlying provocation in his manifesto and critique: why not study food? Why hasn’t food, or the knowledge and practices that surround its production, preparation, distribution, and ingestion, mattered much to historians of science, medicine, and technology? Arguably, the only universal historical constant of human existence (besides death and taxes) is the need to eat and drink. Yet, claims and practices surrounding food and beverages varywidely across time and space. The historicity of food embraces notmerely geographic, economic, and political pressures, but also a wide range of claims—theological, legal, medical, traditional—that shapewhat can, should, orwill be consumed by any person or society. Food has long been an object of serious study across the humanities and social