Maybe “manifesto” is too strong a word. Treatise? “Statement” is far too mild, and fails to convey the raised fist – or fork – I’m pushing forth with the writing of this essay.

When I set out to write this food column, I was accosted by potential readers as an old person with a bread bag is surrounded by pigeons in a park. Recipes? Recipes? They cooed. Will you print recipes?

No.

Except sometimes I will.

But I hate the notion that food-writing is all about recipes. And I hate the fact that we, as Americans, have become so alienated from, and afraid of, food, its source, and its preparation that we need Rachael Ray to tell us how to open bags, cans, and boxes in order to feed ourselves.

I won’t lie. When I was first learning to cook, recipes were helpful, but only in that they told me the proper way to apply heat to certain foods. How a brisket should be cooked is far different from how I should cook a Porterhouse steak. If I want to prepare chicken breast or a fillet of fish, what are the benefits of poaching, versus baking, broiling, or frying? Why should I brine a chicken? And why does this pork always come out so tough, even thought I just barely cooked it to the recommended temperature? (And that’s a rant for another column: The sad state of supermarket pork.)

Once I learned the basics, all I had to do was experiment. A little bit of this, a lot of that, some of this thing over here. I made some very satisfying meals, and a few I even shared with others I was so pleased with them. I also made more mediocre dishes than any other kind, and a few that were pretty bad. And I have never had the expendable income to simply throw a lot of food away, so I had to suffer through the mistakes. (Even if I had the extra money, my Mom raised me to equate throwing food away with a crime against humanity. It is.)

I’ll admit it: I love cookbooks. I read them like novels, often from beginning to end. (Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin is one of my favorite books ever, because it is a cookbook and a sort of memoir.) It is from cookbooks that I receive more instruction on the basics. I get inspired to cook a vegetable I’ve never prepared before, or to try an old favorite in a new way. Recipes are not the bugaboo; reliance on recipes is what upsets me.

With an understanding of the essentials and a willingness to try, nearly anyone who loves to eat, no matter where they live, can learn to cook at least adequately. Even the smallest grocery store in the smallest town has at least enough grains, legumes, fruits, vegetables, dairy products and meats to allow anyone to receive the proper amount of nutrition and pleasure in a variety of ways.

But Americans have been taught to fear food. Bread and pasta will make nobody want to sleep with you. Eggs are bad for you. No wait, this week they are good for you. Raw food will give you parasites. No wait, raw food is the most healthy. Hamburgers, spinach, raw-milk cheese and scallions will kill you.

Edible food has no inherent desire to kill you, except for maybe that shark coming up behind you… But seriously, it’s not the food’s fault. There are many other places in which to lay the blame: agribusiness, poor handling of perishable foods, fast food, the suburbs, automobiles, processed foods, general bad eating habits, etc. Rather than understand the complexity of the state of modern-day American food, many of us choose fear, and we shirk away, demanding all ears of corn arrive pre-shucked and shrink-wrapped in cellophane so nothing will jump or squirm or crawl out at us when we attempt to eat or prepare it.

Why be so frightened of your food? You are eating it, it’s not eating you. Be brave!

When I was working as a cheesemonger, one of the most common questions I would hear, no matter if it was 10° Fahrenheit and snowing, was, “If I can’t get this cheese home and in the refrigerator within the next hour, will it spoil?”

As a very sarcastic person, it was difficult for me not to answer, “If you eat cheese that has been left out of cold storage for even ten minutes, it will so dramatically alter your DNA that you may want to go straight to the doctor and have yourself sterilized, so as not to cause horrifying mutations in future offspring.”

Do people really think their food hates them that much?

If you want someone to hold your hand because food is scary; if you want someone to relieve you of the responsibility of discovering all the ways food can be combined and enjoyed; if you want someone to tell you exactly how to open bags, cans, and boxes and mush the contents together into something that will fill your stomach and rot your brain, then I won’t help you. Because I can’t.

If you want to learn to appreciate all the things we can eat and drink in this world; if you want to learn the basics behind preparing and enjoying simple foods; if you want to learn food’s sources and histories, then stick with me. We will have a lot of fun together.

CheeseSnobWendy is a defiant advocate for good food, and she can be found holding court at www.cheesesnob.com.