~30,000 bc
You watch how to find, remove and prepare the seeds; how to use the pestle to grind them against the stone. You watch and repeat. You learn. You grind the seeds, add water. Someone tries spreading the paste onto a hot stone. You watch, you try, you repeat, you learn.
~1800 bc
You heat water, you add fat. You add kurrat, coriander, leek, garlic. You break up and crush dried sourdough and scatter it over the broth before removing the pot from the fire. Later, someone presses the recipe into wet clay.
~ad 1400
You take peas and soak them until they are soft, then boil them. You chop onions and parsley, add them. You take bread, cut it into thick slices, and pour everything over it. Someone later records it on parchment, adding salt and toasted white bread for those better off than you.
~ad 1980
You argue with the others over who will keep Grandma’s recipe book, her slanted handwriting enduring under smudges of grease and flecks of dried dough. In the end, you draw straws to decide. You win. You open the treasure, but search in vain for how to prepare the family stew. She passed away without ever writing it down. With the others’ help, you eventually piece it together. In your curly script, you add the recipe to the battered book, then copy it out on your typewriter to share with everyone.
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~ad 2020
You sit at home, alone, and post: I’m becoming a quarantine cook! First time making every meal from scratch. Called aunt & uncle for recipe: olive oil, chickpeas, lentils, tomatoes, onion, salt, ginger, cloves, turmeric, chilli, cumin, spinach, lemon juice, yogurt to top. Yum! #QuarantineCooking #OldFamilyRecipe
~ad 2050
You walk past the lunch-time printer queue to the printer in the corner that hardly anyone ever uses. Welcome, your X.CeNa is ready. You navigate the menu, ponder your options, select stew. Add protein cubes? Yes. Add mineral and vitamin supplements? Yeah, why not. Select spice level. You know your input won’t matter because the spice-dosage setting is broken. The food will always come out fiery hot — just the way you like it. You grin; one might think someone broke it on purpose. Your stew will be ready in: 3 minutes.
~ad 3000
You can’t bring much, but you can bring memory crystals (the expensive ones, they advised, that won’t be corrupted by cosmic radiation). You store music, holos, v-books and hand-me-down recipes. Old school, they teased you, who needs recipes these days? You watch as the generation ship fills, tightly gripping the small crystal case to calm your nerves.
