On the 2nd of October, 1946 the London Evening News contained an abstract discussing how an American scientist was weighing up the “comparative benefits bestowed on humanity” by the discoveries of atomic theory and canning. In 1949, Osman Jones wrote of the article, “the column regards the can as one of humanity’s major blessings; if the tin has tomato soup inside, or asparagus, it becomes the sort of thing which deserves a poetic paean, a fanfare on the trumpet, and half a column of a specially chiselled prose” (p. 2). In a contemporary context, the can has become a juggernaut of social study; in 2000 Simon Naylor wrote “the can, like almost no other technology, is thoroughly ingrained into, and seemingly indispensible to, human life as we understand it” (p. 1637). To understand the mentality which created comments such as these, an investigation into the history of canning must be completed.
The History of Canning
First things first; a step away from the modern conception of the ‘can’ needs to be practiced if the genesis of canning is to be located. Indeed, many contemporary definitions of the ‘can’ assume the use of specific materials – “a container made of sheet iron-coated with tin or other metal” (Macquarie, 1992) – but an inquest into the history of canning will show otherwise. In 1795 a prize of 12 000 francs was offered by the French military to the person who could find a way of preserving food for longer periods of time so that Napoleon’s army would be able to sustain long journeys and conflicts. That person was Nicholas Appert, a confectioner and chef from Paris. His success involved the preserving of materials in tightly corked glass jars, which were sterilised in a bath of boiling water (Howard, 1949). Continue reading