The surprising origins of common foods: discussing historical views and modern habits

It was the early 1800s, and Presbyterian minister Sylvester Graham

believed Americans had a big problem—

not just with their bodies, but with their souls.

He argued that overindulgence was fueling their baser desires,

making them immoral and oversexed.

To curb this corruption, Graham and fellow puritanical reformers

advocated for food they thought could curb a variety of appetites.

Following the American Revolution,

things like excess alcohol use were increasingly perceived

as blights on social order and civic virtue in a budding nation.

The 19th century Christian Temperance movement

encouraged abstinence from alcohol, eventually leading to federal Prohibition.

But some branches of the movement promoted even more extreme restraint

across the board.

These reformers had some special areas of interest, including the bedroom.

According to Graham,

even divinely ordained marital sex could fall into harmfully excessive territory

if it happened more than once a month.

And like certain Enlightenment philosophers a century before him,

Graham considered the so-called solitary vice of masturbation

even more hazardous.

He claimed it inflamed the brain and depleted the body's energy,

causing everything from nervous disorders to stunted growth.

To address this issue and others,

Graham recommended measures including plenty of sleep— on hard mattresses;

regular bathing—with cold water; and fresh air— even in frigid temperatures.

But one of his major points of focus was diet.

He thought Americans were consuming decadent, flavorful food and drink

that threw their bodies out of balance, weakened their self-control,

and aroused un-Christian passions.

So to suppress their supposedly hyperactive libidos,

Graham advocated for a vegetarian diet of whole grains, fruits, and vegetables.

And it needed to be bland— no pleasure-inciting spices to speak of.

His signature contribution was Graham bread,

the precursor to the Graham cracker,

made from coarse, whole wheat Graham flour.

He shared the recipe at no cost, encouraging everyone to bake their own.

It was simple: just add water or milk, yeast, and perhaps a pinch of salt—

nothing that might overstimulate the senses.

Positioning himself as a public health advocate,

Graham wrote books and held public lectures,

alleging his diet would even help people survive a cholera outbreak.

However, not everyone was so keen on his moralizing message and tasteless fare—

including angry bakers who protested outside his talks.

And Transcendentalist scholar Ralph Waldo Emerson cast doubt

on the fanaticism of Graham’s movement.

One newspaper reporter is said to have mockingly dubbed Graham

a “philosopher of sawdust pudding.”

And an outraged critic of the Graham diet said it consisted of,

“swill, starch slosh” and “dishwater.”

But Graham also inspired ardent followers, who became known as Grahamites.

Meanwhile, Graham’s focus on digestive health appealed to figures

like nutritionist James Jackson,

who ran a health spa in upstate New York.

Around 1863, Jackson began baking crumbled, granulated Graham flour cakes

into a cereal he called Granula.

And, in the 1890s, John Harvey Kellogg, head of another health spa,

developed corn flakes by steaming, rolling, and baking corn

into a similarly flavorless food.

While Jackson was primarily concerned with preventing illness through diet,

Kellogg continued Graham’s crusade against masturbation.

He called it “self-abuse,” Implicated it in all manner of ailments,

and similarly promoted a dull diet to temper overactive sexual appetites.

But the foods these men popularized would shapeshift

far beyond their original forms.

Granola and Corn Flakes underwent a series of saccharine and frosted reinventions.

And decades after Graham’s death,

the National Biscuit Company began mass-producing Graham crackers

with lighter flours and stimulating sweeteners.

By 1927, people had started sandwiching toasted marshmallows and chocolate

between Graham crackers,

which the Girl Scouts christened “Some Mores,”

and the s’more was born.

The decadent dessert was essentially the antithesis of Graham’s vision—

and perhaps the ultimate ironic twist to his legacy.