Fisher writes about how older recipes used much vaguer language, their authors assuming that cooks would know the "little secrets" of the trade. These idea of elite limited knowledge reminded me of our discussion about "secret menus" at In-n-Out and Jamba Juice; maybe cooks, like modern fast-food patrons, took pleasure in belonging to a skilled club of experts with the same inferred vocabulary. In a way, it also reminds me of the way we interacted with our childhood friends, inventing secret code names that only we would understand, sometimes even trying to create a secret language altogether. Adults do it too, hardly more subtly; professionals in any field sometimes use jargon or advanced vocabulary in order to assert their belonging in a particular group. There is something about language that encourages a feeling of inclusion, and it certainly extends into the vocabulary of recipes.
However, the demographic of the people reading recipes seems to have been changing dramatically since the days of Sir Kenelm Digby's Herring Pie. I think the "club" of professional cooks reading recipes has shrunk, and has often been replaced by non-experts, like working moms making casserole for Christmas breakfast and bachelors trying to make a roast chicken. For many people, cooking is not their primary occupation, but rather an additional skill they use from day to day. So, many of us who buy cook books and look up recipes online are not actually members of that inner circle, and we lack the ability to interpret vague or esoteric instructions. Instead, we require more the detailed, specific vocabulary of measurement and order.
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