Medieval Tines: A Brief History of the Fork

Join Our Community of Science Lovers!

This article was published in Scientific American’s former blog network and reflects the views of the author, not necessarily those of Scientific American


You may have seen the recent news of a sensor-filled smartfork that vibrates to warn you if you're eating too quickly.

I'm going to reserve judgement on the merits of the smartfork, invented by the French company Slow Control and marketed by HAPILABS, but I think it's interesting to look at this cutlery innovation in the context of fork history, from its origins in Ancient Egypt to the two-in-one spork and beyond. Forks weren't always the well-designed ergonomic tools for shoveling food into your face that they are today. In the 11th century, a Byzantine princess marrying a Venetian aristocrat scandalized Venice by using a fork to eat at her wedding feast. A member of the local clergy condemned this uptight behavior, saying “God in his wisdom has provided man with natural forks—his fingers. Therefore it is an insult to him to substitute artificial metal forks for them when eating.”

After the princess's untimely death, forks remained unpopular in Europe, but eventually spread throughout the continent, gaining popularity over the centuries. In "A Feast for Aesculapius: Historical Diets for Asthma and Sexual Pleasure" in the Annual Review of Nutrition, historian Madeleine Pelner Cosman describes one aspect of the slow cultural and religious shift in fork etiquette and its relationship to the sensual experience of food:


On supporting science journalism

If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.


Almost all medieval feast foods were conveyed to the mouth by elaborate, and often elegant, finger choreography...However, both pinky fingers were extended, never touching food or gravy or sauce, reserved as spice fingers. Dipped into the salt, sweet basil, cinnamoned sugar, or ground mustard seed, then raised to the tongue, the spice fingers displayed a feaster's digital finesse while adding another sensual pleasure: touch of food's texture.

Some modern polite extensions of pinky fingers, serving no physical pur­pose, are cultural remembrances of medieval spice fingers. In fact, a medieval clerical encouragement for use of the fork was to eliminate the pleasure of touch. The fork was generally ignored until the late 16th century as a super­fluous and foppish metallic intrusion between sensual food and willing mouth. Using a fork reduced the "feel" of food. As St. Thomas said, in matters of food and sex, gluttony and lust are concerned with the pleasure of touch.

Given the ceremonial, spiritual, and sensual importance of food-delivery technologies in Europe and around the world, what does the robo-fork say about our moment in time? How will we eat in the future?

Christina Agapakis is a biologist, designer, and writer with an ecological and evolutionary approach to synthetic biology and biological engineering. Her PhD thesis projects at the Harvard Medical School include design of metabolic pathways in bacteria for hydrogen fuel production, personalized genetic engineering of plants, engineered photosynthetic endosymbiosis, and cheese smell-omics. With Oscillator and Icosahedron Labs she works towards envisioning the future of biological technologies and synthetic biology design.

More by Christina Agapakis

It’s Time to Stand Up for Science

If you enjoyed this article, I’d like to ask for your support. Scientific American has served as an advocate for science and industry for 180 years, and right now may be the most critical moment in that two-century history.

I’ve been a Scientific American subscriber since I was 12 years old, and it helped shape the way I look at the world. SciAm always educates and delights me, and inspires a sense of awe for our vast, beautiful universe. I hope it does that for you, too.

If you subscribe to Scientific American, you help ensure that our coverage is centered on meaningful research and discovery; that we have the resources to report on the decisions that threaten labs across the U.S.; and that we support both budding and working scientists at a time when the value of science itself too often goes unrecognized.

In return, you get essential news, captivating podcasts, brilliant infographics, can't-miss newsletters, must-watch videos, challenging games, and the science world's best writing and reporting. You can even gift someone a subscription.

There has never been a more important time for us to stand up and show why science matters. I hope you’ll support us in that mission.

Thank you,

David M. Ewalt, Editor in Chief, Scientific American

Subscribe