In a sense, "the era" was neo-Galenic, by which I refer to the second-century physician who believed that all bodily ailments could be righted by balancing bodily humors with the right foods, bleeding and herbs. Such is the intent of our focus on finding perfect dietary content. Right food, right bodily reaction, right health.

Unfortunately, that seemingly reasonable tack was swamped by the twin admonitions of "eat all you can of this" and "avoid all you can of that." Any notion of promoting dietary moderation - a key to good health - was overwhelmed by the food industry, which learned how to retool its products swiftly to use dietary guidelines to its benefit (witness new low-sugar Froot Loops); by academics who benefit from grants to research specific foods and avoid the un-PC issue of dietary restraint (so moralistic!) by doing so; and by the health media, who would have a lot less to write about if not for dietary villains.

Trying to banish just this or just that, without changing basic overconsumption, will never work.

Yet if the neo-Galenic moment is over, what will the new era bring?

I say: Bring back the Renaissance. Let's look at how elites in another period of abundance thought about eating.

For the past few years, I have been working on a biography of the 16th-century humanist-merchant Alvise (Luigi) Cornaro. A friend and mentor of everyone from Palladio to Cardinal Bembo, Cornaro is mostly unknown outside Italy and a few circles in the humanities. But for the past 450 years, his book "La Vita Sobria," the first book to seriously argue that dietary moderation can extend one's life, has never been out of print.

As a young man, Cornaro partook of the great feast of merchant life - eating, drinking, staying up late and spanking a few maidens when he got a chance. Then at 35, Cornaro found himself in such bad health - he probably had what we would call Type 2 diabetes - that his doctor told him that he would not live longer than 40 if he continued his ways.

Cornaro couldn't abide by that and, rooting around in classic medical literature, came to believe that if he ate less as he aged - and if he engaged in most things moderately, including work - he would live longer. The key was not what one ate but how much one ate and - here is where today's dietary gurus can learn - eating only what agreed with you. Although he never set hard limits, his focus was on routinely pushing back from the table before he was satisfied. As he put it, he focused on "not eating or drinking more than the stomach can easily digest, which quantity and quality every man should be perfect judge by the time he is 40."

Estimates vary, but most put Cornaro's caloric intake at around 1,500 a day - but that was Cornaro late in life. The menu is what might be called Old Italian Man: some milk with bread in it for breakfast, broth with egg in it for lunch, a small piece of goat or veal meat and perhaps a vegetable later in the day.

And about two cups of wine (white and "new"). This last he termed "my milk."

Cornaro intuited today's scientific inquiry into caloric restriction and aging - how too many burned calories lead to too many free radicals, leading to maimed body cells and illness and death. It was a dietary guideline that got Cornaro, all but dead at 40, to age 83.

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