One of the world's best-kept secrets is at risk. A couple who bought the Kentucky mansion of "Colonel" Harland Sanders say they found a 1964 datebook that contains a fried-chicken recipe, listing 11 herbs and spices.
The couple, Cherry and Tommy Settle, say it could be the Kentucky Fried Chicken recipe that's launched nearly 10,000 franchises and ruined at least that many waistlines. The Settles want to auction off the datebook, and KFC has filed a lawsuit against them.
The recipe has been known only to a few employees since the first KFC was launched in Salt Lake City in 1952. In 1999, I interviewed Leon W. "Pete" Harman, who recounted how he helped get KFC off the ground — how he met Sanders at a restaurant course in Chicago, and they talked about his special method for pressure-cooking chicken, how Sanders looked up Harman and his wife, Arline, while traveling through Salt Lake City, how they took him sightseeing, and how Sanders then offered to cook fried chicken for dinner.
By the time Sanders left Salt Lake City, he had a handshake agreement: the Harmans would use Sanders' recipe in their restaurant at 3900 South and State and pay him a nickel for each chicken sold. That was many, many nickels ago.
A secret formula is a company's livelihood. But what about your broccoli casserole recipe? The lady down the street asked for it, then made it for a pot-luck dinner and collected the compliments without mentioning you. Is it worth a lawsuit?
Once in awhile, I'll hear from someone upset that a recipe similar to theirs appeared in the paper, credited to someone else. A few weeks ago a friend was annoyed after reading a newspaper article (not in this paper) that included a cook's recipes, which were almost word-for-word from my friend's cookbook.
At the Deseret News, we try to give credit where it's due. But as a Better Homes & Gardens editor told me, "There's really only about 70 truly original recipes floating around in the world. The rest are variations." You might be surprised how close your spaghetti sauce recipe is to that of Jane Smith in Cincinnati — even though you made it up on your own.
Also, a recipe can be like gossip; once you share it with someone over the back fence, it's passed around and embellished, and you can't get it back. Origins are hard to document. The credit line at the bottom of the recipe could end up longer than the recipe itself — "This salad recipe came from Mary Smith of Provo, who got it from Anne Nash of Orem and added celery, who got it from her Aunt Maggie in Arizona, who has no idea where it came from . . . "
Hey, I'm no genealogist.
A few years ago, I read about a lawsuit where the court ruled that a recipe is a list of ingredients, not a work of art, and can't be copyrighted. But Ivan Hoffman, an attorney who specializes in copyright law, says that "other aspects" of the recipe (such as the directions) can be copyrighted.
I asked six food editors around the country, and they said they credit cookbooks whenever they know that's where the recipe came from. Some won't even use recipes from home cooks.
"Recipes can't be copyrighted, but when it is clear where they came from, someone who deliberately lifts them can get in a lot of legal trouble," wrote Marian Burros of the New York Times.
Other editors say if you change three ingredients and rewrite the instructions, the recipe is now "yours."
"Most of the recipes that I get from home cooks are essentially a list of ingredients (and inadequate ingredients), so I need to rework them anyway," wrote one editor.
But another editor disagrees: "Although it happens all the time, this doesn't mean that it's acceptable (or ethical) to rewrite directions in an attempt to sign your name to a recipe. It's hard work (and expensive) to create and triple-test recipes for publication when you don't have a corporate test kitchen. Those who do this, deserve credit."
"I credit all that I know to credit and just don't worry about the rest," wrote another editor. "Most people don't know the origin of the recipes they use."
Suzanne Martinson of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette explains that printing cookbook recipes in the paper is considered "fair use — a kind of you-help-us/we'll-help-you theory, in which newspaper food editors publicize the book and author. But with the Internet spewing out recipes like so many grains of salt, if I were trying to protect the cookbook that was going to pay for my old age, I'd be worried."
Nancy Baggot, a cookbook author, contends "it's a violation of copyright to publish someone else's recipes without permission, period . . . the issue considered is simply whether publishing the recipes infringes or in any way diminishes the author's earning or potential earnings from the recipes."
She tells home cooks to put their name right by the recipe title and add a hand-drawn copyright symbol and date to the recipe card.
Or don't give out the recipe, period.
Or you could be like Julia Child, who was quoted as saying, "I wouldn't pay too much attention if someone stole a recipe of mine. I guess it would be a compliment."
E-mail: vphillips@desnews.com