A Bibliography, Critical Review and Translation of the
Ancient Book known as Apicius de re Coquinaria

NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME RENDERED INTO ENGLISH

BY

With a Dictionary of Technical Terms, Many Notes,
Facsimiles of Originals, and Views and Sketches of
Ancient Culinary Objects Made by the Author

INTRODUCTION BY PROF. FREDERICK STARR
Formerly of the University of Chicago

Mary Barber, Battle Creek, Mich.
Morton S. Brookes, Chicago, Ill.
Caxton Club, Chicago, Ill.
Gaylord Donnelley, Chicago, Ill.
F. H. Douthitt, Chicago, Ill.
Helen E. Gilson, Philadelphia, Pa.
John Herrmann, Chicago, Ill.
W. T. H. Howe, Cincinnati, O.
Dr. Samuel W. Lambert, New York, N. Y.
Tom L. Powell, Houston, Texas
Arnold Shircliffe, Chicago, Ill.
W. A. Stewart, Chicago, Ill.
Ernest Sturm, New York, N. Y.
Jake Zeitlin, Los Angeles, Cal.

American Institute of Baking, Chicago, Ill.
E. E. Amiet, Chicago, Ill.
Argus Book Shop, Chicago, Ill.
Kimball C. Atwood, Jr., New York, N. Y.
Baker & Taylor Co., New York, N. Y.
Edith M. Barber, New York, N. Y.
Mary Barber, Battle Creek, Mich.
Ann Batchelder, New York, N. Y.
J. C. Bay, Chicago, Ill.
William G. Bell Co., Boston, Mass.
Albert R. Bennett, Chicago, Ill.
A. W. Bitting, San Francisco, Cal.
Edward W. Bodman, Pasadena, Cal.
Prof. Dr. Edward Brandt, Munich, Germany
Donald C. Brock, Chicago, Ill.
Morton S. Brookes, Chicago, Ill.
John M. Cameron, Chicago, Ill.
Vernon G. Cardy, Montreal, Canada
The Marchese Agostino Cavalcabò, Cremona, Italy
C. D. Champlin, Rheims, N. Y.
George M. Chandler, Chicago, Ill.
City of St. Paul, Minn. Dept. of Education
Cleveland Public Library, Cleveland, O.
Lenna F. Cooper, New York, N. Y.
W. A. Cooper, Montreal, Canada
Cornell University, Martha Van Renn. Hall, Ithaca, N. Y.
Cornell University Library, Ithaca, N. Y.
John Crerar Library, Chicago, Ill.
Franklin M. Crosby, Jr., Minneapolis, Minn.
Dr. Harvey Cushing, New Haven, Conn.
J. O. Dahl, New York, N. Y.
Davis & Orioli, London, England
E. F. Detterer, Chicago, Ill.
George Dommers, Clinton, Conn.
F. H. Douthitt, Chicago, Ill.
James F. Drake, New York, N. Y.
John Drury, Chicago, Ill.
Ellen Ann Dunham, New York, N. Y.
Eugene C. Eppley, Omaha, Neb.
George Fabyan, Geneva, Ill.
Rose Fallenstein, St. Louis, Mo.
Dr. Wm. T. Fenker, Sandusky, O.
Katharine Fisher, New York, N. Y.
T. Henry Foster, Ottumwa, Iowa
Free Library of Philadelphia, Philadelphia, Pa.
Donald McKay Frost, Boston, Mass.
Louise B. Fuchs, Put in Bay, O.
Mariano Gamero, Chicago, Ill.
E. P. Goldschmidt, London, England
Grand Rapids Public Library, Grand Rapids, Mich.
Grosvenor Library, Buffalo, N. Y.
Alfred E. Hamill, Chicago, Ill.
Gladys Hamilton, Detroit, Mich.
Dr. Fred W. Hark, Chicago, Ill.
Herald Tribune, New York, N. Y.
James Jerome Hill Reference Library, St. Paul, Minn.
Walter M. Hill, Chicago, Ill.
Mrs. Julia P. Hindley, Oakland, Cal.
John L. Horgan, New York, N. Y.
Horwath & Horwath, Chicago, Ill.
Hospitality Guild, Stamford, Conn.
Hotel Robidoux, St. Joseph, Mo.
W. T. H. Howe, Cincinnati, O.
Henry E. Huntington Library & Art Gallery, San Marino, Cal.
Hurlbut Paper Co., South Lee, Mass.
Dr. Julius Kahn, Chicago, Ill.
Kroch’s Bookstores, Inc., Chicago, Ill.
Dr. Samuel W. Lambert, New York, N. Y.
Miss E. N. Latzke, Armour & Co., Chicago, Ill.
Maggs Bros., London, England
Abby L. Marlatt, (U. of Wisconsin), Madison, Wis.
Massachusetts State College, Amherst, Mass.
R. B. May, Chicago, Ill.
Howard B. Meek, Ph.D., Ithaca, N. Y.
A. Merritt, American Weekly, New York, N. Y.
Leopold Metzenberg, Chicago, Ill.
Michigan State College, East Lansing, Mich.
Emma L. Miles, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Edward F. Misak, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Mrs. Laurence Montgomery, Gerrard’s Cross, England
H. K. Morse, Chicago, Ill.
Mrs. A. P. Munsen, Marion, Pa.
Jannie McCrery, Lubbock, Texas
O. O. McIntyre, New York, N. Y.
Elizabeth J. McKittrick (U. of Wyoming), Laramie, Wyo.
P. Mabel Nelson, Ames, Iowa
New York Public Library, New York, N. Y.
Hans Nickel, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Northwestern University Library, Evanston, Ill.
Dr. Kurt W. Ossendorff, Chicago, Ill.
Louis Pelzmann, Chicago, Ill.
Pennsylvania Hospital, Philadelphia, Pa.
Peoria Public Library, Peoria, Ill.
Imogene Powell, Chicago, Ill.
Pratt Institute Free Library, Brooklyn, N. Y.
Mrs. A. W. Proetz, St. Louis, Mo.
Public Library, Detroit, Mich.
Public Library of Fort Wayne & Allen County, Fort Wayne, Ind.
Putnam Bookstore, New York, N. Y.
Charles Retz, New York, N. Y.
Dr. Georg Roemmert, New York, N. Y.
Everett E. Rogerson, Chicago, Ill.
Otto Sattler, New York, N. Y.
Walter W. Schmauch, Chicago, Ill.
Louis Sherwin, New York, N. Y.
Jay G. Sigmund, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
André L. Simon, London
Ray Smith, Milwaukee, Wis.
Albert V. Smolka, Vienna, Austria
State University of Iowa Library, Iowa City, Iowa
Renee B. Stern, Philadelphia Record, Philadelphia, Pa.
B. F. Stevens & Brown, London, England
W. A. Stewart, Chicago, Ill.
Dr. Allen Edgar Stewart, Chicago, Ill.
Colton Storm, New York, N. Y.
Arthur Swann, New York, N. Y.
Marion G. Taft, P.T., Chicago, Ill.
Dr. Helen H. Tanzer, New York, N. Y.
The Tavern, Chicago, Ill.
E. Jackson Taylor, Coatesville, Pa.
Max L. Teich, St. Louis, Mo.
Dr. Henry Bascom Thomas, Chicago, Ill.
Nathaniel S. Thomas, Palm Beach, Fla.
C. H. Thordarson, Chicago, Ill.
Toledo Public Library, Toledo, O.
Edith Tranter, Cincinnati, O.
Albert B. Tucker, Chicago, Ill.
University of Illinois Library, Urbana, Ill.
University of Illinois, College of Medicine, Chicago, Ill.
University of Maryland Library, College Park, Md.
University of Nebraska Library, Omaha, Neb.
University of Notre Dame Library, South Bend, Ind.
University of Texas Library, Austin, Texas
U. S. Dept. of Agriculture, Library, Washington, D.C.
Harold Van Orman, Evansville, Ind.
T. Louise Viehoff, Chicago, Ill.
Annemarie L. Vietzke, Chicago, Ill.
George Wahr, Ann Arbor, Mich.
The Waldorf-Astoria, New York, N. Y.
Dr. Margaret B. Wilson, Washington, D.C.
John William Wohlers, Port Clinton, O.
Yale Co-Operative Corp., New Haven, Conn.
Jake Zeitlin, Los Angeles, Cal.
Charles Zuellig, Milwaukee, Wis.

TO

ARNOLD SHIRCLIFFE
STEWARD, GASTRONOMER, AUTHOR AND BIBLIOPHILE

AS THE ACTORS SHAKESPEARE AND MOLIÈRE CREATED
THE BEST DRAMA, SO THE BEST IN GASTRONOMIC
LITERATURE EMANATED FROM WITHIN THE RANKS

The Author

[vi]

SYMPOSION. FROM AN ANCIENT VASE

[vii]

Made from originals and reproductions in the author’s collection

[viii]

Sketched from scenes and objects at Pompeii, Naples, Berlin and
Chicago. Most of the ancient objects are in the National Museum of
Naples with many replicas in the Field Museum, Chicago. The treasure
found in 1868 near Hildesheim is in the Kaiser Friedrich Museum in Berlin

[ix]

The original ancient text as presented and rendered in the present translation is printed in capital letters.

Matter in parenthesis () is original. Matter in square brackets [] is contributed by the translator.

In most of the early originals the headings or titles of the formulæ are invariably part of the text. In the present translation they are given both in English and in the Latin used by those originals which the translator considered most characteristic titles.

They have been set in prominent type as titles over each formula, whereas in the originals the formulæ of the various chapters run together, in many instances without distinct separation.

A system of numbering the recipes has therefore been adopted by the translator, following the example of Schuch, which does not exist in the other originals but the numbers in the present translation do not correspond to those adopted by Schuch for reasons which hereafter become evident.

The notes, comments and variants added to each recipe by the translator are printed in upper and lower case and in the same type as the other contributions by the translator, the Apiciana, the Critical Review and the Vocabulary and Index.

For the sake of convenience, to facilitate the study of each recipe and for quick reference the notes follow in each and every case such ancient recipe as they have reference to.

NY—The New York Codex (formerly Cheltenham), Apiciana, I
Vat.—The Vatican Codex, Apiciana, II.
Vin.—The Codex Salmasianus, Excerpta a Vinidario, Apiciana, III.
B. de V.—Edition by Bernardinus, Venice, n.d., Apiciana, No. 1.
Lan.—Edition by Lancilotus, Milan, 1498, Apiciana, Nos. 2-3.
Tac.—Edition by Tacuinus, Venice, 1503, Apiciana, No. 4.
Tor.—Edition by Torinus, Basel (and Lyons), 1541, Apiciana, Nos. 5-6.
[x] Hum.—Edition by Humelbergius, Zürich, 1542, Apiciana, No. 7.
List.—Edition by Lister, London, 1705, Amst., 1709, Apiciana, Nos. 8-9.
Bern.—Edition by Bernhold, Marktbreit, etc., Apiciana, Nos. 10-11.
Bas.—Edition by Baseggio, Venice, 1852, Apiciana, No. 13.
Sch.—Edition by Schuch, Heidelberg, 1867/74, Apiciana, Nos. 14-15.
Goll.—Edition by Gollmer, Leipzig, 1909, Apiciana, No. 16.
Dann.—Edition by Danneil, Leipzig, 1911, Apiciana, No. 17.
G.-V.—Edition by Giarratano-Vollmer, Leip. 1922, Apiciana, No. 19.
V.—The present translation.
Giarr.—Giarratano; Voll.—F. Vollmer; Bran.—Edward Brandt.

[xiii]

BY

FREDERICK STARR
Formerly Professor of Anthropology at the University of Chicago

NO translation of Apicius into English has yet been published. The book has been printed again and again in Latin and has been translated into Italian and German. It is unnecessary to here give historic details regarding the work as Mr. Vehling goes fully and admirably into the subject. In 1705 the book was printed in Latin at London, with notes by Dr. Martinus Lister. It caused some stir in the England of that time. In a very curious book, The Art of Cookery, in Imitation of Horace’s Art of Poetry, with Some Letters to Dr. Lister and Others, Dr. Wm. King says:

More than two hundred years have passed and we now have an edition of this curious work in English. And our edition has nothing to lose by comparison with the old one. For this, too, is a handsome book, with good paper and good print and fine cuts. And the man who produces it can equally bear comparison with Dr. Lister and more earlier commentators and editors whom he quotes—Humelbergius and Caspar Barthius.

The preparation of such a book is no simple task and requires a rare combination of qualities. Mr. Vehling possesses this unusual combination. He was born some forty-five years ago in the small town of Duelken on the German-Dutch [xiv] frontier—a town proverbial for the dullness of its inhabitants. There was nothing of dullness about the boy, however, for at the age of fourteen years, he had already four years study of Latin and one of Greek to his credit. Such was his record in Latin that his priest teachers attempted to influence him toward the priesthood. His family, however, had other plans and believing that he had enough schooling, decided that he should be a cook. As he enjoyed good food, had a taste for travel and independence, and was inclined to submit to family direction, he rather willingly entered upon the career planned for him. He learned the business thoroughly and for six years practiced his art in Germany, Belgium, France, England and Scandinavia. Wherever he went, he gave his hours of freedom to reading and study in libraries and museums.

During his first trip through Italy and on a visit to Pompeii he conceived the idea of depicting some day the table of the Romans and of making the present translation. He commenced to gather all the necessary material for this work, which included intensive studies of the ancient arts and languages. Meanwhile, he continued his hotel work also, quite successfully. At the age of twenty-four he was assistant manager of the fashionable Hotel Bristol, Vienna.

However, the necessities of existence prevented his giving that time and study to art, which is necessary if it was to become a real career. In Vienna he found music, drama, languages, history, literature and gastronomy, and met interesting people from all parts of the globe. While the years at Vienna were the happiest of his life, he had a distaste for the “superheated, aristocratic and military atmosphere.” It was at that city that he met the man who was responsible for his coming to America. Were we writing Mr. Vehling’s biography, we would have ample material for a racy and startling narrative. We desire only to indicate the remarkable preparation for the work before us, which he has had. A Latin scholar of exceptional promise, a professional cook of pronounced success, and an artist competent to illustrate his own work! Could such a combination be anticipated? It is the combination that has made this book possible.

The book has claims even upon our busy and practical generation. Mr. Vehling has himself stated them:

One word as to Mr. Vehling’s work in America. He was for five years manager of catering at the Hotel Pfister in Milwaukee; for two and a half years he was inspector and instructor of the Canadian Pacific Railway; he was connected [xv] with some of the leading hotels in New York City, and with the Eppley and the Van Orman Hotels chains, in executive capacity. He not only has the practical side of food use and preparation, he is an authority upon the science in his field. His printed articles on food and cookery have been read with extraordinary interest, and his lectures upon culinary matters have been well received. It is to be hoped that both will eventually be published in book form.

There is no financial lure in getting out an English translation of Apicius. It is a labor of love—but worth the doing. We have claimed that Mr. Vehling has exceptional fitness for the task. This will be evident to anyone who reads his book. An interesting feature of his preparation is the fact that Mr. Vehling has subjected many of the formulæ to actual test. As Dr. Lister in the old edition of 1705 increased the value and interest of the work by making additions from various sources, so our editor of today adds much and interesting matter in his supplements, notes and illustrations.

It is hardly expected that many will follow Mr. Vehling in testing the Apician formulæ. Hazlitt in speaking of “The Young Cook’s Monitor” which was printed in 1683, says:

We shall close with a plagiarism oft repeated. It was a plagiarism as long ago as 1736, when it was admitted such in the preface of Smith’s “The Compleat Housewife”:

Old Apicius and Joseph Dommers Vehling really need no introduction.

Frederick Starr

Seattle, Washington, August 3, 1926.

[xvii]

The present first translation into English of the ancient cookery book dating back to Imperial Roman times known as the Apicius book is herewith presented to antiquarians, friends of the Antique as well as to gastronomers, friends of good cheer.

Three of the most ancient manuscript books that exist today bearing the name of Apicius date back to the eighth and ninth century. Ever since the invention of printing Apicius has been edited chiefly in the Latin language. Details of the manuscript books and printed editions will be found under the heading of Apiciana on the following pages.

The present version has been based chiefly upon three principal Latin editions, that of Albanus Torinus, 1541, who had for his authority a codex he found on the island of Megalona, on the editions of Martinus Lister, 1705-9, who based his work upon that of Humelbergius, 1542, and the Giarratano-Vollmer edition, 1922.

We have also scrutinized various other editions forming part of our collection of Apiciana, and as shown by our “family tree of Apicius” have drawn either directly or indirectly upon every known source for our information.

The reasons and raison d’être for this undertaking become sufficiently clear through Dr. Starr’s introduction and through the following critical review.

It has been often said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach; so here is hoping that we may find a better way of knowing old Rome and antique private life through the study of this cookery book—Europe’s oldest and Rome’s only one in existence today.

J. D. V.

Chicago, in the Spring of 1926.

For many helpful hints, for access to works in their libraries and for their kind and sympathetic interest in this work I am especially grateful to Professor Dr. Edward Brandt, of Munich; to Professor Dr. Margaret Barclay Wilson, of Washington, D.C., and New York City; to Mr. Arnold Shircliffe, and Mr. Walter M. Hill, both of Chicago.

J. D. V.

Chicago, in the Summer of 1936.

[1]

[2]

POMPEII: CASA DI FORNO—HOUSE OF THE OVEN

Ancient bakery and flour mill of the year A.D. 79. Four grain grinders to the right. The method of operating these mills is shown in the sketch of the slaves operating a hand-mill. These mills were larger and were driven by donkeys attached to beams stuck in the square holes. The bake house is to the left, with running water to the right of the entrance to the oven. The oven itself was constructed ingeniously with a view of saving fuel and greatest efficiency.

[3]

WINE DIPPER

Found in Pompeii. Each end of the long handle takes the form of a bird’s head. The one close to the bowl holds in its bill a stout wire which is loosely fastened around the neck of the bowl, the two ends being interlocked. This allows the bowl to tilt sufficiently to hold its full contents when retired from the narrow opening of the amphora. The ancients also had dippers with extension handles to reach down to the bottom of the deep amphora. Ntl. Mus., Naples, 73822; Field M. 24181.

ANYONE who would know something worth while about the private and public lives of the ancients should be well acquainted with their table. Then as now the oft quoted maxim stands that man is what he eats.

Much of the ancient life is still shrouded and will forever be hidden by envious forces that have covered up bygone glory and grandeur. Ground into mealy dust under the hoofs of barbarian armies! Re-modeled, re-used a hundred times! Discarded as of no value by clumsy hands! The “Crime of Ignorance” is a factor in league with the forces of destruction. Much is destroyed by blind strokes of fate—fate, eternally pounding this earth in its everlasting enigmatic efforts to shape life into something, the purpose of which we do not understand, the meaning of which we may not even venture to dream of or hope to know.

Whatever there has been preserved by “Providence,” by freaks of chance, by virtue of its own inherent strength—whatever has been buried by misers, fondled, treasured by loving hands of collectors and connoisseurs during all these centuries—every speck of ancient dust, every scrap of parchment or papyrus, a corroded piece of metal, a broken piece of stone or glass, so eagerly sought by the archaeologists and historians of the last few generations—all these fragmentary messages from out of the past emphasize the greatness of their time. They show its modernity, its nearness to our own days. They are now hazy reminiscences, as it were, by a middle-aged man of the hopes and the joys of his own youth. These furtive fragments—whatever they are—now tell us a story so full and so rich, they wield so marvelous a power, no man laying claim to possessing any intelligence may pass them without intensely feeling the eternal pathetic appeal to our hearts of these bygone ages that hold us down in an envious manner, begrudging us the warm life-blood of the present, weaving invisible ties around us to make our hearts heavy.

However, we are not here to be impeded by any sentimental considerations. [4] Thinking of the past, we are not so much concerned with the picture that dead men have placed in our path like ever so many bill boards and posters! We do not care for their “ideals” expounded in contemporary histories and eulogies. We are hardly moved by the “facts” such as they would have loved to see them happen, nor do we cherish the figments of their human, very human, subconsciousness.

To gain a correct picture of the Roman table we will therefore set aside for a while the fragments culled from ancient literature and history that have been misused so indiscriminately and so profusely during the last two thousand years—for various reasons. They have become fixed ideas, making reconstruction difficult for anyone who would gain a picture along rational lines. Barring two exceptions, there is no trustworthy detailed description of the ancient table by an objective contemporary observer. To be sure, there are some sporadic efforts, mere reiterations. The majority of the ancient word pictures are distorted views on our subject by partisan writers, contemporary moralists on the one side, satirists on the other. Neither of them, we venture to say, knew the subject professionally. They were not specialists in the sense of modern writers like Reynière, Rumohr, Vaerst; nor did they approach in technical knowledge medieval writers like Martino, Platina, Torinus.

True there were exceptions. Athenaeus, a most prolific and voluble magiric commentator, quoting many writers and specialists whose names but for him would have never reached posterity. Athenaeus tells about these gastronomers, the greatest of them, Archestratos, men who might have contributed so much to our knowledge of the ancient world, but to us these names remain silent, for the works of these men have perished with the rest of the great library at the disposal of this genial host of Alexandria.

Too, there are Anacharsis and Petronius. They and Athenaeus cannot be overlooked. These three form the bulk of our evidence.

Take on the other hand Plutarch, Seneca, Tertullian, even Pliny, writers who have chiefly contributed to our defective knowledge of the ancient table. They were no gourmets. They were biased, unreliable at best, as regards culinary matters. They deserve our attention merely because they are above the ever present mob of antique reformers and politicians of whom there was legion in Rome alone, under the pagan régime. Their state of mind and their intolerance towards civilized dining did not improve with the advent of Christianity.

The moralists’ testimony is substantiated and supplemented rather than refuted by their very antipodes, the satirists, a group headed by Martial, Juvenal and the incomparable Petronius, who really is in a class by himself.

There is one more man worthy of mention in our particular study, Horace, a true poet, the most objective of all writers, man-about-town, pet of society, mundane genius, gifted to look calmly into the innermost heart of his time. His eyes fastened a correct picture on the sensitive diaphragm of a good memory, leaving an impression neither distorted nor “out of focus.” His eye did not “pick up,” for sundry reasons, the defects of the objects of observation, nor did it [5] work with the uncanny joy of subconscious exaggeration met with so frequently in modern writing, nor did he indulge in that predilection for ugly detail sported by modern art.

So much for Horatius, poet. Still, he was not a specialist in our line. We cannot enroll him among the gifted gourmets no matter how many meals he enjoyed at the houses of his society friends. We are rather inclined to place him among the host of writers, ancient and modern, who have treated the subject of food with a sort of sovereign contempt, or at least with indifference, because its study presented unsurmountable difficulties, and the subject, per se, was a menial one. With this attitude of our potential chief witnesses defined, we have no occasion to further appeal to them here, and we might proceed to real business, to the sifting of the trustworthy material at hand. It is really a relief to know that we have no array of formidable authorities to be considered in our study. We have virgin field before us—i.e., the ruins of ancient greatness grown over by a jungle of two thousand years of hostile posterity.

Pompeii was destroyed in A.D. 79. From its ruins we have obtained in the last half century more information about the intimate domestic and public life of the ancients than from any other single source. What is more important, this vast wealth of information is first hand, unspoiled, undiluted, unabridged, unbiased, uncensored;—in short, untouched by meddlesome human hands.

Though only a provincial town, Pompeii was a prosperous mercantile place, a representative market-place, a favorite resort for fashionable people. The town had hardly recuperated from a preliminary attack by that treacherous mountain, Vesuvius, when a second onslaught succeeded in complete destruction. Suddenly, without warning, this lumbering force majeur visited the ill-fated towns in its vicinity with merciless annihilation. The population, just then enjoying the games in the amphitheatre outside of the “downtown” district, had had hardly time to save their belongings. They escaped with their bare lives. Only the aged, the infirm, the prisoners and some faithful dogs were left behind. Today their bodies in plaster casts may be seen, mute witnesses to a frightful disaster. The town was covered with an airtight blanket of ashes, lava and fine pumice stone. There was no prolonged death struggle, no perceivable decay extended over centuries as was the cruel lot of Pompeii’s mistress, Rome. There were no agonies to speak of. The great event was consummated within a few hours. The peace of death settled down to reign supreme after the dust had been driven away by the gentle breezes coming in from the bay of Naples. Some courageous citizens returned, searching in the hot ashes for the crashed-in roofs of their villas, to recover this or that. Perhaps they hoped to salvage the strong box in the atrium, or a heirloom from the triclinium. But soon they gave up. Despairing, or hoping for better days to come, they vanished in the mist of time. Pompeii, the fair, the hospitable, the gay city, just like any individual out of luck, was and stayed forgotten. The Pompeians, their joys, sorrows, their work [6] and play, their virtues and vices—everything was arrested with one single stroke, stopped, even as a camera clicks, taking a snapshot.

The city’s destruction, it appears, was a formidable opening blow dealt the Roman empire in the prime of its life, in a war of extermination waged by hostile invisible forces. Pompeii makes one believe in “Providence.” A great disaster actually moulding, casting a perfect image of the time for future generations! To be exact, it took these generations eighteen centuries to discover and to appreciate the heritage that was theirs, buried at the foot of Vesuvius. During these long dark and dusky centuries charming goat herds had rested unctuous shocks of hair upon mysterious columns that, like young giant asparagus, stuck their magnificent heads out of the ground. Blinking drowsily at yonder villainous mountain, the summit of which is eternally crowned with a halo of thin white smoke, such as we are accustomed to see arising from the stacks of chemical factories, the confident shepherd would lazily implore his patron saint to enjoin that unreliable devilish force within lest the dolce far niente of the afternoon be disturbed, for siestas are among the most important functions in the life of that region. Occasionally the more enterprising would arm themselves with pick-axe and shovel, made bold by whispered stories of fabulous wealth, and, defying the evil spirits protecting it, they would set out on an expedition of loot and desecration of the tomb of ancient splendor.

Only about a century and a half ago the archaeological conscience awoke. Only seventy-five years ago energetic moves made possible a fruitful pilgrimage to this shrine of humanity, while today not more than two-thirds but perhaps the most important parts of the city have been opened to our astonished eyes by men who know.

And now: we may see that loaf of bread baked nineteen centuries ago, as found in the bake shop. We may inspect the ingenious bake oven where it was baked. We may see the mills that ground the flour for the bread, and, indeed find unground wheat kernels. We see the oil still preserved in the jugs, the residue of wine still in the amphorae, the figs preserved in jars, the lentils, the barley, the spices in the cupboard; everything awaits our pleasure: the taverns with their “bars”; the ancient guests’ opinion of Mine Host scribbled on the wall, the kitchens with their implements, the boudoirs of milady’s with the cosmetics and perfumes in the compacts. There are the advertisements on the walls, the foods praised with all the eclat of modern advertising, the election notices, the love missives, the bank deposits, the theatre tickets, law records, bills of sale.

Phantom-like yet real there are the good citizens of a good town, parading, hustling, loafing—sturdy patricians, wretched plebeians, stern centurios, boastful soldiers, scheming politicians, crafty law-clerks, timid scribes, chattering barbers, bullying gladiators, haughty actors, dusty travelers, making for Albinus’, the famous host at the Via della Abbondanza or, would he give preference to Sarinus, the son of Publius, who advertised so cleverly? Or, perhaps, could he afford to stop at the “Fortunata” Hotel, centrally located?

[7] There are, too, the boorish hayseeds from out of town trying to sell their produce, unaccustomed to the fashionable Latin-Greek speech of the city folks, gaping with their mouths wide open, greedily at the steaks of sacrificial meat displayed behind enlarging glasses in the cheap cook shop windows. There they giggle and chuckle, those wily landlords with their blasé habitués and their underlings, the greasy cooks, the roguish “good mixers” at the bar and the winsome if resolute copæ—waitresses—all ready to go, to do business. So slippery are the cooks that Plautus calls one Congrio—sea eel—so black that another deserves the title Anthrax—coal.

There they are, one and all, the characters necessary to make up what we call civilization, chattering agitatedly in a lingo of Latin-Greek-Oscan—as if life were a continuous market day.

It takes no particular scholarship, only a little imagination and human sympathy to see and to hear the ghosts of Pompeii.

There is no pose about this town, no mise-en-scène, no stage-setting. No heroic gesture. No theatricals, in short, no lies. There is to be found no shred of that vainglorious cloak which humans will deftly drape about their shoulders whenever they happen to be aware of the camera. There is no “registering” of any kind here.

Pompeii’s natural and pleasant disposition, therefore, is ever so much more in evidence. Not a single one of this charming city’s movements was intended for posterity. Her life stands before our eyes in clear reality, in naked, unadorned truth. Indeed, there were many things that the good folks would have loved to point to with pride. You have to search for these now. There are, alas and alack, a few things they would have hidden, had they only known what was in store for them. But all these things, good, indifferent and bad, remained in their places; and here they are, unsuspecting, real, natural, charming like Diana and her wood nymphs.

Were it not quite superfluous, we would urgently recommend the study of Pompeii to the students of life in general and to those of Antiquity in particular. Those who would know something about the ancient table cannot do without Pompeii.

To those who lay stress upon documentary evidence or literary testimony, to those trusting implicitly in the honesty and reliability of writers of fiction, we would recommend Petronius Arbiter.

His cena Trimalchionis, Trimalchio’s dinner, is the sole surviving piece from the pen of a Roman contemporary, giving detailed information on our subject. It is, too, the work of a great writer moving in the best circles, and, therefore, so much more desirable as an expert. Petronius deserves to be quoted in full but his work is too well-known, and our space too short. However, right here we wish to warn the student to bear in mind in perusing Petronius that this writer, in his cena, is not depicting a meal but that he is satirizing a man—that makes [8] all the difference in the world as far as we are concerned. Petronius’ cena is plainly an exaggeration, but even from its distorted contours the student may recognize the true lines of an ancient meal.

There is, not so well-known a beautiful picture of an Athenian dinner party which must not be overlooked, for it contains a wealth of information. Although Greek, we learn from it much of the Roman conditions. Anacharsis’ description of a banquet at Athens, dating back to the fourth century B.C. about the time when the Periclean régime flourished, is worth your perusal. A particularly good version of this tale is rendered by Baron Vaerst in his book “Gastrosophie,” Leipzig, 1854, who has based his version on the original translation from the Greek, entitled, Voyage du jeune Anacharsis en Grèce vers le milieu du quatrième siècle avant l’ère vulgaire par J. J. Barthélemy, Paris, 1824. Vaerst has amplified the excerpts from the young traveler’s observations by quotations from other ancient Greek writers upon the subject, thus giving us a most beautiful and authentic ideal description of Greek table manners and habits when Athens had reached the height in culture, refinement and political greatness.

Anacharsis was not a Hellene but a Scythian visitor. By his own admission he is no authority on Grecian cookery, but as a reporter he excels.

This truly Hellenic discussion of the art of eating and living at the table of the cultured Athenians is the most profound discourse we know of, ancient or modern, on eating. The wisdom revealed in this tale is lasting, and, like Greek marble, consummate in external beauty and inner worth.

We thus possess the testimony of two contemporary writers which together with the book of Apicius and with what we learn from Athenaeus should give a fair picture of ancient eating and cookery.

Apicius is our most substantial witness.

Unfortunately, this source has not been spared by meddlesome men, and it has not reached us in its pristine condition. As a matter of fact, Apicius has been badly mauled throughout the centuries. This book has always attracted attention, never has it met with indifference. In the middle ages it became the object of intensive study, interpretation, controversy—in short it has attracted interest that has lasted into modern times.

When, with the advent of the dark ages, it ceased to be a practical cookery book, it became a treasure cherished by the few who preserved the classical literature, and after the invention of printing it became the object of curiosity, even mystery. Some interpreters waxed enthusiastic over it, others who failed to understand it, condemned it as hopeless and worthless.

The pages of our Apiciana plainly show the lasting interest in our ancient book, particularly ever since its presence became a matter of common knowledge during the first century of printing.

The Apicius book is the most ancient of European cookery books. However, Platina’s work, de honesta uolvptate, is the first cookery book to appear in print. Platina, in 1474, was more up-to-date. His book had a larger circulation. But its vogue stopped after a century while Apicius marched on through [9] centuries to come, tantalizing the scholars, amusing the curious gourmets if not educated cooks to the present day.

Who was Apicius? This is the surname of several renowned gastronomers of old Rome. There are many references and anecdotes in ancient literature to men bearing this name. Two Apicii have definitely been accounted for. The older one, Marcus A. lived at the time of Sulla about 100 B.C. The man we are most interested in, M. Gabius Apicius, lived under Augustus and Tiberius, 80 B.C. to A.D. 40. However, both these men had a reputation for their good table.

It is worth noting that the well-read Athenaeus, conversant with most authors of Antiquity makes no mention of the Apicius book. This collection of recipes, then, was not in general circulation during Athenaei time (beginning of the third century of our era), that, maybe, it was kept a secret by some Roman cooks. On the other hand it is possible that the Apicius book did not exist during the time of Athenaeus in the form handed down to us and that the monographs on various departments of cookery (most of them of Greek origin, works of which indeed Athenaeus speaks) were collected after the first quarter of the third century and were adorned with the name of Apicius merely because his fame as a gourmet had endured.

What Athenaeus knows about Apicius (one of three known famous eaters bearing that name) is the following:

(The instructions given in our Apicius book, Recipe 14, for the keeping of [10] oysters would hardly guarantee their safe arrival on such a journey as described above.)

Athenaeus tells us further that many of the Apician recipes were famous and that many dishes were named after him. This confirms the theory that Apicius was not the author of the present book but that the book was dedicated to him by an unknown author or compiler. Athenaeus also mentions one Apion who wrote a book on luxurious living. Whether this man is identical with the author or patron of our book is problematic. Torinus, in his epistola dedicatoria to the 1541 edition expresses the same doubt.

Marcus Gabius (or Gavius) Apicius lived during Rome’s most interesting epoch, when the empire had reached its highest point, when the seeds of decline, not yet apparent, were in the ground, when in the quiet villages of that far-off province, Palestine, the Saviour’s doctrines fascinated humble audiences—teachings that later reaching the very heart of the world’s mistress were destined to tarnish the splendor of that autocrat.

According to the mention by various writers, this man, M. Gabius Apicius, was one of the many ancient gastronomers who took the subject of food seriously. Assuming a scientific attitude towards eating and food they were criticised for paying too much attention to their table. This was considered a superfluous and indeed wicked luxury when frugality was a virtue. These men who knew by intuition the importance of knowing something about nutrition are only now being vindicated by the findings of modern science.

M. Gabius Apicius, this most famous of the celebrated and much maligned bon-vivants, quite naturally took great interest in the preparation of food. He is said to have originated many dishes himself; he collected much material on the subject and he endowed a school for the teaching of cookery and for the promotion of culinary ideas. This very statement by his critics places him high in our esteem, as it shows him up as a scientist and educator. He spent his vast fortune for food, as the stories go, and when he had only a quarter million dollars left (a paltry sum today but a considerable one in those days when gold was scarce and monetary standards in a worse muddle than today) Apicius took his own life, fearing that he might have to starve to death some day.

This story seems absurd on the face of it, yet Seneca and Martial tell it (both with different tendencies) and Suidas, Albino and other writers repeat it without critical analysis. These writers who are unreliable in culinary matters anyway, claim that Apicius spent one hundred million sestertii on his appetite—in gulam. Finally when the hour of accounting came he found that there were only ten million sestertii left, so he concluded that life was not worth living if his gastronomic ideas could no longer be carried out in the accustomed and approved style, and he took poison at a banquet especially arranged for the occasion.

In the light of modern experience with psychology, with economics, depressions, journalism, we focus on this and similar stories, and we find them thoroughly unreliable. We cannot believe this one. It is too melodramatic, too [11] moralistic perhaps to suit our modern taste. The underlying causes for the conduct, life and end of Apicius have not been told. Of course, we have to accept the facts as reported. If only a Petronius had written that story! What a story it might have been! But there is only one Petronius in antiquity. His Trimalchio, former slave, successful profiteer and food speculator, braggard and drunkard, wife-beater—an upstart who arranged extravagant banquets merely to show off, who, by the way, also arranged for his funeral at his banquet (Apician fashion and, indeed, Petronian fashion! for Petronius died in the same manner) and who peacefully “passed out” soundly intoxicated—this man is a figure true to life as it was then, as it is now and as it probably will continue to be. Last but not least: Mrs. Trimalchio, the resolute lady who helped him “make his pile”—these are human characters much more real, much more trustworthy than anything and everything else ever depicted by any ancient pen; they bring out so graphically the modernity of antiquity. Without Petronius and Pompeii the antique world would forever remain at an inexplicably remote distance to our modern conception of life. With him, and with the dead city, the riddles of antiquity are cleared up.

Many dishes listed in Apicius are named for various celebrities who flourished at a later date than the second Apicius. It is noteworthy, however, that neither such close contemporaries as Heliogabalus and Nero, notorious gluttons, nor Petronius, the arbiter of fashion of the period, are among the persons thus honored. Vitellius, a later glutton, is well represented in the book. It is fair to assume, then, that the author or collector of our present Apicius lived long after the second Apicius, or, at least, that the book was augmented by persons posterior to M. Gabius A. The book in its present state was probably completed about the latter part of the third century. It is almost certain that many recipes were added to a much earlier edition.

We may as well add another to the many speculations by saying that it is quite probable for our book to originate in a number of Greek manuals or monographs on specialized subjects or departments of cookery. Such special treatises are mentioned by Athenaeus (cf. Humelbergius, quoted by Lister). The titles of each chapter (or book) are in Greek, the text is full of Greek terminology. While classification under the respective titles is not strictly adhered to at all times, it is significant that certain subjects, that of fish cookery, for instance, appear twice in the book, the same subject showing treatment by widely different hands. Still more significant is the absence in our book of such important departments as desserts—dulcia—confections in which the ancients were experts. Bakery, too, even the plainest kind, is conspicuously absent in the Apician books. The latter two trades being particularly well developed, were departmentalized to an astonishing degree in ancient Greece and Rome. These [12] indispensable books are simply wanting in our book if it be but a collection of Greek monographs. Roman culture and refinement of living, commencing about 200-250 years before our era was under the complete rule of Hellas. Greek influence included everybody from philosophers, artists, architects, actors, law-makers to cooks.

“The conquered thus conquered the conquerors.”

Humelbergius makes a significant reference to the origin of Apicius. We confess, we have not checked up this worthy editor nor his successor, Dr. Lister, whom he quotes in the preface as to the origin of our book. With reference to Plato’s work, Humelbergius says:

In our opinion, unfounded of course by positive proof, the Apicius book is somewhat of a gastronomic bible, consisting of ten different books by several authors, originating in Greece and taken over by the Romans along with the rest of Greek culture as spoils of war. These books, or chapters, or fragments thereof, must have been in vogue long before they were collected and assembled in the present form. Editions, or copies of the same must have been numerous, either singly or collectively, at the beginning of our era. As a matter of fact, the Excerpts by Vinidarius, found in the codex Salmasianus prove this theory and give rise to the assumption that the Apicius book was a standard work for cookery that existed at one time or other in a far more copious volume and that the present Apicius is but a fragment of a formerly vaster and more complete collection of culinary and medical formulæ.

Thus a fragmentary Apicius has been handed down to us in manuscript form through the centuries, through the revolutionary era of Christian ascendancy, through the dark ages down to the Renaissance. Unknown agencies, mostly medical and monastic, stout custodians of antique learning, reverent lovers of good cheer have preserved it for us until printing made possible the book’s wide distribution among the scholars. Just prior to Gutenberg’s epoch-making printing press there was a spurt of interest in our book in Italy, as attested to by a dozen of manuscripts, copied in the fourteenth and the fifteenth centuries.

Apicius may justly be called the world’s oldest cookery book; the very old Sanscrit book, Vasavarayeyam, unknown to us except by name, is said to be a tract on vegetarian cookery.

The men who have preserved this work for future generations, who have made it accessible to the public (as was Lister’s intention) have performed a service to civilization that is not to be underestimated. They have done better than the average archaeologist with one or another find to his credit. The Apicius book is a living thing, capable of creating happiness. Some gastronomic writers have pointed out that the man who discovers a new dish does more for humanity than the man who discovers a new star, because the discovery of a new dish affects the happiness of mankind more pleasantly than the addition of a new [13] planet to an already overcrowded chart of the universe. Viewing Apicius from such a materialistic point of view he should become very popular in this age of ours so keen for utilities of every sort.

The name of another personality is introduced in connection with the book, namely that of Cœlius or Cælius. This name is mentioned in the title of the first undated edition (ca. 1483-6) as Celius. Torinus, 1541, places “Cælius” before “Apicius”; Humelbergius, 1542, places “Cœlius” after A. Lister approves of this, berating Torinus for his willful methods of editing the book: “En hominem in conjecturis sane audacissimus!” If any of them were correct about “Cœlius,” Torinus would be the man. (Cf. Schanz, Röm. Lit. Gesch., Müller’s Handbuch d. klass. Altertums-Wissenschaft, V III, 112, p. 506.) However, there is no raison d’être for Cœlius.

His presence and the unreality thereof has been cleared up by Vollmer, as will be duly shown. The squabble of the medieval savants has also given rise to the story that Apicius is but a joke perpetrated upon the world by a medieval savant. This will be refuted also later on. Our book is a genuine Roman. Medieval savants have made plenty of Roman “fakes,” for sundry reasons. A most ingenious hoax was the “completion” of the Petronius fragment by a scholar able to hoodwink his learned contemporaries by an exhibition of Petronian literary style and a fertile imagination. Ever so many other “fakers” were shown up in due time. When this version of Petronius was pronounced genuine by the scientific world, the perpetrator of the “joke” confessed, enjoying a good laugh at the expense of his colleagues. But we shall presently understand how such a “joke” with Apicius would be impossible. Meanwhile, we crave the indulgence of the modern reader with our mention of Cœlius. We desire to do full justice to the ancient work and complete the presentation of its history. The controversies that have raged over it make this course necessary.

Our predecessors have not had the benefit of modern communication, and, therefore, could not know all that is to be known on the subject. We sympathize with Lister yet do not condemn Torinus. If Torinus ever dared making important changes in the old text, they are easily ascertained by collation with other texts. This we have endeavored to do. Explaining the discrepancies, it will be noted that we have not given a full vote of confidence to Lister.

Why should the mysterious Cœlius or Cælius, if such an author or compiler of a tome on cookery existed affix the name of “Apicius” to it? The reason would be commercial gain, prestige accruing from the name of that cookery celebrity. Such business sense would not be extraordinary. Modern cooks pursue the same method. Witness the innumerable à la soandsos. Babies, apartment houses, streets, cities, parks, dogs, race horses, soap, cheese, herring, cigars, hair restorers are thus named today. “Apicius” on the front page of any ancient cookery book would be perfectly consistent with the ancient spirit of advertising. It has been [14] stated, too, that Cœlius had more than one collaborator. Neither can this be proven.

The copyists have made many changes throughout the original text. Misspelling of terms, ignorance of cookery have done much to obscure the meaning. The scribes of the middle ages had much difficulty in this respect since medieval Latin is different from Apician language.

The very language of the original is proof for its authenticity. The desire of Torinus to interpret to his medieval readers the ancient text is pardonable. How much or how little he succeeded is attested to by some of his contemporary readers, former owners of our copies. Scholars plainly confess inability to decipher Apicius by groans inscribed on the fly leaves and title pages in Latin, French and other languages. One French scholar of the 16th century, apparently “kidded” for studying an undecipherable cook book, stoically inscribes the title page of our Lyon, 1541, copy with: “This amuses me. Why make fun of me?” This sort of message, reaching us out of the dim past of bygone centuries is among the most touching reading we have done, and has urged us on with the good though laborious and unprofitable work.

Notwithstanding its drawbacks, our book is a classic both as to form and contents. It has served as a prototype of most ancient and modern books. Its influence is felt to the present day.

The book has often been cited by old writers as proof of the debaucheries and the gluttony of ancient Rome. Nothing could be further from the truth because these writers failed to understand the book.

The Apicius book reflects the true condition (partly so, because it is incomplete) of the kitchen prevailing at the beginning of our era when the mistress of the Old World was in her full regalia, when her ample body had not yet succumbed to that fatty degeneration of the interior so fatal to ever so many individuals, families, cities and nations.

We repeat, our Apicius covers Rome’s healthy epoch; hence the importance of the book. The voluptuous concoctions, the fabulous dishes, the proverbial excesses that have made decent people shudder with disgust throughout the ages are not known to Apicius. If they ever existed at all in their traditional ugliness they made their appearance after Apicius’ time. We recall, Petronius, describing some of these “stunts” is a contemporary of Nero (whom he satirizes as “Trimalchio”). So is Seneca, noble soul, another victim of Cæsarean insanity; he, too, describes Imperial excesses. These extremely few foolish creations are really at the bottom of the cause for this misunderstanding of true Roman life. Such stupidity has allowed the joy of life which, as Epikuros and Platina believe, may be indulged in with perfect virtue and honesty to become a byword among all good people who are not gastronomers either by birth, by choice or by training.

With due justice to the Roman people may we be permitted to say that proverbial excesses were exceedingly rare occurrences. The follies and the vices [15] of a Nero, a boy Heliogabalus, a Pollio, a Vitellius and a few other notorious wasters are spread sporadically over a period of at least eight hundred years. Between these cases of gastronomic insanity lie wellnigh a thousand years of everyday grind and drudgery of the Roman people. The bulk was miserably fed as compared with modern standards of living. Only a few patricians could afford “high living.” Since a prosperous bourgeoisie (usually the economic and gastronomic background of any nation) was practically unknown in Rome, where the so-called middle classes were in reality poor, shiftless and floating freedmen, it is evident that the bulk of the population because of the empire’s unsettled economic conditions, its extensive system of slavery (precluding all successful practice of trades by freemen), the continuous military operations, the haphazard financial system, was forced to live niggardly. The contrast between the middle classes and the upper classes seemed very cruel. This condition may account for the many outcries against the “extravagances” of the few privileged ones who could afford decent food and for the exaggerated stories about their table found in the literature of the time.

The seemingly outlandish methods of Apician food preparation become plain and clear in the light of social evolution. “Evolution” is perhaps not the right word to convey our idea of social perpetual motion.

Apicius used practically all the cooking utensils in use today. He only lacked gas, electricity and artificial refrigeration, modern achievements while useful in the kitchen and indispensable in wholesale production and for labor saving, that have no bearing on purely gastronomical problems. There is only one difference between the cooking utensils of yore and the modern products: the old ones are hand-made, more individualistic, more beautiful, more artistic than our machine-made varieties.

Despite his strangeness and remoteness, Apicius is not dead by any means. We have but to inspect (as Gollmer has pointed out) the table of the Southern Europeans to find Apician traditions alive. In the Northern countries, too, are found his traces. To think that Apicius should have survived in the North of Europe, far removed from his native soil, is a rather audacious suggestion. But the keen observer can find him in Great Britain, Scandinavia and the Baltic provinces today. The conquerors and seafarers coming from the South have carried the pollen of gastronomic flowers far into the North where they adjusted themselves to soil and climate. Many a cook of the British isles, of Southern Sweden, Holstein, Denmark, Friesland, Pomerania still observes Apicius rules though he may not be aware of the fact.

We must realize that Apicius is only a book, a frail hand-made record and that, while the record itself might have been forgotten, its principles have become international property, long ago. Thus they live on. Like a living thing—a language, a custom, they themselves may have undergone changes, “improvements,” alterations, augmentation, corruption. But the character has been preserved; a couple of thousand years are, after all, but a paltry matter. Our [16] own age is but the grandchild of antiquity. The words we utter, in their roots, are those of our grandfathers. And so do many dishes we eat today resemble those once enjoyed by Apicius and his friends.

Is it necessary to point the tenacity of the spirit of the Antique, reaching deep into the modern age? The latest Apicius edition in the original Latin is dated 1922!

The gastronomic life of Europe was under the complete rule of old Rome until the middle of the seventeenth century. Then came a sudden change for modernity, comparable to the rather abrupt change of languages from the fashionable Latin to the national idioms and vernacular, in England and Germany under the influence of literary giants like Luther, Chaucer, Shakespeare.

All medieval food literature of the continent and indeed the early cookery books of England prior to La Varenne (Le Cuisinier François, 1654) are deeply influenced by Apicius. The great change in eating, resulting in a new gastronomic order, attained its highest peak of perfection just prior to the French revolution. Temporarily suspended by this social upheaval, it continued to flourish until about the latter part of last century. The last decades of this new order is often referred to as the classical period of gastronomy, with France claiming the laurels for its development. “Classic” for reasons we do not know (Urbain Dubois, outstanding master of this period wrote “La Cuisine classique”) except that its precepts appeal as classical to our notion of eating. This may not correspond to the views of posterity, we had therefore better wait a century or two before proclaiming our system of cookery “classical.”

Disposing of that old “classic,” Apicius, as slowly as a conservative cooking world could afford to do, the present nations set out to cultivate a taste for things that a Roman would have pronounced unfit for a slave. Still, the world moves on. Conquest, discovery of foreign parts, the New World, contributed fine things to the modern table,—old forgotten foods were rediscovered—endless lists of materials and combinations, new daring, preposterous dishes that made the younger generation rejoice while old folks looked on gasping with dismay, despair, contempt.

Be it sufficient to remark that the older practitioners of our own days, educated in “classic” cuisine again are quite apprehensive of their traditions endangered by the spirit of revolt of the young against the old. Again and again we hear of a decline that has set in, and even by the best authorities alarmist notes are spread to the effect that “we have begun our journey back, step by step to our primitive tree and our primitive nuts” (Pennell. Does Spengler consider food in his “Decline of the West?”).

It matters not whether we share this pessimism, nor what we may have to say pro or con this question of “progress” or “retrogression” in eating (or in anything else for that matter). In fact we are not concerned with the question here more than to give it passing attention.

If “classic” cookery is dying nowadays, if it cannot reassert itself that would be a loss to mankind. But this classic cookery system has so far only been the [17] sole and exclusive privilege of a dying aristocracy. It seems quite in order that it should go under in the great Götterdämmerung that commenced with the German peasants wars of the sixteenth century, flaring up (as the second act) in the French revolution late in the eighteenth century, the Act III of which drama has been experienced in our own days.

The common people as yet have never had an active part in the enjoyment of the classic art of eating. So far, they always provided the wherewithal, and looked on, holding the bag. Modern hotels, because of their commercial character, have done little to perpetuate it. They merely have commercialized the art. Beyond exercising ordinary salesmanship, our maîtres d’hôtel have not educated our nouveaux riches in the mysteries and delights of gastronomy. Hotelmen are not supposed to be educators, they merely cater to a demand. And our new aristocracy has been too busy with limousines, golf, divorces and electricity to bemourn the decline of classic cookery.

Most people “get by” without the benefit of classic cookery, subsisting on a medley of edibles, tenaciously clinging to mother’s traditions, to things “as she used to make them,” and mother’s methods still savor of Apicius. Surely, this is no sign of retrogression but of tenacity.

The only fundamental difference between Roman dining and that of our own times may be found in these two indisputable facts—

(First) Devoid of the science of agriculture, without any advanced mechanical means, food was not raised in a very systematic way; if it happened to be abundant, Roma lacked storage and transportation facilities to make good use of it. There never were any food supplies on any large, extensive and scientific scale, hence raw materials, the wherewithal of a “classic” meal, were expensive.

(Second) Skilled labor, so vital for the success of any good dinner, so imperative for the rational preparation of food was cheap to those who held slaves.

Hence, the culinary conditions of ancient Rome were exactly the opposite of today’s state of affairs. Then, good food was expensive while good labor was cheap. Now, good food is cheap while skilled labor is at a premium. Somehow, good, intelligent “labor” is reluctant to devote itself to food. That is another story. The chances for a good dinner seemed to be in favor of the Romans—but only for a favored few. Those of us, although unable to command a staff of experts, but able to prepare their own meals rationally and serve them well are indeed fortunate. With a few dimes they may dine in royal fashion. If our much maligned age has achieved anything at all it has at least enabled the working “slave” of the “masses” to dine in a manner that even princes could hardly match in former days, a manner indeed that the princes of our own time could not improve upon. The fly in the ointment is that most modern people do not know how to handle and to appreciate food. This condition, however, may be remedied by instruction and education.

Slowly, the modern masses are learning to emulate their erstwhile masters in the art of eating. They have the advantages of the great improvements in provisioning as compared with former days, thanks chiefly to the great lines of [18] communication established by modern commerce, thanks to scientific agriculture and to the spirit of commercial enterprise and its resulting prosperity.

There are two “Ifs” in the path to humanity’s salvation, at least, that of its table. If the commercialization of cookery, i.e., the wholesale production of ready-made foods for the table does not completely enthrall the housewife and if we can succeed to educate the masses to make rational, craftsmanlike use of our wonderful stores of edibles, employing or modifying to this end the rules of classic cookery, there really should be no need for any serious talk about our journey back to the primitive nuts. Even Spengler might be wrong then. Adequate distribution of our foods and rational use thereof seem to be one of the greatest problems today.

Age-old mysteries surrounding our book have not yet been cleared up. Medieval savants have squabbled in vain. Mrs. Pennell’s worries and the fears of the learned Englishmen that Apicius might be a hoax have proven groundless. Still, the mystery of this remarkable book is as perplexing as ever. The authorship will perhaps never be established. But let us forever dispel any doubt about its authenticity.

Modern writers have never doubted the genuineness. To name but a few who believe in Apicius: Thudichum, Vollmer, Brandt, Vicaire, Rumohr, Schuch, Habs, Gollmer.

What matters the identity of the author? Who wrote the Iliad, the Odyssey, the Nibelungen-Lied? Let us be thankful for possessing them!

Apicius is a genuine document of Roman imperial days. There can be no doubt of that!

The unquestionable age of the earliest known manuscripts alone suffices to prove this.

The philologist gives his testimony, too. A medieval scholar could never have manufactured Apicius, imitating his strikingly original terminology. “Faking” a technical treatise requires an intimate knowledge of technical terms and familiarity with the ramifications of an intricate trade. We recommend a comparison of Platina’s text with Apicius: the difference of ancient and medieval Latin is convincing. Striking examples of this kind have been especially noted in our dictionary of technical terms.

H. C. Coote, in his commentary on Apicius (cit. Apiciana) in speaking of pan gravy, remarks:

[19] This scholar goes on quoting from Plautus, Captivi, Act I, sc. 2, vv. 12, 13; Amphitruo, Act I, sc. q.v. 116 and ibid. v. 174; and from Asinaria, Act IV, sc. 2, vv. 16 and 17 to prove this, and he further says:

Coote is a very able commentator. He has translated in the article quoted a number of Apician formulæ; and betrays an unusual culinary knowledge.

Modern means of communication and photography have enabled scientists in widely different parts to study our book from all angles, to scrutinize the earliest records, the Vatican and the New York manuscripts and the codex Salmasianus in Paris.

Friedrich Vollmer, of Munich, in his Studien (cit. Apiciana) has treated the manuscripts exhaustively, carrying to completion the research begun by Schuch, Traube, Ihm, Studemund, Giarratano and others with Brandt, his pupil, carrying on the work of Vollmer. More modern scientists deeply interested in the origin of our book! None doubting its genuineness.

Vollmer is of the opinion that there reposed in the monastery of Fulda, Germany, an Archetypus which in the ninth century was copied twice: once in a Turonian hand—the manuscript now kept in the Vatican—the other copy written partly in insular, partly in Carolingian minuscle—the Cheltenham codex, now in New York. The common source at Fulda of these two manuscripts has been established by Traube. There is another testimony pointing to Fulda as the oldest known source. Pope Nicholas V commissioned Enoche of Ascoli to acquire old manuscripts in Germany. Enoche used as a guide a list of works based upon observations by Poggio in Germany in 1417, listing the Apicius of Fulda. Enoche acquired the Fulda Apicius. He died in October or November, 1457. On December 10th of that year, so we know, Giovanni de’Medici requested Stefano de’Nardini, Governor of Ancona, to procure for him from Enoche’s estate either in copy or in the original the book, entitled, Appicius de re quoquinaria (cf. No. 3, Apiciana). It is interesting to note that one of the Milanese editions of 1498 bears a title in this particular spelling. Enoche during his life time had lent the book to Giovanni Aurispa.

It stands to reason that Poggio, in 1417, viewed at Fulda the Archetypus of our Apicius, father of the Vatican and the New York manuscripts, then already mutilated and wanting books IX and X. Six hundred years before the arrival of Poggio the Fulda book was no longer complete. Already in the ninth century its title page had been damaged which is proven by the title page of the Vatican copy which reads:

[20]

That’s all! The New York copy, it has been noted, has no title page. This book commences in the middle of the list of chapters; the first part of them and the title page are gone. We recall that the New York manuscript was originally bound up with another manuscript, also in the Phillipps library at Cheltenham. The missing page or pages were probably lost in separating the two manuscripts. It is possible that Enoche carried with him to Italy one of the ancient copies, very likely the present New York copy, then already without a title. At any rate, not more than twenty-five years after his book hunting expedition we find both copies in Italy. It is strange, furthermore, that neither of these two ancient copies were used by the fifteenth century copyists to make the various copies distributed by them, but that an inferior copy of the Vatican Ms. became the vulgata—the progenitor of this series of medieval copies. One must bear in mind how assiduously medieval scribes copied everything that appeared to be of any importance to them, and how each new copy by virtue of human fallibility or self-sufficiency must have suffered in the making, and it is only by very careful comparison of the various manuscripts that the original text may be rehabilitated.

This, to a large extent, Vollmer and Giarratano have accomplished. Vollmer, too, rejects the idea invented by the humanists, that Apicius had a collaborator, editor or commentator in the person of Cœlius or Cælius. This name, so Vollmer claims, has been added to the book by medieval scholars without any reason except conjecture for such action. They have been misled by the mutilated title: Api... Cæ...; Vollmer reconstructs this title as follows:

Remember, it is the title page only that is thus mutilated. The ten books or chapters bear the full name of Apicius, never at any time does the name of Cœlius appear in the text, or at the head of the chapters.

The Archetypus, with the book and the chapters carefully indexed and numbered as they were, with each article neatly titled, the captions and capital letters rubricated—heightened by red color, and with its proper spacing of the articles and chapters must once have been a representative example of the art of book making as it flourished towards the end of the period that sealed the fate of the Roman empire, when books of a technical nature, law books, almanacs, army lists had been developed to a high point of perfection. Luxurious finish, elaborate illumination point to the fact that our book (the Vatican copy) was intended for the use in some aristocratic household.

And now, from a source totally different than the two important manuscripts so much discussed here, we receive additional proof of the authenticity of [21] Apicius. In the codex Salmasianus (cf. III, Apiciana) we find some thirty formulæ attributed to Apicius, entitled: Apici excerpta a Vinidario vir. inl. They have been accepted as genuine by Salmasius and other early scholars. Schuch incorporated the excerpta with his Apicius, placing the formulæ in what he believed to be the proper order. This course, for obvious reasons, is not to be recommended. To be sure, the excerpta are Apician enough in character, though only a few correspond to, or are actual duplicates of, the Apician precepts. They are additions to the stock of authentic Apician recipes. As such, they may not be included but be appended to the traditional text. The excerpta encourage the belief that at the time of Vinidarius (got. Vinithaharjis) about the fifth century there must have been in circulation an Apicius (collection of recipes) much more complete than the one handed down to us through Fulda. It is furthermore interesting to note that the excerpta, too, are silent about Cœlius.

We may safely join Vollmer in his belief that M. Gabius Apicius, celebrated gourmet living during the reign of Tiberius was the real author, or collector, or sponsor of this collection of recipes, or at least of the major part thereof—the formulæ bearing the names of posterior gourmets having been added from time to time. This theory also applies to the two instances where the name of Varro is mentioned in connection with the preparation of beets and onions (bulbs). It is hardly possible that the author of the book made these references to Varro. It is more probable that some well-versed posterior reader, perusing the said articles, added to his copy: “And Varro prepared beets this way, and onions that way....” (cf. Book III, [70]) Still, there is no certainty in this theory either. There were many persons by the names of Commodus, Trajanus, Frontinianus, such as are appearing in our text, who were contemporaries of Apicius.

With our mind at ease as regards the genuineness of our book we now may view it at a closer range.

Apicius contains technical terms that have been the subject of much speculation and discussion. Liquamen, laser, muria, garum, etc., belong to these. They will be found in our little dictionary. But we cannot refrain from discussing some at present to make intelligible the most essential part of the ancient text.

Take liquamen for instance. It may stand for broth, sauce, stock, gravy, drippings, even for court bouillon—in fact for any liquid appertaining to or derived from a certain dish or food material. Now, if Apicius prescribes liquamen for the preparation of a meat or a vegetable, it is by no means clear to the uninitiated what he has in mind. In fact, in each case the term liquamen is subject to the interpretation of the experienced practitioner. Others than he would at once be confronted with an unsurmountable difficulty. Scientists may not agree with us, but such is kitchen practice. Hence the many fruitless controversies at the expense of the original, at the disappointment of science.

Garum is another word, one upon which much contemptuous witticism and [22] serious energy has been spent. Garum simply is a generic name for fish essences. True, garus is a certain and a distinct kind of Mediterranean fish, originally used in the manufacture of garum; but this product, in the course of time, has been altered, modified, adulterated,—in short, has been changed and the term has naturally been applied to all varieties and variations of fish essences, without distinction, and it has thus become a collective term, covering all varieties of fish sauces. Indeed, the corruption and degeneration of this term, garum, had so advanced at the time of Vinidarius in the fifth century as to lose even its association with any kind of fish. Terms like garatum (prepared with g.) have been derived from it. Prepared with the addition of wine it becomes œnogarum,—wine sauce—and dishes prepared with such wine sauce receive the adjective of œnogaratum, and so forth.

The original garum was no doubt akin to our modern anchovy sauce, at least the best quality of the ancient sauce. The principles of manufacture surely are alike. Garum, like our anchovy sauce, is the purée of a small fish, named garus, as yet unidentified. The fish, intestines and all, was spiced, pounded, fermented, salted, strained and bottled for future use. The finest garum was made of the livers of the fish only, exposed to the sun, fermented, somehow preserved. It was an expensive article in old Rome, famed for its medicinal properties. Its mode of manufacture has given rise to much criticism and scorn on the part of medieval and modern commentators and interpreters who could not comprehend the “perverse taste” of the ancients in placing any value on the “essence from putrified intestines of fish.”

However, garum has been vindicated, confirmed, endorsed, reiterated, rediscovered, if you please, by modern science! What, pray, is the difference in principle between garum (the exact nature of which is unknown) and the oil of the liver of cod (or less expensive fish) exposed to the beneficial rays of ultraviolet light—artificial sunlight—to imbue the oil with an extra large and uniform dose of vitamin D? The ancients, it appears, knew “vitamin D” to exist. Maybe they had a different name for “vitamins,” maybe none at all. The name does not matter. The thing which they knew, does. They knew the nutritive value of liver, proven by many formulæ. Pollio, one of the vicious characters of antiquity, fed murenas (sea-eel) with slaves he threw into the piscina, the fish pond, and later enjoyed the liver of the fish.

Some “modern” preparations are astonishingly ancient, and vice versa. Our anchovy sauce is used freely to season fish, to mix with butter, to be made into solid anchovy or fish paste. There are sardine pastes, lobster pastes, fish forcemeats found in the larder of every good kitchen—preparations of Apician character. A real platter of hors d’oeuvres, an antipasto is not complete unless made according to certain Apician precepts.

Muria is salt water, brine, yet it may stand for a fluid in which fish or meat, fruits or vegetables have been pickled.

The difficulties of the translator of Apicius who takes him literally, are unconsciously but neatly demonstrated by the work of Danneil. Even he, seasoned [23] practitioner, condemns garum, muria, asa fœtida, because professors before him have done so, because he forgets that these very materials still form a vital part of some of his own sauces only in a different shape, form or under a different name. Danneil calls some Apician recipes “incredibly absurd,” “fabulous,” “exaggerated,” but he thinks nothing of the serving of similar combinations in his own establishment every day in the year.

Danneil would take pride in serving a Veal Cutlet à la Holstein. (What have we learned of Apicius in the Northern countries?). The ancient Holsteiner was not satisfied unless his piece of veal was covered with a nice fat herring. That “barbarity” had to be modified by us moderns into a veal cutlet, turned in milk and flour, eggs and bread crumbs, fried, covered with fried eggs, garnished with anchovies or bits of herring, red beets, capers, and lemon in order to qualify for a restaurant favorite and “best seller.” Apicius hardly has a dish more characteristic and more bewildering.

What of combinations of fish and meat?

De gustibus non est disputandum. It all goes into the same stomach. May it be a sturdy one, and let its owner beware. What of our turkey and oyster dressing? Of our broiled fish and bacon? Of our clam chowder, our divine Bouillabaisse? If the ingredients and component parts of such dishes were enumerated in the laconic and careless Apician style, if they were stated without explicit instructions and details (supposed to be known to any good practitioner) we would have recipes just as mysterious as any of the Apician formulæ.

Danneil, like ever so many interpreters, plainly shared the traditional belief, the egregious errors of popular history. People still are under the spell of the fantastic and fanciful descriptions of Roman conviviality and gastronomic eccentricities. Indeed, we rather believe in the insanity of these descriptions than in the insane conduct of the average Roman gourmet. It is absurd of course to assume and to make the world believe that a Roman patrician made a meal of garum, laserpitium, and the like. They used these condiments judiciously; any other use thereof is physically impossible. They economized their spices which have caused so much comment, too. As a matter of fact, they used condiments niggardly and sparingly as is plainly described in some formulæ, if only for the one good and sufficient reason that spices and condiments which often came from Asia and Africa were extremely expensive. This very reason, perhaps, caused much of the popular outcry against their use, which, by the way, is merely another form of political propaganda, in which, as we shall see, the mob guided by the rabble of politicians excelled.

We moderns are just as “extravagant” (if not more) in the use of sauces and condiments—Apician sauces, too! Our Worcestershire, catsup, chili, chutney, walnut catsup, A I, Harvey’s, Punch, Soyer’s, Escoffier’s, Oscar’s (every culinary coryphee endeavors to create one)—our mustards and condiments in their different forms, if not actually dating back to Apicius, are, at least lineal descendants from ancient prototypes.

To readers little experienced in kitchen practice such phrases (often repeated [24] by Apicius) as, “crush pepper, lovage, marjoram,” etc., etc., may appear stereotyped and monotonous. They have not survived in modern kitchen parlance, because the practice of using spices, flavors and aromas has changed. There are now in the market compounds, extracts, mixtures not used in the old days. Many modern spices come to us ready ground or mixed, or compounded ready for kitchen use. This has the disadvantage in that volatile properties deteriorate more rapidly and that the goods may be easily adulterated. The Bavarians, under Duke Albrecht, in 1553 prohibited the grinding of spices for that very reason! Ground spices are time and labor savers, however. Modern kitchen methods have put the old mortar practically out of existence, at the expense of quality of the finished product.

The enviable Apicius cared naught for either time or labor. He gave these two important factors in modern life not a single thought. His culinary procedures required a prodigious amount of labor and effort on the part of the cooks and their helpers. The labor item never worried any ancient employer. It was either very cheap or entirely free of charge.

The selfish gourmet (which gourmet is not selfish?) almost wonders whether the abolition of slavery was a well-advised measure in modern social and economic life. Few people appreciate the labor cost in excellent cookery and few have any conception of the cost of good food service today. Yet all demand both, when “dining out,” at least. Who, on the other hand, but a brute would care to dine well, “taking it out of the hide of others?”

Hence we moderns with a craving for gourmandise but minus appropriations for skilled labor would do well to follow the example of Alexandre Dumas who cheerfully and successfully attended to his own cuisine. Despite an extensive fiction practice he found time to edit “Le Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine” and was not above writing mustard advertisements, either.

The appetite of the ancients was at times successfully curbed by sumptuary laws, cropping out at fairly regular intervals. These laws, usually given under the pretext of safeguarding the morals of the people and accompanied by similar euphonious phrases were, like modern prohibitions, vicious and virulent effusions of the predatory instinct in mankind. We cannot give a chronological list of them here, and are citing them merely to illustrate the difficulty confronting the prospective ancient host.

During the reign of Cæsar and Augustus severe laws were passed, fixing the sums to be spent for public and private dinners and specifying the edibles to be consumed. These laws classified gastronomic functions with an ingenious eye for system, professing all the time to protect the public’s morals and health; but they were primarily designed to replenish the ever-vanishing contents of [25] the Imperial exchequer and to provide soft jobs for hordes of enforcers. The amounts allowed to be spent for various social functions were so ridiculously small in our own modern estimation that we may well wonder how a Roman host could have ever made a decent showing at a banquet. However, he and the cooks managed somehow. Imperial spies and informers were omnipresent. The market places were policed, the purchases by prospective hosts carefully noted, dealers selling supplies and cooks (the more skillful kind usually) hired for the occasion were bribed to reveal the “menu.” Dining room windows had to be located conveniently to allow free inspection from the street of the dainties served; the passing Imperial food inspector did not like to intrude upon the sanctity of the host’s home. The pitiable host of those days, his unenviable guests and the bewildered cooks, however, contrived and conspired somehow to get up a banquet that was a trifle better than a Chicago quick lunch.

How did they do it?

In the light of modern experience gained by modern governments dillydallying with sumptuary legislation that has been discarded as a bad job some two thousand years ago, the question seems superfluous.

Difficile est satyram non scribere! To make a long story short: The Roman host just broke the law, that’s all. Indeed, those who made the laws were first to break them. The minions, appointed to uphold the law, were easily accounted for. Any food inspector too arduous in the pursuit of his duty was disposed of by dispatching him to the rear entrance of the festive hall, and was delivered to the tender care of the chief cook.

Such was the case during the times of Apicius. Indeed, the Roman idea of good cheer during earlier epochs was provincial enough. It was simply barbaric before the Greeks showed the Romans a thing or two in cookery. The methods of fattening fowl introduced from Greece was something unheard-of! It was outrageous, sacrilegious! Senators, orators and other self-appointed saviors of humanity thundered against the vile methods of tickling the human palate, deftly employing all the picturesque tam-tam and élan still the stock in trade of ever so many modern colleagues in any civilized parliament. The speeches, to be sure, passed into oblivion, the fat capons, however, stayed in the barnyards until they had acquired the saturation point of tender luscious calories to be enjoyed by those who could afford them. How the capon was “invented” is told in a note on the subject.

Many other so-called luxuries, sausage from Epirus, cherries from the Pontus, oysters from England, were greeted with a studied hostility by those who profited from the business of making laws and public opinion.

Evidently, the time and the place was not very propitious for gastronomic over-indulgence. Only when the ice was broken, when the disregard for law and order had become general through the continuous practice of contempt for an unpopular sumptuary law, when corruption had become wellnigh universal chiefly thanks to the examples set by the higher-ups, it was then that the torrent [26] of human passion and folly ran riot, exceeding natural bounds, tearing everything with them, all that is beautiful and decent, thus swamping the great empire beyond the hopes for any recovery.

Most of the Apician directions are vague, hastily jotted down, carelessly edited. One of the chief reasons for the eternal misunderstandings! Often the author fails to state the quantities to be used. He has a mania for giving undue prominence to expensive spices and other (quite often irrelevant) ingredients. Plainly, Apicius was no writer, no editor. He was a cook. He took it for granted that spices be used within the bounds of reason, but he could not afford to forget them in his formulæ.

Apicius surely pursues the correct culinary principle of incorporating the flavoring agents during the process of cooking, contrary to many moderns who, vigorously protesting against “highly seasoned” and “rich” food, and who, craving for “something plain” proceed to inundate perfectly good, plain roast or boiled dishes with a deluge of any of the afore-mentioned commercial “sauces” that have absolutely no relation to the dish and that have no mission other than to grant relief from the deadening monotony of “plain” food. Chicken or mutton, beef or venison, finnan haddie or brook trout, eggs or oysters thus “sauced,” taste all alike—sauce! To use such ready-made sauces with dishes cooked à l’anglaise is logical, excusable, almost advisable. Even the most ascetic of men cannot resist the insidiousness of spicy delights, nor can he for any length of time endure the insipidity of plain food sans sauce. Hence the popularity of such sauces amongst people who do not observe the correct culinary principle of seasoning food judiciously, befitting its character, without spoiling but rather in enhancing its characteristics and in bringing out its flavor at the right time, namely during coction to give the kindred aromas a chance to blend well.

Continental nations, adhering to this important principle of cookery (inherited from Apicius) would not dream of using ready-made (English) sauces.

We have witnessed real crimes being perpetrated upon perfectly seasoned and delicately flavored entrées. We have watched ill-advised people maltreat good things, cooked to perfection, even before they tasted them, sprinkling them as a matter of habit, with quantities of salt and pepper, paprika, cayenne, daubing them with mustards of every variety or swamping them with one or several of the commercial sauce preparations. “Temperamental” chefs, men who know their art, usually explode at the sight of such wantonness. Which painter would care to see his canvas varnished with all the hues in the rainbow by a patron afflicted with such a taste?

Perhaps the craving for excessive flavoring is an olfactory delirium, a pathological case, as yet unfathomed like the excessive craving for liquor, and, being a problem for the medical fraternity, it is only of secondary importance to gastronomy.

[27] To say that the Romans were afflicted on a national scale with a strange spice mania (as some interpreters want us to believe) would be equivalent to the assertion that all wine-growing nations were nations of drunkards. As a matter of fact, the reverse is the truth.

Apicius surely would be surprised at some things we enjoy. Voilà, a recipe, “modern,” not older than half a century, given by us in the Apician style or writing: Take liquamen, pepper, cayenne, eggs, lemon, olive oil, vinegar, white wine, anchovies, onions, tarragon, pickled cucumbers, parsley, chervil, hard-boiled eggs, capers, green peppers, mustard, chop, mix well, and serve.

Do you recognize it? This formula sounds as phantastic, as “weird” and as “vile” as any of the Apician concoctions, confusing even a well-trained cook because we stated neither the title of this preparation nor the mode of making it, nor did we name the ingredients in their proper sequence. This mystery was conceived with an illustrative purpose which will be explained later, which may and may not have to do with the mystery of Apicius. Consider, for a moment, this mysterious creation No. 2: Take bananas, oranges, cherries, flavored with bitter almonds, fresh pineapple, lettuce, fresh peaches, plums, figs, grapes, apples, nuts, cream cheese, olive oil, eggs, white wine, vinegar, cayenne, lemon, salt, white pepper, dry mustard, tarragon, rich sour cream, chop, mix, whip well.

Worse yet! Instead of having our appetite aroused the very perusal of this quasi-Apician mixtum compositum repels every desire to partake of it. We are justly tempted to condemn it as being utterly impossible. Yet every day hundreds of thousand portions of it are sold under the name of special fruit salad with mayonnaise mousseuse. The above mystery No. 1 is the justly popular tartar sauce.

Thus we could go on analyzing modern preparations and make them appear as outlandish things. Yet we relish them every day. The ingredients, obnoxious in great quantities, are employed with common sense. We are not mystified seeing them in print; they are usually given in clear logical order. This is not the style of Apicius, however.

We can hardly judge Apicius by what he has revealed but we rather should try to discover what he—purposely or otherwise—has concealed if we would get a good idea of the ancient kitchen. This thought occurred to us at the eleventh hour, after years of study of the text and after almost despairing of a plausible solution of its mysteries. And it seems surprising that Apicius has never been suspected before of withholding information essential to the successful practice of his rather hypothetical and empirical formulæ. The more we scrutinize them, the more we become convinced that the author has omitted vital directions—same as we did purposely with the two modern examples above. Many of the Apician recipes are dry enumerations of ingredients supposed to belong to a given dish or sauce. It is well-known that in chemistry (cookery is but applied chemistry) the knowledge of the rules governing the quantities and [28] the sequence of the ingredients, their manipulation, either separately or jointly, either successively or simultaneously, is a very important matter, and that violation or ignorance of the process may spell failure at any stage of the experiment. In the kitchen this is particularly true of baking and soup and sauce making, the most intricate of culinary operations.

There may have been two chief reasons for concealing necessary information. Apicius, or more likely the professional collectors of the recipes, may have considered technical elaboration of the formulæ quite superfluous on the assumption that the formulæ were for professional use only. Every good practitioner knows, with ingredients or components given, what manipulations are required, what effects are desired. Even in the absence of detailed specifications, the experienced practitioner will be able to divine correct proportions, by intuition. As a matter of fact, in cookery the mention in the right place of a single ingredient, like in poetry the right word, often suffices to conjure up before the gourmet’s mental eye vistas of delight. Call it inspiration, association of ideas or what you please, a single word may often prove a guide, a savior.

Let us remember that in Apicii days paper (parchment, papyrus) and writing materials were expensive and that, moreover, the ability of correct logical and literary expression was necessarily limited in the case of a practising cook who, after all, must have been the collector of the Apician formulæ. This is sufficiently proven by the lingua coquinaria, the vulgar Latin of our old work. In our opinion, the ancient author did not consider it worth his while to give anything but the most indispensable information in the tersest form. This he certainly did. A comparison of his literary performance with that of the artistic and accomplished writer of the Renaissance, Platina, will at once show up Apicius as a hard-working practical cook, a man who knew his business but who could not tell what he knew.

Like ever so many of his successors, he could not refrain from beginning and concluding many of his articles with such superfluities as “take this” and “And serve,” etc., all of which shows him up as a genuine cook. These articles, written in the most laconic language possible—the language of a very busy, very harassed, very hurried man, are the literary product of a cook, or several of them.

The other chief motive for condensing or obscuring his text has a more subtle foundation. Indeed, we are surprised that we should possess so great a collection of recipes, representing to him who could use them certain commercial and social value. The preservation of Apicius seems entirely accidental. Experienced cooks were in demand in Apicii times; the valuation of their ministrations increased proportionately to the progress in gastronomy and to the prosperity of the nation. During Rome’s frugal era, up to 200 B.C. the primitive cooks were just slaves and household chattels; but the development of their trade into an art, stimulated by foreign precepts, imported principally from Greece, Sicily and Asia Minor, opened up to the practitioners not only the door to freedom from servitude but it offered even positions of wealth with social and political standing, [29] often arousing the envy, satire, criticism of bona-fide politicians, journalists, moralists, satirists and of the ever-present hordes of parasites and hangers-on. Some cooks became confidants, even friends and advisors of men in high places, emperors, (cf. life of Vitellius) and through their subtle influence upon the mighty they may have contributed in no mean measure to the fate of the nation. But such invisible string-pullers have not been confined to those days alone. (Take Rasputin! Take the valet to William I, reputed to have had more “say” than the mighty Bismarck, who, as it developed, got “the air” while the valet died in his berth.)

Such being the case, what potential power reposed in a greasy cookery manuscript! And, if so, why bare such wonderful secrets to Tom, Dick and Harry?

Weights and measures are given by Apicius in some instances. But just such figures can be used artfully to conceal a trap. Any mediocre cook, gaining possession of a choice collection of detailed and itemized recipes would have been placed in an enviable position. Experimenting for some time (at his master’s expense) he would soon reach that perfection when he could demand a handsome compensation for his ministrations. Throughout antique times, throughout the middle ages down to the present day (when patent laws no longer protect a secret) strict secrecy was maintained around many useful and lucrative formulæ, not only by cooks, but also by physicians, alchemists and the various scientists, artisans and craftsmen. Only the favorite apprentice would be made heir to or shareholder in this important stock in trade after his worthiness had been proven to his master’s satisfaction, usually by the payment of a goodly sum of money—apprentice’s pay. We remember reading in Lanciani (Rodolfo L.: Ancient Rome in the Light of Recent Discoveries) how in the entire history of Rome there is but one voice, that of a solitary, noble-minded physician, complaining about the secrecy that was being maintained by his colleagues as regards their science. To be sure, those fellows had every reason in the world for keeping quiet: so preposterous were their methods in most cases! This secrecy indeed must have carried with it a blessing in disguise. Professional reserve was not its object. The motive was purely commercial.

Seeing where the information given by Apicius is out of reason and unintelligible we are led to believe that such text is by no means to be taken very literally. On the contrary, it is quite probable that weights and measures are not correct: they are quite likely to be of an artful and studied unreliability. A secret private code is often employed, necessitating the elimination or transposition of certain words, figures or letters before the whole will become intelligible and useful. If by any chance an uninitiated hand should attempt to grasp such veiled directions, failure would be certain. We confess to have employed at an early stage of our own career this same strategy and time-honored camouflage to protect a precious lot of recipes. Promptly we lost this unctuous manuscript, as we feared we would; if not deciphered today, the book has long since been discarded as being a record of the ravings of a madman.

The advent of the printing press changed the situation. With Platina, ca. [30] 1474, an avalanche of cookery literature started. The secrets of Scappi, “cuoco secreto” to the pope, were “scooped” by an enterprising Venetian printer in 1570. The guilds of French mustard makers and sauce cooks (precursors of modern food firms and manufacturers of ready-made condiments) were a powerful tribe of secret mongers in the middle ages. English gastronomic literature of the 16th, 17th and even the 18th century is crowded with “closets opened,” “secrets let out” and other alluring titles purporting to regale the prospective reader with profitable and appetizing secrets of all sorts. Kitchen secrets became commercial articles.

These remarks should suffice to illustrate the assumption that the Apicius book was not created for publication but that it is a collection of abridged formulæ for private use, a treasure chest as it were, of some cook, which after the demise of its owner, collector, originator, a curious world could not resist to play with, although but a few experienced masters held the key, being able to make use of the recipes.

In perusing Apicius only one or two instances of cruelty to animals have come to our attention (cf. recipes No. 140 and 259). Cruel methods of slaughter were common. Some of the dumb beasts that were to feed man and even had to contribute to his pleasures and enjoyment of life by giving up their own lives often were tortured in cruel, unspeakable ways. The belief existed that such methods might increase the quality, palatability and flavor of the meat. Such beliefs and methods may still be encountered on the highways and byways in Europe and Asia today. Since the topic, strictly speaking does not belong here, we cannot depict it in detail, and in passing make mention of it to refer students interested in the psychology of the ancients to such details as are found in the writings of Plutarch and other ancient writers during the early Christian era. It must be remembered, however, that such writers (including the irreproachable Plutarch) were advocates of vegetarianism. Some passages are inspired by true humane feeling, but much appears to be written in the interest of vegetarianism.

The ancients were not such confirmed meat eaters as the modern Western nations, merely because the meat supply was not so ample. Beef was scarce because of the shortage of large pastures. The cow was sacred, the ox furnished motive power, and, after its usefulness was gone, the muscular old brute had little attraction for the gourmet. Today lives a race of beef eaters. Our beef diet, no doubt is bound to change somewhat. Already the world’s grazing grounds are steadily diminishing. The North American prairies are being parcelled off into small farms the working conditions of which make beef raising expensive. The South American pampas and a strip of coastal land in Australia now furnish the bulk of the world’s beef supply. Perhaps Northern Asia still holds in store a large future supply of meat but this no doubt will be claimed by [31] Asia. Already North America is acclimating the Lapland reindeer to offset the waning beef, to utilize its Northern wastes.

With the increasing shortage of beef, with the increasing facilities for raising chicken and pork, a reversion to Apician methods of cookery and diet is not only probably but actually seems inevitable. The ancient bill of fare and the ancient methods of cookery were entirely guided by the supply of raw materials—precisely like ours. They had no great food stores nor very efficient marketing and transportation systems, food cold storage. They knew, however, to take care of what there was. They were good managers.

Such atrocities as the willful destruction of huge quantities of food of every description on the one side and starving multitudes on the other as seen today never occurred in antiquity.

Many of the Apician dishes will not appeal to the beef eaters. It is worthy of note that much criticism was heaped upon Apicius some 200 years ago in England when beef eating became fashionable in that country. The art of Apicius requires practitioners of superior intellect. Indeed, it requires a superior clientèle to appreciate Apician dishes. But practitioners that would pass the requirements of the Apician school are scarce in the kitchens of the beef eaters. We cannot blame meat eaters for rejecting the average chef d’œuvre set before them by a mediocre cook who has learned little besides the roasting or broiling of meats. Once the average man has acquired a taste for the refined compositions made by a talented and experienced cook, say, a composition of meats, vegetables or cereals, properly “balanced” by that intuition that never fails the real artist, the fortunate diner will eventually curtail the preponderant meat diet. A glance at some Chinese and Japanese methods of cookery may perhaps convince us of the probability of these remarks.

Nothing is more perplexing and more alarming than a new dish, but we can see in a reversion to Apician cookery methods only a dietetic benefit accruing to this so-called white race of beef eaters.

Apicius certainly excels in the preparation of vegetable dishes (cf. his cabbage and asparagus) and in the utilization of parts of food materials that are today considered inferior, hardly worth preparing for the table except by the very careful and economical housekeeper. Properly prepared, many of these things are good, often more nutritious than the dearer cuts, and sometimes they are really delicious.

One has but to study the methods of ancient and intelligent people who have suffered for thousands of years under the perennial shortage of food supplies in order to understand and to appreciate Apician methods. Be it far from us to advocate their methods, or to wish upon us the conditions that engendered such methods; for such practices have been pounded into these people by dire necessity. They have graduated from the merciless school of hunger.

Food materials, we repeat, were never as cheap and as abundant as they are today. But who can say that they always will be so in the future?

[32]

We must not overlook the remarkable intuition displayed by the ancients in giving preference to foods with body- and blood-building properties. For instance, the use of liver, particularly fish liver already referred to. The correctness of their choice is now being confirmed by scientific re-discoveries. The young science of nutrition is important enough to an individual who would stimulate or preserve his health. But since constitutions are different, the most carefully conceived dietary may apply to one particular individual only, provided, however, that our present knowledge of nutrition be correct and final. This knowledge, as a matter of fact, is being revised and changed constantly.

If dietetics, therefore, were important enough to have any bearing at all upon the well-defined methods of cookery, we might go into detail analyzing ancient methods from that point of view. To call attention to the “economy,” the stewardship, or craftsmanship, in ancient methods and to the truly remarkable intuition that guided the ancient cooks is more important. Without these qualities there can be no higher gastronomy. Without high gastronomy no high civilization is possible. The honest and experienced nutrition expert, though perhaps personally opposed to elaborate dining, will discover through close study of the ancient precepts interesting pre-scientific and well-balanced combinations and methods designed to jealously guard the vitamins and dietetic values in dishes that may appear curiously “new” to the layman that would nevertheless receive the unqualified approval of modern science.

We respect the efforts of modern dietitians and food reformers; but we are far removed from the so-called “simple” and “plain” foods advocated by some well-meaning individuals. With the progress of civilization we are farther and farther drifting away from it. Even barbaric and beastly food is not “simple.”

This furtive “intuition” in cookery (in the absence of scientific facts because of the inability of cooks to transform empirical traditions into practical rules emanating from understood principles) still prevails today. It guides great chefs, saves time spent in scientific study.

The much criticized “unnatural union of sugar and meats” of the ancients still exists today in many popular examples of cookery: lamb and mint sauce, steak and catsup, mutton and currant jelly, pork and apples (in various forms), oyster cocktail, poultry and compôte, goose with apple and raisin dressing, venison and Cumberland sauce, mince pie, plum pudding—typical survivals of ancient traditions. “Intuition” is still preceding exact science, and “unnatural unions” as in social, political and any other form of life, seem to be the rule rather than the exception.

Apicius is often blamed for his endeavor to serve one thing under the guise of another. The reasons for such deceptions are various ones. Fashion dictated it. Cooks were not considered “clever” unless they could surprise guests with a commonplace food material so skillfully prepared that identification was difficult [33] or impossible. Another reason was the absence of good refrigeration, making “masking” necessary. Also the ambition of hosts to serve a cheaper food for a more expensive one—veal for chicken, pork for partridge, and so on. But do we not indulge in the same “stunts” today? We either do it with the intention of deceiving or to “show off.” Have we not “Mock Turtle Soup,” Mouton à la Chasseur, mutton prepared to taste like venison, “chicken” salad made of veal or of rabbit? In Europe even today much of the traditional roast hare is caught in the alley, and it belongs to a feline species. “Roof hare.”

There is positive evidence of downright frauds and vicious food adulteration in the times of Apicius. The old rascal himself is not above giving directions for rose wine without roses, or how to make a spoiled honey marketable, and other similar adulterations. Those of our readers with sensitive gastronomic instinct had better skip the paragraphs discussing the treatment of “birds with a goatish smell.” But the old food adulterators are no match for their modern successors.

Too, some of our own shams are liable to misinterpretation. In centuries to come our own modern recipes for “Scotch Woodcock” or “Welsh rabbit” may be interpreted as attempts on our part to hoodwink guests by making game birds and rabbits out of cheese and bread, like Trimalchio’s culinary artists are reputed to have made suckling pigs out of dough, partridges of veal, chicken of tunny fish, and vice versa. What indeed would a serious-minded research worker a thousand years hence if unfamiliar with our culinary practice and traditions make of such terms as pette de nonne as found in many old French cookery books, or of the famous suttelties (subtleties)—the confections once so popular at medieval weddings?

The ramifications of the lingua coquinaria in any country are manifold, and the culinary wonderland is full of pitfalls even for the experienced gourmet.

Like in all other branches of ancient endeavor, cookery had reached a state of perfection around the time of Apicius when the only chance for successful continuation of the art lay in the conquest of new fields, i.e., in expansion, generalization, elaboration and in influence from foreign sources. We have witnessed this in French cookery which for the last hundred years has successfully expanded and has virtually captured the civilized parts of the globe, subject however, always to regional and territorial modifications.

This desirable expansion of antique cookery did not take place. It was violently and rather suddenly checked principally by political and economic events during the centuries following Apicius, perhaps principally by the forces that caused the great migration (the very quest of food!). Suspension ensued instead. The heirs to the ancient culture were not yet ready for their marvelous heritage. Besides their cultural unpreparedness, the cookery of the ancients, like their [34] humor, did not readily appeal to the “Nordic” heirs. Both are so subtle and they depend so much upon the psychology and the economic conditions of a people, and they thus presented almost unsurmountable obstacles to the invaders. Still lo! already in the fifth century, the Goth Vinithaharjis, started to collect the Apician precepts.

The usefulness in our days of Apicius as a practical cookery book has been questioned, but we leave this to our readers to decide after the perusal of this translation.

If not useful in the kitchen, if we cannot grasp its moral, what, then, is Apicius? Merely a curio?

The existing manuscripts cannot be bought; the old printed editions are highly priced by collectors, and they are rare. Still, the few persons able to read the messages therein cannot use them: they are not practitioners in cookery.

None of the Apician editors (except Danneil and the writer) were experienced practising gastronomers. Humelbergius, Lister, Bernhold were medical men. Two serious students, Schuch and Wuestemann, gave up academic positions to devote a year to the study of modern cookery in order to be able to interpret Apicius. These enthusiasts overlooked, however, two facts: Apicius cannot be understood by inquiring into modern average cookery methods, nor can complete mastery of cookery, practical as well as theoretical, including the historical and physiological aspects of gastronomy be acquired in one year. Richard Gollmer, another Apicius editor, declares that the results of this course in gastronomy were negative. We might add here that Schuch’s edition of Apicius, apart from the unwarranted inclusion of the excerpta of Vinidarius is the least reliable of all editions.

Gollmer published a free version of Apicius in German in 1909. If he did not render the original very faithfully and literally, it must be said in all fairness that his methods of procedure were correct. Gollmer attempted to interpret the ancient text for the modern reader. Unfortunately he based his work upon that of Schuch and Wuestemann and Lister. A year or so later Eduard Danneil published a version of his own, also based on Schuch. This editor is a practising chef,—Hof-Traiteur or caterer to the court of one of the then reigning princes of Germany. Danneil’s preface is dated 1897, though the date of publication is 1911. In view of the fact that Gollmer had covered the ground and that Danneil added nothing new to Apician lore, his publication seems superfluous. Danneil’s translation differs in that the translator adhered literally to the questionable Schuch version whereas Gollmer aspired to a free and readable version for an educated public.

A comparison reveals that the one author is not a cook while the other is not a savant.

Like the scholars who tried their hand at cookery, there are a number of worthy and ambitious practitioners of cookery who have endeavored to reach [35] the heights of scholarship, among them Carême and Soyer, men of great calibre. Unfortunately, the span of human life is short, the capacity of the human mind is limited. Fruitful achievements in widely different fields of endeavor by one man are rare. This is merely to illustrate the extreme difficulty encountered by anyone bent on a venturesome exploration of our subject and the very narrow chances of success to extricate himself with grace from the two-thousand year old labyrinth of philosophical, historical, linguistical and gastronomical technicalities.

This task will become comparatively easy, however, and surely interesting and with a foreboding of many delights and surprises if we penetrate the jungle aided by the experience of predecessors, steadfastly relying on the “theory of evolution” as a guide, and armed with the indispensable equipment for gastronomical research, i.e., the practical and technical knowledge of cookery, mastery of languages, augmented by practical experience gathered by observations and travel in many lands, and last but not least, if we are obsessed with the fixed idea that so menial a subject is worth all the bother.

We have purposely refrained from presenting here a treatise in the customary scientific style. We know, there are repetitions, digressions, excursions into adjacent fields that may be open to criticism. We really do not aim to make this critical review an exhibition of scholarly attainments with all the necessary brevity, clarity, scientific restraint and etiquette. Such style would be entirely out of our line. Any bookish flavor attaching itself to our work would soon replace a natural fragrance we aim to preserve, namely our close contact with the subject. Those interested in the scholarly work that has been contributed to this cause are referred to modern men like Vollmer, Giarratano, Brandt and others named in the bibliography. Of the older scientists there is Martinus Lister, a man whose knowledge of the subject is very respectable and whose devotion to it is unbounded, whose integrity as a scientist is above reproach. His notes and commentaries together with those of Humelbergius, the editor-physician of Zürich, will be enjoyed and read with profit by every antiquary. The labors of Bernhold and Schuch are meritorious also, the work, time, and esprit these men have devoted to the subject is enormous. As for Torinus, the opinions are divided. Humelbergius ignores him, Gryphius pirates him, Lister scorns him, we like him. Lister praises his brother physician, Humelbergius: Doctus quidem vir et modestus! So he is! The notes by Humelbergius alone and his word: Nihil immutare ausi summus! entitles him to all the praise Lister can bestow. Unfortunately, the sources of his information are unknown.

Lacking these, we have of course no means of ascertaining whether he always lived up to his word that he is not privileged to change. Humelbergius and Lister may have made contributions of value from a philological point of view but their work appears to have less merit gastronomically than that of Torinus. To us the Basel editor often seems surprisingly correct in cases where the gastronomical character of a formula is in doubt.

In rendering the ancient text into English we, too, have endeavored to follow [36] Humelbergii example; hence the almost literal translation of the originals before us, namely, Torinus, Humelbergius, Lister, Bernhold, Schuch and the latest, Giarratano-Vollmer which reached us in 1925 in time for collating. We have wavered often and long whether or not to place alongside this English version the original Latin text, but due to the divergencies we have finally abandoned the idea, for practical reasons alone.

In translating we have endeavored to clear up mysteries and errors; this interpretation is a work quite apart and independent of that of the translation. It is merely the sum and substance of our practical experience in gastronomy. It is not to be taken as an attempt to change the original but is presented in good faith, to be taken on its face value. This interpretation appears in the form of notes directly under each article, for quick reference and it is our wish that it be of some practical service in contributing to the general understanding and appreciation of our ancient book.

For the sake of expediency we have numbered and placed a title (in English) on each ancient recipe, following the example of Schuch. This procedure may be counted against us as a liberty taken with the text. The text has remained inviolate. We have merely aimed at a rational and legible presentation—work within the province and the duty of an editor-translator and technical expert.

We do not claim credit for any other work connected with the task of making this most unique book accessible to the English speaking public and for the competition for scholastic laurels we wish to stay hors de combat. We feel we are not privileged to pass final judgment upon the excellent work done by sympathetic and erudite admirers of our ancient book throughout the better part of four centuries, and we cannot side with one or the other in questions philological, historical, or of any other nature, except gastronomical. We are deeply indebted to all of our predecessors and through conversations and extensive correspondence with other modern researchers, Dr. Edward Brandt and Dr. Margaret B. Wilson, we are enabled to predict new developments in Apician research. The debates of the scientists, it appears, are not yet closed.

As a matter of fact, the various differences of opinion in minor questions are of little import to us as compared with the delightful fact that we here possess an Apicius, not only a genuine Roman, but an “honest-to-goodness” human being besides. A jolly fellow is Apicius with a basketful of happy messages for a hungry world. We therefore want to make this work of ours the entertainment and instruction the subject deserves to be. If we succeed in proving that Apicius is not a mummified, bone-dry classic but that he has “the goods,” namely some real human merit we shall have accomplished more than the savants to whom this popularization of our hero has been denied so far.

After all, we live in a practical age, and it is the practical value, the matter-of-fact contribution to our happiness and well-being by the work of any man, ancient or modern, which counts in these days of materialism.

So let us tell the truth, and let us sum up in a few words:

We do not know who Apicius is. We do not know who wrote the book bearing [37] his name. We do not know when it was written, or whether it is of Greek or of Roman origin. Furthermore, we do not understand many of its precepts!

We do know, however, that it is the oldest work dealing with the food and the cookery of the ancient world’s greatest empire, and that, as such, it is of the utmost interest and importance to us.

In this sense we have endeavored to treat the book.

Past attempts to dine à l’Apicius invariably have ended disastrously. Eager gourmets, ever on the look-out for something new, and curious scholars have attempted to prepare dishes in the manner prescribed by Apicius. Most of such experimenters have executed the old precepts literally, instead of trying to enter into their spirit.

“Das Land der Griechen mit der Seele suchen!” says Goethe. The friends of Apicius who failed to heed this advice, also failed to comprehend the precepts, they were cured of their curiosity, and blamed the master for their own shortcomings. Christina, queen of Sweden, was made ill by an attempt of this kind to regale her majesty with a rare Apician morsel while in Italy as the guest of some noble. But history is dark on this point. Here perhaps Apicius is blamed for a dastardly attempt on the royal lady’s life for this daughter of the Protestant Gustavus Adolphus was in those days not the only crowned head in danger of being dispatched by means of some tempting morsel smilingly proffered by some titled rogue. A deadly dish under the disguise of “Apicius” must have been particularly convenient in those days for such sinister purposes. The sacred obligations imposed upon “barbarians” by the virtue of hospitality had been often forgotten by the super-refined hosts of the Renaissance.

But Apicius continued to prove unhealthful to a number of later amateurs. Lister, with his perfectly sincere endeavor to popularize Apicius, achieved precisely the opposite. The publication of his work in London, 1705, was the signal for a number of people, scholars and others, to crack jokes, not at the expense of Apicius, as they imagined, but to expose their own ignorance. Smollet, Dr. W. King (“Poor starving wit”—Swift), Dr. Hunter and others. More recently, a party of English dandies, chaperoned, if we remember correctly, by the ponderous George Augustus Sala, fared likewise badly in their attempt to stage a Roman feast, being under the impression that the days of Tiberius and the mid-Victorian era may be joined with impunity, à la minute, as it were.

Even later, in one of the (alas! not so many) good books on gastronomy, “Kettner’s Book of the Table,” London, 1877, the excellent author dismisses Roman cookery with a few lines of “warning.” Kettner, admirer of Sala, evidently was still under the baneful influence. Twenty years later, Danneil, colleague of Kettner’s, joined the chorus of “irreverent critics.” They all based their judgment on mere idle conversation, resulting from disappointments in ill-fated attempts to cook in the Apician style. Even the best experts, it appears, fall victims to the mysterious spell surrounding, protecting things of sacred [38] antiquity, hovering like an avenging angel over them, to ward off all “irreverent critics” and curious intruders.

After all, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. This homely solid wisdom is literally true of our good old Apicius. We have tested many of his precepts, and have found them practical, good, even delightful. A few, we will say, are of the rarest beauty and of consummate perfection in the realm of gastronomy, while some others again are totally unintelligible for reasons sufficiently explained. Always remembering Humelbergius, we have “laid off” of these torsos, recommending them to some more competent commentator. Many of the ancient formula tried have our unqualified gastronomic approval.

If our work has not differed from that of our predecessors, if it shows the same human frailties and foibles, we have at least one mark of distinction among the editors in that we have subjected the original to severe practical tests as much as this is possible with our modern food materials. We experienced difficulty in securing certain spices long out of use. Nevertheless, the experience of actually sampling Apician dishes and the sensation of dining in the manners of the Cæsars are worth the trouble we took with Apicius. This is a feeling of partaking of an entirely new dish, met with both expectancy and with suspicion, accentuated by the hallowed traditions surrounding it which has rewarded us for the time and expense devoted to the subject. Ever since we have often dined in the classical fashion of the ancients who, after all, were but “folks” like ourselves.

If you care not for the carnal pleasures in Apician gastronomy—for gulam,—if you don’t give a fig for philology, there still is something healthy, something infinitely soothing and comforting—“educational”—in the perusal of the old book and in similar records.

When we see Apicius, the famous “epicure” descending to the very level of a common food “fakir,” giving directions for making Liburnian oil that has never seen that country....

When we note, with a gentle shudder, that the grafters of Naples, defying even the mighty Augustus, leveled the “White Earth Hill” near Puteoli because an admixture of plaster paris is exceedingly profitable to the milling profession....

When Apicius—celebrated glutton—resorts to the comparatively harmless “stunt” of keeping fresh vegetables green by boiling them in a copper kettle with soda....

When we behold hordes of ancient legislators, posing as dervishes of moderation, secretly and openly breaking the prohibition laws of their own making....

When we turn away from such familiar sights and, in a more jovial mood, heartily laugh at the jokes of that former mill slave, Plautus (who could not pay his bills) and when we wonder why his wise cracks sound so familiar we remember that we have heard their modern versions only yesterday at the Tivoli on State Street....

[39] When, finally, in the company of our respected Horatius we hear him say in the slang of his day: Ab ovo usque ad mala, and compare this bright saying with our own dear “From Soup to Nuts.”...

Then we arrive at the comforting conclusion that we moderns are either very ancient and backward or that indeed the ancients are very modern and progressive; and it is our only regret that we cannot decide this perplexing situation to our lasting satisfaction.

Very true, there may be nothing new under the sun, yet nature goes on eternally fashioning new things from old materials. Eternally demolishing old models in a manner of an economical sculptor, nature uses the same old clay to create new specimens. Sometimes nature slightly alters the patterns, discarding what is unfit for her momentary enigmatic purposes, retaining and favoring that which pleases her whimsical fancy for the time being.

Cookery deals exclusively with nature’s works. Books on cookery are essentially books on nature’s actions and reactions.

In the perpetual search for perfection, life has accomplished one remarkable thing: the development of man, the animal which cooks. Gradually nature has revealed herself to man principally through the food he takes, cooks and prepares for the enjoyment of himself and his fellow men.

The gastronomer is the highest development of the cooking animal.

He—artist, philosopher, metaphysician, religionist—stands with his head bared before nature: overawed, contemplating her gifts, feasting his eyes on beauteous forms and colors, inhaling intoxicating fragrances, aromas, odors, matching them all artistically, partaking only of what he needs for his own subsistence—eternally marveling at nature’s inexhaustible resources and inventiveness, at her everlasting bounty born of everlasting fierce struggles.

The gastronomer is grateful for the privilege of holding the custodianship of such precious things, and he guards it like an office of a sacred rite—ever gratefully, reverently adoring, cherishing the things before him ... ever marveling ... ever alone, alone with nature.

As for the overwhelming majority of the cooking animals, they behave much more “naturally.” They are a merry crowd, ever anticipating a good time, ever jolly, eager, greedy. Or, they are cranky, hungry, starved, miserable, and they turn savage now and then. Some are gluttonous. Many contract indigestion—nature’s most subtle punishment.

If they were told that they must kill before they may cook—that might spoil the appetite and dinner joy of many a tender-hearted devourer of fellow-creatures.

Heaven forbid! Being real children of nature, and behaving naturally, nature likes them, and we, too, certainly are well pleased with the majority.

The only fly in the ointment of life is that we don’t know what it is all about, and probably never will know.

PROŒMII FINIS

[40]

TRIPOD FOR THE GREAT CRATER

Hildesheim Treasure

[41]

ORIGINAL TRANSLATION FROM THE TEXTS
OF TORINUS, HUMELBERGIUS, LISTER
AND GIARRATANO-VOLLMER
WITH NOTES AND COMMENTS

[42]

“DINNER GONG”

Heavy bronze disk and substantial “knocker” to signal slaves. Found in Pompeii. “Hurry, fellows, the cakes are piping hot!”—Plautus. Ntl. Mus., Naples, 78622; Field M., 24133.

[43]

OVAL SERVICE DISH

With two decorated handles. Hildesheim Treas.

I. THE CAREFUL EXPERIENCED COOK. II. MINCES. III. THE GARDENER. IV. MISCELLANEOUS DISHES. V. LEGUMES. VI. POULTRY. VII. FANCY DISHES. VIII. QUADRUPEDS. IX. SEA FOOD. X. FISH SAUCES. THE EXCERPTS OF VINIDARIUS.

[V. The Greek titles of the ten books point to a common Greek origin, indicating that Apicius is a collection of Greek monographs on various branches of cookery, specialization such as highly developed civilizations would produce. Both the literary style and the contents of the books point to different authors, as may be seen from the very repetitions of and similarities in subjects as in VI and VIII, and in IX and X. The absence of books on bread and cake baking, dessert cookery indicates that the present Apicius is not complete.]

[44]

Lib. I. Epimeles

[45]

[1] FINE SPICED WINE CONDITUM PARADOXUM

THE COMPOSITION OF [this] EXCELLENT SPICED WINE [is as follows]. INTO A COPPER BOWL PUT 6 SEXTARII [1] OF HONEY AND 2 SEXTARII OF WINE; HEAT ON A SLOW FIRE, CONSTANTLY STIRRING THE MIXTURE WITH A WHIP. AT THE BOILING POINT ADD A DASH OF COLD WINE, RETIRE FROM STOVE AND SKIM. REPEAT THIS TWICE OR THREE TIMES, LET IT REST TILL THE NEXT DAY, AND SKIM AGAIN. THEN ADD 4 OZS. OF CRUSHED PEPPER [2], 3 SCRUPLES OF MASTICH, A DRACHM EACH OF [nard or laurel] LEAVES AND SAFFRON, 5 DRACHMS OF ROASTED DATE STONES CRUSHED AND PREVIOUSLY SOAKED IN WINE TO SOFTEN THEM. WHEN THIS IS PROPERLY DONE ADD 18 SEXTARII OF LIGHT WINE. TO CLARIFY IT PERFECTLY, ADD [crushed] CHARCOAL [3] TWICE OR AS OFTEN AS NECESSARY WHICH WILL DRAW [the residue] TOGETHER [and carefully strain or filter through the charcoal].

[1] Sextarii. Tor. partes XV; G.-V. pondo XV; List. partes XV ... pondo lib.... qui continent sextarios sex. One sextarius (a “sixth”) equals about 1½ pint English.

[2] Pepper. Piperis uncias IV—ordinarily our black or white pepper grains, but in connection with honey, sweets, and so forth, the term “pepper” may just as well stand for our allspice, or even for any spicing in general.

[3] Charcoal. Still a favorite filterer for liquors.

List. Apicius is correct in starting his book with this formula, as all meals were started with this sort of mixed drink.

Tor. deviates from the other texts in that he elaborates on the cooking process.

[2] HONEY REFRESHER FOR TRAVELERS CONDITUM MELIZOMUM [1] VIATORIUM

THE WAYFARER’S HONEY REFRESHER (SO CALLED BECAUSE IT GIVES ENDURANCE AND STRENGTH TO PEDESTRIANS) [2] WITH WHICH TRAVELERS ARE REFRESHED BY THE WAYSIDE IS MADE IN THIS MANNER: FLAVOR HONEY WITH GROUND PEPPER AND SKIM. IN THE MOMENT OF SERVING PUT HONEY IN A CUP, AS MUCH AS IS DESIRED TO OBTAIN THE RIGHT DEGREE OF SWEETNESS, AND MIX SPICED WINE NOT MORE THAN A NEEDED QUANTITY; [46] ALSO ADD SOME WINE TO THE SPICED HONEY TO FACILITATE ITS FLOW AND THE MIXING.

[1] Tor. Melirhomum; non extat. G.-V. M. perpetuum, i.e., having good keeping qualities.

[2] Tor. reads thus whereas others apply “endurance” to the honey itself. The honey could not be preserved (perpetuum) by the addition of pepper. Any addition, as a matter of fact, would hasten its deterioration unless the honey were boiled and sealed tight, which the original takes for granted.

[3] ROMAN VERMOUTH ABSINTHIUM ROMANUM [1]

ROMAN VERMOUTH [or Absinth] IS MADE THUS: ACCORDING TO THE RECIPE OF CAMERINUM [2] YOU NEED WORMWOOD FROM SANTO [3] FOR ROMAN VERMOUTH OR, AS A SUBSTITUTE, WORMWOOD FROM THE PONTUS [4] CLEANED AND CRUSHED, 1 THEBAN OUNCE [5] OF IT, 6 SCRUPLES OF MASTICH, 3 EACH OF [nard] LEAVES, COSTMARY [6] AND SAFFRON AND 18 QUARTS OF ANY KIND OF MILD WINE. [Filter cold] CHARCOAL IS NOT REQUIRED BECAUSE OF THE BITTERNESS.

[1] G.-V. Apsinthium.

[2] The mention of a name in a recipe is very infrequent. Camerinum is a town in Umbria.

[3] Now Saintonge, Southern France.

[4] Black Sea Region.

[5] Weight of indefinite volume, from Thebæ, one of the several ancient cities by that name. List. thinks it is an Egyptian ounce, and that the author of the recipe must be an African.

[6] Wanting in Tor.; G.-V. costi scripulos senos.

[4] ROSE WINE [1] ROSATUM

MAKE ROSE WINE IN THIS MANNER: ROSE PETALS, THE LOWER WHITE PART REMOVED, SEWED INTO A LINEN BAG AND IMMERSED IN WINE FOR SEVEN DAYS. THEREUPON ADD A SACK OF NEW PETALS WHICH ALLOW TO DRAW FOR ANOTHER SEVEN DAYS. AGAIN REMOVE THE OLD PETALS AND REPLACE THEM BY FRESH ONES FOR ANOTHER WEEK; [47] THEN STRAIN THE WINE THROUGH THE COLANDER. BEFORE SERVING, ADD HONEY SWEETENING TO TASTE. TAKE CARE THAT ONLY THE BEST PETALS FREE FROM DEW BE USED FOR SOAKING.

[1] Used principally as a laxative medicine. List. These wines compounded of roses and violets move the bowels strongly.

[5] VIOLET WINE VIOLATIUM

IN A SIMILAR WAY AS ABOVE LIKE THE ROSE WINE VIOLET WINE IS MADE OF FRESH VIOLETS, AND TEMPERED WITH HONEY, AS DIRECTED.

[6] ROSE WINE WITHOUT [1] ROSES ROSATUM SINE ROSA

ROSE WINE WITHOUT ROSES IS MADE IN THIS FASHION: A PALM LEAF BASKET FULL OF FRESH CITRUS LEAVES IS IMMERSED IN THE VAT OF NEW WINE BEFORE FERMENTATION HAS SET IN. AFTER FORTY DAYS RETIRE THE LEAVES, AND, AS OCCASION ARISES, SWEETEN THE WINE WITH HONEY, AND PASS IT UP FOR ROSE WINE.

[1] A substitute.

[7] LIBURNIAN OIL OLEUM LIBURNICUM

IN ORDER TO MAKE AN OIL SIMILAR TO THE LIBURNIAN OIL PROCEED AS FOLLOWS: IN SPANISH OIL PUT [the following mixture of] ELECAMPANE, CYPRIAN RUSH AND GREEN LAUREL LEAVES THAT ARE NOT TOO OLD, ALL OF IT CRUSHED AND MACERATED AND REDUCED TO A FINE POWDER. SIFT THIS IN AND ADD FINELY GROUND SALT AND STIR INDUSTRIOUSLY FOR THREE DAYS OR MORE. THEN ALLOW TO SETTLE. EVERYBODY WILL TAKE THIS FOR LIBURNIAN OIL. [1]

[1] Like the above a flagrant case of food adulteration.

[8] TO CLARIFY MUDDY WINE VINUM EX ATRO CANDIDUM FACIES

PUT BEAN MEAL AND THE WHITES OF THREE EGGS IN A MIXING BOWL. MIX THOROUGHLY WITH A WHIP AND ADD [48] TO THE WINE, STIRRING FOR A LONG TIME. THE NEXT DAY THE WINE WILL BE CLEAR [1]. ASHES OF VINES HAVE THE SAME EFFECT.

[1] Ex Lister whose version we prefer. He says, Alias die erit candidum while Tor. adds white salt, saying, sal si adieceris candidum, same as Tac. This is unusual, although the ancients have at times treated wine with sea water.

[9] TO IMPROVE A BROTH [1] DE LIQUAMINE EMENDANDO [2]

IF BROTH HAS CONTRACTED A BAD ODOR, PLACE A VESSEL UPSIDE DOWN AND FUMIGATE IT WITH LAUREL AND CYPRESS AND BEFORE VENTILATING [3] IT, POUR THE BROTH IN THIS VESSEL. IF THIS DOES NOT HELP MATTERS [4] AND IF THE TASTE IS TOO PRONOUNCED, ADD HONEY AND FRESH SPIKENARD [5] TO IT; THAT WILL IMPROVE IT. ALSO NEW MUST SHOULD BE LIKEWISE EFFECTIVE [6].

[1] List. Liquamen, id est, garum. Goll. Fish sauce.

[2] Tor. Qui liquamen corruptum corrigatur.

[3] Dann. Ventilate it. Goll. Whip the sauce in fresh air.

[4] List., G.-V. si salsum fuerit—if this makes it too salty—Tor. si hoc nihil effecerit.

[5] Tor. novem spicam immittas; List. Move spica; Goll.-Dann. stir with a whip.

[6] A classic example of Apician confusion when one interpreter reads “s” for “f” and “novem” for “move” and another reads something else. Tor. is more correct than the others, but this formula is beyond redemption. Fate has decreed that ill-smelling broths shall be discarded.

[10] TO KEEP MEATS FRESH WITHOUT SALT FOR ANY LENGTH OF TIME UT CARNES SINE SALE QUOVIS TEMPORE RECENTES SINT

COVER FRESH MEAT WITH HONEY, SUSPEND IT IN A VESSEL. USE AS NEEDED; IN WINTER IT WILL KEEP BUT IN SUMMER IT WILL LAST ONLY A FEW DAYS. COOKED MEAT MAY BE TREATED LIKEWISE.

[49]

[11] TO KEEP COOKED SIDES OF PORK OR BEEF OR TENDERLOINS CALLUM PORCINUM VEL BUBULUM ET UNGUELLÆ COCTÆ UT DIU DURENT

PLACE THEM IN A PICKLE OF MUSTARD, VINEGAR, SALT AND HONEY, COVERING MEAT ENTIRELY, AND WHEN READY TO USE YOU’LL BE SURPRISED.

V. Method still popular today for pickling raw meats. The originals treat of cooked meats (Tor. nucula elixa; G.-V. unguellæ coctæ; Tac. nucella cocta). Dispensing with the honey, we use more spices, whole pepper, cloves, bay leaves, also onions and root vegetables. Sometimes a little sugar and wine is added to this preparation which the French call marinade and the Germans Sauerbraten-Einlage.

[12] TO MAKE SALT MEAT SWEET UT CARNEM SALSAM DULCEM FACIAS

YOU CAN MAKE SALT MEATS SWEET BY FIRST BOILING THEM IN MILK AND THEN FINISHING THEM IN WATER.

V. Method still in practice today. Salt mackerel, finnan haddie, etc., are parboiled in milk prior to being boiled in water or broiled or fried.

[13] TO KEEP FRIED FISH UT PISCES FRICTI DIU DURENT

IMMEDIATELY AFTER THEY ARE FRIED POUR HOT VINEGAR OVER THEM.

Dann. Exactly as we today with fried herring and river lamprey.

[14] TO KEEP OYSTERS OSTREA UT DIU DURENT

FUMIGATE A VINEGAR BARREL WITH PITCH [1], WASH IT OUT WITH VINEGAR AND STACK THE OYSTERS IN IT [2]

[1] Tor. vas ascernum, corrected on margin, ab aceto. List. vas ab aceto, which is correct. G.-V. lavas ab aceto; V. the oysters? unthinkable! Besides it would do no good.

[2] Goll. Take oysters out of the shell, place in vinegar barrel, sprinkle with laurel berries, fine salt, close tight. V. Goll’s authority for this version is not found in our originals.

V. There is no way to keep live oysters fresh except in their natural habitat—salt water. Today we pack them in barrels, feed them with oatmeal, put weights on them—of no avail. The only way English oysters could have arrived fresh in Imperial Rome was in specially constructed bottoms of the galleys.

[50]

[15] MAKING A LITTLE LASER GO A LONG WAY UT NUCIA [1] LASERIS TOTO TEMPORE UTARIS

PUT THE LASER [2] IN A SPACIOUS GLASS VESSEL; IMMERSE ABOUT 20 PINE KERNELS [pignolia nuts]

IF YOU NEED LASER FLAVOR, TAKE SOME NUTS, CRUSH THEM; THEY WILL IMPART TO YOUR DISH AN ADMIRABLE FLAVOR. REPLACE THE USED NUTS WITH A LIKE NUMBER OF FRESH ONES [3]

[1] List. and G.-V. uncia—ounce. Making an ounce of laser go a long way. Tor. nucea; Tac. nucia. Lister, fond of hair-splitting, is irreconcilably opposed to Tor., and berates Caspar Barthius for defending Tor. List. Quam futilis sit in multis labor C. Barthii ut menda Torini passim sustineat, vel ex hoc loco intelligere licet: Et enim lege modo uncia pro nucea cum Humelbergio, & ista omnia glossemata vana sunt.

V. both readings, uncia or nucia are permissible, and make very little difference. We side with Tor. and Tac. because it takes more than an ounce of laser to carry out this experiment.

[2] Laser, laserpitium, cf. dictionary.

[3] V. This article illustrates how sparingly the ancients used the strong and pungent laser flavor [by some believed to be asa foetida] because it was very expensive, but principally because the Roman cooks worked economically and knew how to treat spices and flavors judiciously. This article alone should disperse for all time all stories of ancient Rome’s extravagance in flavoring and seasoning dishes. It reminds of the methods used by European cooks to get the utmost use out of the expensive vanilla bean: they bury the bean in a can of powdered sugar. They will use the sugar only which has soon acquired a delicate vanilla perfume, and will replace the used sugar by a fresh supply. This is by far a superior method to using the often rank and adulterated “vanilla extract” readily bottled. It is more gastronomical and more economical. Most commercial extracts are synthetic, some injurious. To believe that any of them impart to the dishes the true flavor desired is of course ridiculous. The enormous consumption of such extracts however, is characteristic of our industrialized barbarism which is so utterly indifferent to the fine points in food. Today it is indeed hard for the public to obtain a real vanilla bean.

Cf. also notes regarding flavoring to Nos. 276-7, 345 and 385.

[16] TO MAKE HONEY CAKES LAST UT DULCIA DE MELLE DIU DURENT

TO MAKE HONEY CAKES THAT WILL KEEP TAKE WHAT THE GREEKS CALL YEAST [1] AND MIX IT WITH THE FLOUR [51] AND THE HONEY AT THE TIME WHEN MAKING THE COOKY DOUGH.

[1] Tor. and Tac. nechon; G.-V. cnecon; Dann. penion.

[17] SPOILED HONEY MADE GOOD UT MEL MALUM BONUM FACIAS

HOW BAD HONEY MAY BE TURNED INTO A SALEABLE ARTICLE IS TO MIX ONE PART OF THE SPOILED HONEY WITH TWO PARTS OF GOOD HONEY.

List. indigna fraus! V. We all agree with Lister that this is contemptible business. This casts another light on the ancients’ methods of food adulteration.

[18] TO TEST SPOILED HONEY MEL CORRUPTUM UT PROBES

IMMERSE ELENCAMPANE IN HONEY AND LIGHT IT; IF GOOD, IT WILL BURN BRIGHTLY.

[19] TO KEEP GRAPES UVÆ UT DIU SERVENTUR

TAKE PERFECT GRAPES FROM THE VINES, PLACE THEM IN A VESSEL AND POUR RAIN WATER OVER THEM THAT HAS BEEN BOILED DOWN ONE THIRD OF ITS VOLUME. THE VESSEL MUST BE PITCHED AND SEALED WITH PLASTER, AND MUST BE KEPT IN A COOL PLACE TO WHICH THE SUN HAS NO ACCESS. TREATED IN THIS MANNER, THE GRAPES WILL BE FRESH WHENEVER YOU NEED THEM. YOU CAN ALSO SERVE THIS WATER AS HONEY MEAD TO THE SICK.

ALSO, IF YOU COVER THE GRAPES WITH BARLEY [bran] YOU WILL FIND THEM SOUND AND UNINJURED.

V. We keep grapes in cork shavings, bran and saw dust.

[20] TO KEEP POMEGRANATES UT MALA GRANATA DIU DURENT [1]

STEEP THEM INTO HOT [sea] WATER, TAKE THEM OUT IMMEDIATELY AND HANG THEM UP. [Tor.] THEY WILL KEEP.

[1] Tor. conditura malorum Punicorum; Tac. mala granata; G.-V. mala et mala granata.

[52]

[21] TO KEEP QUINCES UT MALA CYDONIA DIU SERVENTUR

PICK OUT PERFECT QUINCES WITH STEMS [1] AND LEAVES. PLACE THEM IN A VESSEL, POUR OVER HONEY AND DEFRUTUM [2] AND YOU’LL PRESERVE THEM FOR A LONG TIME [3].

[1] V. Excellent idea, for the stems, if removed, would leave a wound in the fruit for the air to penetrate and to start fermentation. Cf. also the next formula.

[2] G.-V. defritum, from defervitum; defrutum is new wine, spiced, boiled down to one half of its volume.

[3] This precept would not keep the fruit very long unless protected by a closefitting cover and sterilization. Cf. No. 24.

[22] TO PRESERVE FRESH FIGS, APPLES, PLUMS, PEARS AND CHERRIES FICUM RECENTEM, MALA, PRUNA, PIRA, CERASIA UT DIU SERVES

SELECT THEM ALL VERY CAREFULLY WITH THE STEMS ON [1] AND PLACE THEM IN HONEY SO THEY DO NOT TOUCH EACH OTHER.

[1] See the preceding formula.

[23] TO KEEP CITRON CITRIA UT DIU DURENT [1]

PLACE THEM IN A GLASS [2] VESSEL WHICH IS SEALED WITH PLASTER AND SUSPENDED.

[1] Tor. conditura malorum Medicorum quæ et citria dicuntur. V. Not quite identified. Fruit coming from Asia Minor, Media or Persia, one of the many varieties of citrus fruit. Probably citron because of their size. Goll. Lemon-apples; Dann. lemons (oranges). List. Scilicet mala, quæ Dioscorides Persica quoque & Medica, & citromala, Plinius item Assyria appellari dicit.

[2] G.-V. vas vitreum; Tac. and Tor. vas citrum; V. a glass vessel could not be successfully sealed with plaster paris, and the experiment would fail; cf. note 3 to No. 21.

[24] TO KEEP MULBERRIES MORA UT DIU DURENT

MULBERRIES, IN ORDER TO KEEP THEM, MUST BE LAID INTO THEIR OWN JUICE MIXED WITH NEW WINE [boiled down to one half] IN A GLASS VESSEL AND MUST BE WATCHED ALL THE TIME [so that they do not spoil].

V. This and the foregoing formulæ illustrate the ancients’ attempts at preserving foods, and they betray their ignorance of “processing” by heating them [53] in hermetically sealed vessels, the principle of which was not discovered until 1810 by Appert which started the now gigantic industry of canning.

[25] TO KEEP POT HERBS [H]OLERA UT DIU SERVENTUR

PLACE SELECTED POT HERBS, NOT TOO MATURE, IN A PITCHED VESSEL.

[26] TO PRESERVE SORREL OR SOUR DOCK LAPÆ [1] UT DIU SERVENTUR

TRIM AND CLEAN [the vegetable] PLACE THEM TOGETHER SPRINKLE MYRTLE BERRIES BETWEEN, COVER WITH HONEY AND VINEGAR.

ANOTHER WAY: PREPARE MUSTARD HONEY AND VINEGAR ALSO SALT AND COVER THEM WITH THE SAME.

[1] The kind of vegetable to be treated here has not been sufficiently identified. List. and G.-V. rapæ—turnips—from rapus, seldom rapa,—a rape, turnip, navew. Tac. and Tor. Lapæ (lapathum), kind of sorrel, monk’s rhubarb, dock. Tor. explaining at length: conditura Rumicis quod lapathon Græci, Latini Lapam quoque dicunt.

V. Tor. is correct, or nearly so. Turnips, in the first place, are not in need of any special method of preservation. They keep very well in a cool, well-ventilated place; in fact they would hardly keep very long if treated in the above manner. These directions are better applied to vegetables like dock or monk’s rhubarb. Lister, taking Humelbergii word for it, accepts “turnips” as the only truth; but he has little occasion to assail Torinus as he does: Torinus lapam legit, & nullibi temeritatem suam atque inscientiam magis ostendit.

Now, if Torinus, according to Lister, “nowhere displays more nerve and ignorance” we can well afford to trust Torinus in cases such as this.

[27] TO KEEP TRUFFLES TUBERA UT DIU SERVENTUR

THE TRUFFLES WHICH MUST NOT BE TOUCHED BY WATER ARE PLACED ALTERNATELY IN DRY SAWDUST; SEAL THE VESSEL WITH PLASTER AND DEPOSIT IT IN A COOL PLACE.

Dann. Clean [peel] the truffles ... in another vessel place the peelings, seal the vessels.... V. this would be the ruin of the truffles, unless they were “processed” in the modern way. Our originals have nothing that would warrant this interpretation.

[54]

[28] TO KEEP HARD-SKINNED PEACHES DURACINA PERSICA UT DIU DURENT

SELECT THE BEST AND PUT THEM IN BRINE. THE NEXT DAY REMOVE THEM AND RINSING THEM CAREFULLY SET THEM IN PLACE IN A VESSEL, SPRINKLE WITH SALT AND SATURY AND IMMERSE IN VINEGAR.

[29] SALTS FOR MANY [ILLS] SALES CONDITOS AD MULTA

THESE SPICED SALTS ARE USED AGAINST INDIGESTION, TO MOVE THE BOWELS, AGAINST ALL ILLNESS, AGAINST PESTILENCE AS WELL AS FOR THE PREVENTION OF COLDS. THEY ARE VERY GENTLE INDEED AND MORE HEALTHFUL THAN YOU WOULD EXPECT. [Tor. MAKE THEM IN THIS MANNER]: 1 LB. OF COMMON SALT GROUND, 2 LBS. OF AMMONIAC SALT, GROUND [List. AND G.-V. 3 OZS. WHITE PEPPER, 2 OZS. GINGER] 1 OZ. [Tor. 1½ OZ.] OF AMINEAN BRYONY, 1 OF THYME SEED AND 1 OF CELERY SEED [Tor. 1½ OZ.] IF YOU DON’T WANT TO USE CELERY SEED TAKE INSTEAD 3 OZS. OF PARSLEY [SEED] 3 OZS. OF ORIGANY, 1 OZ. OF SAFFRON [List. and G.-V. ROCKET] 3 OZS. OF BLACK PEPPER [1] 1½ OZS. ROCKET SEED, 2 OZS. OF MARJORAM [List. and G.-V. CRETAN HYSSOP] 2 OZS. OF NARD LEAVES, 2 OZS. OF PARSLEY [SEED] AND 2 OZS. OF ANISE SEED.

[1] In view of the white pepper as directed above, this seems superfluous. White pepper and ginger omitted by Tor.

This is one of the few medical formulæ found in Apicius.

Edward Brandt, op. cit., Apiciana No. 29, points out the similarity of this formula with that of the physician, Marcellus, who lived at Rome under Nero, Marcell. med. 30, 51.

[30] TO KEEP GREEN OLIVES OLIVAS VIRIDES SERVARE

TO KEEP OLIVES, FRESH FROM THE TREE, IN A MANNER ENABLING YOU TO MAKE OIL FROM THEM ANY TIME YOU DESIRE JUST PLACE THEM [in brine]. [1] HAVING BEEN KEPT THUS FOR SOME TIME THE OLIVES MAY BE USED AS IF THEY [55] HAD JUST COME OFF THE TREE FRESH IF YOU DESIRE TO MAKE GREEN OIL OF THEM.

[1] The original does not state the liquid in which the olives are to be placed.

Hum. in illud, legendum puto, in muriam.

Hum. is correct. Olives are preserved in brine to this day.

Schuch’s version of this formula (his No. 27) follows our No. 28, together with his own No. 28, To Keep Damascene Plums [etc.] which is wanting in List., G.-V., and all the earlier editions because it is from the codex Salmasianus and will be found among the Excerpts of Vinidarius at the end of the Apician recipes.

[CUMINATUM. Hum., List. and G.-V.—Tac. and Tor. at the end of Book I.]

[31] LASER FLAVOR LASERATUM

[Tor.] LASER IS PREPARED IN THIS MANNER: LASER (WHICH IS ALSO CALLED LASERPITIUM BY THE ROMANS, WHILE THE GREEKS CALL IT SILPHION) FROM CYRENE [1] OR FROM PARTHIA [2] IS DISSOLVED IN LUKEWARM MODERATELY ACID BROTH; OR PEPPER, PARSLEY, DRY MINT, LASER ROOT, HONEY, VINEGAR AND BROTH [are ground, compounded and dissolved together].

[1] Cyrene, a province in Africa, reputed for its fine flavored laser.

[2] Parthia, Asiatic country, still supplying asa fœtida.

The African root furnishing laser was exterminated by the demand for it. Cf. Laser in Index.

[32] ANOTHER [LASER] ALITER

[ANOTHER LASER FLAVOR WHICH TAKES] PEPPER, CARAWAY, ANISE, PARSLEY, DRY MINT, THE LEAVES [1] OF SILPHIUM, MALOBATHRUM [2] INDIAN SPIKENARD, A LITTLE COSTMARY, HONEY, VINEGAR AND BROTH.

[1] Tor. Silphij folium; List. Sylphium, folium; G.-V. Silfi, folium, the latter two interpretations meaning silphium (laser) and leaves (either nard or bay leaves) while both Tor. and Tac. (silfii folium) mean the leaves of silphium plant.

[2] Malobathrum, malobatrum, malabathrum—leaves of an Indian tree, wild cinnamon.

[56]

[33] WINE SAUCE FOR TRUFFLES ŒNOGARUM [1] IN TUBERA

PEPPER, LOVAGE, CORIANDER, RUE, BROTH, HONEY AND A LITTLE OIL.

ANOTHER WAY: THYME, SATURY, PEPPER, LOVAGE, HONEY, BROTH AND OIL.

[1] Also Elæogarum.

V. Directions wanting whether the above ingredients are to be added to the already prepared garum, which see in dictionary. Gollmer gives the following direction for garum: Boil a sextarium of anchovies and 3 sextarii of good wine until it is thick purée. Strain this through a hair sieve and keep it in glass flask for future use. This formula, according to Goll. should have followed our No. 9; but we find no authority for it in the original.

Oenogarum proper would be a garum prepared with wine, but in this instance it is the broth in which the truffles were cooked that is to be flavored with the above ingredients. There is no need and no mention of garum proper. Thus prepared it might turn out to be a sensible sauce for truffles in the hands of a good practitioner.

Note the etymology of the word “garum,” now serving as a generic name for “sauce” which originally stood for a compound of the fish garus.

Cf. Garum in index.

[34] OXYPORUM OXYPORUM

[Tor. OXYPORUM (WHICH SIGNIFIES “EASY PASSAGE”) SO NAMED BECAUSE OF ITS EFFECT, TAKES] 2 OZS. OF CUMIN, 1 OZ. OF GINGER [List. 1 OZ. OF GREEN RUE] 6 SCRUPLES OF SALTPETER, A DOZEN SCRUPLES OF PLUMP DATES, 1 OZ. OF PEPPER AND 11 [List. 9] OZS. OF HONEY. THE CUMIN MAY BE EITHER ÆTHIOPIAN, SYRIAN OR LYBIAN, MUST BE FIRST SOAKED IN VINEGAR, BOILED DOWN DRY AND POUNDED. AFTERWARDS ADD YOUR HONEY. THIS COMPOUND, AS NEEDED, IS USED AS OXYPORUM.

Cf. No. 111, A Harmless Salad.

Bran. op. cit., p. 25-6, of Greek origin.

[35] HYPOTRIMA [1] HYPOTRIMA

[Tor. HYPOTRIMA, MEANING IN LATIN A PERFECT MESS OF POTAGE, REQUIRES THIS]: PEPPER, LOVAGE, DRY MINT, [57] PIGNOLIA NUTS, RAISINS, DATE WINE, SWEET CHEESE, HONEY, VINEGAR, BROTH, WINE, OIL, MUST OR REDUCED MUST [2]

[1] List. and G.-V. Hypotrimma.

V. This formula, lacking detailed instructions, is of course perfectly obscure, and it would be useless to debate over it.

[2] Tor. and Tac. cariotam; Sch. cariotum; List. and G.-V. carœnum. This (carenum) is new wine boiled down one half of its volume. Cariotum is a palm wine or date wine.

[36] OXYGARUM, AN AID TO DIGESTION OXYGARUM DIGESTIBILE

[Tor. OXYGARUM (WHICH IS SIMILAR TO GARUM OR RATHER AN ACID SAUCE) IS DIGESTIBLE AND IS COMPOSED OF]: ½ OZ. OF PEPPER, 3 SCRUPLES OF GALLIC SILPHIUM, 6 SCRUPLES OF CARDAMOM, 6 OF CUMIN, 1 SCRUPLE OF LEAVES, 6 SCRUPLES OF DRY MINT. THESE [ingredients] ARE BROKEN SINGLY AND CRUSHED AND [made into a paste] BOUND BY HONEY. WHEN THIS WORK IS DONE [or whenever you desire] ADD BROTH AND VINEGAR [to taste].

Cf. Note to No. 33.

[37] ANOTHER [OXYGARUM] [1] ALITER

1 OZ. EACH OF PEPPER, PARSLEY, CARRAWAY, LOVAGE, MIX WITH HONEY. WHEN DONE ADD BROTH AND VINEGAR.

[1] Wanting in Torinus.

[38] MORTARIA [1] MORTARIA

MORTARIA ARE PREPARATIONS MADE IN THE MORTAR. PLACE IN THE MORTAR [Tor.] MINT, RUE, CORIANDER AND FENNEL, ALL FRESH AND GREEN AND CRUSH THEM FINE. LOVAGE, PEPPER, HONEY AND BROTH [2] AND VINEGAR [3] TO BE ADDED WHEN THE WORK IS DONE.

Ex Tor. first sentence wanting in other texts.

[1] List. and G.-V. moretaria, from moretum.

[2] Dann. calls this “Kalte Schale” which as a rule is a drink or a cold refreshing soup, popular on the Continent in hot weather. Not a bad interpretation if instead of the broth the original called for wine or fruit juices.

V. Mortaria are ingredients crushed in the mortar, ready to be used in several [58] combinations, similar to the ground fine herbs, remoulade, in French cuisine that may be used for various purposes, principally for cold green sauces.

[3] Wanting in Tor.

[39] CUMIN SAUCE FOR SHELLFISH CUMINATUM IN OSTREA ET CONCHYLIA

[Tor. CUMIN SAUCE (SO CALLED BECAUSE CUMIN IS ITS CHIEF INGREDIENT) FOR OYSTERS AND CLAMS IS MADE OF] PEPPER, LOVAGE, PARSLEY, DRY MINT, MALABAR LEAVES, QUITE SOME CUMIN, HONEY, VINEGAR, AND BROTH.

[40] ANOTHER [CUMIN SAUCE] [1] ALITER

PEPPER, LOVAGE, PARSLEY, DRY MINT, PLENTY OF CUMIN, HONEY, VINEGAR AND BROTH.

[1] wanting in List.

The cumin sauce formulæ are under chap. XV in G.-V., following our No. 30.

END OF BOOK I

EXPLICIT APICII EPIMELES LIBER PRIMUS [Tac.]

COLANDER FOR STRAINING WINE

The intricate design of the perforation denotes that this strainer was used for straining wine. Various other strainers of simpler design, with and without handles, were used in the kitchen and bakery. Ntl. Mus., Naples, 77602; Field M., 24307.

[59]

[60]

SLAVES OPERATING A HAND-MILL

Reconstruction in Naples, in the new section of the National Museum.

[61]

FRUIT OR DESSERT BOWL

Round bowl, fluted symmetrically, with three claw feet, resting on molded bases. Ntl. Mus., Naples, 74000; Field M., 24028.

Lib. II. Sarcoptes [1]

[1] Tor. Artoptes; Tac. Artoptus. This may have been derived from artopta—a vessel in which bread and pudding are baked. However, Sarcoptes is the better word, which is Greek, meaning “chopped meats.”

[2] Tac. Ambolatum, and so in Tor. p. 15, De Ambolato. Cap. IIII. cf. our note following No. 58.

[41] MINCED DISHES ISICIA

THERE ARE MANY KINDS OF MINCED DISHES [1] SEAFOOD MINCES [2] ARE MADE OF SEA-ONION, OR SEA CRAB-FISH, LOBSTER, CUTTLE-FISH, INK FISH, SPINY LOBSTER, SCALLOPS AND OYSTERS [3]. THE FORCEMEAT IS SEASONED WITH LOVAGE [4], PEPPER, CUMIN AND LASER ROOT.

[1] Tor. Sentence wanting in other texts. V. Forcemeats, minced meats, sausage. Tor. Hysitia, from Isicia. This term is derived from insicium, from salsicium, from salsum insicium, cut salt meat; old French salcisse, saulcisse, modern [62] French saucisse, meaning sausage. This is a confirmation of the meaning of the word salsum—meaning primarily salt meat, bacon in particular. It has survived in modern French terminology in salés more specially petits salés—small rashers of bacon. Salsum has caused much confusion in some later formulæ. Cf. notes to Nos. 148, 150, 152.

[2] V. fish forcemeats, fish balls, fish cakes and similar preparations.

[3] Scallops and oysters wanting in List. and G.-V.

[4] Wanting in List.

[42] CUTTLE-FISH CROQUETTES ISICIA DE LOLLIGINE [1]

THE MEAT IS SEPARATED FROM BONES, SKIN [and refuse] CHOPPED FINE AND POUNDED IN THE MORTAR. SHAPE THE FORCEMEAT INTO NEAT CROQUETTES [2] AND COOK THEM IN LIQUAMEN [3].

THEY ARE DISPLAYED NICELY ON A LARGE DISH.

V. This formula plainly calls for fish balls braised or stewed in broth. Ordinarily we would boil the fish first and then separate the meat from the bones, shred or chop it fine, bind with cream sauce, flour and eggs; some add potatoes as a binder, and fry.

[1] G.-V. lolligine; Tor. loligine, which is correctly spelled.

[2] Tac. and Tor. in pulmento tundes. G.-V. fulmento which is wrong. Pulmentum, abbreviated for pulpamentum, from pulpa. It means a fleshy piece of fish or meat, a tid-bit.

[3] The original says in liquamine fricatur—fry in l., which is impossible in the sense of the word, frying. Either “frying” here stands for cooking, stewing, braising, poaching, or else the so mysterious liquamen must here mean deep fat. Most likely these fish forcemeat balls were fried in olive oil. Cf. ℞ No. 46.

[43] LOBSTER OR CRABMEAT CROQUETTES ISICIA DE SCILLIS VEL DE CAMMARIS AMPLIS [1]

THE SHELLS OF THE LOBSTERS OR CRABS [which are cooked] ARE BROKEN, THE MEAT EXTRACTED FROM THE HEAD AND POUNDED IN THE MORTAR WITH PEPPER AND THE BEST KIND OF BROTH. THIS PULP [is shaped into neat little cakes which are fried] AND SERVED UP NICELY [2].

[1] Scilla or squilla, squill, sea-onion, also a crab, cammarus amplus, large lobster, langouste, spiny lobster.

[2] The original omits the mode of cooking the fish. A case where it is taken for granted that the shellfish is boiled in water alive. The broth (liquamen) is a thick fish sauce in this case, serving as a binder for the meat, conforming to present methods.

Dann. Fill this into sausage casing. There is no authority for this.

[63]

[44] LIVER KROMESKIS OMENTATA [1]

OMENTATA ARE MADE IN THIS MANNER: [lightly] FRY PORK LIVER, REMOVE SKIN AND SINEWS FIRST [2]. CRUSH PEPPER AND RUE IN A MORTAR WITH [a little] BROTH, THEN ADD THE LIVER, POUND AND MIX. THIS PULP SHAPE INTO SMALL SAUSAGE, WRAP EACH IN CAUL AND LAUREL LEAVES AND HANG THEM UP TO BE SMOKED. WHENEVER YOU WANT AND WHEN READY TO ENJOY THEM TAKE THEM OUT OF THE SMOKE, FRY THEM AGAIN, AND ADD GRAVY [3].

[1] From omentum—caul, the membrane enclosing the bowels. Hence “omen.” Minced meats wrapped in caul and fried are kromeskis in kitchen terminology.

[2] First—an after thought so characteristic in culinary literature, proof enough that this formula originated in a kitchen. The ante tamen of the original belongs to this sentence, not to the next, as the editors have it.

[3] Wanting in G.-V. The original continues without interruption to the next, an entirely new formula.

[45] [BRAIN SAUSAGE] [ISICIA DE CEREBELLIS] [1]

PUT IN THE MORTAR PEPPER, LOVAGE AND ORIGANY, MOISTEN WITH BROTH AND RUB; ADD COOKED BRAINS AND MIX DILIGENTLY SO THAT THERE BE NO LUMPS. INCORPORATE FIVE EGGS AND CONTINUE MIXING WELL TO HAVE A GOOD FORCEMEAT WHICH YOU MAY THIN WITH BROTH. SPREAD THIS OUT IN A METAL PAN, COOK, AND WHEN COOKED [cold] UNMOULD IT ONTO A CLEAN TABLE. CUT INTO HANDY SIZE. [Now prepare a sauce] PUT IN THE MORTAR PEPPER, LOVAGE AND ORIGANY, CRUSH, MIX WITH BROTH PUT INTO A SAUCE PAN, BOIL, THICKEN AND STRAIN. HEAT THE PIECES OF BRAIN PUDDING IN THIS SAUCE THOROUGHLY, DISH THEM UP, SPRINKLED WITH PEPPER, IN A MUSHROOM DISH [2].

[1] The Original has no title for this dish.

[2] List. and G.-V. here start the next formula, but Tor. continues without interruption. Cf. Note 2 to No. 46.

[46] A DISH OF SCALLOPS ISICIA EX SPONDYLIS [1]

[Lightly] COOK SCALLOPS [or the firm part of oysters] REMOVE THE HARD AND OBJECTIONABLE PARTS, MINCE THE MEAT VERY FINE, MIX THIS WITH COOKED SPELT AND [64] EGGS, SEASON WITH PEPPER, [shape into croquettes and wrap] IN CAUL, FRY, UNDERLAY A RICH FISH SAUCE AND SERVE AS A DELICIOUS ENTRÉE [2].

[1] Sch. sfondilis; G.-V. sphondylis; List. spongiolis. According to Lister, this is a dish of mushrooms, but he is wrong. He directs to remove sinews when mushrooms haven’t any, but shellfish have. Torinus is correct. Gollmer makes the same mistake, believing spondyli to be identical with spongioli. He and Danneil take elixata for “choice” when this plainly means “cooked.” If one were not sure of either word, the nature of the subject would leave no room for any doubt. Cf. note 1 to Nos. 115-121.

[2] We may find a reason for the combination of these last three distinctly different formulæ into one article in the following explanation. It is possible that these dishes were served together as one course, even on one platter, thus constituting a single dish, as it were. Such a dish would strongly resemble platters of “fritures” and “fritto misto” (mixed fried foods) esteemed in France and Italy. We, too, have “Shore Dinners” and other “Combination Platters” with lobster, crabs, scallops, shrimps, mushrooms, tomatoes—each article prepared separately, but when served together will form an integral part of ONE dish.

The above formulæ, though somewhat incomplete, are good and gastronomically correct. A combination of these isicia such as we here suggest would be entirely feasible and would in fact make a dish of great refinement, taxing the magiric artist’s skill to the utmost. We would class them among the entremets chauds which are often used on a buffet table or as hot hors d’œuvres.

[47] ANOTHER KIND OF KROMESKIS [1] ALITER ISICIA OMENTATA

FINELY CUT PULP [of pork] IS GROUND WITH THE HEARTS [2] OF WINTER WHEAT AND DILUTED WITH WINE. FLAVOR LIGHTLY WITH PEPPER AND BROTH AND IF YOU LIKE ADD A MODERATE QUANTITY OF [myrtle] BERRIES ALSO CRUSHED, AND AFTER YOU HAVE ADDED CRUSHED NUTS AND PEPPER [3] SHAPE THE FORCEMEAT INTO SMALL ROLLS, WRAP THESE IN CAUL, FRY, AND SERVE WITH WINE GRAVY.

[1] Wanting in Lister.

[2] Fine wheat flour, cream of wheat.

[3] Either pepper corns or allspice.

The original leaves us in doubt as to the kind of meat to be used, if any.

[65]

[48] DUMPLINGS OF PHEASANT ISICIA PLENA

[Lightly roast choice] FRESH PHEASANTS [cut them into dice and mix these with a] STIFF FORCEMEAT MADE OF THE FAT AND THE TRIMMINGS OF THE PHEASANT, SEASON WITH PEPPER, BROTH AND REDUCED WINE, SHAPE INTO CROQUETTES OR SPOON DUMPLINGS, AND POACH IN HYDROGARUM [water seasoned with garum, or even plain salt water].

[49] DUMPLINGS AND HYDROGARUM HYDROGARATA ISICIA

CRUSH PEPPER, LOVAGE AND JUST A SUSPICION OF PELLITORY, MOISTEN WITH STOCK AND WELL WATER, ALLOW IT TO DRAW, PLACE IT IN A SAUCE PAN, BOIL IT DOWN, AND STRAIN. POACH YOUR LITTLE DUMPLINGS OF FORCEMEAT IN THIS LIQUOR AND WHEN THEY ARE DONE SERVE IN A DISH FOR ISICIA, TO BE SIPPED AT THE TABLE.

[50] CHICKEN FORCEMEAT ISICIA DE PULLO

[Raw] CHICKEN MEAT, 1 LB. OF DARNEL [1] MEAL, ONE QUARTER PINT OF STOCK AND ONE HALF OUNCE OF PEPPER.

[1] Tor. lolæ floris; Hum.-List. and G.-V. olei floris—virgin olive oil?—first choice flour? Goll. olive (violet?) flowers; Dann. Olive oil.

The suggestion of oil is plausible because of the lack of fat in chicken meat, but the quantity—1 lb.—is out of question. Moreover, the binder would be lacking. This is found in the Torinus rendering.

His lolæ floris should read lolii—from lolium—darnel rye grass or ray grass which was supposed to have intoxicating qualities, injurious to the eye sight.—Ovid and Plautus. The seeds of this grass were supposed to possess narcotic properties but recent researches have cast doubt upon this theory.

A little butter, fresh cream and eggs are the proper ingredients for chicken forcemeat. Any kind of flour for binding the forcemeat would cheapen the dish. Yet some modern forcemeats (sausage) contain as much as fifty percent of some kind of meal. The most effective is that of the soya bean which is not starchy.

[51] CHICKEN BROTH ANOTHER STYLE ALITER DE PULLO

CHICKEN MEAT, 31 PEPPERCORNS CRUSHED, 1 CHOENIX [1] FULL OF THE VERY BEST STOCK, A LIKE AMOUNT OF BOILED MUST AND ELEVEN MEASURES [2] OF WATER. [Put [66] this in a sauce pan] PLACE IT UPON THE FIRE TO SEETH AND EVAPORATE SLOWLY.

[1] V. 2 sextarii; Tor. chœnicem, cenlicem; List. calicem.

[2] chœnices?—left in doubt.

This seems to be a chicken broth, or essence for a sauce or perhaps a medicine. Torinus mentions the chicken meat, the others do not.

The original without interruption continues to describe the isicium simplex which has nothing to do with the above.

[52] PLAIN DUMPLING WITH BROTH ISICIUM SIMPLEX

TO 1 ACETABULUM [1] OF STOCK [2] ADD 7 OF WATER, A LITTLE GREEN CELERY, A LITTLE SPOONFUL OF GROUND PEPPER, AND BOIL THIS WITH THE SAUSAGE MEAT OR DUMPLINGS. IF YOU INTEND TAKING THIS TO MOVE THE BOWELS THE SEDIMENT SALTS [3] OF HYDROGARUM HAVE TO BE ADDED [4].

[1] A measure, 15 Attic drachms.

[2] liquamen.

[3] Tor. pectines, alias peces hydrogaro conditi; List. sales; G.-V. fæces.

[4] V. The formula is unintelligible, like No. 52 and others, perhaps just another example of medicinal cookery, dishes not only intended to nourish the body but to cure also certain ills. Authors like Hannah Wolley (The Queen-like Closet, London, 1675) and as late as the middle of the 18th century pride themselves in giving such quasi-Apician formulæ.

[53] [Rank of] DISHES ISICIA

[Entrées of] PEACOCK OCCUPY THE FIRST RANK, PROVIDED THEY BE DRESSED IN SUCH MANNER THAT THE HARD AND TOUGH PARTS BE TENDER. THE SECOND PLACE [in the estimation of the Gourmets] HAVE DISHES MADE OF RABBIT [1] THIRD SPINY LOBSTER [2] FOURTH COMES CHICKEN AND FIFTH YOUNG PIG.

[1] List. and G.-V. Pheasant.

[2] Wanting in the above. Dann. Crane fourth.

Isicia, like in the foregoing formula, commences to become a generic term for “dishes.”

[54] POTTED ENTRÉES ISICIA AMULATA AB AHENO [1]

GROUND PEPPER, LOVAGE, ORIGANY, VERY LITTLE SILPHIUM, A PINCH OF GINGER AND A TRIFLE OF HONEY AND [67] A LITTLE STOCK. [Put on the fire, and when boiling] ADD THE ISICIA [sausage, meat balls and so forth] TO THIS BROTH AND COOK THOROUGHLY. FINALLY THICKEN THE GRAVY WITH ROUX [2] BY SOWING IT IN SLOWLY AND STIRRING FROM THE BOTTOM UP [3].

[1] Tor. multa ab alieno; Brandt [a]mul[a]ta ab aheno; List. amylata—French: liés. Ab aheno—out of the pot.

[2] French, for a mixture of wheat or rice flour with fats or liquids to thicken fluids. Amylum, or amulum which hereafter will occur frequently in the original does not cover the ground as well as the French term roux. The quality of the “binder” depends upon the material in hand. Sometimes the fat and flour are parched, sometimes they are used raw. Sometimes the flour is diluted with water and used in that form.

[3] List. and G.-V. sorbendum; Tor. subruendum.

[55] ANOTHER [THICK ENTRÉE GRAVY] ALITER

GRIND PEPPER WHICH HAS BEEN SOAKED OVERNIGHT, ADD SOME MORE STOCK AND WORK IT INTO A SMOOTH PASTE; THEREUPON ADD QUINCE-APPLE CIDER, BOILED DOWN ONE HALF, THAT IS WHICH HAS EVAPORATED IN THE HEAT OF THE SUN TO THE CONSISTENCY OF HONEY. IF THIS IS NOT AT HAND, ADD FIG WINE [1] CONCENTRATE WHICH THE ROMANS CALL “COLOR” [2]. NOW THICKEN THE GRAVY WITH ROUX OR WITH SOAKED RICE FLOUR AND FINISH IT ON A GENTLE FIRE.

[1] Tor. cammarum, which should read caricarum—wine of Carica figs.

[2] V. the Roman equivalent for “singe,” “monkey,” “Affe,”—(the vulgo French is literally translated into and in actual use in other languages) caramel color made of burnt sugar to give gravies a palatable appearance. Cf. No. 73.

The reference by the original to “which the Romans call ‘color’” indicates, according to Brandt, that this formula is NOT of ROMAN origin but probably a translation into Latin from a Greek cookery book.

This is an interesting suggestion, and it could be elaborated on to say that the entire Apicius is NOT of Roman origin. But why should the Greeks who in their balmy days were so far in advance of Rome in culinary matters go there for such information?

It is more likely that this reference to Rome comes from the Italian provinces or the colonies, regions which naturally would look to Rome for guidance in such matters.

[56] ANOTHER AMULATUM AMULATUM ALITER

DISJOINT A CHICKEN AND BONE IT. PLACE THE PIECES IN A STEW PAN WITH LEEKS, DILL AND SALT [water or stock] [68] WHEN WELL DONE ADD PEPPER AND CELERY SEED, THICKEN WITH RICE [1] ADD STOCK, A DASH OF RAISIN WINE OR MUST, STIR WELL, SERVE WITH THE ENTRÉES.

[1] G.-V. oryzam; Tor. ditto (and on margin) oridam; Hum. oridiam legendum orindam—a kind of bread. Dann. and Goll. rice flour.

In a general way the ancient formula corresponds exactly to our present chicken fricassée.

[57] SPELT OR FARINA PUDDING APOTHERMUM

BOIL SPELT WITH [Tor. PIGNOLIA] NUTS AND PEELED ALMONDS [1] [G.-V. AND] IMMERSED IN [boiling] WATER AND WASHED WITH WHITE CLAY SO THAT THEY APPEAR PERFECTLY WHITE, ADD RAISINS, [flavor with] CONDENSED WINE OR RAISIN WINE AND SERVE IT IN A ROUND DISH WITH CRUSHED [2] [nuts, fruit, bread or cake crumbs] SPRINKLED OVER IT [3].

[1] V. We peel almonds in the same manner; the white clay treatment is new to us.

G.-V. and—which is confusing.

[2] The original: confractum—crushed, but what? G.-V. pepper, for which there is neither authority nor reason. A wine sauce would go well with it or crushed fruit. List. and Goll. Breadcrumbs.

[3] This is a perfectly good pudding—one of the very few desserts in Apicius. With a little sweetening (supplied probably by the condensed wine) and some grated lemon for flavor it is quite acceptable as a dessert.

[58] DE AMBOLATO CAP. IIII

Ex Torinus, not mentioned by the other editors. The sense of this word is not clear. It must be a recipe or a chapter the existence of which was known to Torinus, for he says: “This entire chapter is wanting in our copy.”

[59] A DISH OF SOW’S MATRIX VULVULÆ BOTELLI [1]

ENTRÉES [2] OF SOW’S MATRIX [3] ARE MADE THUS: CRUSH PEPPER AND CUMIN WITH TWO SMALL HEADS OF LEEK, PEELED, ADD TO THIS PULP RUE, BROTH [and the sow’s matrix or fresh pork] CHOP, [or crush in mortar very fine] THEN ADD TO THIS [forcemeat] INCORPORATING WELL PEPPER GRAINS AND [pine] NUTS [4] FILL THE CASING [5] AND [69] BOIL IN WATER [with] OIL AND BROTH [for seasoning] AND A BUNCH OF LEEKS AND DILL.

[1] G.-V. Vulvulæ Botelli; Sch. Vulvulæ isiciata; Tor. De Vulvulis et botellis. See note No. 3.

[2] V. “Entrées” out of respect for the ancients who used them as such; today we would class such dishes among the “hors d’œuvres chauds.”

[3] V. Vulvula, dim. for vulva, sow’s matrix. Cf. vulva in dictionary. Possible, also possible that volva is meant—a meat roll, a croquette.

[4] V. Combinations of chopped nuts and pork still in vogue today; we use the green pistachios.

[5] V. The casings which were filled with this forcemeat may have been the sow’s matrices, also caul. The original is vague on the point.

[60] LITTLE SAUSAGE BOTELLUM [1]

BOTELLUM IS MADE OF [2] HARD BOILED YOLKS OF EGG [3] CHOPPED PIGNOLIA NUTS, ONION AND LEEKS, RAW GROUND PINE [4] FINE PEPPER, STUFF IN CASINGS AND COOK IN BROTH AND WINE [5].

[1] V. Botelli, or botuli, are sausage of various kind; (French, Boudin, English, Pudding). Originally made of raw blood, they are in fact, miniature blood sausage. The absence of meat in the present formula makes me believe that it is not complete, though hard boiled yolk when properly seasoned and mixed with the right amount of fat, make a tasty forcemeat for sausage.

[2] Tor. Botellum sic fades ex oui; Sch. and G.-V. sex ovi—the number of eggs is immaterial.

[3] Dann. Calf’s Sweetbreads.

[4] Goll. Thus crudum—raw blood. Thus or tus is either frankincense or the herb, ground-pine. Dann. Rosemary. Hum. Thus crudum lege jus crudum—jus or broth which would make the forcemeat soft. There is no reason for changing “thus” into “jus!”

[5] G.-V. Adicies liquamen et vinum, et sic coques. Tor. & vino decoquas.

[61] LUCANIAN SAUSAGE LUCANICÆ

LUCANIAN SAUSAGE [or meat pudding] ARE MADE SIMILAR TO THE ABOVE: CRUSH PEPPER, CUMIN, SAVORY, RUE, PARSLEY, CONDIMENT, LAUREL BERRIES AND BROTH; MIX WITH FINELY CHOPPED [fresh Pork] AND POUND WELL WITH BROTH. TO THIS MIXTURE, BEING RICH, ADD WHOLE PEPPER AND NUTS. WHEN FILLING CASINGS CAREFULLY [70] PUSH THE MEAT THROUGH. HANG SAUSAGE UP TO SMOKE.

V. Lister’s interesting remarks about the makers of these sausages are given in the dictionary. Cf. Longano.

[62] SAUSAGE FARCIMINA

POUND EGGS AND BRAINS [eggs raw, brains cooked] PINE NUTS [chopped fine] PEPPER [whole] BROTH AND A LITTLE LASER WITH WHICH FILL THE CASINGS. FIRST PARBOIL THE SAUSAGE THEN FRY THEM AND SERVE.

V. The directions are vague enough, but one may recognize in them our modern brain sausage.

[63] ANOTHER SAUSAGE ALITER

WORK COOKED SPELT AND FINELY CHOPPED FRESH PORK TOGETHER, POUND IT WITH PEPPER, BROTH AND PIGNOLIA NUTS. FILL THE CASINGS, PARBOIL AND FRY WITH SALT, SERVE WITH MUSTARD, OR YOU MAY CUT THE SAUSAGE IN SLICES AND SERVE ON A ROUND DISH.

[64] ANOTHER SAUSAGE ALITER

WASH SPELT AND COOK IT WITH STOCK. CUT THE FAT OF THE INTESTINES OR BELLY VERY FINE WITH LEEKS. MIX THIS WITH CHOPPED BACON AND FINELY CHOPPED FRESH PORK. CRUSH PEPPER, LOVAGE AND THREE EGGS AND MIX ALL IN THE MORTAR WITH PIGNOLIA NUTS AND WHOLE PEPPER, ADD BROTH, FILL CASINGS. PARBOIL SAUSAGE, FRY LIGHTLY, OR SERVE THEM BOILED.

Tor. and Tac. Serve with pheasant gravy. In the early editions the following formula which thus ends is wanting.

[65] ROUND SAUSAGE CIRCELLOS ISICIATOS

FILL THE CASINGS WITH THE BEST MATERIAL [forcemeat] SHAPE THE SAUSAGE INTO SMALL CIRCLES, SMOKE. WHEN THEY HAVE TAKEN ON (VERMILLION) COLOR FRY THEM LIGHTLY. DRESS NICELY GARNISHED ON A PHEASANT WINE GRAVY, FLAVORED, HOWEVER, WITH CUMIN.

V. In Tor. and in the earliest edition this formula has been contracted with the preceding and made one formula.

END OF BOOK II

EXPLICIT LIBER SECUNDUS APICII ARTOPTUS [Tac.]

[71]

[72]

ELABORATE THERMOSPODIUM

A heater for the service of hot foods and drinks in the dining room. Hot drinks were mixed and foods were served from apparatus of this kind. The fuel was charcoal. There were public places, specializing in hot drinks, called Thermopolia. This specimen was found at Stabiæ, one of the ill-fated towns destroyed by eruption of Mt. Vesuvius. Ntl. Mus., Naples, 72986; Field M., 24307.

[73]

SERVICE PAN

Round, with decorated handle. This and the pan with the Hercules head on handle used in connection with the plain Thermospodium to serve hot foods in the dining room. Hildesheim Treas.

Lib. III. Cepuros

[74]

[66] VEGETABLES, POT HERBS DE HOLERIBUS

TO KEEP ALL VEGETABLES GREEN.
UT OMNE HOLUS SMARAGDINUM FIAT.

ALL VEGETABLES WILL REMAIN GREEN IF BOILED WITH COOKING SODA [1].

[1] Nitrium. Method still in use today, considered injurious to health if copper vessel is used, but the amount of copper actually absorbed by the vegetable is infinitesimal, imperceptible even by the taste. Copper, to be actually harmful would have to be present in such quantity as to make enjoyment impossible.

[67] VEGETABLE DINNER, EASILY DIGESTED PULMENTARIUM AD VENTREM [1]

ALL GREEN VEGETABLES ARE SUITED FOR THIS PURPOSE [2] VERY YOUNG [3] BEETS AND WELL MATURED LEEKS ARE PARBOILED; ARRANGE THEM IN A BAKING DISH, GRIND PEPPER AND CUMIN, ADD BROTH AND CONDENSED MUST, OR ANYTHING ELSE TO SWEETEN THEM A LITTLE, HEAT AND FINISH THEM ON A SLOW FIRE, AND SERVE.

[1] V. Ad ventrem, “for the belly,” simple home laxative.

[2] V. This sentence in Torinus only. Possibly a contraction of the foregoing formula, No. 66.

[3] V. minutas, “small,” i.e., young.

[68] A SIMILAR DISH SIMILITER

PARBOIL POLYPODY [1] ROOT SO AS TO SOFTEN THEM, CUT THEM INTO SMALL PIECES, SEASON WITH GROUND PEPPER AND CUMIN, ARRANGE IN A BAKING DISH, FINISH ON THE FIRE AND SERVE [2].

[1] V. Roots of the fern herb.

[2] V. Although these instructions for vegetable dinners are rather vague, they resemble primitive chartreuses—fancy vegetable dishes developed by the Carthusian monks to whom flesh eating was forbidden. Elsewhere in Apicius we shall find the chartreuse developed to a remarkable degree.

[69] ANOTHER LAXATIVE ALITER AD VENTREM [1]

SCRUB AND WASH BUNDLES OF BEETS BY RUBBING THEM WITH A LITTLE SODA [2]. TIE THEM IN INDIVIDUAL BUNDLES, PUT INTO WATER TO BE COOKED, WHEN DONE, SEASON WITH REDUCED MUST OR RAISIN WINE AND CUMIN, [75] SPRINKLE WITH PEPPER, ADD A LITTLE OIL, AND WHEN HOT, CRUSH POLYPODY AND NUTS WITH BROTH, ADD THIS TO THE RED-HOT PAN, INCORPORATING IT WITH THE BEETS, TAKE OFF THE FIRE QUICKLY AND SERVE.

[1] This formula wanting in Tor.

[2] V. Ingenious method to skin tender root vegetables, still in vogue today. We remove the skin of tender young root vegetables, carrots, beets, etc., by placing them in a towel, sprinkling them with rock salt and shaking them energetically. The modern power vegetable peeler is really built on the same principle, only instead of salt (which soon melts) carborundum or rough concrete surfaces are used, against which surfaces the vegetables are hurled by the rotary motion; often enough, too much of the skin is removed, however.

[70] BEETS À LA VARRO BETACEOS VARRONIS [1]

VARRO BEETS, THAT IS, BLACK ONES [2] OF WHICH THE ROOTS MUST BE CLEANED WELL, COOK THEM WITH MEAD AND A LITTLE SALT AND OIL; BOIL THEM DOWN IN THIS LIQUOR SO THAT THE ROOTS ARE SATURATED THEREBY; THE LIQUID ITSELF IS GOOD DRINKING. IT IS ALSO NICE TO COOK A CHICKEN IN WITH THEM.

[1] G.-V. Betacios; Tor. B. Varrones. Probably named for Varro, the writer on agriculture.

[2] Roots on the order of parsnips, salsify, oysterplant.

[71] ANOTHER LAXATIVE ALITER AD VENTREM

ANOTHER VEGETABLE DISH, PROMOTING GOOD HEALTH; WASH CELERY, GREENS AND ROOTS, AND DRY IT IN THE SUN: THEN ALSO COOK THE TENDER PART AND HEAD OF LEEKS IN A NEW [1] POT, ALLOWING THE WATER TO BOIL DOWN ONE THIRD OF ITS VOLUME. THEREUPON GRIND PEPPER WITH BROTH AND HONEY IN EQUAL AMOUNTS PROPERLY MEASURED, MIX IT IN THE MORTAR WITH THE WATER OF THE COOKED CELERY, STRAIN, BOIL AGAIN AND USE IT TO MASK THE [cooked] CELERY WITH. IF DESIRED, ADD [the sliced root of the] CELERY TO IT [2].

[1] V. “new,” i.e., cook leeks in a separate sauce pan; NOT together with the celery, which, as the original takes for granted, must be cooked also.

[2] V. We would leave the honey out, make a cream sauce from the stock, or, adding bouillon, tie same with a little flour and butter, and would call the dish Stewed Celery and Leeks. The ancient method is entirely rational because the mineral salts of the vegetables are preserved and utilized (invariably observed [76] by Apicius) which today are often wasted by inexperienced cooks who discard these precious elements with the water in which vegetables are boiled.

[72] ASPARAGUS ASPARAGOS

ASPARAGUS [Tor. IN ORDER TO HAVE IT MOST AGREEABLE TO THE PALATE] MUST BE [peeled, washed and] DRIED [1] AND IMMERSED IN BOILING WATER BACKWARDS [2] [3].

[1] V. Must be dried before boiling because the cold water clinging to the stalks is likely to chill the boiling water too much in which the asparagus is to be cooked. Apicius here reveals himself as the consummate cook who is familiar with the finest detail of physical and chemical changes which food undergoes at varying temperatures.

The various editions all agree: asparagos siccabis; Schuch, however, says: “For the insane siccabis I substitute siciabis, isiciabis, prepare with sicio [?] and cook.” He even goes on to interpret it cucabis from the Greek kouki, cocoanut milk, and infers that the asparagus was first cooked in cocoanut milk and then put back into water, a method we are tempted to pronounce insane.

[2] V. Backwards! G.-V. rursum in calidam; Tac. rursus in aquam calidam; Tor. ac rursus ...

This word has caused us some reflection, but the ensuing discovery made it worth while. Rursus has escaped the attention of the other commentators. In this case rursus means backwards, being a contraction from revorsum, h.e. reversum. The word is important enough to be observed.

Apicius evidently has the right way of cooking the fine asparagus. The stalks, after being peeled and washed must be bunched together and tied according to sizes, and the bunches must be set into the boiling water “backwards,” that is, they must stand upright with the heads protruding from the water. The heads will be made tender above the water line by rising steam and will be done simultaneously with the harder parts of the stalks. We admit, we have never seen a modern cook observe this method. They usually boil the tender heads to death while the lower stalks are still hard.

Though this formula is incomplete (it fails to state the sauce to be served, also that the asparagus must be peeled and bunched, that the water must contain salt, etc.) it is one of the neatest formulæ in Apicius. It is amusing to note how the author herein unconsciously reveals what a poor litérateur but what a fine cook he is. This is characteristic of most good practitioners. One may perfectly master the vast subject of cookery, yet one may not be able to give a definition of even a single term, let alone the ability to exactly describe one of the many processes of cookery. Real poets often are in the same predicament; none of them ever explained the art satisfactorily.

[3] G.-V. add to the formula callosiores reddes—give back [eliminate] the [77] harder ones. This sentence belongs to the next article. And Torinus, similar to Humelbergius, renders this sentence ut reddas ad gustum calliores—to render the harder ones palatable—the squash and pumpkin namely—and we are inclined to agree with him.

[73] PUMPKIN, SQUASH CUCURBITAS

TO HAVE THE HARDER ONES PALATABLE, DO THIS: [1] [Cut the fruit into pieces, boil and] SQUEEZE THE WATER OUT OF THE BOILED FRUIT AND ARRANGE [the pieces] IN A BAKING DISH. PUT IN THE MORTAR PEPPER, CUMIN AND SILPHIUM, THAT IS, A VERY LITTLE OF THE LASER ROOT AND A LITTLE RUE, SEASON THIS WITH STOCK, MEASURE A LITTLE VINEGAR AND MIX IN A LITTLE CONDENSED WINE, SO THAT IT CAN BE STRAINED [2] AND POUR THIS LIQUID OVER THE FRUIT IN THE BAKING DISH; LET IT BOIL THREE TIMES, RETIRE FROM THE FIRE AND SPRINKLE WITH VERY LITTLE GROUND PEPPER.

[1] Cf. note 3 to No. 72.

[2] List. Ut coloretur—to give it color; Tor. ut ius coletur—from colo—to strain, to filter.

Cf. also note 2 to No. 55.

[74] PUMPKIN LIKE DASHEENS ALITER CUCURBITAS IURE COLOCASIORUM [1]

BOIL THE PUMPKIN IN WATER LIKE COLOCASIA; GRIND PEPPER, CUMIN AND RUE, ADD VINEGAR AND MEASURE OUT THE BROTH IN A SAUCEPAN. THE PUMPKIN PIECES [nicely cut] WATER PRESSED OUT [are arranged] IN A SAUCEPAN WITH THE BROTH AND ARE FINISHED ON THE FIRE WHILE THE JUICE IS BEING TIED WITH A LITTLE ROUX. BEFORE SERVING SPRINKLE WITH PEPPER [2].

[1] V. Colocasia Antiquorum belonging to the dasheen or taro family, a valuable tuber, again mentioned in No. 172, 216, 244 and 322. Cf. various notes, principally that to No. 322. Also see U. S. Dept. of Agr. Farmer’s Bulletin No. 1396, p. 2. This is a “new” and commercially and gastronomically important root vegetable, the flavor reminding of a combination of chestnuts and potatoes, popularly known as “Chinese potatoes” which has been recently introduced by the U. S. Government from the West Indies where it received the name, Dasheen, derived from de Chine—from China.

[2] Tor. continues without interruption into the next formula.

[78]

[75] PUMPKIN, ALEXANDRINE STYLE ALITER CUCURBITAS MORE ALEXANDRINO

PRESS THE WATER OUT OF THE BOILED PUMPKIN, PLACE IN A BAKING DISH, SPRINKLE WITH SALT, GROUND PEPPER, CUMIN, CORIANDER SEED, GREEN MINT AND A LITTLE LASER ROOT; SEASON WITH VINEGAR. NOW ADD DATE WINE AND PIGNOLIA NUTS GROUND WITH HONEY, VINEGAR AND BROTH, MEASURE OUT CONDENSED WINE AND OIL, POUR THIS OVER THE PUMPKIN AND FINISH IN THIS LIQUOR AND SERVE, SPRINKLE WITH PEPPER BEFORE SERVING.

[76] BOILED PUMPKIN ALITER CUCURBITAS ELIXATAS

[Boiled Pumpkin] STEWED IN BROTH WITH PURE OIL.

[77] FRIED PUMPKIN ALITER CUCURBITAS FRICTAS

[Fried pumpkin served with] SIMPLE WINE SAUCE AND PEPPER.

[78] ANOTHER WAY, BOILED AND FRIED ALITER CUCURBITAS ELIXATAS ET FRICTAS

BOILED PUMPKIN FRIED IS PLACED IN A BAKING PAN. SEASON WITH CUMIN WINE, ADD A LITTLE OIL; FINISH ON THE FIRE AND SERVE.

[79] ANOTHER WAY, MASHED CUCURBITAS FRICTAS TRITAS

FRIED [1] PUMPKIN, SEASONED WITH PEPPER, LOVAGE, CUMIN, ORIGANY, ONION, WINE BROTH AND OIL: STEW THE PUMPKIN [in this] IN A BAKING DISH, TIE THE LIQUID WITH ROUX [mash] AND SERVE IN THE DISH.

[1] V. Baking the fruit reduces the water contents, renders the purée more substantial. G.-V. Tritas—mashed. Tor. connects tritas up with pepper, hence it is doubtful whether this dish of pumpkin is mashed pumpkin.

[80] PUMPKIN AND CHICKEN CUCURBITAS CUM GALLINA

[Stew the pumpkin with a hen, garnish with] HARD-SKINNED PEACHES, TRUFFLES; PEPPER, CARRAWAY, AND CUMIN, [79] SILPHIUM AND GREEN HERBS, SUCH AS MINT, CELERY, CORIANDER, PENNYROYAL, CRESS, WINE [1] OIL AND VINEGAR.

[1] Tor. Vinum vel oleum; List. vinum, mel, oleum.

[81] CITRON CITRIUM [1]

FOR THE PREPARATION OF CITRON FRUIT WE TAKE SILER [2] FROM THE MOUNTAINS, SILPHIUM, DRY MINT, VINEGAR AND BROTH.

[1] List. Citrini—a lemon or cucumber squash.

[2] Tor. Silerem; List. sil, which is hartwort, a kind of cumin or mountain fennel.

[82] CUCUMBERS CUCUMERES

[Stew the] PEELED CUCUMBERS EITHER IN BROTH [1] OR IN A WINE SAUCE; [and] YOU WILL FIND THEM TO BE TENDER AND NOT CAUSING INDIGESTION.

[1] Usually cucumbers are parboiled in water and then finished in broth; most often after being parboiled they are stuffed with forcemeat and then finished in broth.

[83] CUCUMBERS ANOTHER WAY ALITER CUCUMERES RASOS

[Peeled cucumbers are] STEWED WITH BOILED BRAINS, CUMIN AND A LITTLE HONEY. ADD SOME CELERY SEED, STOCK AND OIL, BIND THE GRAVY WITH EGGS [1] SPRINKLE WITH PEPPER AND SERVE.

[1] Tor. bis obligabis—tie twice—for which there is no reason, except in case the sauce should curdle. List. oleo elixabis—fry in oil—obviously wrong, as the materials for this stew are already cooked. Sch. ovis obligabis—bind with eggs—which is the thing to do in this case.

[84] ANOTHER CUCUMBER RECIPE ALITER CUCUMERES

CUCUMBERS, PEPPER, PENNYROYAL, HONEY OR CONDENSED MUST, BROTH AND VINEGAR; ONCE IN A WHILE ONE ADDS SILPHIUM.

Sounds like a fancy dressing for raw sliced cucumbers, though there are no directions to this effect.

[80]

[85] MELON-GOURD AND MELONS PEPONES ET MELONES

PEPPER, PENNYROYAL, HONEY OR CONDENSED MUST, BROTH AND VINEGAR; ONCE IN A WHILE ONE ADDS SILPHIUM.

Same as 84; which confirms above theory. It is quite possible that melons were eaten raw with this fancy dressing. Many people enjoy melons with pepper and salt, or, in salad form with oil and vinegar. Gourds, however, to be palatable, must be boiled and served either hot or cold with this dressing.

[86] MALLOWS MALVAS

THE SMALLER MALLOWS [are prepared] WITH GARUM [1], STOCK [2] OIL AND VINEGAR; THE LARGER MALLOWS [prepare] WITH A WINE SAUCE, PEPPER AND STOCK, [adding] CONDENSED WINE OR RAISIN WINE.

[1] Tor. Garum; List. Oenogarum.

[2] Liquamen—depending upon the mode of serving the mallows, hot or cold.

[87] YOUNG CABBAGE, SPROUTS [1] CYMAS ET CAULICULOS [2]

[Boil the] SPROUTS; [1] [season with] CUMIN [3], SALT, WINE AND OIL; IF YOU LIKE [add] PEPPER, LOVAGE, MINT, RUE, CORIANDER; THE TENDER LEAVES OF THE STALKS [stew] IN BROTH; WINE AND OIL BE THE SEASONING.

[1] Including, perhaps, cauliflower and broccoli.

[2] List. Cimæ & Coliculi. Nunc crudi cum condimentis nunc elixati inferentur. Served sometimes raw with dressing, sometimes boiled.

[3] Cumin or carraway seed is still used today in the preparation of the delicious “Bavarian” cabbage which also includes wine and other spices.

[88] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

CUT THE STALKS IN HALF AND BOIL THEM. THE LEAVES ARE MASHED AND SEASONED WITH CORIANDER, ONION, CUMIN, PEPPER, RAISIN WINE, OR CONDENSED WINE AND A LITTLE OIL.

Very sensible way of using cabbage stalks that are usually thrown away. Note the almost scientific procedure: the stalks are separated from the leaves, split to [81] facilitate cooking; they are cooked separately because they require more time than the tender greens.

Our present method appears barbarous in comparison. We quarter the cabbage head, and either boil it or steam it. As a result either the tender leaves are cooked to death or the stems are still hard. The overcooked parts are not palatable, the underdone ones indigestible. Such being the case, our boiled cabbage is a complete loss, unless prepared the Apician way.

[89] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

THE COOKED [1] STALKS ARE PLACED IN A [baking] DISH; MOISTEN WITH STOCK AND PURE OIL, SEASON WITH CUMIN, SPRINKLE [2] WITH PEPPER, LEEKS, CUMIN, AND GREEN CORIANDER [all] CHOPPED UP.

[1] Tor. Coliculi assati—sauté, fried; (Remember: Choux de Bruxelles sauté) List. elixati—boiled. G.-V. Cauliculi elixati.

[2] Tor. Superasperges; G.-V. piper asperges.

Sounds like a salad of cooked cabbage. The original leaves us in doubt as to the temperature of the dish.

[90] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

THE VEGETABLE, SEASONED AND PREPARED IN THE ABOVE WAY IS STEWED WITH PARBOILED LEEKS.

[91] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

TO THE SPROUTS OR STALKS, SEASONED AND PREPARED AS ABOVE, ARE ADDED GREEN OLIVES WHICH ARE HEATED LIKEWISE.

[92] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

PREPARE THE SPROUTS IN THE ABOVE WAY, COVER THEM WITH BOILED SPELT AND PINE NUTS [1] AND SPRINKLE [2] WITH RAISINS.

[1] The nuts should not astonish us. The French today have a delicious dish, Choux de Bruxelles aux Marrons—Brussels Sprouts with Chestnuts. Sprouts and chestnuts are, of course, cooked separately; the lightly boiled sprouts are sauté in butter; the chestnuts parboiled, peeled, and finished in stock with a little sugar or syrup, tossed in butter and served in the center of the sprouts.

The Apician formula with cereal and raisins added is too exotic to suit our modern taste, but without a question is a nutritious dish and complete from a dietetic point of view.

[2] Tor. Superasperges; G.-V. piper asperges.

[82]

[93] LEEKS PORROS

WELL MATURED LEEKS [1] ARE BOILED WITH A PINCH OF SALT [2] IN [combined] WATER AND OIL [3]. THEY ARE THEN STEWED IN OIL AND IN THE BEST KIND OF BROTH, AND SERVED.

[1] Tor. Poros bene maturos; G.-V. maturos fieri.

[2] One of the rare instances where Apicius mentions salt in cookery, i.e., salt in a dry form. Pugnum salis—a fist of salt—he prescribes here. Usually it is liquamen—broth, brine—he uses.

[3] Tor. is correct in finishing the sentence here. G.-V. continue et eximes., which is the opening of the next sentence, and it makes a difference in the formula.

[94] ANOTHER WAY TO COOK LEEKS ALITER PORROS

WRAP THE LEEKS WELL IN CABBAGE LEAVES, HAVING FIRST COOKED THEM AS DIRECTED ABOVE [1] AND THEN FINISH THEM IN THE ABOVE WAY.

[1] Tor. in primis—first; List., G.-V. in prunis—hot embers.

[95] ANOTHER WAY ALITER PORROS

COOK THE LEEKS WITH [laurel] BERRIES [1], [and otherwise treat them] AND SERVE AS ABOVE.

[1] Tor. Porros in bacca coctos; List. in cacabo—cooked in a casserole; Sch. bafa embama—steeped, marinated (in oil); G.-V. in baca coctos. Another way to read this: baca et fabæ—with beans—is quite within reason. The following formula, 96, is perhaps only a variant of the above.

Brandt: with olives, referring to No. 91 as a precedent.

[96] LEEKS AND BEANS ALITER PORROS

AFTER HAVING BOILED THE LEEKS IN WATER, [green string] BEANS WHICH HAVE NOT YET BEEN PREPARED OTHERWISE, MAY BE BOILED [in the leek water] [1] PRINCIPALLY ON ACCOUNT OF THE GOOD TASTE THEY WILL ACQUIRE; AND MAY THEN BE SERVED WITH THE LEEKS.

[1] Apicius needed no modern science of nutrition to remind him of the value of the mineral salts in vegetables.

[83]

[97] BEETS BETAS

TO MAKE A DISH OF BEETS THAT WILL APPEAL TO YOUR TASTE [1] SLICE [the beets, [2] with] LEEKS AND CRUSH CORIANDER AND CUMIN; ADD RAISIN WINE [3], BOIL ALL DOWN TO PERFECTION: BIND IT, SERVE [the beets] SEPARATE FROM THE BROTH, WITH OIL AND VINEGAR.

[1] Sentence in Tor.; wanting in List. et al.

[2] List. No mention of beets is made in this formula; therefore, it may belong to the foregoing leek recipes. V. This is not so. Here the noun is made subject to the first verb, as is practiced frequently. Moreover, the mode of preparation fits beets nicely, except for the flour to which we object in note 3, below. To cook beets with leeks, spices and wine and serve them (cold) with oil and vinegar is indeed a method that cannot be improved upon.

[3] Tac., Tor., List., G.-V. uvam passam, Farinam—raisins and flour—for which there is no reason. Sch. varianam—raisin wine of the Varianian variety; Bas. Phariam. V. inclined to agree with Sch. and Bas.

[98] ANOTHER WAY ALITER BETAS ELIXAS

COOK THE BEETS WITH MUSTARD [seed] AND SERVE THEM WELL PICKLED IN A LITTLE OIL AND VINEGAR.

V. Add bay leaves, cloves, pepper grains, sliced onion and a little sugar, and you have our modern pickled beets.

[99] GREEN VEGETABLES, POT HERBS OLISERA [1]

[The greens] TIED IN HANDY BUNDLES, COOKED AND SERVED WITH PURE OIL; ALSO PROPER WITH FRIED FISH.

[1] Tac. Olisera; Tor. Olifera (sev mauis olyra) Tor. is mistaken. Hum., List. Olisatra; (old Ms. note in our Hum. copy: “Alessandrina uulgò”) from olusatrum—olus—pot herbs, cabbage, turnips. G.-V. Holisera, from holus, i.e. olus and from olitor one who raises pot herbs.

[100] TURNIPS OR NAVEWS RAPAS SIVE NAPOS

[Turnips are] COOKED [soft, the water is] SQUEEZED [out; then] CRUSH A GOOD AMOUNT OF CUMIN AND A LITTLE RUE, ADD PARTHICAN [1] LASER OR [2] VINEGAR, STOCK, CONDENSED WINE AND OIL [3] HEAT MODERATELY AND SERVE.

[1] i.e. Persian laser; List. laser, Parthicum; (the comma makes a difference!) Sch. particum—a part.

[84] [2] Tac., Tor. vel acetum; List. G.-V. mel, acetum. Another comma; and “honey” instead of “or.” V. We doubt this: the vinegar is an alternative, for it takes the place of the more expensive Persian laser (which was an essence of the laser root, often diluted with vinegar).

[3] List., G.-V. oleum modice: fervere; Tor. & oleum, quæ modice fervere facias. Again note Lister’s punctuation here and in the foregoing notes. The misplaced commas and colons raise havoc with the formulæ everywhere. Torinus, who in his preface complains that his authority has no punctuation whatsoever and thereby indicates that it must have been a very ancient copy, (at least prior to the 1503 Tac. ed.) is generally not far from the mark. It is also doubtful that the variants are by him, as is claimed by List. In this instance, indeed, Tor. is again correct.

[101] ANOTHER WAY [1] ALITER RAPAS SIVE NAPOS

[The turnips are] BOILED, SERVED DRESSED WITH OIL, TO WHICH, IF DESIRED, YOU MAY ADD VINEGAR [2].

[1] Tor. ad delitias—delightful.

[2] V. Presumably served cold, as a salad; cf. No. 122.

[102] RADISHES RAPHANOS

PEPPER THE RADISHES WELL; OR, EQUALLY WELL: GRATE IT WITH PEPPER AND BRINE.

Sch., G.-V. Rafanos; Raphanos agria,—a kind of horseradish; Plinius: h.e. raphanus sylvestris.

[103] SOFT CABBAGE OLUS MOLLE

THE CABBAGE IS COOKED WITH POT HERBS IN SODA WATER; PRESS [the water out] CHOP IT VERY FINE: [now] CRUSH PEPPER, LOVAGE, DRY SATURY WITH DRY ONIONS, ADD STOCK, OIL AND WINE.

[104] ANOTHER MASHED GREEN VEGETABLE ALTER OLUS MOLLE [EX APIO]

COOK CELERY IN SODA WATER, SQUEEZE [water out] CHOP FINE. IN THE MORTAR CRUSH PEPPER, LOVAGE, ORIGANY, ONION [and mix with] WINE AND STOCK, ADDING SOME OIL. [85] COOK THIS IN THE BOILER [1] AND MIX THE CELERY WITH THIS PREPARATION.

[1] in pultario. The pultarius is a pot in which cereals were boiled; from puls—porridge, pap.

[105] ANOTHER MASHED VEGETABLE ALITER OLUS MOLLE [EX LACTUCIS]

COOK THE LETTUCE LEAVES WITH ONION IN SODA WATER, SQUEEZE [the water out] CHOP VERY FINE; IN THE MORTAR CRUSH PEPPER, LOVAGE, CELERY SEED, DRY MINT, ONION; ADD STOCK, OIL AND WINE.

[106] TO PREVENT MASHED VEGETABLES FROM TURNING OLUS MOLLE NE ARESCAT [1]

IT WILL BE REQUIRED ABOVE ALL TO CLEAN THE VEGETABLES WELL, TO CUT OFF ALL DECAYED PARTS AND TO COVER [the cooked vegetables] WITH WORMWOOD WATER.

[1] Tor. ne ... exarescat, the difference in the meaning is immaterial.

[107] FIELD HERBS HERBÆ RUSTICÆ

FIELD AND FOREST [1] HERBS ARE PREPARED [2] [either raw] WITH STOCK [3] OIL AND VINEGAR [as a salad, [4]] OR AS A COOKED DISH [5] BY ADDING PEPPER, CUMIN AND MASTICH BERRIES.

[1] Tor. ac sylvestres; V. German, Feldsalat.

[2] Tor. parantur; wanting in other editions.

[3] Liquamine, here interpreted as brine.

[4] Tac., Sch., et al. a manu; Tor. vel manu—because eaten with the hand.

[5] Tor. vel in patina.

[108] NETTLES URTICÆ

THE FEMALE NETTLES, WHEN THE SUN IS IN THE POSITION OF THE ARIES, IS SUPPOSED TO RENDER VALUABLE SERVICES AGAINST AILMENTS OF VARIOUS KINDS [1].

[1] Tac., List., Sch., et al. adversus ægritudinem.

Barthius: Quam ægritudinem? etc., etc.

Tor. plurifarias!

Reinsenius: ad arcendum morbum, etc., etc.

[86] Hum. scilicet quamcunque hoc est ... etc., etc., etc.

G.-V. si voles.

V. This innocent little superstition about the curative qualities of the female nettle causes the savants to engage in various speculations.

Nettles are occasionally eaten as vegetables on the Continent.

[109] ENDIVES AND LETTUCE INTUBA ET LACTUCÆ

ENDIVES [are dressed] WITH BRINE, A LITTLE OIL AND CHOPPED ONION, INSTEAD OF THE REAL LETTUCE [1] IN WINTER TIME THE ENDIVES ARE TAKEN OUT OF THE PICKLE [2] [and are dressed] WITH HONEY OR VINEGAR.

[1] Hum. pro lactucis uere; Tor. p. l. accipint; G.-V. p. l. vero (separated by period)—all indicating that endives are a substitute for lettuce when this is not available.

[2] Cf. ℞ No. 27, also Nos. 22 and 23.

[110] LETTUCE SALAD, FIELD SALAD AGRESTES LACTUCÆ [1]

[Dress it] WITH VINEGAR DRESSING AND A LITTLE BRINE STOCK; WHICH HELPS DIGESTION AND IS TAKEN TO COUNTERACT INFLATION [2].

[1] Tor. sic; Hum. agri l.; Tac. id.; Sch. and G.-V. have acri as an adjective to vinegar, the last word in the preceding formula.

[2] List. and Hum. continuing: “And this salad will not hurt you”; but Tor., Sch. and G.-V. use this as a heading for the following formula.

[111] A HARMLESS SALAD NE LACTUCÆ LÆDANT

[And in order that the lettuce may not hurt you take (with it or after it) the following preparation] [1] 2 OUNCES OF GINGER, 1 OUNCE OF GREEN RUE, 1 OUNCE OF MEATY DATES, 12 SCRUPLES OF GROUND PEPPER, 1 OUNCE OF GOOD HONEY, AND 8 OUNCES OF EITHER ÆTHIOPIAN OR SYRIAN CUMIN. MAKE AN INFUSION OF THIS IN VINEGAR, THE CUMIN CRUSHED, AND STRAIN. OF THIS LIQUOR USE A SMALL SPOONFUL MIX IT WITH STOCK AND A LITTLE VINEGAR: YOU MAY TAKE A SMALL SPOONFUL AFTER THE MEAL [2].

[1] Tac. and Tor. Ne lactucæ lædant [take it] cum zingiberis uncijs duabus, etc. Hum., List., G.-V. cumini unc. II. They and Sch. read the cum of Tac. and Tor. for cumini, overlooking the fact that the recipe later calls for Aethopian or [87] Syrian cumin as well. This shifts the weights of the various ingredients from the one to the other, completely upsetting the sense of the formula.

[2] Goll. ignores this passage completely.

V. This is another of the medical formulæ that have suffered much by experimentation and interpretation through the ages. It seems to be an aromatic vinegar for a salad dressing, and, as such, a very interesting article, reminding of our present tarragon, etc., vinegars. To be used judiciously in salads.

Again, as might be expected, the medicinal character of the formula inspires the medieval doctors to profound meditation and lively debate.

Cf. ℞ Nos. 34 and 108.

[112] CARDOONS CARDUI

CARDOONS [are eaten with a dressing of] BRINY BROTH, OIL, AND CHOPPED [hard] EGGS.

V. Precisely as we do today: French dressing and hard boiled eggs. We do not forget pepper, of course. Perhaps the ancient “briny broth” contained enough of this and of other ingredients, such as fine condiments and spices to make the dressing perfect.

[113] ANOTHER [Dressing for] CARDOONS ALITER CARDUOS

RUE, MINT, CORIANDER, FENNEL—ALL GREEN—FINELY CRUSHED; ADD PEPPER, LOVAGE, AND [1] BRINE AND OIL [2].

[1] Tac. and Tor. vel.; List., Sch., G.-V. mel—honey—which would spoil this fine vinaigrette or cold fines herbes dressing. However, even nowadays, sugar is quite frequently added to salad dressings.

[2] Gollmer claims that this dressing is served with cooked cardoons, the recipe for which follows below. This is wanting in Tor.

[114] BOILED CARDOONS ALITER CARDUOS ELIXOS

[Are served with] PEPPER, CUMIN, BROTH AND OIL.

[115] (COW-) PARSNIPS [?] SPONDYLI VEL FONDULI [1]

COW-PARSNIPS ARE FRIED [and eaten] WITH A SIMPLE WINE SAUCE.

[1] Tac. Spondili uel fonduli and Sphon ...; Tor. as above; Hum. Spongioli [88] uel funguli; List., id.; Sch. Sfondili uel funguli; G.-V. Sphondyli uel funduli.

Cf. note to Nos. 46, 121, 122.

[116] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

BOIL THE PARSNIPS IN SALT WATER [and season them] WITH PURE OIL [1], CHOPPED GREEN CORIANDER AND WHOLE PEPPER.

[1] Tac. Oleo mero; Other editors: Oleo, mero. V. The comma is misplaced.

[117] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

PREPARE THE BOILED PARSNIPS WITH THE FOLLOWING SAUCE: CELERY SEED, RUE, HONEY, GROUND PEPPER, MIXED WITH RAISIN WINE, STOCK AND A LITTLE OIL; BIND THIS WITH ROUX [bring to a boiling point, immerse parsnips] SPRINKLE WITH PEPPER AND SERVE.

[118] ANOTHER WAY [Purée of Parsnips] [1] ALITER

MASH THE PARSNIPS, [add] CUMIN, RUE, STOCK, A LITTLE CONDENSED WINE, OIL, GREEN CORIANDER [and] LEEKS AND SERVE; GOES WELL WITH SALT PORK [2].

[1] Again faulty punctuation obscures the text. Carefully compare the following: Tac. and Tor. Spondylos teres, cuminum, etc. Hum., List. and G.-V. S. teres cuminum, i.e. crush the cumin. Sch. S. tores—dry, parch!

[2] Inferes pro salso—serve with salt pork or bacon, or, instead of—Salsum—salt pork. Dann. Well seasoned with salt! Sch. infares pro salsa. For further confirmation of salsum cf. ℞ Nos. 148-152.

[119] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

BOIL THE PARSNIPS [sufficiently, if] HARD [1] [then] PUT THEM IN A SAUCE PAN AND STEW WITH OIL, STOCK, PEPPER, RAISIN WINE, STRAIN [2] AND BIND WITH ROUX.

[1] Tor. præduratos; List. prædurabis. How can they be hardened? It may perhaps stand for “parboil.” We agree with Tor. that the hard ones (præduratos) must be cooked soft.

[2] Tor. and Tac. Colabis—strain; List. and G.-V. Colorabis—color. No necessity for coloring the gravy, but straining after the binding with roux is important which proves Tor. correct again. Cf. note 1 to ℞ No. 73 and note 2 to ℞ No. 55.

[89]

[120] ANOTHER WAY ALITER [1]

FINISH [marinate] THE PARSNIPS IN OIL AND BROTH, OR FRY THEM IN OIL, SPRINKLE WITH SALT AND PEPPER, AND SERVE.

[1] Ex G.-V. wanting in Tor. and List. Found in Sch. also. V. Procedure quite in accordance with modern practice. We envelope the p. in flour or frying batter.

[121] ANOTHER WAY ALITER [1]

BRUISE THE BOILED PARSNIPS [scallops, muscular part of shellfish] ELIMINATE THE HARD STRINGS; ADD BOILED SPELT AND CHOPPED HARD EGGS, STOCK AND PEPPER. MAKE CROQUETTES OR SAUSAGE FROM THIS, ADDING PIGNOLIA NUT AND PEPPER, WRAP IN CAUL [or fill in casings] FRY AND SERVE THEM AS AN ENTRÉE DISH IN A WINE SAUCE.

[1] V. This formula is virtually a repetition of ℞ No. 46, all the more bewildering because of the divergence of the term (Cf. ℞ No. 115), which stands for “scallops” or the muscular part of any bivalve, at least in the above formula.

The Græco-Latin word for cow-parsnip is spondylium, sphondylium, spondylion. It is almost certain that the preceding parsnips formulæ are in the right place here. They are in direct line with the other vegetables here treated—the shellfish—spondylus—would be out of place in this chapter, Book III, The Gardener. All the recipes, with the exception of the above, fit a vegetable like parsnips. Even Lister’s and Humelberg’s interpretation of the term, who read spongioli—mushrooms—could be questioned under this heading, Book III.

It is barely possible that this entire series of formulæ, Spondyli uel fonduli (℞ Nos. 115-121) does belong to Book II among the scallop hysitia, though we are little inclined to accept this theory.

Cf. ℞ No. 122 which appears to be a confirmation of the view expressed above.

[122] CARROTS AND PARSNIPS CAROTÆ ET PASTINACÆ

CARROTS OR PARSNIPS ARE FRIED [and served] WITH A WINE SAUCE.

V. Exactly like ℞ No. 115, which may be a confirmation that spondyli stands for cow-parsnips.

[90]

[123] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

THE CARROTS [are cooked] SALTED [and served] WITH PURE OIL AND VINEGAR.

V. As a salad. “Italian Salad” consists of a variety of such cooked vegetables, nicely dressed with oil and vinegar, or with mayonnaise. Cf. ℞ No. 102.

[124] ANOTHER WAY ALITER

THE CARROTS [are] BOILED [and] SLICED, STEWED WITH CUMIN AND A LITTLE OIL AND ARE SERVED. AT THE SAME TIME [1] [here is your opportunity] MAKE A CUMIN SAUCE [from the carrot juice] FOR THOSE WHO HAVE THE COLIC [2].

[1] Ex Tor. wanting elsewhere.

[2] Tac. coliorum; Tor. cuminatum colicorum; List. c. coloratum—colored; G.-V. c. colorium.

END OF BOOK III

EXPLICIT APICII CEPURICA DE OLERIBUS LIBER TERTIUS [Tac.]

THERMOSPODIUM OF PLAIN DESIGN

Water and food heater for everyday purposes. Charcoal fuel. Foods were kept on top in pans, dishes or pots, and were thus carried from the kitchen into the dining room. They were also used for food service in hotel rooms, supplied from adjacent tavern kitchens, as some hotels had no food preparation facilities. This handy apparatus was designed for general utility, as it also served as a portable stove on chilly days in living rooms that were not heated from the central heating plant found in larger houses. Ntl. Mus. Naples, 73882; Field M. 24179.

[91]

[92]

ROMAN WINE PRESS

Reconstruction in Naples, in the new section of the National Museum.

[93]

A DISH FOR THE SERVICE OF EGGS

Hildesheim Treasure

Lib. IV. Pandecter [1]

[125] BOILED DINNER SALACATTABIA [2]

PEPPER, FRESH MINT, CELERY, DRY PENNYROYAL, CHEESE [3], PIGNOLIA NUTS, HONEY, VINEGAR, BROTH, YOLKS OF EGG, FRESH WATER, SOAKED BREAD AND THE LIQUID PRESSED OUT, COW’S CHEESE AND CUCUMBERS ARE ARRANGED IN A DISH, ALTERNATELY, WITH THE NUTS; [also add] FINELY CHOPPED CAPERS [4], CHICKEN LIVERS [5]; COVER COMPLETELY WITH [a lukewarm, congealing] BROTH, PLACE ON ICE [and when congealed unmould and] SERVE UP [6].

[1] Read: Pandectes—embracing the whole science.

[2] Read: Salacaccabia—from salsa and caccabus—salt meat boiled in the pot. Sch. Sala cottabia; G.-V. cattabia.

[3] Sch. casiam instead of caseum.

[4] Sch. Copadiis porcinis—small bits of pork; List. cepas aridas puto—“shallots, I believe”; Lan. capparis; Vat., G.-V. id.

[94] [5] Dann. Chicken meat.

[6] This dish if pork were added (cf. Sch. in note 4 above) would resemble our modern “headcheese”; the presence of cheese in this formula and in our word “headcheese” is perhaps not accidental; the cheese has been eliminated in the course of time from dishes of this sort while the name has remained with us. “Cheese” also appears in the German equivalent for custard—Eierkäse.

[126] APICIAN JELLY SALACATTABIA APICIANA

PUT IN THE MORTAR CELERY SEED, DRY PENNYROYAL, DRY MINT, GINGER, FRESH CORIANDER, SEEDLESS RAISINS, HONEY, VINEGAR, OIL AND WINE; CRUSH IT TOGETHER [in order to make a dressing of it]. [Now] PLACE 3 PIECES OF PICENTIAN BREAD IN A MOULD, INTERLINED WITH PIECES OF [cooked] CHICKEN, [cooked] SWEETBREADS OF CALF OR LAMB, CHEESE [1], PIGNOLIA NUTS, CUCUMBERS [pickles] FINELY CHOPPED DRY ONIONS [shallots] COVERING THE WHOLE WITH [jellified] BROTH. BURY THE MOULD IN SNOW UP TO THE RIM; [unmould] SPRINKLE [with the above dressing] AND SERVE [2].

[1] List. caseum Vestinum—a certain cheese from the Adriatic coast.

[2] The nature of the first passage of this formula indicates a dressing for a cold dish. The dish was probably unmoulded when firm, and the jelly covered with this dressing, though the original does not state this procedure. In that case it would resemble a highly complicated chicken salad, such as we make today—mayonnaise de volaille en aspic, for instance. We recall the artistic molds for puddings and other dishes which the ancients had which were nicely suited for dishes such as the above.

The Picentian bread—made of spelt—was a celebrated product of the bakeries of Picentia, a town of lower Italy, near the Tuscan sea, according to Pliny.

Cf. ℞ No. 141.

[127] OTHER SALACACCABIA ALITER

HOLLOW OUT AN ALEXANDRINE LOAF OF BREAD, SOAK THE CRUMBS WITH POSCA [a mixture of water, wine, vinegar or lemon juice] AND MAKE A PASTE OF IT. PUT IN THE MORTAR PEPPER, HONEY [1] MINT, GARLIC, FRESH CORIANDER, SALTED COW’S CHEESE, WATER AND OIL. WINE [2] POURED OVER BEFORE SERVING [3].

[1] Wanting in Tor.

[2] G.-V. insuper nivem—chilled on snow (like the preceding formula). Tac. insuper vinum; Sch. id.

[95] [3] A panada as is found in every old cookery book. Today it remains as a dressing for roast fowl, etc. Quoting from “A Collection of Receipts in Cookery, Physick and Surgery,” London, 1724:

“Panada for a Sick or Weak Stomach. Put the crumbs of a Penny White-Loaf grated into a Quart of cold Water, set both on the Fire together with a blade of Mace: When ’tis boil’d smooth, take it off the fire and put in a bit of Lemon-peel, the juice of a Lemon, a glass of Sack [Spanish Wine] and Sugar to your Taste. This is very Nourishing and never offends the Stomach. Some season with butter and Sugar, adding Currants which on some occasions are proper; but the first is the most grateful and innocent.”

Mrs. Glasse, a quarter century later, in her famous book [The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy, London, 1747, 1st ed.] omits the wine, but Mrs. Mason, at about the same time, insists on having it with panada.

The imaginary or real relation between the sciences of cookery and medicine is illustrated here.

DISHES OF FISH, VEGETABLES, FRUITS AND SO FORTH PATINÆ PISCIUM, HOLERUM & POMORUM

[128] EVERYDAY DISH PATINA QUOTIDIANA [1]