Ancient Rome Is frequently regarded as the epitome of gastronomic indulgence. Pictures of lavish – perhaps even frenzied – banquets reinforce its image as both bizarre and opulent.
It should not be surprising then that one of the world’s earliest remaining cookbooks, De Re Coquinaria (Concerning Cookery) is ancient Roman.
However, even though numerous dishes in this compilation might appear peculiar or luxurious to contemporary taste buds (such as flamingo cooked in vinegar, peacock smothered in a robust pepper-infused wine sauce, roasted parrot...), the book provides insights beyond merely showcasing upper-class Roman preferences.
Rather, it exposes numerous aspects of cooking methods, everyday eating habits, and food traditions from the past which contradict contemporary beliefs.
Most recipes in De Re Coquinaria concentrates on fairly standard dishes, although they are frequently enhanced with various sauces and decorations. Puls, porridge This was a common food source for Rome's poorer population and is mentioned multiple times. Legumes, vegetables, and fish are typically favored over more exotic meats.
The book employs pricey spices sparingly, guiding readers on how to make the most out of an expensive herb known as laserpitium, which is believed to be an aphrodisiac. Desserts are barely included at all.
Where De Re Coquinaria While this might seem exotic to contemporary viewers, it could also showcase uncommon ingredients that were standard fare in ancient Roman cooking. For instance, since potatoes weren’t available back then, chefs would use chestnuts or colocasia—a cousin of taro—to provide the necessary starchy element. Likewise, rather than relying on purified monosodium glutamate (MSG), they enhanced flavors with garum, a type of fermented fish sauce akin to those utilized in present-day Southeast Asian dishes.
Although its recipe for dormouse (filled with ground pork, nuts, and herbs, then baked) might appear unusual initially, it is not particularly exclusive. Analogous rodents can be discovered in both Slovenian and Peruvian cuisine even in modern times.
Actually, most of the recipes described in the book feel quite familiar. Numerous flavors and preparation methods are still evident in contemporary Mediterranean cuisine: pesto sauces, brined olives, fruit jams, dried fish, and cured meats.
As translator Joseph Dommers Vehling points out, early versions of modern dishes can be found throughout – including an ingredient similar to a roux called amulum, as well as dressings akin to vinaigrette and soups reminiscent of bouillabaisse.
The piece also features early renditions of coq au vin (although made with fish instead of chicken). foie gras (using pork liver fattened with figs), casseroles, pumpkin pie, scrambled eggs (made with fish instead of bacon), and French toast made from crustless bread torn into bits, then pan-fried in oil and topped with honey.
While De Re Coquinaria frequently highlights alien Roman opulence; however, its methods and tastes demonstrate an uninterrupted lineage connecting ancient culinary spaces with contemporary ones.
Who wrote it?
Unlike the usual literature linked to antiquity — epic stories, dramatic works, and philosophical texts — De Re Coquinaria It is a technical guide split into 10 volumes, each volume focusing on different subjects, with approximately 500 formulas included.
The book is credited to Marcus Gavius Apicius, a Roman nobleman from the time of Emperor Tiberius. However, the Latin used within exhibits a style that is considerably later and more varied than what would be expected for a piece written by one individual or composed during a singular timeframe.
Rather, experts like Sally Grainger and Christopher Grocock concur that the document is probably an aggregation of culinary instructions derived from both Greek and Roman practices, compiled and modified across the span of the first to fifth centuries AD.
Nevertheless, this cookbook is strongly linked to Apicius, a genuine historical personage who also evolved into something of a gastronomic legend. As Seneca recounts, Apicius exhausted a vast sum of 100 million sesterces (equivalent to approximately US$1.09 billion today) through his opulent feasting. Upon finding himself left with merely 10 million sesterces—a quantity too meager for him to maintain his luxurious lifestyle—he opted for poisoning over adapting to more modest fare.
Regardless of their veracity, numerous tales similar to these were widespread in the ancient era. In fact, the Alexandrine writer Apion allegedly authored an extensive piece criticizing Roman extravagance in food consumption titled "On the Appalling Ignorance of the Romans Regarding Food." Regarding the Opulence of Apicius Just like how we might refer to a food enthusiast as an "Epicurean" nowadays, the lavish recipes in De Re Coquinaria bear the names of renowned Roman gastronomes—among them several dishes labeled as "Apician."
Despite this, they often associated these recipes with him. Even the ancient people probably realized that numerous – if not all – of the dishes attributed to Apicus did not actually originate from him. Nonetheless, his name was frequently appended to them. cookbook bestowed upon it prestige, possibly guaranteeing its endurance throughout the Dark Ages.
Although the earliest extant manuscripts of this cookbook trace back to the 9th century, its appeal fluctuated throughout the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, leaving a mark on culinary literature until the publication of Bartolomeo Platina’s first printed cookbook. About Genuine Enjoyment and Well-being (1474) By the time of the Enlightenment, though, De Re Coquinaria had fallen out of everyday use and was reduced to being merely a historical oddity.
Consequently, it did not receive a full English translation until 1936. To this day, it mostly goes unnoticed, save for those looking for rare instances of Roman gastronomic peculiarities.
The world’s first?
Even with its impact and standing, referring to De Re Coquinaria The world’s initial cookbook isn’t completely precise. Cooking often appeared as a subject in early writings, and previous culinary documents have been discovered.
The earliest surviving compilation of recipes originates from the Yale Babylonian Cooking Tablets, which date back to approximately 1700 BC; these tablets include just 25 stew recipes.
Similarly, among numerous Greek food authors, Archestratus, a 4th-century BC poet and philosopher, penned what is frequently regarded as the earliest work on gastronomy. Despite this, only pieces of his writing remain extant, and it does not strictly qualify as a cookbook.
Beyond the Mediterranean, several texts either predate or parallel De Re Coquinaria. In China, for example, the now-lost Shíjīng (食经, Book of Foods ) was compiled during the Western Han dynasty, while the Shízhēnlù (食珍录, Record of Rare Delicacies ) dates back to the 5th century AD.
Even within Rome itself, numerous writers documented their thoughts on cuisine before this time. De Re Coquinaria Authors like Cato the Elder, Pliny the Elder, and Columella incorporated recipes and useful culinary guidance into their writings. De Re Coquinaria The structure of 's manual followed a common pattern seen during the 4th-5th centuries AD, coinciding with the period when numerous other technical handbooks were produced.
So if De Re Coquinaria It wasn’t penned by Apicius, isn’t actually the earliest cookbook, and mirrors the wider literary tendencies of its era—what significance does it hold for today’s readers?
The answers can be found in the recipes themselves: they offer modern readers a unique glimpse into the range of food that comprised the actual diets of Romans from various social strata.
Practical cookbook or curiosity?
The mixed nature of De Re Coquinaria — featuring lavish recipes along with down-to-earth guidance — leaves its target readership unclear. Medieval historian Bruno Laurioux suggests that due to the absence of specific measurements or detailed cooking directions, this work couldn’t have served as an actual cookbook. Instead, he posits that it functioned as a symbol of Roman opulence.
This, nonetheless, ignores an important point: the concise and directive wording implies that the text was intended for experts who were familiar with fundamental methods and required no further clarification.
For instance, the recipe for sow's udder simply includes a list of ingredients:
Sterile sow’s womb (also udder and belly) is prepared in this manner: take laserpitium from Cyrene or Parthia, vinegar and broth.
Despite its length, a recipe like the one for "Apician Jelly" (which closely resembles the savory gelatin salads that were trendy in the 1950s) fails to include essential details such as cooking times, temperatures, and techniques.
Place celery seeds, dried pennyroyal, dried mint, ginger, fresh cilantro, seedless raisins, honey, vinegar, oil, and wine into the mortar; grind them together to create a dressing. Next, arrange three slices of Picentian bread in a mold, layering between each slice cooked chicken, veal or lamb sweetbreads, cheese, pine nuts, finely chopped pickled cucumbers, and shallots. Cover everything with aspic jelly. Submerge the mold in snow until it reaches halfway up the sides. Remove from the mold, drizzle with the prepared dressing, and then serve.
In contrast to contemporary cookbooks designed for amateur chefs, De Re Coquinaria presupposes proficiency in cooking. This implies it was created with professional chefs in mind, catering to those working in upscale homes or busy commercial settings like restaurants and hotels.
These useful suggestions include methods for camouflaging the off-taste of bad soup and enhancing low-quality components. This blend highlights a prevalent conflict within culinary content—between ambition and pragmatism, grandeur and nourishment—that continues to be widespread today.
During times when refrigeration wasn’t available, preserving food was crucial. Here’s one description from those periods: "Wrap fresh meat in honey, then hang it in a container. You can use it as required; during colder months, it stays good for longer, whereas in warmer weather, it remains edible for just a few days. The same method applies to cooked meats."
Even when food had spoiled, the work contains practical (albeit somewhat unscupulous) advice: “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.”
This book enables contemporary readers to engage with ancient Rome on a personal, relatable scale.
Many contemporary views of early cooking methods have been shaped by portrayals found in other historical texts, often infused with ethical teachings or societal critique. Thinkers like Plato and Seneca utilized cuisine as an analogy for people’s longing for material enjoyment. Meanwhile, satirical writers such as Martial, Juvenal, and Petronius leveraged descriptions of food to highlight the lavish overindulgences characteristic of a morally bankrupt elite class.
Many contemporary portrayals of ancient Rome in popular media showcase it as a location characterized by extreme indulgence in food and sex. However, these depictions often exaggerate ethical judgments aimed at high society individuals instead of representing the wider truth.
The Roman tradition exhibits far greater restraint, largely due to the unforgiving nature of the ancient world imposing strict limits. De Re Coquinaria Thus offers the least biased perspective on ancient eating practices to have endured to our time.
This serves as a functional, operational guide, esteemed not due to being the initial one, nor because it includes instructions for dishes like ostrich and brain sausage. Food offers us insight into the fabric of everyday life experiences. The recipes within provide a window into this. De Re Coquinaria , we discover not merely an ancient history, but one that feels profoundly intimate.
Christopher D Parkinson is a doctoral candidate in Classics at the University of Melbourne.
The article was initially published by The Conversation and is being republished here under a Creative Commons license. You can read the original piece. original article
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