November 2005

Tiffin in colonial Malaya: Thursday's food quotation

Hood said it was time for tiffin and they sought the rest house. Hood ordered a portion of fried fish, a steak with onions and chipped potatoes, a dish of chopped pineapple and tinned cream.

1956 Anthony Burgess, Time for a Tiger chapter 1

Travel in the Basque country: Wednesday's food quotation

'Is the wine included?' 'Oh, yes.' ...
I went out and told the woman what a rum punch was and how to make it. In a few minutes a girl brought a stone pitcher, steaming, into the room. Bill came over from the piano and we drank the hot punch and listened to the wind.
'There isn't too much rum in that.'
I went over to the cupboard and brought the rum bottle and poured a half-tumblerful into the pitcher.
'Direct action,' said Bill. 'It beats legislation.'
The girl came in and laid the table for supper ... [she] brought in a big bowl of hot vegetable soup and the wine. We had fried trout afterward and some sort of a stew and a big bowl full of wild strawberries. We did not lose money on the wine, and the girl was shy but nice about bringing it. The old woman looked in once and counted the empty bottles.

1927 Ernest Hemingway, Fiesta chapter 11

Making polenta from maize, a novelty in 1585: Wednesday's international quotation

Formento turco: I villani che habitano ne i confini che disterminano l'Italia dalla Germania fanno della farina la polenta, laquale dipoi che è cotta in una massa tagliano con un filo in larghe fette & sottili & acconcianla ... con cascio & con boturo.

1585 Matthioli, Discorsi p. 308

A New York lunch: Tuesday's food quotation

I took Marino to lunch at Tatou ... 'What you got by the glass that's worth drinking?' he asked ... I suggested he try a Beringer reserve cabernet that I knew was good, and then we ordered cups of lentil soup and spaghetti bolognese.

1995 Patricia Cornwell, From Potter's Field chapter 6

Lunch for a captive Frenchman: Monday's food quotation

He could see it all laid out on the table beside his bed -- a good meal it looked -- cold ham and galantine, an omelette, a salad, cheese, and a small decanter of red wine.

1924 John Buchan, The Three Hostages

How to make botargo: Monday's international quotation

Ova tarycha. Ova cephali sale trito consparges, reservata membranula illa in qua ova ipsa tanquam in folliculis nascuntur. Post diem a salitura inter duas tabulas per diem et noctem opprimes; inde ad furnum suspendes procul flamma.

1475 Platina, De honesta voluptate et valetudine

Christmas dinner on a camping trip in the Australian outback: Sunday's food quotation

She squatted there at the fire. She put on the rabbit pieces ... after smearing them with mustard and muttered to herself 'lapin moutarde'. She wrapped the rabbit in tin foil and wormed them down into the coals with a flat stick. She put the corn cobs on to boil, candied the carrots with sugar sachets from the motel, put on the beans, wrapped the potatoes in foil and placed them on the coals. She then heated the lobster bisque, throwing in a dash of her bloody mary ... She put the plum pudding on to be warmed and mixed a careful custard. He opened a bottle of 1968 Coonawarra Cabernet Shiraz.

1986 Frank Moorhouse, 'Bearing party objective' in London magazine (July 1986) p. 8.

Americans in Paris: Saturday's food quotation

We ate dinner at Madame Lecomte's restaurant on the far side of the [Ile Saint Louis]. It was crowded with Americans ... We had a good meal, a roast chicken, new green beans, mashed potatoes, a salad, and some apple-pie and cheese.

1927 Ernest Hemingway, Fiesta chapter 11

Cretan malmsey is the best wine you can get in Venice: Saturday's international quotation

A Venize ... il ne se boit aucun vin bon ... sinon qu'il s'y trouve grande quantité de Malvesia qui vient de Crete aujourd'huy appellée Candie, dont y en a de trois sortes, sçavoir la dolce, la garba, et la mezzana pour la diversité des gousts.

1656 Audeber, Voyage et observations vol. 2 p. 139

A Carthaginian feast: Friday's food quotation

First they were served birds in green sauce, on red earthenware plates decorated with black patterns, then all the kinds of shell-fish found on the Punic shores, wheaten porridge, beans and barley, and snails in cumin, on plates of golden amber.

Then the tables were covered with meat dishes: antelopes with their horns, peacocks with their feathers, whole sheep cooked in sweet wine, haunches of she-camels and buffaloes, hedgehogs in garum, fried grasshoppers and preserved dormice. In wooden bowls from Tamrapanni great lumps of fat floated in saffron. Everything overflowed with wine, truffles, and assa foetida. Pyramids of fruit tumbled over honey-cakes, and they had not forgotten a few little dogs with big bellies and pink bristles, fattened on olive-pulp, that Carthaginian delicacy which other people found revolting. The unexpected sight of novel food aroused their greed. Gauls, with long hair tied up on the top of their head, snatched watermelons and lemons, devouring them peel and all. The Negroes who had never seen lobsters tore their faces on the red claws. But shaven Greeks, whiter than marble, threw behind them the peelings from their plate, while shepherds from Bruttium, dressed in wolf skins, munched in silence, heads bent over their food.

1862 Flaubert, Salammbô chapter 1. Translation by A. J. Krailsheimer

For a longer extract, with the French text and another translation, click here

Does Apicius have a recipe for 'Lentils and Chestnuts'? Why would anyone do this?

Gillian Riley, who is working on the Oxford Companion to Italian Food , asked me this.

Lenticula ('lentils' or 'lentil dish') is the heading of section two in the Apicius chapter on legumes (book 5). However, the three recipes included in this section actually fail to mention any lentils. This is odd -- ingredients are sometimes omitted in the Apicius manuscripts, but you won't find many examples of the same major ingredient being omitted from three recipes in a row. Recipe 1 is for mussels (its title seems to mean 'lentil-dish with mussels'). Recipe 2 is for chestnuts (the title seems to mean 'lentil-dish from chestnuts'). Recipe 3 is for some unstated item which must be boiled, and it certainly makes good sense if this item is lentils (the title means 'lentil-dish another way'). Does this prove that recipes 1 and 2 also require lentils? Not incontrovertibly.

You could make an argument that (a) the heading Lenticula is wrong/misleading/in the wrong place (which certainly happens elsewhere in Apicius); or (b) Lenticula in this heading means a dish that is in some way reminiscent of lentils but need not contain lentils. Against these arguments, the whole chapter really is about legumes. But you can fall back on argument (c) that recipes 1 and 2 have got into the wrong chapter; possibly because they resemble, or come from the same original source as, recipe 3.

All editors and translators up to now (except Vehling) have inserted lentils in all three recipes. Perhaps they are wrong after all? Or is there a good nutritional reason for combining lentils with chestnuts?

They are what they eat ... : Thursday's food quotation

Your city wives ... you see by the finenesse and delicacy of their diet, diving into the fat capons, drinking your rich wines, feeding on larkes, sparrowes, potato-pies, and such good unctuous meats, how their wits are refin'd and rarefi'd!

1616 Ben Jonson, Every Man out of his Humour act 2 scene 3

Year of the big medlars: Thursday's international quotation

La terre ... fut certaine année si très fertile en tous fruictz qui de ses flans nous sont produytz, et singulierement en mesles, que on l'appela de toute memoire l'année des grosses mesles, car les troys en faisoyent le boysseau.

1532 François Rabelais, Pantagruel chapter 1

'Chips of potatoes' in pre-Revolutionary Paris? Wednesday's food quotation

Hunger rattled its dry bones among the roasting chestnuts in the turned cylinder; Hunger was shred into atomies in every farthing porringer of husky chips of potatoes, fried with some reluctant drops of oil.

1859 Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities part 1 chapter 5

Chinese New Year in colonial Malaya: Tuesday's food quotation

He had been smothered with Chinese New Year hospitality. Bird's nest, shark's fin, sucking pig, boiled duck, bamboo shoots, bean sprouts, huge staring fish, sweet-and-sour prawns, stuffed gourds, crisp fried rice and chicken-wings. And whisky.

1958 Anthony Burgess, The Enemy in the Blanket chapter 1

Fishing on the banks of the Thames: Monday's food quotation

The neighbourhood of Streatley and Goring is a great fishing centre. The river abounds in pike, roach, dace, gudgeon, and eels, just here; and you can sit and fish for them all day. Some people do. They never catch them.

1889 Jerome K. Jerome, Three Men in a Boat chapter 17

Dinner at Triou, Deux-Sèvres: Monday's international quotation

Norine a trait la vache et on boit le lait frais avec délice. Certains, toutefois, préfère la soupe, une grande écuelle de soupe où l'on a taillé du pain. On mange aussi des restes de la veille, du lard, des grillons. Sidonie a fait rechauffer sa sauce à la couenne ou son reste de lapin. On leur fait honneur. Puis on s'attaque au fromage et aux noix. Et on avale de plus, pour accompagner, force tartines de pain. Le tout arrosé de larges rasades de piquette!

André Gaillard, Le siècle trioulais (Poitiers: Brissaud, 1978-80) vol. 1 p. 35.

Uses for Algerian wine: Sunday's quotation

'That old fool Craggs ... is as randy as a stoat. I threw a glass of Algerian wine over him once when he was trying to rape me.'

1971 Anthony Powell, Books Do Furnish a Room p. 79 Fontana ed.

Food words in ancient languages: Dacian

I intended to add to Food in the Ancient World from A to Z the names of foods in other ancient languages -- beyond Latin and Greek -- but I had to give up the idea because it would have taken much too long to get them right. I will gradually add further information to this site.

I've seen discussion on the language forums YourDictionary.com and Alphadictionary.com about the names of two great kings of Dacia (roughly, modern Romania) before the Roman conquest: Decebalus and Burebista. This reminded me that the structure of these four-syllable names, especially Burebista, is reminiscent of some of the words for edible and medicinal plants in Dacian, as preserved by the Greek pharmaceutical author Dioskourides and in the Latin Herbarius attributed to Apuleius.

Extinct for nearly two thousand years, Dacian makes only rare appearances on the Web. So I've extracted the fifty-four recorded Dacian plant names from my database: they can now be found listed here.

The treacle well: Saturday's food quotation

'Once upon a time there were three little sisters,' the Dormouse began ..., 'and they lived at the bottom of a well --'
'What did they live on?' said Alice, who always took a great interest in questions of eating and drinking.
'They lived on treacle,' said the Dormouse, after thinking a minute or two.
'They couldn't have done that, you know,' Alice gently remarked. 'They'd have been ill.'
'So they were,' said the Dormouse; ' very ill.'
Alice tried a little to fancy to herself what such an extraordinary way of living would have been like, but it puzzled her too much, so she went on: 'But why did they live at the bottom of a well?' ...
The Dormouse again took a minute or two to think about it, and then said, 'It was a treacle-well.'
'There's no such thing!' Alice was beginning very angrily, but ... the Dormouse sulkily remarked, 'If you can't be civil, you'd better finish the story for yourself.'
'No, please go on!' Alice said, very humbly. 'I won't interrupt you again. I dare say there may be one.'

1865 Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland chapter 7

The taste of pineapple: Saturday's international quotation

L'ananas est un des plus beaux fruits du monde. Le dedans du fruit est composé d'une chair jaune ou blanche pleine d'un suc exquis. Le goût tient du raisin muscat, de la pêche et de la poire de bon-chrétien.

1720 Jean-Baptiste Labat, Voyage aux Iles [p. 95 de l'éd. Michel le Bris]

Some unusual foods from Truman Capote: Friday's quotation

When she [Ottilie] opened the sewing basket, she made a sinister discovery: there, like a gruesome ball of yarn, was the severed head of a yellow cat. So, the miserable old woman was up to new tricks! She wants to put a spell, thought Ottilie, not in the least frightened. Primly lifting the head by one of its ears, she carried it to the stove and dropped it into a boiling pot: at noon Old Bonaparte sucked her teeth and remarked that the soup Ottilie had made for her was surprisingly tasty.

The next morning, just in time for the midday meal, she found twisting in her basket a small green snake which, chopping fine as sand, she sprinkled into a serving of stew. Each day her ingenuity was tested: there were spiders to bake, a lizard to fry, a buzzard’s breast to boil. Old Bonaparte ate several helpings of everything. With a restless glittering her eyes followed Ottilie as she watched for some sign that the spell was taking hold. You don’t look well, Ottilie, she said, mixing a little molasses in the vinegar of her voice. You eat like an ant: here now, why don’t you have a bowl of this good soup?

Because, answered Ottilie, evenly, I don’t like buzzard in my soup; or spiders in my bread, snakes in the stew: I have no appetite for such things. Old Bonaparte understood; with swelling veins and a stricken, powerless tongue, she rose shakily to her feet, then crashed across the table. Before nightfall she was dead.

Truman Capote, 'House of Flowers'

Dinner at Squillace, birthplace of Cassiodorus: Thursday's food quotation

The meal came with no delay. First, a dish of great peperoni cut up in oil. This gorgeous fruit is never much to my taste, but I had as yet eaten no such peperoni as those of Squillace; an hour or two afterwards my mouth was still burning from the heat of a few morsels to which I was constrained by hunger. Next appeared a dish for which I had covenanted -- the only food, indeed, which the people had been able to offer at short notice -- a stew of pork and potatoes. Pork (maiale ) is the staple meat of all this region ... but the pork of Squillace defeated me; it smelt abominably, and it was as tough as leather. No eggs were to be had, no macaroni; cheese, yes -- the familiar caccio cavallo. And the drink! At least I might hope to solace myself with an honest draught of red wine. I poured from the thick decanter (dirtier vessel was never seen on table) and tasted. The stuff was poison. assuredly i am far from fastidious; this was the only occasion when wine has been offered me in italy which I could not drink.

1901 George Gissing, By the Ionian Sea chapter 14

Darcini, the Persian name for cinnamon: what does it tell us?

Susan Weingarten asked me to clarify this. On p. 39 of Dangerous Tastes I describe darcini as an Indian name for Chinese cinnamon (the older, Sanskrit name is tvac). So it is; it's used in Hindi and other modern Indian languages. But what is its origin?

It is a compound word meaning 'Chinese wood', and clearly it is a compound of typical Persian-Urdu form: if it had been formed in Sanskrit, the two elements would appear the other way round. In fact I nearly said in Dangerous Tastes that darcini was a Persian word; I didn't do so, mindful that J T Platts, in the Dictionary of Urdu, Classical Hindi and English (1884), derives it from two Sanskrit words, daru = wood + ciniya = Chinese; the latter word is not in Monier-Williams's Sanskrit dictionary, incidentally, but cognates are. I wasn't aware when writing Dangerous Tastes that R S McGregor, in the Oxford Hindi-English dictionary (1993), disagrees with Platts, saying that Hindi darcini is a cross between Persian darchin and Hindi cini. Although I don't know where McGregor gets the form darchin, I am sure he is right to trace the word to Persian. My Persian dictionary has darchini and the early Persian medical text by Harawi, dated to c. 970, has (according to the German translation) darsini. Susan Weingarten tells me it occurs, earlier still, in the Babylonian Talmud. Platts is certainly wrong, therefore. The word is really Persian, and quite early. It was borrowed from Persian both into Aramaic and into Urdu/Hindi and other Indian languages.

Thus the word darcini -- showing that in early medieval times the Persians got their cinnamon through the Chinese trade -- becomes one more scrap of evidence of the contacts between late antique Persia and southern China. The evidence I already had, and set out in Dangerous Tastes, concerned jasmine (p. 77).

Garcia de Orta (Coloquios [Goa, 1563]) gives as his explanation of the name darcini that Chinese traders, having unloaded east Asian produce in Sri Lanka, would load up cinnamon from there and take it on westwards to the Persian port of Ormuz; which is likely enough at certain periods. He is attempting to explain the uncomfortable fact, which I also have difficulty explaining, that although the best cinnamon comes from Sri Lanka, scarcely any sources before the end of the medieval period say clearly that Sri Lanka is the source of it.

Dinner in Soho (not SoHo): Wednesday's food quotation

They dined in Soho ... Philip sent the waiter for a bottle of Burgundy from the neighbouring tavern, and they had a potage aux herbes, a steak from the window aux pommes, and an omelette au kirsch .

1915 W. Somerset Maugham, Of Human Bondage chapter 60

Fish sauce: the names of garum

This is a version of my posting to the Apicius group, which has been discussing the names for fish sauce in Aramaic.

In Latin there are four words, garum (a word borrowed from Greek), liquamen (a Latin neologism ‘the liquid, the exudate, what flows off’), muria (unexplained), allec (either linked with the word for ‘shad’, or borrowed from Greek). It’s a sign of the local importance of the product that it has such a rich vocabulary. Sally Grainger is going to publish her view that garum and liquamen mean rather different things. I guess that muria was a garum substitute, perhaps produced by cooking rather than fermentation. By the way, Roman fish sauce as a whole (garum/liquamen/muria complex) was not an expensive product -- more a necessity of life. It was the main way of adding salt to food and one of the ways of not wasting fish. Just as in Thailand or Vietnam now, there could be a whole range of prices from the stuff everyone uses to the fancy brands (garum sociorum etc.) and single-ingredient products. As for the solid stuff, allec, no source suggests that this was expensive so far as I know. The Geoponica seems to tell us that it was the solid by-product of the fermentation of garum/liquamen, and, again southeast Asia offers an analogue.

In Greek there are only two words, garos and alix (and the latter is rare). The explanation could be this. Greeks hadn’t originally seen the attraction of the solid by-product (can one blame them?), and they hadn’t got to the level of garum gastronomy reached by Rome. They just reached out for fish sauce, good or bad, more smelly or less smelly, and called it garos.

In Aramaic there is the word muries, close to Latin muria. Being purely speculative, this Aramaic word could be as specialised as Latin muria, or as general in its meaning as Greek garos. I suppose the word could have been used earlier in the Levant, and could have arrived in Italy by way of Carthage, to be adopted in Latin as a name for the products at the cheap end of the market. Or it could have been borrowed from Latin into Aramaic; in that case it could have retained its meaning of the cheap-end salty fishy sauce, or it could have gained a wider meaning – you can see how that would happen in the provinces – eventually used also for a more expensive imported product if the local elite got interested in it. There is also the word tsir, the name of a product which could be cheap, was fed to workers, might be made from locusts instead of fish. It has been said in the past that tsir corresponds to garum more or less – I said so, following an earlier authority, in Food in the Ancient World from A to Z – but Susan Weingarten is reconsidering the meaning of the Aramaic words and does not believe that tsir is garum.

Relevant to these ancient fermented sauces are the medieval Levantine ones, which Charles Perry has been studying. References follow.

Fish sauce: Charles Perry's work on its medieval analogues

C. Perry, 'Medieval Near Eastern rotted condiments' in Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery 1987: taste. Proceedings (London: Prospect Books, 1988) pp. 169-177.

Later he made further experiments, and contributed notes to Petits propos culinaires nos 58 and 61 (1998-9), reprinted in The wilder shores of gastronomy ed. Alan Davidson, Helen Saberi. Berkeley, California (Ten Speed Press, 2002) pp. 358-362.

Around this time he was also writing on the subject in the Los Angeles Times: ALL THE LOST FLAVORS May 18, 1995; ROT SAUCE December 21, 1995; WHAT ROT! January 14, 1998; STILL ROTTING February 18, 1998; O. K., IT'S ROTTED, IS IT SAFE? April 1, 1998; ROT OF AGES April 1, 1998; GOT ROTTED MILK? September 2, 1998.

Chocolate malt or ice-cream? Tuesday's food quotation

I had crossed the road to avoid the milk bar where at this time of day Phuong had her chocolate malt. Two young American girls sat at the next table, neat and clean in the heat, scooping up ice cream.

1956 Graham Greene, The Quiet American part 3 chapter 2

Blueberry pancake: Monday's food quotation

I found Bisquick and frozen blueberries and some low-fat cottage cheese ... I poured a cup of the blueberries into a little bowl and covered them with water, then found a larger bowl and made a batter with the Bisquick and the cottage cheese and some nonfat milk. I sprayed the pan with butter-flavored Pam, then put it on a medium fire ... I drained the blueberries and was mixing them in the batter ... I increased the heat under the pan, then spooned in four equal amounts of batter, making sure each pancake had a like number of berries. I made the batter dry so the cakes would be thick and fluffy ... I adjusted the heat down. When they're thick like that you have to be careful with the heat, hot at first to set the cake and keep it from spreading, then low so it will cook through without burning ... When the pancakes were done we heaped them with sliced bananas and maple syrup.

1995 Robert Crais, Voodoo River chapter 23

Scientific Latin names for birds

The big taxonomy websites are not very good on names of birds. Now I've found a better source: Alan P. Peterson, M.D.'s Zoological Nomenclature Resource.

Guineafowl: what varieties were known to Greeks and Romans?

First of all, Alan Davidson, in the Oxford Companion to Food, says that there are several species of guineafowl; but in Food in the Ancient World from A to Z I speak of 'two major varieties', implying a single species. Which of us is right? Both of us. There are several species in the family Numididae, and they can all be called guineafowl, but none has been domesticated except the single species Numida Meleagris (sometimes called helmeted guineafowl), of which nine subspecies are currently recognised. Go to Alan P. Peterson's Zoonomen for an up-to-date list of species and subspecies.

Greeks had only one name for guineafowl, meleagris. Having been domesticated in northeastern Africa and familiar in ancient Egypt, this variety of guineafowl was known even in late prehistoric Greece, before the arrival of the domestic hen.

Romans had several names for them. One was meleagris, borrowed from Greek. The other usual name was Numidica (avis or gallina), i.e. Numidian bird, Numidian hen, and the name suggests it became familiar to Romans from northwestern Africa, specifically the hinterland of Carthage, a long way west from the probable arrival route of the meleagris. There are other names too, such as Africana gallina , Afra volucris, i.e. African hen, African bird, but these are poetic and literary variants of Numidica, not distinct names for a different variety: Columella, the farming author, says that Africana and Numidica are the same.

However, Romans did (sometimes) distinguish meleagris from Numidica. Suetonius lists both separately when he is detailing the fancy birds sacrificed to Caligula after this unpredictable emperor had decided that he was a god. And Columella describes both: the meleagris has a sky-blue (caerulea) helmet and crest, the Africana a red-brown (rutila) helmet and crest.

So, as far as the texts can take us, Greeks knew a single variety, typically with some blue plumage, and it will have been the same already known in Pharaonic Egypt. Romans knew a second variety, typically with some red-brown plumage, introduced to Italy from northwestern Africa.

For precise references see Food in the Ancient World from A to Z (2003) pp. 169-170.

Treatment for a scald: Sunday's quotation

'I ha' scalded my leg ... run for some creame and sallad oyle.' ...
''Tis but a blister ... I'le take it away with the white of an egg, a little honey, and hogs grease.'

1631 Ben Jonson, Bartholmew Fair act 2 scene 5

Archive of prescriptions

Breakfast at Ville Platte, Louisiana: Saturday's food quotation

'You wan' some breakfast, sugah?'
'How about a couple of hard poached eggs, toast, and grits?'
'Wheat or white?'
'Wheat.' ...
When the waitress brought the food, I said, 'Mm-mm, that coffee's some kinda strong!'
She said, 'Uh-huh.'
I smushed the eggs into the grits and mixed in a little butter and ate it between bits of the toast. The grits were warm and smooth and made the awful coffee easier to drink.

1995 Robert Crais, Voodoo River chapter 6

Venison pasty: Friday's food quotation

Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner.

1602 Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor act 1 scene 1

Did Cornish and Karelian pasties come together in Michigan? an IFAQ

I asked this question on 7 November 2005 in Wordwizard's discussion of pasties.

Can anyone confirm what is said in Alan Davidson's Oxford Companion to Food, that the Cornish pasty (or at least the idea of a Cornish pasty!) was taken to Michigan by Cornish miners, and that in Michigan the pasties interbred, so to speak, with a similar product familiar to Finnish immigrants? With what final result, and under what final name, Alan doesn't say ...

Next day I got two replies, which I abridge here: for the full text follow the link above. The first was from Shelley:

... I had a teacher in Michigan who was ... first generation Finnish-American. At one time a collective feast was held at school ... My Finnish teacher brought meat-filled, turnover-type delicacies which he called "pasties" ... Years later I was in Finland, and enjoyed the Karelian region treat called "piirakka" ... but am not sure if that would be the item which was crossed with a Cornish pasty in Michigan.

The second was from 'haro' (Hans Joerg Rothenberger), who added:

... pasties are pretty popular in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, a.k.a. 'da UP' because of the heavy Fenno-Scandinavian accent those folks (= da Yoopers) have retained through many generations. I don't know how the science of baking pasties got there, though. Cornish miners sound reasonable in that mining plays quite a role in da UP. The Karelian piirakka can be made with rye or all-purpose flour; it is stuffed with rice, not meat, but it may have influenced the Yooperish pasty recipes. A UP pasty recipe can be found at this address ...

Erik Kowal's note closed this bit of the discussion, bringing it back to the other meaning (and the other pronunciation) of 'pasty' --

Apart from making me hungry, all this talk of Finnish-Cornish hybrid pasties has led me to another thought, namely: Is it beyond the wit of man to invent a pastry-based edible-cum-wearable accoutrement for strippers? The need is obvious.

Bouillabaisse: Thursday's food quotation

This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is --
A sort of soup, or broth, or brew,
Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes,
That Greenwich never could outdo;
Green herbs, red peppers, muscles, saffron,
Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace;
All these you eat at Terré's tavern,
In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.

1855 W. M. Thackeray (noted from foodreference.com)

Archive of previous recipes

More tench? Another dormouse? an IFAQ

With some such words as these, Caesar's niece Atia (in the new TV serial Rome) tries to persuade her soldierly guests to stay at dinner a little longer. Sadly, like nearly everyone else in this new vision of Rome in the 50s BC, they are more interested in brothels.

I can see why dormice: they come straight out of Petronius's Satyricon. And Romans really did farm dormice (the edible species Glis glis). But why tench? When I was gathering information on fish for Food in the Ancient World from A to Z (Routledge, 2003) I didn't find any earlier reference to tench than Ausonius's list of Moselle river fish, around AD 400: and Ausonius calls them 'solace of the common people', which certainly would not have included Atia. I know what he means, too: I have found tench on sale at market near here (at Lezay in France), and they are OK, but bony, and not gourmet food.

If I thought Rome was a subtle programme, I might say she is offering her unwanted guests bony tench and cold dormice (after all, these would both have been hors d'oeuvres, not desserts) to drive them away. I don't really believe that's the answer, though. What made the script-writer choose tench?

Archive of previous IFAQs

News from the FOOD WORD site 7 November 2005

The latest IFAQ: What are the saffron buns of our quotation from Carrington?

Archive of previous additions to the FOOD WORD site

Dinner at Great Bend: Wednesday's food quotation

The travellers stopped for dinner at a restaurant in Great Bend. Perry, down to his last fifteen dollars, was ready to settle for root beer and a sandwich, but Dick said no, they needed a solid 'tuck-in', and never mind the cost, the tab was his. They ordered two steaks medium rare, baked potatoes, French fries, fried onions, succotash, side dishes of macaroni and hominy, salad with Thousand Island dressing, cinnamon rolls, apple-pie and ice-cream, and coffee.

1966 Truman Capote, In Cold Blood p. 51 Penguin

Archive of previous quotations

Archive of previous literary menus