Chapter VI: Preface (3)

"_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 antiquity, hovering like an avenging angel over them, to ward off all "irreverent critics" and curious intruders.

THE PROOF OF THE PUDDING

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....

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 COOKING ANIMAL

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.

PRO{OE}MII FINIS

{Illustration: TRIPOD FOR THE GREAT CRATER

Hildesheim Treasure}

THE RECIPES OF APICIUS
AND
THE EXCERPTS FROM APICIUS
BY VINIDARIUS

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

{Illustration: "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.}

{Illustration: OVAL SERVICE DISH

With two decorated handles. Hildesheim Treas.}

THE TEN BOOKS OF APICIUS

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.]