Asafoetida Adventure: a Parthian Meal

Salve! Spartacurtus sum! Tonight, I made a dinner with the intention of showing off the spice asafoetida. From The Classical Cookbook by Richard Dalby, I chose to make a Parthian dinner, which included Parthian Beans, and Parthian Chicken. The Parthian Period was a period in Iranian history (274 BC – 224 AD).

Parthian Chicken

Pullum Parthicum: pullum aperies a naui et in quadrato ornas. teres piper, ligusticum, carei modicum. suffunde liquamen. uino temperas. componis in Cumana pullum et condituram super pullum facies. laser et uinum interdas. dissolues et in pullum mittis simul et coques. piper aspersum inferes. (Apicius 6, 9, 2) 

Recipe:

Ingredients
• 4 pieces chicken (breast or leg)
• ground black pepper
• 6 fl oz (3/4 Cup/170 ml) red wine
• 2 tablespoons (30 ml) garum (liquamen; substitute Vietnamese nuoc mam)
• 1/2 teaspoon  laser (substitute asafetida powder or 5 drops asafetida tincture)
• 2 teaspoons chopped fresh lovage or celery leaf
• 2 teaspoons caraway seeds
Directions:
• Place the chicken in a casserole dish and sprinkle it liberally with pepper.
• Combine the wine, fish sauce and asafoetida. Add the lovage and caraway seeds and pour over the chicken.
• Cover and bake in a pre-heated oven at 375°F (190°C/gas mark 5) for 1 hour. Halfway through the cooking time, remove the lid to brown the chicken.
• Serve with a little of the sauce poured over the meat.

Parthian Beans

Aliter pisam sive fabam: despumatam subtrito lasare Parthico, liquamen et caroeno condies. Oleum modice superfundis et inferes. (Apicius 5, 3, 7)



Recipe:

Ingredients:
• Black Beans, 1 can
• 1 T Garum (liquamen; substitute Vietnamese nuoc mam)
• 1/2 t Laser (substitute asafetida)
• 2 T Pine nuts (I substituted sunflower seeds)
• White wine, 1/2 bottle
• Vegetable stock, 1/4 pint
Directions:

• Boil the beans and skim off, save separately
• Grind the asafetida and pine nuts together
• Put about stock and wine in a pan with the spices, and bring to a boil, reducing to about two-thirds the starting quantity
• Add beans to the pan, heat thoroughly

This dish was surprisingly delicious! The chicken came out a little burned. I knew I shouldn't have followed the instructions that said to leave the chicken in the oven for an hour. I took it out after about 45 minutes, when I could smell it beginning to burn. The chicken was still delicious, but a little dry. The dish had a strange earthy garlic taste that was new to my palate. The beans were the best part. They were fantastic! I used Goya black beans, which I'm not 100% sure is authentic Roman, but it was marvelous! I had added celery leaves and caraway to the beans, because I happened to have some left over from the chicken, and it was a nice addition. They all ground up in the mix when before I tossed them into the boiling wine. The asafoetida taste certainly came through, and it was, in an odd sense, a good pairing with the fish sauce. It was a weird combination of tastes- fish sauce and the asafoetida, but both dishes tasted much better than the individual ingredients smelled like when they went in. I would certainly do this again, especially the beans! In all, this dish was quite successful. As you can see, I paired the Parthian dishes with white rice. 



While I was doing the cooking, I did a bit of reading on asafoetida to see what I'm up against. My findings follow: 

The name asafoetida originates from the Persian word aza (mastic resin) and a Latin word foetida meaning stinking. It is also known as devil’s dung because of its strong pungent smell (due to the presence of sulfur compounds).  The famous Victorian chef Alexis Soyer was not a fan:

Alexis Soyer

“This plant, which we have excluded from our kitchens, and whose nauseous smell is far from exciting the appetite, reigned almost as the chief ingredient in the seasoning of the ancients. Perhaps they cultivated a kind which in no way resembled that of modern times. If it were the same, how are we to explain the extreme partiality which Apicius shows for it and which he says must be dissolved in luke-warm water, and afterwards served with vinegar and garum? It is certain that the resin drawn by incision from the root of this plant is still much esteemed by the inhabitants of Persia and of India ; they chew it constantly, finding the odour and taste exquisite.”

[From: The Pantropheon, Or, History of Food, and Its Preparation (1853)… Alexis Soyer]

The aromatic resin comes from certain species of the giant fennels, plants of the genus ferula. When the plants are about four or five years old, they develop very thick and fleshy, carrot shaped roots. The resin is collected from these roots just before the plants start flowering in spring or early summer. The milky resinous liquid soon coagulates when exposed to air. The color darkens when it is sun dried into a solid form.

The strong smelling and sparingly used asafoetida has an interesting history. Its predecessor silphium (also known as silphion or lasar), the wonderful spice from the region of Cyrene (now in modern Libya) was in great demand in ancient times. Silphium resisted attempts at cultivation and transplantation, which made it one of the major sources of revenue for Cyrene. The plant was valued for its many uses as food source, seasoning for food, and most importantly, as medication. Perfumes were made from its flowers; the stalk was used for food or fodder while the juice and root were used to make a variety of medical potions. Some of the best-known representations of silphium are the stylized images used in ancient coins.

The Greeks believed the plant was a gift from Apollo, because the plant appeared after a heavy rainstorm flooded the area at about the time the city of Cyrene was founded in 7th century B.C. Silphium was first mentioned in one of the Athenian poems from 6th century B.C. as a seasoning and dominant flavor of sauces served at banquets. It was also prescribed as part of several compound drugs in the Hippocratic texts of the 5th and 4th centuries BC. In his History of the Plants the Greek scientist Theophrastus wrote that Silphium is a thick root similar to celery. Two kinds of sap are collected from the plant, one from the stem and the other from the root. Exporting it to Athens they put it in jars and mix flour with it and shake it for a long time; and thus treated it remains stable. 

Apollo

However, true silphium became extinct by the end of 1st century A.D. According to geographer Strabo profit taking led to the decline of silphium. Two centuries later Pliny tells the end of the story of silphium in his Natural History. He called it “one of the most precious gifts from nature to man”. In those days the spice was worth its weight in silver and it was used in the treatment of leprosy, to restore hair and as antidote to poison. Potions made from silphium were supposedly among the most effective birth control methods known at the time. According to Pliny, the last single stem of silphium that was found within living memory was sent to Emperor Nero.

Asafoetida, as a substitute for silphium emerged into prominence during Alexander the Great’s invasion of Asia. While crossing the northeastern provinces of the Persian Empire, his soldiers discovered a plant that was almost identical with silphium. Although not quite so good, it made a perfect substitute for silphium in tenderizing hard meat.

Asafoetida was cultivated for both medicinal purposes and for the use as a spice. The Greek called it silphion medikon - Median silphium (silphium from Iran) and the Romans called it silfi. De Meteria Medica, the foremost classical source of botanical terminology, by Greek Physician Dioscorides (circa 40 AD to 90 AD) treated both the Libyan and Median silphium under one heading. It said that the Cyrenaic silphium has a very healthy aroma, so that it is not noticed on the breath, but the Median and Syrian silphium are weaker and have a nastier smell.

Silphium Asafoetidaque

Ecce! Hic Spartacurtus est! 

How the asafoetida is packaged

Today I happened to be in an Indian grocery, and found asafoetida powder, an ancient Roman spice. While it is known in Hindi, as "Hing," most of the Western world knows it as "Devil's Dung." Asafoetida is a gum derived from the sap of the roots and stem of the Ferula assafoetida plant, which is closely related to fennel. It has a very pungent aroma, though this awful odor is supposed to dissipate with cooking. It comes in a fine yellow powder. I was told by the shop keeper to keep it in a an air-tight container when I bought it, otherwise its scent will taint the flavor of all the other foods around it. This stuff smells AWFUL. It seriously smells like armpits, or  rotting onions and sulfur. 




Have we found a Roman flavor more detestable than Garum?! I think we have a contender. Can you imagine a spice that smells so strongly that it starts taking over the over foods stored around it!? I think I've found it. Somebody out there must agree with my revulsion to this spice, or it probably wouldn't be called "Devil's Dung."


So the story behind this vile spice is that originally, in Ancient cooking, the Romans had a spice called Silphium, also known as lasarpicium. This herb became terribly popular, not only for cooking, but for medicinal purposes as well. It was imported only from a small region in Cyrenaica, which is now modern Libya. This spice was so valuable that the Roman state treasury hoarded it along with their gold and silver. Pliny explains what happened to it:

Pliny the Younger

"For many years now it has not been seen in Libya: the agents who lease grazing land, scenting higher profits, have allowed sheep to overgraze the silphium lands. The single stem found within living memory was sent to the Emperor Nero. If an animal should ever come upon a promising shoot, the sign will be that a sheep after eating it rapidly goes to sleep, whereas a goat sneezes rather loudly. For a long time now, however, the only silphium brought to us in Rome has been that originating in Iran and Armenia, which is plentiful enough, but not nearly as good as Cyrenaic."

Ferula assafoetida

So Nero ate the very last sprig of silphium! Academia has found it difficult to believe that the silphium of Libya could really have become extinct from overgrazing. In Cyrenaic, it  was so important for the economy that its image was stamped on all coins of the region from the 6th century BC. This was undoubtedly effective as a form of publicity, since money enjoyed such wide circulation and its imagery was consequently a powerful message. Thus the cultivation of silphium was a measure of the wealth of Cyrenaic and its territory. In more recent history, there are sometimes reports of its rediscovery, but the plants found never have the capacity to make goats sneeze like the original. Thanks Nero. 

Cerenaic coin with silphium

However, the substitute that was used from Pliny's time onwards still exists as asafoetida, which is the 'silphium' imported from Central Asia that he speaks of. So, as strong as this stuff smells, and it smells really, really strongly, this is a shadow of the original strength so loved by the Romans. 


The Romans not only used this spice to flavor vegetables, but despite its pungent aroma, asafoetida was known to alleviate stomach ailments, cold symptoms, anxiety issues, chronic fatigue, yeast infections, and painful gas and flatulence. Romans believed that regular dose of asafoetida before and during early pregnancy can help lessen the risk of miscarriage. I know that from the smell of it, it could probably lessen the chances of pregnancy in the first place, as nobody would want to go near you.


As a source of pungent flavor, asofoetida is still used widely today in Indian and Middle Eastern cooking, the pungency of the herbal aroma is far more persistent than that of the commonly used garlic, and Worcestershire sauce contains asafoetida as one of its main ingredients.


In the name of history, we will try out this spice, and get to the bottom of its flavors, and unlock the mysteries contained therein. I will be looking for a recipe that exhibits this wildly awful smelling spice, and will try it out. Of course, you will read all about it here, in Julius and Julia. 

Julie and Julia and Julius.

Salve! I found this blog posting on Julie Powell's blog. Julie Powell is the Julie from the movie, Julie and Julia, the namesake of this very blog. In it, she discusses the challenges of cooking with the ancients. I thought this article was incredibly fascinating. I had no idea that there was a difference between lamb and mutton. Additionally, I wholeheartedly agree with her that we should take advantage of technological improvements as they are available, such as refrigeration, and food processors and blenders, instead of mortar and pestle. Do we need to lay out some ground rules for our cooking, like she suggests? Reader, if you'd like to comment on her questions she raises in the last paragraph, I invite you to do so in the comments section. ~Consul Spartacurtus~ The Trouble With Blood

by Julie Powell

A modern chef takes on the challenge of ancient cooking.

The author with a plate of turkey tamales she prepared following a recipe based on ancient Maya cooking techniques (Photo by Richard Bowditch) [LARGER IMAGE]

Winner Magazine Feature Writing with Recipes 2005 James Beard Foundation Journalism Awards

Like many Americans these days, I fancy myself a fairly adventurous cook. And I've produced some (overly) ambitious stuff in my cramped kitchen, like quail in rose-petal sauce and chicken livers and eggs in aspic. So when ARCHAEOLOGY asked me to fix up some ancient menus, I figured, no problem. I'll hit up the Greeks and the Romans and that will be that. But I had no idea what I was getting into. Because it turns out Apicius, first-century A.D., isn't the unchallenged king of the ancient culinary world, after all.

Why not give the Mongolian Empire's Hu Szu-hui a chance to strut his stuff? This court physician can be credited with showing us what in Xanadu did Kublai Khan dine on while decreeing his stately pleasure dome. In 1330, Hu presented the Mongol emperor Wenzong, the great-grandson of Kublai Khan, with an enormous dietary manual, Proper and Essential Things for the Emperor's Food and Drink, containing more than 200 recipes, and much advice concerning the medicinal values and health dangers of foods. (The full translation of this book, along with extensive commentary and the complete original text, can be found in A Soup for the Qan, by Paul Buell and Eugene Anderson.) In his dishes, from lamb-stuffed eggplant with basil-garlic yogurt sauce to deep-fried fish cakes flavored with mandarin orange and the bitter spice asafoetida, he was creatively combining flavors from the wide sphere of Mongolian influence, from Baghdad to Beijing, centuries before the words "fusion" and "cuisine" were ever used in the same sentence.

Ready to cook ancient cuisine? Click here for Julie's adaptations of ancient Maya, Mongolian, and Mesopotamian recipes.

Or what about the nameless cooks who scribbled down their tips in cuneiform in seventeenth-century B.C. Mesopotamia? Millennia before "tall food" became all the rage in today's chic bistros, chefs in the cradle of civilization were, if the clues they left on clay tablets are to be believed, dismembering tiny game birds, roasting the legs, and braising the bodies before carefully reassembling them atop a round of flatbread and garnishing them with watercress.

The Maya were not lacking for culinary achievements either, as we know thanks to European observers, archaeological evidence from trash heaps, and a direct culinary heritage that can be traced forward to many of today's Latin American cooking traditions. They made good use of the many foodstuffs native to the New World, such as tomatoes, maize, turkey, and chile peppers, to create a complex and flavorful cuisine, and the tamales and salsas (not to mention chocolate!) they invented today grace tables the world over.

Long before superstar chefs started experimenting with trout ice cream or tomato foam, adventurous foodies from Mongolia to Mesopotamia to Mayapán were paving the way. I decided to retrace their culinary steps as best I could, and re-create some of their most appealing dishes for a group of brave guests.

The author and her guests dig into an ancient smorgasbord.
(Photos by Richard Bowditch) Click to view larger versions.

The first difficulty a twenty-first-century home cook runs into when attempting to explore cuisines hundreds or thousands of years old is in establishing the ground rules. Does one make use of refrigeration? (The answer, after a brief but definitive analysis of logistics: an emphatic yes.) What about mutton, one of the most common meats throughout the Old World but now almost impossible for the common consumer to obtain in this country? Would I be cheating if I settled for lamb? (In America today, sheep are slaughtered almost exclusively before the end of their first year, making them technically lamb. Anything older is very, very tough--to buy, I mean, although I presume it also presents a challenge to the incisors.) And what about all those archaic food-preparation methods? I possess neither a horse under whose saddle I can shove meat for tenderizing, as the Mongols did, nor a yard into which I can dig a six-foot-deep hole to cook my turkey Maya-style. And then there are the Sumerian recipes that call for blood. Is it safe to cook with blood? Is it even legal?

Julie Powell received a 2004 James Beard Award for food journalism. Her book chronicling a year spent cooking out of Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (Vol.1) will be published in 2005 by Little, Brown.