Foods and Culinary Utensils of the Ancients — Story, Setting & Ideas

From Primeval Fruit to Roman Feasts

The opening chapter establishes a recurring pattern: Martyn speculates on the first foods of primeval man—"fruits and soft-shelled nuts"—then argues that cooking allowed humans to consume what other mammals eat. This move from the hypothetical to the asserted reappears throughout. In the Roman section, the pattern intensifies: a brief note on the sphaeristerium and private baths leads into a detailed menu of a "very ordinary affair" spanning five courses, from gustus of sorrel and oysters to a fifth course of fruits and wines. The juxtaposition of the general ("the amount of food consumed would be incredible") with the specific (a list of dishes) is the book's characteristic structural device.

Recurring Images of Excess and Control

Certain images recur across chapters, linking disparate cultures. The Roman dinner features "jugglers, rope-dancers, buffoons and actors" between courses, and "beautiful Andalusian girls" dancing. Earlier, in the Egyptian section, Martyn notes that "fowls were fattened in the dark" and "ducks and geese were fed on figs and dates." The image of force-feeding and spectacle appears again in Rome: "Vitellius and Apicius feasted on the tongues of flamingoes, and Elagabalus on their brains." These details are not merely decorative; they reinforce a theme of culinary artifice pushing against natural limits, a thread Martyn weaves from Egypt to Rome.

Movement Between the General and the Specific

Martyn's prose moves abruptly from sweeping statements to minute particulars. In the Roman chapter, a sentence on the cena—"Seldom less than four hours were spent at table"—is followed by Pliny the Elder's schedule and then by Seneca's remark, "Edunt ut vomant; vomant ut edunt." The shift from historical generalization to quoted Latin creates a layered effect. Similarly, the description of dining couches—"inlaid with tortoise shells and jewels"—sits next to the practical note that "three people occupied each sofa." This movement between the opulent and the mundane gives the text a documentary quality, as if Martyn is assembling evidence from varied sources without smoothing over the transitions.

The Role of Utensils and Furniture

Utensils and furniture receive focused attention, often in passages that interrupt the narrative flow. In the Roman section, Martyn describes tables "of quadrangular shape—three sides being decorated for the guests and the fourth left vacant" and their replacement by "small tables of marble, bronze or citrus." Sideboards supported "heavy gold and silver utensils." Toothpicks "made from the leaves of the mastich pistachio" are mentioned alongside the mulsum of Hymetian honey. These details are not merely inventory; they ground the abstract discussion of diet in physical objects. The book's title promises both foods and utensils, and Martyn delivers by embedding descriptions of tools within the larger cultural portrait, making the material culture of dining a constant presence.

Readers attentive to structure will notice that Martyn rarely pauses to compare one civilization's practices directly with another's; instead, he lets the sequence of chapters imply a progression. The recurring images of excess—force-fed fowl, extravagant menus, costly utensils—accumulate across cultures, suggesting a narrative of increasing refinement and decadence. Because the excerpts end before the chapters on the ancient Jews and the Chinese, the full arc remains uncertain, but the pattern established in the earlier sections invites careful observation of how Martyn balances general claims with specific, often striking, details.

Martyn’s old volume, tracing how a grinding stone or stew-pot passed from one civilization to the next, always felt to me like listening to someone recall neighbors they’d loved—each utensil carrying a household’s quiet habits forward. That same patient intimacy lives in The New England Cook Book, or Young Housekeeper's Guide Being a Collection of the Most Valuable Receipts; Embracing all the Various Branches of Cookery, and Written — Background and Themes, where a receipt for bread is less instruction than a hand passed down.