Moretum

Roman garlic and herb paste: from the ancient poem that is also a recipe

Origin: Ancient Rome

From the journey of Garlic.

Moretum is one of the most remarkable documents in culinary history: a Latin poem of 124 lines, attributed in antiquity to Virgil but now generally thought to be by an unknown author of the 1st century BCE or early CE, that describes in extraordinary narrative detail the morning routine of a Roman peasant farmer named Simylus. Before going out to work his fields, Simylus grinds a paste of garlic, fresh herbs, hard cheese, salt, oil, and vinegar in a stone mortar to eat with bread. The poem is simultaneously a recipe and a social portrait (the only surviving literary account of what an ordinary working Roman ate for breakfast) and it is written with a poet's precision and a cook's eye for the physical reality of making food by hand. The paste Simylus makes is the direct ancestor of pesto: raw garlic pounded first to a paste, then herbs worked in, then cheese crumbled through, then oil and vinegar beaten in to emulsify the whole. The mortar technique (grinding raw garlic to an absolute paste before incorporating the other ingredients) is also the founding technique behind skordalia, aioli, and toum. All descend from the same ancient Mediterranean tradition of pounding garlic to release its alliins and then emulsifying it with fat. The poem's famous phrase, fessaque dextera, 'his right hand grows weary'; speaks with honest humour to the sheer physical labour of making this properly in a stone mortar. There are no shortcuts in ancient cooking. The herbs Simylus uses are specified in the poem: rue (ruta graveolens; bitter, citrusy, medicinal, beloved of Roman cooks and now largely absent from modern kitchens), parsley, coriander, and celery; specifically the pale inner leaves of wild celery, which have an intensity that cultivated celery leaf lacks. Walnuts or pine nuts are sometimes mentioned in scholarly interpretations of the poem as optional additions for body and richness. The cheese is a fresh, salty sheep's milk curd: the Roman equivalent of fresh pecorino or ricotta salata. Nothing in the ingredient list is complicated or expensive; everything is the produce of a small farm and a kitchen garden. Moretum was almost certainly eaten across the Roman world wherever legions and settlers carried their food traditions; in Britain, Gaul, the Iberian provinces, the Eastern Mediterranean, and North Africa. As a preparation it sits at the precise origin point of a dozen modern garlic sauces and herb pastes, connecting the kitchens of contemporary cooks directly to a Roman farmstead of two thousand years ago. To make it is to make something that a man named Simylus made before going to work on a cold morning, and the poem is there to tell you exactly how.

Ingredients

Garlic base

  • 4 large cloves garlic, peeled
  • 0.5 tsp coarse salt

Cheese

  • 50 g fresh sheep's milk cheese, pecorino fresco, ricotta salata, or fresh feta (crumbled)

Nuts

  • 30 g walnut halves (historically grounded alternative to pine nuts)

Herbs

  • 15 g flat-leaf parsley, leaves picked (roughly a small bunch)
  • 10 g fresh coriander, leaves and fine stems (roughly a small bunch)
  • 4 sprigs fresh rue, ruta graveolens (optional, from herb gardens; bitter, citrusy, medicinal character; use sparingly)
  • 3 stalks celery inner pale leaves, the tender yellow-green leaves from the heart of a celery head

Emulsion

  • 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Acid

  • 1 tsp red wine vinegar

To serve

  • Good rustic bread, sourdough, a dense white loaf, or flatbread, to serve

Method

  1. Place the peeled garlic cloves in a large stone mortar with the coarse salt. Pound with the pestle, working in slow circular grinding strokes, until the garlic is reduced to a smooth, wet, utterly homogeneous paste with no fibres remaining. Take your time here; this is the foundation of the paste and it must be completely smooth. The salt is your abrasive; the garlic must become almost liquid.
  2. Add the rue leaves if using, then the parsley, coriander, and celery leaves to the mortar. Work these into the garlic paste by pounding and rotating; the herbs will release their green juices into the garlic. Continue until the herbs are thoroughly broken down and absorbed into the paste. The mixture will turn a vivid, fragrant green.
  3. Add the walnut halves and crumble the sheep's cheese into the mortar. Continue pounding and working the mixture until the nuts and cheese are fully incorporated and no large pieces remain. The paste will become denser and slightly drier as the cheese and nuts absorb the herb juices.
  4. Add the olive oil in a slow, thin stream while working the pestle or stirring vigorously with a spoon; as you would beat oil into an aioli or skordalia. The oil should begin to emulsify into the paste rather than sitting on the surface. Add the red wine vinegar and continue working until everything is fully combined into a unified, thick, spreadable paste.
  5. Taste the moretum. Adjust salt. The flavour should be intensely garlicky, herbaceous, slightly bitter from the celery and rue, sharp from the vinegar, and rich from the cheese and oil. It should be confrontational in the best possible way; this is peasant food of the most honest kind.
  6. Transfer to a small bowl or simply eat directly from the mortar as Simylus would have; spread thickly on rustic bread. Serve immediately with good bread and nothing else required.

Notes

The poem Moretum can be read in full in any edition of the Appendix Vergiliana: the collection of minor Latin poems attributed, often incorrectly, to Virgil. The recipe-within-a-poem structure is unique in classical Latin literature; no other ancient text gives us this quality of detail about the daily food of an ordinary person. Making moretum is an act of historical re-enactment, but it is also genuinely delicious. Rue is worth sourcing from a kitchen herb garden if possible; its flavour is irreplaceable and gives the paste its specifically ancient, medicinal-herbal character. Omit it and the dish is still excellent; include it and you are tasting something that has not changed in two thousand years.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

To explore — select an ingredient below.

Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1950 CE
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Garlic

Garlic

Allium sativum

Spices & AromaticsAllium Family (Amaryllidaceae)

🌍Origin

Tian Shan and Fergana Valley ranges, Central Asia (modern Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, northwestern China) — c. 5000 BCE

🌱Domestication

Garlic, Allium sativum, is a member of the great onion family, the Amaryllidaceae, and it shares with its relatives the leek, the onion, the shallot, and the chive a pungency born of sulphur. It was domesticated from a wild Central Asian ancestor, long identified as Allium longicuspis, in the mountain valleys that ring the Tian Shan and the Fergana basin, a swathe of high country that today spans Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and the western fringe of China. Archaeological evidence from cave sites across the Caucasus and Central Asia places the human gathering of wild garlic at least as far back as 7000 BCE, and the deliberate selection and replanting of the finest bulbs, the act that turns a foraged plant into a crop, is reckoned to have begun by about 5000 BCE. This makes garlic one of the oldest cultivated plants on earth, contemporary with the first cereals and pulses of the Fertile Crescent. The defining peculiarity of A. sativum is that it almost never sets viable seed. Across thousands of years of cultivation the plant lost its capacity to reproduce sexually, and it propagates instead by the division of its bulb into cloves, each clove a clone of the parent. Every head of garlic a cook breaks apart is, in effect, a small bundle of genetically identical offspring, and the named garlics of the world, the violet-streaked Lautrec of France, the great white heads of China, the purple wight of the Mediterranean, the rocambole and the silverskin, are clonal lineages carried forward by hand from one planting to the next. Because the plant could not cross and recombine, regional populations diverged slowly and held their character, and a clove carried by a trader or a soldier could be planted and grown true on the far side of a continent. The pungency that defines garlic is not present in the intact clove. The whole bulb is nearly odourless; only when the flesh is cut, crushed, or chewed does an enzyme called alliinase meet a sulphur compound called alliin and convert it, in seconds, into allicin, the volatile, sharp, hot principle that is garlic's signature and the source of both its flavour and its famous reputation as a medicine. Heat destroys alliinase, which is why a clove roasted whole turns sweet, mild, and nutty, whilst the same clove pounded raw is fierce; the cook commands the whole spectrum simply by the order and violence of preparation. This single chemical fact underlies the entire culinary range of garlic, from the trembling raw emulsions of the Mediterranean to the soft, jammy braised cloves of the East Asian pot, and it explains why no other aromatic has been pressed into so many forms by so many kitchens.

Global Voyage

From its Central Asian cradle garlic moved outward in two great arcs, and because it travelled as a living clove rather than as seed, its spread followed the deliberate movement of people: traders, soldiers, settlers, and the enslaved. The western arc ran first into Mesopotamia, where Sumerian and Babylonian scribes recorded it among the rations of temple workers and the aromatics of palace cookery, and then into Egypt, where the builders of the pyramids were fed on garlic and onions, and clay-moulded bulbs were laid in the tombs of kings. From the Nile and the Levant the clove passed to Greece, the food of soldiers, athletes, and the labouring poor, and on to Rome, whose legions carried it the length of the empire, from Britain and the Rhine to Syria, planting it wherever they marched and embedding it permanently in the kitchen gardens and monastic plots of Europe. The eastern arc moved along the proto-routes of what would become the Silk Road, carrying Allium sativum into the Indian subcontinent, where it entered the Ayurvedic pharmacopoeia as rasona even as Brahminical and Jain doctrine declared it tamasic and forbade it to the devout; into China, where it joined ginger and spring onion as one of the three foundational aromatics of the wok; and onward to Korea, which would become the most intensive garlic-eating culture on earth, and to Japan and Southeast Asia. In Korea the founding myth of the nation itself turns on garlic, the bear who ate garlic and mugwort in a cave for a hundred days and was made human; no people has woven the bulb so deeply into its sense of origin. The Arab expansion and the long centuries of Islamic rule carried garlic westward a second time, across North Africa and into Al-Andalus, where eight hundred years of Moorish Spain made it the bedrock of Iberian cooking, of the bread soups and the al ajillo dishes and the sofrito that begins half the savoury food of the peninsula. From this Mediterranean heartland the sauces and techniques of pounded garlic spread: the Greek skordalia, the Roman moretum, the Provençal aïoli, the Lebanese toum, a whole family of emulsions and pastes descended from the same stone mortar. Then, in the sixteenth century, the oceanic empires of Spain and Portugal carried garlic to the Americas, where it anchored the refogado of Brazil, the sofrito of the Caribbean and the Andes, and, fused with the beef culture of the pampas and the herbs of Italian and Spanish immigrants, the chimichurri of the Argentine asado. The same Iberian ships and the Manila galleon trade carried it to the Philippines, where sinangag, garlic fried rice, became the national breakfast. Across the Indian Ocean, the Dutch East India Company moved enslaved and free people from South and Southeast Asia to the Cape of Good Hope, and with them came the layered, garlic-heavy curries of the Cape Malay kitchen; trans-Saharan and colonial routes carried it into West Africa, where it underpins the thiéboudienne and the yassa of Senegal. By the close of the colonial age garlic had reached very nearly every cooking culture on the planet, and in the twentieth century even the cautious northern European and North American palate, long suspicious of its smell, surrendered to it entirely. From a wild bulb in the Tian Shan to the three-cup chicken of Taiwan and the garlic bread of suburban America, no aromatic has travelled further or rooted itself more completely.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

Garlic is the most widely used aromatic in the world, present in the foundational savoury cooking of almost every cuisine on earth, and it serves at once as a seasoning, a main ingredient, a medicine, and a cultural symbol. Its versatility is unmatched, for the same clove can be coaxed into wholly different characters by the cook's hand: pounded raw it is fierce and hot, the basis of the great Mediterranean emulsions, the Provençal aïoli, the Greek skordalia, the Lebanese toum, and the Basque pil-pil; sliced thin and cooked gently in oil it perfumes a dish without dominating it, as in spaghetti aglio e olio or the al ajillo preparations of Spain; and braised long and whole it turns sweet, soft, and spreadable, as in the French chicken with forty cloves or the Taiwanese san bei ji, where the clove is sought out and eaten in its own right. It is the architectural foundation of the world's great flavour bases: the Spanish and Latin American sofrito, the Brazilian refogado, the Filipino ginisa, the Chinese trinity of garlic, ginger, and scallion, and the onion-garlic-ginger base of the Indian and Cape Malay curry. It anchors the marinades of the grill from the Argentine asado to the Levantine kebab, and it defines whole national cuisines: Korea, the heaviest per-capita consumer in the world, eats it raw beside grilled meat, fermented into kimchi, and preserved as the soy-pickled banchan maneul jangajji; the Philippines builds its breakfast upon it; Italy, Spain, and the Levant could scarcely cook without it. Nutritionally and medicinally garlic carries one of the oldest reputations of any plant. Allicin, the compound responsible for its smell, has documented antibacterial and antifungal activity, and from the Ebers Papyrus and the Shennong Bencao Jing to Hippocrates and the herbalists of medieval Europe it has been prescribed for the heart, the lungs, the gut, and the blood. No other plant has generated so dense a body of folklore, mythology, medical literature, and culinary philosophy, from the vampire-repelling clove of the European imagination to the bear-myth of Korea. For all this freight of meaning, garlic remains the most everyday of ingredients, the first thing struck in the pan in kitchens on every inhabited continent, the universal aromatic of the human table.

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