Mulsum

Roman honey wine: the aperitif that opened every banquet in the ancient world

Origin: Rome, Roman Empire

From the journey of Grapes.

Mulsum is the Roman aperitif; honey-sweetened wine served at the opening of the cena (the main meal of the Roman day), drunk during the gustatio, the first course of appetisers that preceded the main meal proper. It is documented by Columella in De Re Rustica, by Pliny the Elder in Naturalis Historia, and appears throughout the recipe collection of Apicius; the first-century Roman cookery text that is the oldest substantial culinary manuscript to survive from antiquity. The recipe is simple: wine, honey, and spices. But in Roman hands, this combination was considered both a medical intervention and a gastronomic pleasure, a distinction the Romans were not always careful to maintain. Roman wine was typically stronger, more resinous, and more oxidised than modern wine; it was routinely diluted with water (drinking undiluted wine was considered barbaric, a practice associated with northern barbarians and the dangerously passionate Greeks). Mulsum added honey to smooth the rough edges of ordinary wine, and spices; pepper, cinnamon, saffron, and herbs; to add complexity and perceived medicinal benefit. Honey was one of the Roman world's primary sweeteners, and its combination with wine appeared in cooking, medicine, and religious ritual with equal frequency. The Roman relationship with grape cultivation was total and imperial. By the height of the Empire, Roman vineyards stretched from Britain to Mesopotamia, from the Rhine to the Nile: a wine-producing network of unprecedented geographic scope. Roman amphorae carrying wine, olive oil, and fish sauce have been found on every continent where Roman sites have been excavated. The vine was the most economically and culturally significant crop in the Roman agricultural system, and mulsum was the simplest, most domestic expression of that centrality: the grape's fermented juice transformed by sweetness into a welcoming drink of arrival. Mulsum was also drunk at the Saturnalia (the Roman midwinter festival), served to guests on arrival, and given as a gift. Cato the Elder, Rome's great conservative moralist, records a recipe for mulsum in De Agricultura that is essentially unchanged from the versions that appear two centuries later in Apicius. The continuity of the recipe across Roman history reflects the drink's fundamental status; it was not a luxury, not a fashion, but a fixture of Roman domestic hospitality as stable as the hearth itself.

Ingredients

  • 750 ml dry white wine (a slightly rough or tannic variety is more historically appropriate than a refined modern wine)
  • 120 ml good honey (raw, unfiltered if possible, Roman honey was unprocessed)
  • 1 tsp whole black peppercorns, lightly crushed
  • 1 cinnamon stick
  • 1 sprig fresh thyme
  • small pinch saffron threads (optional, for a luxury version)

Method

  1. Pour the wine into a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Place over the lowest possible heat; you are warming the wine, not cooking it. The target temperature is approximately 60°C (140°F), well below simmering. If you do not have a thermometer, the wine should feel very warm to the touch but should not steam.
  2. Add the honey and stir gently until completely dissolved. The honey will incorporate easily into warm wine.
  3. Add the crushed peppercorns, cinnamon stick, thyme, and saffron if using. Stir once to combine.
  4. Maintain the wine at a very gentle warmth for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Do not allow it to reach a simmer. The spices will infuse gradually into the honey-sweetened wine.
  5. Taste and adjust: add more honey if you prefer a sweeter mulsum, a few more peppercorns if you want more spice. The flavour should be gently sweet, warming, and fragrant; the pepper and cinnamon should be present but not dominant.
  6. Remove from heat and steep for 20 minutes to allow the flavours to develop fully.
  7. Strain through a fine-mesh sieve into a serving jug. Serve warm in small cups or glasses. Alternatively, allow to cool completely, then serve chilled; cold mulsum is equally authentic and, in warmer months, preferable.

Notes

Roman mulsum was made with a range of wines from very ordinary table wine (the cheapest honeys and wines for everyday use) to the finest Falernian (aged for decades and reserved for special occasions). The recipe scales well; for a larger gathering, simply multiply all quantities. For a more historically accurate version, try defrutum mulsum: reduce the grape juice by half before fermenting (or use grape must concentrate available from winemaking suppliers): this produces a much richer, more concentrated result closer to what Roman texts describe as the finest mulsum. A small amount of cumin (one pinch) is documented in some Roman recipes for mulsum and adds an unusual but interesting note.

The Gastrographer

The Gastrographer

Mapping Culinary History

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Journey Point Map Key

Ingredient originTrade or transit route
Became a culinary stapleColonial / trade control
c. 1976 CE
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16 of 16 stops
1976 CE
8000 BCE500 CE1700 CE1976 CE
Grapes

Grapes

Vitis vinifera

FruitsBerries

🌍Origin

The Caucasus region, between the Black Sea and Caspian Sea (modern-day Georgia and Armenia). — c. 8000 BCE

🌱Domestication

The grape is amongst the most consequential plants ever to pass into human cultivation, for from a single domesticated species came not only a fruit but an entire civilisation of wine, with all its attendant religion, commerce, and art. Vitis vinifera, the wine grape, was domesticated from its wild ancestor Vitis vinifera subspecies sylvestris in the South Caucasus, the mountainous country between the Black Sea and the Caspian that today forms Georgia, Armenia, and the borderlands of Azerbaijan and eastern Anatolia. The wild vine is dioecious, bearing male and female flowers on separate plants, so that only some vines set fruit; the great achievement of domestication was the selection of hermaphroditic vines that pollinate themselves and crop reliably, together with the choice of plants bearing larger, sweeter, juicier berries. Because the grapevine is propagated from cuttings, every prized variety could be cloned and carried, and the cultivars that resulted, from the pale Sultana to the dark Shiraz, were perpetuated unchanged across millennia and thousands of miles. The antiquity of the Caucasian tradition is documented in the soil itself. Archaeological sites in eastern Georgia have yielded fragments of large clay fermentation vessels, the qvevri, stained with tartaric acid, the chemical fingerprint of grape juice, alongside grape pips and pressed skins, and the chemical evidence of deliberate winemaking reaches back to around 6000 BCE, with signs of wild grape use pushing the human relationship with the vine to roughly 8000 BCE. This makes Caucasian winemaking, in all likelihood, the oldest continuously practised fermentation tradition on earth, and the qvevri method, in which whole crushed clusters are buried in earthenware to ferment slowly underground, is still followed in Georgia today, essentially unchanged across eight thousand years. V. vinifera proved extraordinarily plastic under cultivation, diverging into the many thousands of named varieties that now exist, table grapes bred for sweetness and good keeping, drying grapes for raisins and sultanas, and the great wine grapes whose names, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Tempranillo, Riesling, Nebbiolo, define the fine-wine world. The fruit is unique amongst the great domesticates in the sheer breadth of its uses, for it is eaten fresh, dried into raisins, currants, and sultanas, pressed into juice, fermented into wine and distilled into brandy, boiled down without fermentation into the sweet molasses the Persians call shireh and the Turks pekmez, soured into vinegar and verjuice, and even valued for its broad, pliable leaves, which are wrapped about rice and herbs across the whole of the eastern Mediterranean. No other plant has given the human table so many distinct things from a single fruit.

Global Voyage

From its Caucasian cradle the cultivated vine spread first into the great river civilisations of the Near East. By around 3000 BCE grape growing and winemaking had reached Mesopotamia and the Nile Delta of Egypt, where viticulture became an art of the elite; Egyptian tomb paintings at Saqqara and Luxor depict the treading of grapes, the sealing of amphorae, and the labelling of wine jars with vintage, vineyard, and maker, the earliest wine-labelling system in the world. It was the Phoenicians, however, the great seafaring merchants of the Levantine coast at Tyre and Sidon, who turned the grape into a Mediterranean crop. From around 1500 BCE they carried vine cuttings, winemaking knowledge, and the Levantine habit of cooking with the vine to every port they founded, to Carthage, to Cyprus and Sardinia, to Marseille and to Cadiz, planting the seed of viticulture along the entire northern shore of Africa and the southern coast of Europe. The Greeks inherited this Phoenician inheritance and raised it into philosophy, religion, and social ritual, organising the symposium around diluted wine and making Dionysus one of the central figures of their pantheon; Greek wine, shipped in distinctive amphorae, travelled the length of the Mediterranean. Rome then transformed Greek wine culture into an imperial agricultural system, and it was the legions and colonists of Rome who carried the vine to the lands that would become its greatest homes. Roman viticulture planted the vineyards of Gaul, Hispania, the Rhine and the Moselle, and even Britain, and the agronomists Columella and Pliny the Elder documented hundreds of grape varieties and the techniques of their cultivation. The great wine regions of modern France, Spain, Germany, and Italy are, in the most direct sense, the descendants of Roman plantings. The rise of Islam after the seventh century CE recast the grape's role across a vast swathe of its range. Where the Quranic prohibition of khamr, intoxicating drink, suppressed winemaking, the grape did not vanish but was transformed into a food, and the Arab agricultural revolution carried drying and table varieties across North Africa, into Al-Andalus, and along the trans-Saharan caravan routes into the pre-Saharan oases of Morocco, where the golden raisins of the Draa Valley became a prized commodity. The grape became raisins and currants, molasses and verjuice, and the vine leaf became a cooking vessel; the Ottomans later gathered these traditions and spread the stuffed vine leaf, the dolma, across an empire that stretched from Hungary to Yemen. The final and greatest dispersal was the oceanic one of the colonial age. Spanish missionaries carried the vine to Mexico and South America and up the Pacific coast; the Dutch East India Company planted the first vines at the Cape of Good Hope within three years of founding the Cape Colony in 1652, and French Huguenot refugees reinforced the young Cape winelands in 1688. German Lutheran settlers fleeing Silesia and Prussia planted Shiraz in South Australia's Barossa Valley in the 1840s, on vines that, having escaped the phylloxera blight that devastated Europe, are amongst the oldest in the world today. French enologists introduced Malbec to the high vineyards of Mendoza in Argentina in the 1850s, and in the same decade Ephraim Wales Bull bred the hardy Concord grape from native American Vitis labrusca stock in Massachusetts, giving the United States a grape culture of its own. By the late twentieth century the vine had circled the globe, and the Judgement of Paris of 1976, in which California wines bested the grand crus of Bordeaux and Burgundy, confirmed that the grape had made new homelands wherever the climate would receive it.

🍽Modern Culinary Role

The grape stands amongst the most economically important crops in the world, cultivated on roughly 7.5 million hectares across every inhabited continent, and it is unrivalled in the diversity of the things it yields from a single fruit. It is eaten fresh as a table grape, dried into raisins, sultanas, and currants, pressed into juice, fermented into wine and distilled into brandy, grappa, pisco, and arak, boiled down into the sweet molasses of pekmez and shireh, soured into vinegar and pressed unripe into verjuice, and its broad leaves are brined and wrapped about rice and meat from Greece to Iran. Wine alone constitutes a global industry worth many hundreds of billions, and the names of grape varieties and the regions that grow them, Bordeaux and Burgundy, Rioja and the Mosel, the Barossa and Mendoza and Napa, have become a language of place and prestige understood the world over. No other fruit has generated a comparable body of cultural, religious, philosophical, and culinary literature. The grape and its wine sit at the symbolic heart of several of the world's great traditions: the Eucharist of Christianity, the Kiddush of Judaism, the ecstatic religion of the Greek Dionysus, and the legal discourse of Islam concerning the prohibition of intoxicants. In Persian poetry the grape and the cup are amongst the most enduring of all images, appearing in countless verses, most famously the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, as metaphors for spiritual longing, earthly beauty, and divine mystery, and the vine is named in the Hebrew Bible more often than any other plant. In the kitchen the grape ranges from the rustic to the refined, from the harvest breads leavened with fresh must, the schiacciata all'uva of Tuscany and the mosbolletjies of the Cape, to the great wine-braised dishes of the European table, coq au vin and boeuf bourguignon, in which the fermented juice of the grape becomes not a flavouring but the very medium of the cooking. Few plants have shaped human ritual, commerce, and appetite so completely.

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