Mustacei

Roman grape must cakes from Cato's De Agricultura: among the oldest written recipes in Western history

Origin: Rome, Roman Empire

From the journey of Grapes.

Mustacei are one of the oldest documented recipes in the Western tradition. They appear in Cato the Elder's De Agricultura (c. 160 BCE) (one of the earliest works of Latin prose and a comprehensive manual of Roman farm management) making them among the first recipes to be written down in European history. Cato describes them with characteristic Roman practicality: grape must cakes made with wheat flour, fresh must, oil, lard, anise, cumin, and bay leaves, baked flat during the harvest. The recipe has survived 2,200 years. The defining technique of mustacei is the use of fresh grape must in place of water, eggs, or other liquids. The must serves three functions simultaneously: it sweetens the dough with concentrated grape sugar; it provides a degree of natural leavening from the wild yeasts present in the fermenting juice; and it contributes the distinctive flavour of concentrated grape: a quality somewhere between raisin, wine, and fresh fruit that no other ingredient can replicate. Mustacei are harvest cakes in the most literal sense: they can only be made when the harvest is underway and the must is flowing from the press. The spice combination; anise and cumin; is characteristic of ancient Mediterranean baking, appearing in Roman, Greek, and Egyptian recipes with a frequency that reflects the ancient world's understanding of these spices as both flavouring agents and digestive aids. The Roman digestive system was a significant preoccupation of Roman medicine, and cumin in particular was considered essential for the proper digestion of heavy wheat-based foods. The combination of grape sugar and caraway-adjacent spices produces a flavour that is unexpectedly complex; simultaneously sweet, savoury, fragrant, and ancient in a way that is immediately recognisable as belonging to a culinary tradition entirely unlike the modern one. Baking on bay leaves is the detail that elevates mustacei from a simple dough to something more considered. The bay leaves are not merely decorative: their volatile oils, linalool, eucalyptol, and alpha-pinene, are released by the oven heat and penetrate the underside of each cake during baking, adding a distinctly resinous, herbal fragrance that perfumes the base without being present in the dough itself. This technique of aromatic baking on leaves appears across the ancient Mediterranean (from Roman mustacei to the Greek fig-leaf-wrapped preparations documented in Athenaeus) and reflects an ancient intuition about indirect flavour transfer that modern cooking has largely abandoned.

Ingredients

Dough

  • 400 g plain wheat flour (spelt flour is more historically accurate and gives a slightly nuttier flavour)
  • 200 ml fresh grape must or dark grape juice reduced by half (to concentrate)
  • 80 ml good olive oil
  • 60 g lard or unsalted butter, softened
  • 1.5 tsp ground anise or aniseed (lightly crushed in a mortar)
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • pinch salt

For Baking

  • 15 fresh or dried bay leaves, for baking on

Method

  1. Combine the flour, ground anise, ground cumin, and salt in a large bowl. Whisk together to distribute the spices evenly throughout the flour.
  2. Add the softened lard or butter and rub it into the flour mixture with your fingertips until it resembles coarse breadcrumbs. This takes 2–3 minutes. The fat coats the flour particles and will give the finished cakes their characteristic shortness.
  3. Add the olive oil and mix briefly with a fork until incorporated. The mixture will be crumbly.
  4. Add the grape must gradually; start with 150ml and add more as needed. Mix with your hands until the dough just comes together into a stiff, non-sticky dough. It should hold together when pressed but not be soft or elastic. You may not need all the must.
  5. Wrap the dough and rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. This allows the flour to fully hydrate and the spices to begin infusing into the dough.
  6. Preheat the oven to 190°C (375°F). Arrange the bay leaves on baking trays in pairs or individually, spacing them evenly.
  7. Divide the dough into 12 equal pieces (approximately 60g each). Roll each piece into a ball, then flatten between your palms to a round disk approximately 8cm in diameter and 1cm thick. Place each disk directly onto a bay leaf on the baking tray.
  8. Bake for 18–22 minutes until the cakes are golden-brown on top, firm to the touch, and have a pleasant anise-grape fragrance. The undersides will have absorbed the resinous perfume of the bay.
  9. Cool completely on the bay leaves before serving. The cakes are dense and best eaten at room temperature. Serve alongside mulsum (Roman honey wine), or with honey for dipping.

Notes

Mustacei keep well for 3–4 days stored in an airtight container: their density and low moisture content made them ideal as travel food in the ancient world. For a closer approximation of ancient Roman flour, substitute 100g of the plain flour with spelt flour (farro in Italian); spelt was the primary grain of Roman Italy before common wheat became dominant. Cato's original recipe does not include sugar or honey in the dough (the grape must provides all the sweetness), but a small drizzle of honey over the finished cakes when served is entirely appropriate. The bay leaves used for baking can be fresh or dried; fresh leaves give a slightly stronger perfume.

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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