Cena Apicius is a working title for a historical fiction novel about the life of Marcus Gavius Apicius, a wealthy Roman noble who lived in the early first century. Very little is known about him save for snippets of information left behind in works by Seneca, Tacitus, Pliny the Elder and others. He was famous for the lavish feasts he threw for his fellow Romans, and even for Emperor Tiberius. I became interested in the story when reading food memoirs and books about food history. As a big foodie myself, I found myself drawn to the strange story of Apicius, who could be considered the world’s first known gourmand. The oldest known cookbook was named after him.

In this section, Apicius is talking to his cook, Thrasius. Passia is the slave that watches over Apicata, Apicius’ daughter. This scene takes place about 8 months or so after Thrasius has been purchased so it comes much earlier than other snippets you might have read.

Copyrighted, first draft form, definitely has errors, will definitely change, might be cut, etc… Here is my Friday Snippet:

After they sliced up the beets, Thrasius showed Apicius a recipe he had been working on which wrapped the beet leaves around a mixture of chopped leeks, coriander, cumin, raisins and flour. Together they tied up the leaves into little bundles which would be boiled when it was closer to the dinner hour. At the evening’s symposium, Thrasius would serve them in a sauce of liquamen, oil and vinegar.

When they had nearly finished tying off the last of the beet leaf bundles, Passia came into the kitchen, Apicata in tow. Thrasius, surprised, could barely manage to tie off the bundle he had been holding. For weeks he had been trying to work up the courage to say more to Passia than “here’s the tray” or “I brought Apicata breakfast.” He felt helpless in her presence.

“I’m hungry!” Apicata declared.

“You are always hungry!” Apicius said, laughing. “It’s as though I sired a bear not a daughter!”

“I’m not a bear!” she said defiantly, putting her hands on her hips. Her dark hair was pulled back into a long braid and tied with saffron colored ribbons. Thrasius knew she was spoiled but there was something so special about her that Thrasius couldn’t help but feel enchanted by the little girl.

“I know what will help,” he said, hoping that his voice didn’t quaver. He picked up a nearby radish and with his knife he began carving it into a carefully petaled rose. He prayed to Venus that his nervousness wouldn’t lead to a sliced off finger. Apicius, Passia and Apicata sat in rapt attention as he carved several of the vegetables.

Finally he placed a handful of radish flowers in her hand. “A beautiful lady should have beautiful flowers,” he said. Then, on impulse, he pulled a rose out of bundle of cut flowers lying on a shelf waiting to be put into a vase to decorate the atrium. With a smile, he presented it to Passia. She looked surprised, but didn’t say anything.

Apicata, however, squealed with delight. “Are you sure I can eat these? They’re so pretty!”

“Eat up sweet one. And if you ask nicely, I bet that Thrasius will make a pear patina tonight,” Apicius’ voice held a special warmth when he addressed his daughter.

“Please please, Thrasius! I love it when you make the pears pretty!”

He laughed, loving how she described the fruit, honey and egg dish. The pears did look pretty once they were cooked and shining with oil. “I would be pleased to make that for you, little Domina.”

Spontaneously, Apicata ran around the table and gave Thrasius a big hug. Then she ran back to Passia and together they left the kitchen.

“She really likes you,” Apicius observed.

Thrasius smiled, wishing that Apicius had been talking about Passia. “She is very charming. She reminds me of the sister I had when I was young.”

“And you. You like Passia,” Apicius said.

Thrasius froze, unsure what he should say. He knew that Apicius did not forbid relations among his domestics. Several of his slaves were married and had children. Still, he remembered what Ruan had said about Apicius being very protective of his cooks. He picked up the knives to take them over to a nearby basin for washing.

What Apicius said next shocked Thrasius to the core.

“I will let Passia know that she is to make herself available to you as you desire.”

Thrasius dropped one of the knives. It clattered to the floor, the sound reverberating off the heavy stone tile. The handful of slaves working in other parts of the kitchen turned at the noise.

“Careful there. You wouldn’t want to stab one of your feet,” Apicius said with a hint of amusement in his voice.

Thrasius could feel that his face was on fire, but he didn’t hesitate and bent over to pick up the knife. “You are right Dominus. I’ll be more careful.”

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