The Not-So-Humble Artichoke in Ancient Jewish Sources
The
Not-So-Humble Artichoke in Ancient Jewish Sources
Not-So-Humble Artichoke in Ancient Jewish Sources
Susan
Weingarten
Weingarten
Susan
Weingarten is an archaeologist and food historian living in
Jerusalem. This is an adapted extract from her paper ‘The
Rabbi and the Emperors: Artichokes and Cucumbers as Symbols of Status
in Talmudic Literature,’
in
When
West met East: the Encounter of Greece and Rome with the Jews,
Egyptians and Others: Studies presented to Ranon Katzoff on his 75th
Birthday.
Edited
by
D.
Schaps, U. Yiftach and D. Dueck.
(Trieste,
2016).
There
has been a lot of discussion of artichokes recently in the wake of
the ruling by the Israeli Rabbinate that they are not kosher. A
recent post on Seforim Blog traced their ancestry as a Jewish food
back to the 14th
century.
But we can go back further, to the talmudic literature, where
artichokes appear as qinras.
We
can identify many Greek (and fewer Latin) food-names in the Aramaic
and Hebrew of the written texts of the talmudic literature. The
rabbis sometimes use Greek terminology to explain food names. Thus,
for example, biblical regulations on agriculture include a ban on
growing two different kinds of crops together. Mishnah Kilayim
tells
us that thistles (qotzim)
are allowed in a vineyard, i.e. they are seen as wild growths, but
artichokes (qinras)
are not allowed, so that it is clear that artichokes are seen as
cultivated rather than wild growths.[1] Qotz,
the wild thistle, is a biblical Hebrew term, while the Aramaic qinras
appears
to be derived from the Greek for artichoke,
kinara
or
kynara.
Artichokes
were carefully cultivated in the Graeco-Roman world; presumably their
name came with the agricultural methods which turned wild thistles
into cultivated artichokes. It is still difficult to know whether the
artichoke proper is meant here, or rather the closely related
cardoon.[2] It is clear, however, that there were a number of edible
thistles which grew wild, and that the artichoke is a cultivated
variety. The medical writer Galen describes the artichoke as
‘overvalued.’[3] This was partly because of its negative health
properties, for he saw it as unwholesome, sometimes hard and woody,
with bitter juice. So he recommends boiling artichokes and adding
coriander if eating them with oil and garum;[4]
or frying them in a pan.
has been a lot of discussion of artichokes recently in the wake of
the ruling by the Israeli Rabbinate that they are not kosher. A
recent post on Seforim Blog traced their ancestry as a Jewish food
back to the 14th
century.
But we can go back further, to the talmudic literature, where
artichokes appear as qinras.
We
can identify many Greek (and fewer Latin) food-names in the Aramaic
and Hebrew of the written texts of the talmudic literature. The
rabbis sometimes use Greek terminology to explain food names. Thus,
for example, biblical regulations on agriculture include a ban on
growing two different kinds of crops together. Mishnah Kilayim
tells
us that thistles (qotzim)
are allowed in a vineyard, i.e. they are seen as wild growths, but
artichokes (qinras)
are not allowed, so that it is clear that artichokes are seen as
cultivated rather than wild growths.[1] Qotz,
the wild thistle, is a biblical Hebrew term, while the Aramaic qinras
appears
to be derived from the Greek for artichoke,
kinara
or
kynara.
Artichokes
were carefully cultivated in the Graeco-Roman world; presumably their
name came with the agricultural methods which turned wild thistles
into cultivated artichokes. It is still difficult to know whether the
artichoke proper is meant here, or rather the closely related
cardoon.[2] It is clear, however, that there were a number of edible
thistles which grew wild, and that the artichoke is a cultivated
variety. The medical writer Galen describes the artichoke as
‘overvalued.’[3] This was partly because of its negative health
properties, for he saw it as unwholesome, sometimes hard and woody,
with bitter juice. So he recommends boiling artichokes and adding
coriander if eating them with oil and garum;[4]
or frying them in a pan.
But
Galen’s objections to artichokes may not be merely medical. They
may also be an echo of the attitude we find in Pliny,[5] who tells us
that artichokes were exceptionally prized by the gourmets of Rome,
and that there was a roaring trade in them. Pliny disapproved:
Galen’s objections to artichokes may not be merely medical. They
may also be an echo of the attitude we find in Pliny,[5] who tells us
that artichokes were exceptionally prized by the gourmets of Rome,
and that there was a roaring trade in them. Pliny disapproved:
‘There
still remains an extremely profitable article of trade which must be
mentioned, not without a feeling of shame. The fact is that it is
well-known that at Carthage, and particularly at Cordoba, crops of
carduos,
artichokes,
yield
a return of 6000 sesterces from small plots – since we turn even
the monstrosities of the earth to purposes of gluttony … they are
conserved in honey-vinegar with silphium and cumin, so that there
should be no day without thistles for dinner.[6]
Pliny,
writing in the first century, uses all the tricks of rhetoric to put
over his disapproval of this ridiculous fad of over-valuing
artichokes, and eating them out of season: note the alliteration and
assonance of carduos
with
Cartago and Corduba, which he presumably despised as far-away
provincial cities.[7] He is also indignant about the enormous prices
charged for them, satirising the rich who eat the artichokes as being
lower than the animals who despise them.[8] His diatribe does not
seem to have been generally successful. Artichokes were still clearly
prized in the Roman world of the third and fourth centuries: a mosaic
from the so-called ‘House of the Buffet Supper’ in Antioch shows
them on a silver tray as a first course for dinner.[9] And in a
Palestinian context, another mosaic with what look like two purplish
artichoke heads and a silver bowl, dated to the third century, has
been found recently in excavations of ancient Jerusalem – or rather
Aelia
Capitolina.[10]
writing in the first century, uses all the tricks of rhetoric to put
over his disapproval of this ridiculous fad of over-valuing
artichokes, and eating them out of season: note the alliteration and
assonance of carduos
with
Cartago and Corduba, which he presumably despised as far-away
provincial cities.[7] He is also indignant about the enormous prices
charged for them, satirising the rich who eat the artichokes as being
lower than the animals who despise them.[8] His diatribe does not
seem to have been generally successful. Artichokes were still clearly
prized in the Roman world of the third and fourth centuries: a mosaic
from the so-called ‘House of the Buffet Supper’ in Antioch shows
them on a silver tray as a first course for dinner.[9] And in a
Palestinian context, another mosaic with what look like two purplish
artichoke heads and a silver bowl, dated to the third century, has
been found recently in excavations of ancient Jerusalem – or rather
Aelia
Capitolina.[10]
The
classical picture of artichokes as food for the rich and upper
classes is confirmed by the talmudic literature. For example, Midrash
Esther Rabbah, writes:
classical picture of artichokes as food for the rich and upper
classes is confirmed by the talmudic literature. For example, Midrash
Esther Rabbah, writes:
‘Bar
Yohania made a feast for the notables of Rome … What was missing?
Only the qinras
(=artichoke).’[11]
S.
Klein in his article ‘Bar-Yohannis from Sepphoris at Rome,’
suggested
that this may be the first reference to the famous Roman Jewish
artichoke dish carciofi
alla giudia.[12]
(For a recipe see E. Servi Machlin The
Classic Cuisine of the Italian Jews
[NY,1981,
1993] p. 180-1). Unfortunately there is no proof to confirm Klein’s
charming suggestion, since, as we have seen, artichokes seem to have
been famously popular among the Roman pagan nobility.[3] One of the
reasons for the perceived desirability of artichokes as food may also
have been the effort needed to prepare them – an effort usually
only available to the rich through their slaves – the poor would
have had little time for this. But one time when the poorer Jews
would have had time would be on a festival, when ordinary work was
not allowed, but food-preparation was permitted, as it contributed to
the enjoyment of the festival. The Tosefta specifically states that
while cutting vegetables was generally not allowed on a festival (in
case people actually went and cut them down in the fields), trimming
artichokes and ‘akavit/‘aqubit,
a wild thorny plant, was allowed, as this was part of the preparation
needed for cooking these prickly vegetables, which was allowed on a
festival:
Klein in his article ‘Bar-Yohannis from Sepphoris at Rome,’
suggested
that this may be the first reference to the famous Roman Jewish
artichoke dish carciofi
alla giudia.[12]
(For a recipe see E. Servi Machlin The
Classic Cuisine of the Italian Jews
[NY,1981,
1993] p. 180-1). Unfortunately there is no proof to confirm Klein’s
charming suggestion, since, as we have seen, artichokes seem to have
been famously popular among the Roman pagan nobility.[3] One of the
reasons for the perceived desirability of artichokes as food may also
have been the effort needed to prepare them – an effort usually
only available to the rich through their slaves – the poor would
have had little time for this. But one time when the poorer Jews
would have had time would be on a festival, when ordinary work was
not allowed, but food-preparation was permitted, as it contributed to
the enjoyment of the festival. The Tosefta specifically states that
while cutting vegetables was generally not allowed on a festival (in
case people actually went and cut them down in the fields), trimming
artichokes and ‘akavit/‘aqubit,
a wild thorny plant, was allowed, as this was part of the preparation
needed for cooking these prickly vegetables, which was allowed on a
festival:
‘[On
a festival] they do not cut vegetables with shears but they do trim
the qinras,
artichoke,
and the‘akavit/‘aqubit.’[14]
Whether
poorer people actually ate artichokes as special festival food, or
rather only ate the wild ‘akavit/‘aqubit
is
unclear from this source. It is also unclear what the reason for
trimming was: to remove the thorny stems or to cut off the upper part
of the leaves and remove the inedible inner part known as the
‘choke’?
poorer people actually ate artichokes as special festival food, or
rather only ate the wild ‘akavit/‘aqubit
is
unclear from this source. It is also unclear what the reason for
trimming was: to remove the thorny stems or to cut off the upper part
of the leaves and remove the inedible inner part known as the
‘choke’?
The
Babylonian Talmud records that artichokes were sent over long
distances to be eaten by Rabbi Judah haNasi. A rich man called Bonias
‘sent Rabbi a measure of artichokes from Nawsah, and Rabbi
estimated it at two hundred and seventeen eggs.’[15] The eggs here
are a measure of volume: clearly there were quite a lot of
artichokes. ‘Nawsah’ may refer to a settlement on an island in
the Euphrates River outside Babylonia.[16] It was a long way from
Galilee where Rabbi lived, and only the rich could afford to pay for
the transport of these luxuries. Some way of preserving the
artichokes, like keeping them in honey-vinegar as described by Pliny
above, must have been used.
Babylonian Talmud records that artichokes were sent over long
distances to be eaten by Rabbi Judah haNasi. A rich man called Bonias
‘sent Rabbi a measure of artichokes from Nawsah, and Rabbi
estimated it at two hundred and seventeen eggs.’[15] The eggs here
are a measure of volume: clearly there were quite a lot of
artichokes. ‘Nawsah’ may refer to a settlement on an island in
the Euphrates River outside Babylonia.[16] It was a long way from
Galilee where Rabbi lived, and only the rich could afford to pay for
the transport of these luxuries. Some way of preserving the
artichokes, like keeping them in honey-vinegar as described by Pliny
above, must have been used.
Unlike
the classical sources, there is no moral condemnation here of
artichokes as symbols of conspicuous consumption, and tampering with
nature. The rabbis of the Talmudim are generally presented as
appreciative of good food, and as seeing feasting as desirable,
rather than to be condemned.[17] Eating good food, for example, is
one of the recommended ways of celebrating or ‘honouring’ Sabbath
and festival.[18] Indeed, Rabbi himself, when looking back
nostalgically to the time when the Temple still stood, represented
his longing for it in terms of desire for the wonderful foods that
would have been available in that now legendary time.[19]
the classical sources, there is no moral condemnation here of
artichokes as symbols of conspicuous consumption, and tampering with
nature. The rabbis of the Talmudim are generally presented as
appreciative of good food, and as seeing feasting as desirable,
rather than to be condemned.[17] Eating good food, for example, is
one of the recommended ways of celebrating or ‘honouring’ Sabbath
and festival.[18] Indeed, Rabbi himself, when looking back
nostalgically to the time when the Temple still stood, represented
his longing for it in terms of desire for the wonderful foods that
would have been available in that now legendary time.[19]
How
did Rabbi eat his cucumbers and artichokes? Unfortunately the
talmudic literature does not tell us, but there are details in some
Roman authors which may give us some idea of the possibilities.
Athenaeus tells us artichokes must be well-seasoned, or they will be
inedible. The fourth-century Roman cookery book attributed to Apicius
recommends serving artichokes with liquamen
and
oil, and either chopped boiled egg; or cumin and pepper; or pounded
green herbs with pepper and honey.[20] We have already cited Rabbi’s
contemporary, the medical writer Galen, who visited Syria and other
parts of the Near East. He sometimes describes methods of cooking
similar to those found in the talmudic literature.[21] We saw that
Galen recommends eating artichokes boiled with the addition of
coriander, garum
and
oil. He also mentions frying them. Was this the origin of carciofi
alla giudia?
did Rabbi eat his cucumbers and artichokes? Unfortunately the
talmudic literature does not tell us, but there are details in some
Roman authors which may give us some idea of the possibilities.
Athenaeus tells us artichokes must be well-seasoned, or they will be
inedible. The fourth-century Roman cookery book attributed to Apicius
recommends serving artichokes with liquamen
and
oil, and either chopped boiled egg; or cumin and pepper; or pounded
green herbs with pepper and honey.[20] We have already cited Rabbi’s
contemporary, the medical writer Galen, who visited Syria and other
parts of the Near East. He sometimes describes methods of cooking
similar to those found in the talmudic literature.[21] We saw that
Galen recommends eating artichokes boiled with the addition of
coriander, garum
and
oil. He also mentions frying them. Was this the origin of carciofi
alla giudia?
[1]
Mishnah Kilayim v 8.
Mishnah Kilayim v 8.
[2]
The identification of the Latin term cardui
with
artichokes, rather than cardoons, has recently been questioned:C.A.
Wright ‘Did the ancients know the artichoke?’
Gastronomica
9/4
(2009) 21-27.
The identification of the Latin term cardui
with
artichokes, rather than cardoons, has recently been questioned:C.A.
Wright ‘Did the ancients know the artichoke?’
Gastronomica
9/4
(2009) 21-27.
[3]
Galen On
the powers of foods ii.
Galen On
the powers of foods ii.
[4]
Garum
was
the famous Graeco-Roman salty fermented fish-sauce, called liquamen
by
Apicius, used widely as a condiment. R.I. Curtis Garum
and salsamenta: production and commerce in materia medica (Leiden,
1991); M. Grant Roman
Cookery
(London,
1999); S. Grainger, C.Grocock Apicius:
a critical edition,
(Totnes, 2006)373-387:
Appendix
4: Excursus on garum and liquamen.
It is found in the talmudic literature under the name of muries:
S. Weingarten ‘Mouldy bread and rotten fish: delicacies in the
ancient world,’ Food
and History
3
(2005) 61-72. Sauces combined with garum are mentioned in eg Tos
Betsah ii, 16 and in BTYoma76a, but it is not clear that Babylonian
Jews were using this term to mean the same foodstuffs as were used by
the Jews of the Land of Israel.
Garum
was
the famous Graeco-Roman salty fermented fish-sauce, called liquamen
by
Apicius, used widely as a condiment. R.I. Curtis Garum
and salsamenta: production and commerce in materia medica (Leiden,
1991); M. Grant Roman
Cookery
(London,
1999); S. Grainger, C.Grocock Apicius:
a critical edition,
(Totnes, 2006)373-387:
Appendix
4: Excursus on garum and liquamen.
It is found in the talmudic literature under the name of muries:
S. Weingarten ‘Mouldy bread and rotten fish: delicacies in the
ancient world,’ Food
and History
3
(2005) 61-72. Sauces combined with garum are mentioned in eg Tos
Betsah ii, 16 and in BTYoma76a, but it is not clear that Babylonian
Jews were using this term to mean the same foodstuffs as were used by
the Jews of the Land of Israel.
[5]
Pliny : NH
19,
152f.
Pliny : NH
19,
152f.
[6]
Pliny NH
19,
152-3: certum
est quippe carduos apud Carthaginem magnam Cordubamque praecipue
sestertium sena milia e parvis redderareis, quoniam portent quoque
terrarium in ganeam vertimus, serimusque etiam ea quae refugiunt
cunctae quadrupedes …condiuntur quoque aceto melle diluto addita
laseris radice et cumino, ne quis dies sine carduo sit.
Pliny NH
19,
152-3: certum
est quippe carduos apud Carthaginem magnam Cordubamque praecipue
sestertium sena milia e parvis redderareis, quoniam portent quoque
terrarium in ganeam vertimus, serimusque etiam ea quae refugiunt
cunctae quadrupedes …condiuntur quoque aceto melle diluto addita
laseris radice et cumino, ne quis dies sine carduo sit.
[7]
On Pliny’s distrust of the ‘foreign’ taking over the Roman, an
old Roman literary trope, see T. Murphy Pliny
the Elder’s Natural
History:
the empire in the encyclopedia (Oxford,
2004) 68ff.
On Pliny’s distrust of the ‘foreign’ taking over the Roman, an
old Roman literary trope, see T. Murphy Pliny
the Elder’s Natural
History:
the empire in the encyclopedia (Oxford,
2004) 68ff.
[8]
On Pliny’s hostility to luxury, a traditional theme of Latin
poetry: Murphy (above n.35) 71. See also M. Beagon Roman
Nature: the thought of Pliny the Elder
(Oxford,
1992) 190: ‘moral condemnation of luxuria
is
more than a commonplace to Pliny.’
On Pliny’s hostility to luxury, a traditional theme of Latin
poetry: Murphy (above n.35) 71. See also M. Beagon Roman
Nature: the thought of Pliny the Elder
(Oxford,
1992) 190: ‘moral condemnation of luxuria
is
more than a commonplace to Pliny.’
[9]
F. Cimok (ed.) Antioch
Mosaics
(Istanbul,
1995) 44-47.
F. Cimok (ed.) Antioch
Mosaics
(Istanbul,
1995) 44-47.
[10]
The mosaic was excavated by Shlomit Wexler-Bdollach and has been
published by Rina Talgam Mosaics
of Faith (Jerusalem/Pennsylvania,
2014) p. 48 fig 70. I am grateful to both for allowing me to see
their pictures and text prior to publication.
The mosaic was excavated by Shlomit Wexler-Bdollach and has been
published by Rina Talgam Mosaics
of Faith (Jerusalem/Pennsylvania,
2014) p. 48 fig 70. I am grateful to both for allowing me to see
their pictures and text prior to publication.
[11]
The question of whether the midrash is to be seen as referring to a
Persian situation is beyond the scope of this paper.
The question of whether the midrash is to be seen as referring to a
Persian situation is beyond the scope of this paper.
[12]
BJPES
7
(1940) 47-51 (in Hebrew)
BJPES
7
(1940) 47-51 (in Hebrew)
[13]
See also
I.
Löw Die
Flora
der Juden
vol
I, (Wien, 1924, repr Hildesheim, 1967) p.409.
See also
I.
Löw Die
Flora
der Juden
vol
I, (Wien, 1924, repr Hildesheim, 1967) p.409.
[14]
Tosefta Beitzah [Yom Tov] iii,19 and cf BTBeitzah 34a. ‘Akavit/
‘aqubit
has
been identified with tumbleweed, Gundelia
Tourneforti,
which is a wild edible thistle still eaten in Galilee and Lebanon,
and known by its Arabic name, ‘aqub.
See
A. Shmida Mapa’s
dictionary of plants and flowers in Israel (Tel
Aviv, 2005, in Hebrew) 236; A. Helou ‘An edible wild thistle from
the Lebanese mountains’ in Susan Friedman (ed.) Vegetables:
proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery 2008 (Totnes,
2009) 83-4. ‘Aqub
can
still be bought in the present-day market in Tiberias in the spring,
its price depending on whether the vendor has removed the thorns or
left that pleasure to the buyer. Its taste when cooked is not unlike
artichoke.
Tosefta Beitzah [Yom Tov] iii,19 and cf BTBeitzah 34a. ‘Akavit/
‘aqubit
has
been identified with tumbleweed, Gundelia
Tourneforti,
which is a wild edible thistle still eaten in Galilee and Lebanon,
and known by its Arabic name, ‘aqub.
See
A. Shmida Mapa’s
dictionary of plants and flowers in Israel (Tel
Aviv, 2005, in Hebrew) 236; A. Helou ‘An edible wild thistle from
the Lebanese mountains’ in Susan Friedman (ed.) Vegetables:
proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery 2008 (Totnes,
2009) 83-4. ‘Aqub
can
still be bought in the present-day market in Tiberias in the spring,
its price depending on whether the vendor has removed the thorns or
left that pleasure to the buyer. Its taste when cooked is not unlike
artichoke.
[15]
BT Eruvin 83a (my translation).
BT Eruvin 83a (my translation).
[16]
For the identification of Nawsah see A. Oppenheimer, Babylonia
Judaica in the Talmudic Period
(Wiesbaden,
1983) pp.266-7.
For the identification of Nawsah see A. Oppenheimer, Babylonia
Judaica in the Talmudic Period
(Wiesbaden,
1983) pp.266-7.
[17]
This point about the generally positive attitude of the rabbis (in
this case the Babylonian rabbis) to the good things in life is made
by I.M. Gafni The
Jews of Babylonia in the talmudic era: a social and cultural history
(Jerusalem,
1990) 130 citing M. Beer Amoraei
Bavel – peraqim be-hayei ha-kalkalah
(Ramat
Gan תשל”ה
).
But having made his point, Gafni hedges here, warning against taking
a series of anecdotes from different periods as evidence. However, we
should note that this picture is consistent over both Palestinian and
Babylonian sources, and if we compare it to, say, the attitudes of
early Christian writers or Philo, we see that this trend is absent
there. See my paper ‘Magiros,
nahtom
and
women at home: cooks in the Talmud’ Journal
of Jewish Studies 56
(2005)
285-297.
This point about the generally positive attitude of the rabbis (in
this case the Babylonian rabbis) to the good things in life is made
by I.M. Gafni The
Jews of Babylonia in the talmudic era: a social and cultural history
(Jerusalem,
1990) 130 citing M. Beer Amoraei
Bavel – peraqim be-hayei ha-kalkalah
(Ramat
Gan תשל”ה
).
But having made his point, Gafni hedges here, warning against taking
a series of anecdotes from different periods as evidence. However, we
should note that this picture is consistent over both Palestinian and
Babylonian sources, and if we compare it to, say, the attitudes of
early Christian writers or Philo, we see that this trend is absent
there. See my paper ‘Magiros,
nahtom
and
women at home: cooks in the Talmud’ Journal
of Jewish Studies 56
(2005)
285-297.
[18]
For a discussion of the rabbinical requirement in both Bavli
and Yerushalmi to honour the Sabbath by eating good food, see S.J.D.
Cohen,’Dancing, clapping, meditating: Jewish and Christian observance
of the Sabbath in pseudo-Ignatius’ in B. Isaac, Y. Shahar (eds)
Judaea-Palaestina,
Babylon and Rome: Jews in Antiquity
(Tübingen,
2012) 33-38.
For a discussion of the rabbinical requirement in both Bavli
and Yerushalmi to honour the Sabbath by eating good food, see S.J.D.
Cohen,’Dancing, clapping, meditating: Jewish and Christian observance
of the Sabbath in pseudo-Ignatius’ in B. Isaac, Y. Shahar (eds)
Judaea-Palaestina,
Babylon and Rome: Jews in Antiquity
(Tübingen,
2012) 33-38.
[19]
Midrash Lamentations Rabbah iii, 6/17.
Midrash Lamentations Rabbah iii, 6/17.
[20]
Apicius
3.6.
Apicius
3.6.
[21]
See e.g. S. Weingarten ‘Eggs in the Talmud’ in R. Hosking
(ed.) Eggs
in Cookery: Proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery,
2006
(Totnes,
2007) 274-276.
See e.g. S. Weingarten ‘Eggs in the Talmud’ in R. Hosking
(ed.) Eggs
in Cookery: Proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery,
2006
(Totnes,
2007) 274-276.