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Crystal King Biography

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“If you had any ingredients at your disposal, what would you make?" "You said it was a small dinner?" "Yes," he affirmed. "In that case, I would begin with a gustatio of salad with peppers and cucumbers, melon with mint, whole-meal bread, soft cheese, and honey cake." I tried to draw on my memory of one of the last meals I'd made for Maximus. Apicius licked his lips. "Yes, yes, go on." "Then pomegranate ice to cleanse the palate, followed by a cena prima of saffron chickpeas, Parthian chicken, peppered morels in wine, mussels, and oysters. If I had more time, I would also serve a stuffed suckling pig. And to close, a pear patina, along with deep-fried honey fritters, snails, olives, and, if you have it on hand, some wine from Chios or Puglia." "Perfect. Simple and the flavors would blend nicely at the beginning of the meal.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“He worked at a feverish pace. He experimented with all manner of pies: tortoises, eel, chicken, frog, mushroom, artichoke, apricot, cherry, and his favorite of all, a luscious strawberry pie. He made omelets, stuffed eggs, and poached eggs with rosemary over toast. There were soups galore: fennel, tortellini, Hungarian milk, millet, kohlrabi, pea, and his famous Venetian turnip soup, which this time he made with apples instead. He molded jelly into the shapes of the cardinali crests, colored with wine, carrot, and saffron. He delighted most in the moments when he worked with his favorite knife, carving and slicing roasted cockerel, peacock, capons, turtledoves, ortolans, blackbirds, partridges, pheasants, and wood grouse. Every slice of the knife gave him greater confidence and belief in his power to make the world his.”

PassionEggsFieryKnifeItalian CookingPoultryPiesBartolomeo ScappiSoups
Book:The Chef's Secret
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“Today I saw the most beautiful girl in the world... She is the most beautiful girl in the world, Bartolomeo Scappi thought. Never have I seen a woman so perfect, so angelic, so impossible for me to attain. "Bella," he breathed when air filled his lungs once again. Even Ippolito d'Este's presence at the dining table could not mar his giddiness. The girl was so beautiful she glowed like a painting of the Madonna, making everyone around her seem colorless in comparison. She was clearly a principessa of a grand house, sitting between Ippolito's father, the Duke of Ferrara, on one side, and a woman most likely to be her mother on the right. Bartolomeo sought to memorize every feature of this goddess with golden hair that shone with glints of red in the last rays of the day's sunlight. Her eyes were dark chestnut, rich and deep, while her lips were pink, like the inside of a seashell. Her hair was braided, but much of it flowed loose over shoulders, teasing her pale skin. She wore a dress of red, with sleeves billowing white. Rubies and pearls spilled across her delicate collarbone toward her beautiful breasts. Scappi painted her picture in his mind and stored it deep within the frame of his heart. That evening, while staring at the sky, his thoughts lost in the memory of the signorina, a shooting star passed across his vision. "Stella," he said under his breath. I will call her Stella. My shining star.”

Love At First SightFeminine BeautyStellaStella And BartolomeoPrincipessa
Book:The Chef's Secret
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“When I returned from the triclinium, where the guests were finishing their honey cakes and drinking from jeweled goblets of pear juice, a woman entered the kitchen from a side door. Out of all the surprises I'd had that day, she was the most surprising of all. The vision of her dark eyes, waves of auburn curls, and the sylphlike curve of her hips would haunt me in the days to come. "I came for Apicata's meal," she said. Her voice floated across the room, undulations of sound washing over my skin. This was the woman Aelia had said would come for the tray. Passia. The name glittered in my mind as I made the connection. "Is that it?" She pointed, one long finger tipped with carefully curved, pink-pale nails. I had been standing like a statue, stunned by my close proximity to what I thought might be the physical manifestation of Venus herself. "That's the plate, yes, over there. There." Suddenly I wished she would leave. If not, all would be lost. I wouldn't be able to complete the cena, wouldn't be able to direct the servers, and would end up under the lash as the result of my gloomy failure to live up to Apicius's expectations. Inside my head, I said a prayer to Venus that Passia would go, but in the same breath, I begged the goddess that Passia would remember me, as I knew I would remember every sumptuous detail about the moments she stood before me.”

Love At First SightFeminine BeautyThrasiusPassiaPassia And Thrasius
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“, Bartolomeo Scappi thought. Never have I seen a woman so perfect, so angelic, so impossible for me to attain. "Bella," he breathed when air filled his lungs once again. Even Ippolito d'Este's presence at the dining table could not mar his giddiness. The girl was so beautiful she glowed like a painting of the Madonna, making everyone around her seem colorless in comparison. She was clearly a principessa of a grand house, sitting between Ippolito's father, the Duke of Ferrara, on one side, and a woman most likely to be her mother on the right. Bartolomeo sought to memorize every feature of this goddess with golden hair that shone with glints of red in the last rays of the day's sunlight. Her eyes were dark chestnut, rich and deep, while her lips were pink, like the inside of a seashell. Her hair was braided, but much of it flowed loose over shoulders, teasing her pale skin. She wore a dress of red, with sleeves billowing white. Rubies and pearls spilled across her delicate collarbone toward her beautiful breasts. Scappi painted her picture in his mind and stored it deep within the frame of his heart. That evening, while staring at the sky, his thoughts lost in the memory of the signorina, a shooting star passed across his vision. "Stella," he said under his breath. I will call her Stella. My shining star.”

Love At First SightFeminine BeautyStellaStella And BartolomeoPrincipessa
Book:The Chef's Secret
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“A woman I didn't recognize tapped my arm. She was elderly, but still stood tall, her dark eyes bright with sadness. She wore a black brocade gown edged with red. She held out a bouquet of red carnations and white narcissus. She stepped forward and placed the flowers on Bartolomeo's headstone, then stepped back and slipped into the crowd so fast I could not see where she went. I stared down at the flowers. Narcissus was a common spring flower at funerals, but red carnations meant only love, deep abiding love. I had never seen her before. Who was she?”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“Tell me what you can bring to this family. Does your father agree with this union?" Casca didn't waver. "He does. He has remarked to me many times how much he would like to see our families united." Apicius responded with an incline of his head and his mouth turned up at the edges in a thoughtful smile. "Explain to me, then, why are you here instead of him?" "He doesn't have my conviction- that you would find me more suitable than Dolabella or Narses." I was surprised at the audacity of this young man. Apicius was also surprised. He didn't respond right away, which was unusual. When he did, he sounded amused and- although Casca couldn't know it- impressed. "And why do you think I would find you more suitable?" "It is quite simple." Casca looked at me, then at Apicius. "I love your daughter. They do not." Apicius snorted. "Love is not a prerequisite to marriage." "Quite true. However, I bring to you both power and influence- through my father now, but also in my future as I follow in his footsteps. I will continue to bring you and your family honor, and precious votes in the elections. And what I can do that Dolabella and Narses cannot is assure you I will take care of your daughter with every fiber of my being." "Go on," Apicius said, intrigued. I was glad I had decided to bring Casca here on such impulse. "I have watched you with Apicata over these many months. I know how you dote on her, how you hold her close to your heart. She is as important to you as your love for culinary delights," he remarked. Good, I thought. The boy had a sense of how to stroke Apicius's ego, though I knew the truth that Casca- and likely even Apicius- did not. Food and fame would always be first in Apicius's heart. "I can promise you that your daughter will have love and laughter. Narses and Dolabella care not for her as much as they do for your money. My motives are pure. Few in this world have the chance to marry for love. Let your daughter be one of them.”

MarriageTrue LovePermissionHonorablePromisesIntentionsLeonisApicata And Casca
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Neptune's bounty was followed by that of Diana. I had staged a "hunt" to take place while the diners ate. Several of the bigger slaves were dressed like bears, and hunters with bows chased them playfully around the couches while nymphs tried to hinder their progress. They ran carefully around the slaves serving trays of pork cracklings, mushrooms marinated in wine, stuffed dormice, and figs soaked in milk and honey.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“You've repainted!" Apicius said with delight as he gazed upon the intricate frescoes decorating the atrium walls. "But aren't you treading a bit on the scandalous?" He gestured at the depiction of Bacchus with his wine-bearing nymphs. I wondered the same thing myself. The cult of Bacchus was not well accepted; Caesar didn't like how rowdy the god's festivals had become. Her laughter rang through the room. "What the world needs is a good old-fashioned Bacchanalia, I say!" "Shame about that pesky little decree against them," Apicius teased. She snorted her derision. "We don't have to call it a Bacchanalia, now, do we?" Apicius laughed.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Your daughter is delightful!" Sejanus was saying to Aelia. I gripped the edge of the bench and bit my tongue as he spoke. "She is a living testament to the good looks that seem to follow the gens Aelia." Aelia smiled. "Cousin, you flatter me." Sejanus had set the tone for the evening with the clear slight against the Gavia clan. "It's only a shame I share the name through adoption- not blood- or who knows how much more attractive I might have been!" Nearby guests laughed at the joke but to me it seemed the true intent was to point out that Apicius had, at least at one time, found him attractive. Sejanus looked directly at Apicius directly as he spoke, a smile on his face. Apicius gave away nothing. He waved a boy over with a tray. "Have you tried the fried hare livers, Sejanus?" Apicata jumped up and down and smiled at her father. "May I? May I?" Her father smiled. Apicata could always melt his heart. "Only one and don't share with Perseus!" The serving boy lowered the tray so she could reach for the liver but not so low that the jumping puppy could steal treats for himself. She snatched a morsel and popped it into her mouth. I knew what she tasted, a sublime mixture of textures, the crispy breaded exterior and the smooth, sumptuous richness of the liver itself. The combination is unexpected. When I first introduced the recipe, it immediately became a family favorite. Apicata turned to Sejanus. She did not appear to recognize him from the market. "Oh, you must try! These are my favorite!" "If you say so, I must try!" Sejanus reached for the tray. He took a bite of the liver and surprise registered in his eyes. Sejanus reached for another liver. "Where on earth did you find your cook?" "Baiae." Aelia reached for her own sample. "Thrasius's cooking is always exceptional. Wait until you try the hyacinth bulbs!" "Hyacinth bulbs are one of my favorites." Sejanus ran his fingers affectionately through Apicata's hair as he talked. I stared, wondering what his intentions were. My right eye began to twitch. Apicius nodded at Passia to come forward and collect Apicata and her puppy. The girl went begrudgingly and only after Sejanus had planted a kiss on her forehead and promised he would visit again soon.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I made a sticky mock ambrosia cake from honey and apples, to be served by one of the prettiest slaves, dressed as a handmaiden to Venus. I hoped when people left they would be raving about both the atmosphere and the food. "I came to go over the menu," Apicius said, jolting me out of my thoughts. He was like an eager child just given a fresh plum. Sotas settled on a stool near the door and raised a hand in greeting. "Of course. I can make a variety of dishes and cut them up for easy sampling. I wanted to start with roasted hyacinth bulbs, some soft cheese drenched in raisin wine with bread, and slices of sow's udder with garum and lovage. I thought we could serve the Lucanian sausage I made earlier this week. And remember my hard egg mice with the almond ears and the clove eyes? I think those might go over well." "Perfect! The mice will delight the ladies!”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“The arrival of the food snapped me out of my reverie. Like many chefs in Roma, the Farnese chef had taken much inspiration from Bartolomeo over the years. The first course included slices of Parmesan; olives from Tivoli; cherries in little gilded cups; a salad of sliced citron with sugar and rosewater; veal rolls dredged in coriander, spit-roasted, then topped with raisins soaked in wine; peas in the pod served with pepper and vinegar; salted buffalo tongue, cooked, then sliced and served cold with lemon; a delicate soup of cheese and egg yolks poured over roasted pigeon; blancmange white as snow and sprinkled with sugar; roasted artichokes and pine nut tourtes.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“In Scappi's cookbook we see the first Italian recipes ever published that rely heavily on dairy, particularly butter and cheeses. There are also numerous recipes for pasta. Turkey makes its first appearance in an Italian cookbook. And many of us today are familiar with a recipe first found in L'Opera: zabaglione. The flavors that are prevalent in the cookbook are a little cloying to modern audiences, relying heavily on rosewater, sugar, pepper, ginger, nutmeg, and cinnamon. These flavors make sense in the variety of flaky pastries that are described in the book, but can be a little more off-putting when incorporated into a savory pasta dish.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“Stella. I cannot wait to see her and hold her in my arms once more. I long for my stellina. I worry that the distance between us will someday create cracks in our love that cannot be mended. Our time together sometimes seems thin, like a spice or other flavor is missing. I need to think of something I can do more to seal our love together, to rekindle our fire so we will always long for each other.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“Six horses waited, adorned in the red and black of the Company of Cooks and harnessed to an open, canopied wagon festooned with ribbons. Upon it lay Bartolomeo's casket, draped with a cloth embroidered with the company's coat of arms. A bear was on the left side of the crest and a stag on the right. Below the central chevron and its two red stars were the tools of the company's trade, a crossed knife and a butcher's knife. The banner beneath bore a Latin phrase coined by Horace- ab ovo usque ad mala- embroidered in gold. From eggs to apples, beginning to end. Roman meals had always begun with eggs and ended with fruit.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“Surely she knows the effect she has on me, he thought. He was close enough to smell her orange blossom perfume. Oh! What a glorious scent. He brought himself back into focus, leaned in, and with the large serving tongs carefully lifted the lobster from the tray. Dear Lord, guide my hand. Do not let me make a fool of myself this day. Do not let me flip the spoon into her lap, please, please, guide my hand. Not a crumb of lobster's stuffing escaped as he laid it gently upon the exquisite maiolica plate decorated with scenes of pastoral life. Relief. "Thank you," she said again. Her soft voice was a chorus of angels. She touched his arm in thanks and a thrill ran through him. He wanted nothing more than to lean down and brush her white neck with his lips, but instead he departed before she could see the heat of embarrassment rising to his cheeks.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“The priest pointed to the sky, and all eyes turned to the bright comet streaking across their vision. It burned with a stunning white blue nucleus and a shimmering tail of silver and red. It was still small, but larger than the day I first saw it, the day of Bartolomeo's funeral. The crowd murmured exclamations of fear. I did not feel afraid when I gazed at the comet. I felt only the warmth of Bartolomeo's light. I could no think of the orb as anything other than his presence shining into our world from the one above. I thought of the type of salad he might have served- it might have been bitter chicory, true, but sweetened with fennel and pea shoots, drizzled with a bit of oil and vinegar, mixed with some sugar and spices, and topped with a little pepper or cheese.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“The table before the emperor was spread with an entire city of sugar, a city so resplendent it was as though a door had opened into heaven itself. Groves of trees dotted the the table's landscape with beautiful painted castles nestled among hills of pale green. Stars hung from the trees and graced the castle flags. From the ceiling, many dozens of gold and silver stars hung by ribbons over the table, creating a fantastical sky. Amid this wondrous landscape there were sculptures of ancient Roman gods in various scenes: Jupiter on a mountain, lightning bolt in hand; Venus born from a sea of blue; Bacchus in drunken debauchery in a grove of delicate green vines. Ever one to be in control, Michelangelo had insisted he not only develop the many dozen molds but that he also be the one to pour the sugar and finalize the details with sugar paste.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“I began the day I was to dine at casa di Palone in the Vaticano kitchen, helping Antonio prepare the pope's meals. For noonday, we made barley soup, apples, and a little cheese and bread. For the evening meal, we prepared the same soup with bits of roasted capons, and I made a zabaglione egg dish with a little malmsey wine. I suspected the pope would not touch the custardy dessert, but I felt compelled to take a chance. The worst that might happen was that he would order me to go back to his regular menu. And at best, perhaps he would recognize the joy of food God gifted to us. Once we had finished the general preparations, Antonio helped me bake a crostata to take to the Palone house that evening. He set to work making the pastry as I cleaned the visciola cherries- fresh from the market- and coated them with sugar, cinnamon, and Neapolitan mostaccioli crumbs. I nestled the biscotti among several layers of dough that Antonio had pressed into thin sheets to line the pan. Atop the cherries, I laid another sheet of pastry cut into a rose petal pattern. Antonio brushed it with egg whites and rosewater, sugared it, and set the pie into the oven to bake. Francesco joined us just as I placed the finished crostata on the counter to cool. The cherries bubbled red through the cracks of the rose petals and the scalco gave a low whistle. "Madonna!" Antonio and I stared at him, shocked at the use of the word as a curse. Francesco laughed. "That pie is so beautiful I think even our Lord might swear." He clapped me on the shoulder. "It is good to see you cooking something besides barley soup, Gio. It's been too long since this kitchen has seen such a beautiful dessert." The fragrance was magnificent. I hoped the famiglia Palone would find the pie tasted as good as it looked.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“I decided to serve him even more luxurious versions of the foods he had loved when we were young. The centerpiece of the meal would be braised beef shank, flavored with fennel pollen, cinnamon, ginger, and a hint of rose vinegar. I stewed it with plums and cherries and doused it with a little malmsey for good measure. Then I made a casserole of eggplant and cheese, ray fish in pastry wraps, capon meatballs, and a blackberry tourte.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“I made tourtes of veal, of capons, and of artichokes and cardoon hearts. I slaved over pork belly tortellini and eggs stuffed with their own yolks and raisins, pepper, cinnamon, orange juice, and butter. I made sure the pastry chef was working hard on the pastry twists made with rosewater and currants. Soups of cauliflower, mushrooms, and leeks simmered for the better part of the day.”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“While Apicius is full of ancient delicacies such as roasted peacock, boiled sow vulva, testicles, and other foods we would not commonly eat today, there are many others that are still popular, including tapenade, absinthe, flatbreads, and meatballs. There is even a recipe for Roman milk and egg bread that is identical to what we call French toast. And, contrary to popular belief, foie gras was not originally a French delicacy. The dish dates back twenty-five hundred years, and Pliny credits Apicius with developing a version using pigs instead of geese by feeding hogs dried figs and giving them an overdose of mulsum (honey wine) before slaughtering them.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Reading about these meals is making me hungry," Isabetta declared one afternoon. Her finger ran down the page. "There is so much food. Even on a Lenten day these cardinali knew how to eat! Listen to this menu: pieces of gilded marzipan; radish and fennel salad; braised lampreys from the Tevere; fried trout with vinegar, pepper, and wine; white tourtes; razor clams; grilled oysters; pizza Neapolitan with almonds, dates, and figs; octopus and fish in the shape of chickens; fried sea turtle; prune crostatas; stuffed pears with sugar; elderflower fritters; candied almonds... Oh, the list goes on and on!”

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Book:The Chef's Secret
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“In other households where I'd served, the matron of the house rarely paid me any mind unless something with a meal had gone wrong. Instead, here she was, telling me she was protecting me from the whims of my new master. She walked around the kitchen, peering into bowls and tasting from the dishes with the tips of her fingers. The rushing slaves slowed when she came near and hardworking scowls turned into smiles of pride when she commented on their work. When a blond wisp of a girl from Germania dropped a basket of apples and they tumbled across the floor, Aelia bent to help her pick them up. She waved off the slaves who came to her side, talking gaily as she and the girl placed the apples back in the basket. "Give the bruised ones out to the other slaves," she said, winking at the girl, who bowed her thanks repeatedly.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Oh, my dear Apicata, how you have changed since we last met!" Apicata didn't respond, or if she did we couldn't hear her. "Apicata has been studying philosophy," Aelia said, trying to be conversational. "Apicata, recite for us some Plato, will you?" I could hear a waver in her voice, although it was slight. I wondered if Apicius could hear it too. "Yes, Mother." She was as obedient as you would ever hope a well-educated Roman child to be. She cleared her throat and her voice rang out in a loud, clear tone. "From his Republic: 'The man who finds that in the course of his life he has done a lot of wrong often wakes up at night in terror, like a child with a nightmare, and his life is full of foreboding; but the man who is conscious of no wrongdoing is filled with cheerfulness and with the comfort of old age." Oh, I could not have had more pride than I did then. Our little bird had spread her wings and let her voice take flight. I wished I could see the look on Sejanus's face. There was silence, then a brief flurry of applause. "Lovely, my dear!" Aelia crowed, clearly pleased with her daughter's choice of words. "Oh, Sejanus, I'm sure you would be even more delighted by her poetry.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Slave, my hands are sticky. Come, wash them. Bring the perfumed water." Passia waved at me with a finger slick with honey. She was radiant, lying on the couch next to Helene. Both were dressed in new stolae that Aelia had gifted them for the holiday. I grinned and rushed forward with the basin and a towel. "Permission to speak," I asked her as I took her sticky hand in mine. She smirked. "Permission granted." I slowly ran the damp towel across each slender finger. I kept my voice low so only she could hear. "Later, my dear Domina, I would be delighted to wash you in private." She raised an eyebrow at me. "I think you will have to prove yourself first, boy." I bowed in front of her, my head on the tiles. "I will do anything you require, Domina." "Good. Now fetch me some more honey fritters. And you will clean my hands again, when I call for you." I winked at her. "Yes, Domina. Anything for you." That night our lovemaking tasted sweeter than all the honey in Iberia.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“When I saw the flash of her stola in the entryway, my heart would beat like a temple drum. Passia! Her name was a song in my mind. Whenever she came into the kitchen I thought I might faint with desire. Everything about her was perfect. Her long auburn hair was perfect against her tanned skin. Her eyes were a perfect ebony brown, her wrists perfect and delicate, her voice a melody that I wished I could hear every waking moment of my life.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“So many things had gone well for me since I'd come to Baiae from Maximus's villa in Pompeii. Apicius increasingly turned to me for advice on his affairs, even outside the kitchen. Aelia and Apicata had become as close as family. The kitchen slaves respected me and worked hard to gain both my favor and Apicius's. My love for Passia had bloomed in the sun of this festive town. Truly, I thought, I had found a form of Elysium here in Baiae, made all the more sweet by the fact that at any time it could have been swept away-”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I sent messengers across Italy: to our farms for wood pigeons, dormice, capons, and heaping baskets of grapes, apples, and beets; to the fields beyond Rome for fresh pears; to Nomentanum for amphorae of wine, some more than forty years old; to Praeneste for hazelnuts; and to the plains between Ostia and Lavinium for wild boar and deer. I sent men to Ostia for fresh, salty mackerel and mussels and to Mount Hymettus for the finest honey to dilute the Falernian wine we had on stock at home for the princeps and all the senators. I purchased ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and other spices from India and Taprobane, not only to flavor the food but to present as gifts. I even sent a man to Sicilia for green and black olives and for the olive relish that was a specialty of the region. I reveled in the planning of such a massive banquet.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Eat up, sweet one. And if you ask, I am sure Thrasius will make a pear patina tonight." Apicius's voice always held a special warmth when he addressed his daughter. "Please, Thrasius! I love it when you make the pears pretty!" I laughed at her description of the fruit, honey, and egg dish. I always added an extra layer of pears on top, and I had to admit, they 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 me a big hug.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“She was a paragon of good health and didn't need to worry herself about the advice of doctors. She should instead worry about love. Love of the crumble of a lavender tourte against her tongue. Love of the delicate flavor of sole in a tarragon sauce. Love of the flaky crust of a prune and cherry crostata. Or love of the wine mingling with the taste of a pig freshly roasted on the spit.”

StellaStella And BartolomeoLove Of Food
Book:The Chef's Secret
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“Ambrosial!" Apicius said to me yet again one afternoon as we chopped beets for the evening meal. The knife revealed dark rings with every slice. There was something precious to me about black food- sinister yet seductive. Oh, how the beet juice would look in glass goblets, the torchlight glinting off the black surface! Apicius loved beet juice, and the rumors about its powers as an aphrodisiac were always a wonderful source of conversation with his guests.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“The boy was hardly much of a boy anymore, having donned his manly toga several years before, but he still had a rosy-cheeked look about him that made him seem younger than his eighteen years. He wore his hair closely cropped in the style of Augustus. It made his features all the more prominent; dark brown eyes, chiseled nose, and a slight pout in his lips that rounded out his Adonis-like visage.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I was so caught up in the discussion that I almost didn't notice Apicata sneaking shy glances at young Casca. Celera had, however, and was watching with amusement. She winked at me when she saw I had also noticed their interest. As Casca mouthed a sweet nothing to Apicata, Celera seized the moment. "Apicata, I understand you have begun reading the Histories of Herodotus. Tell me, how do you like them?" She almost choked on her honey water, not expecting to be addressed. Casca averted his eyes when he saw me looking in his direction and both of them turned as red as the cushions upon which we were seated. Apicata recovered quickly. "I've almost finished them. Father was entertaining Annaeus Seneca and when he heard I had not yet read it, he sent me a copy." "Have you reached the part about how the Ethiopians bury their dead in crystal coffins?" Casca asked, turning his body to rest his chin on both hands and stare at her directly. "Oh, yes, I'm long past that! I'm reading about how Xerxes had the waters of Hellespont whipped for not obeying him." Her eyes sparkled. "Wait till you reach the Battle of Thermopylae. What a heroic story!" The exchange continued for a few minutes with additional commentary from the others, who were oblivious to the undercurrent between the youths.”

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Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“There are other men who would be better suited to marrying Apicata. But I admire your gall. Give me one more reason why I should consider your petition, though it will likely not sway me." Casca paused, his eyes glancing somewhere in the vicinity of Apicius's knees. I thought he was going to falter but then he lifted his gaze, and when he spoke I knew that if Cupid was not with him, Venus certainly was. "Apicius, I should marry your daughter because we are meant to be. We are like rose wine and oysters, like truffles and pepper, like lentils and chestnuts or crane with turnip. We belong together like mullet and dill, milk and snails, suckling pig and silphium. You know the truth of their pairings and it is that truth I hold up to you now. Apicata and I are like spoon and plate. One is worth little without the other.”

Meant To BeConfession Of LovePairingFood ReferenceLeonisApicata And Casca
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“He let his fingers tease her until she uttered soft cries. Stella spread her legs further and wider as his hand explored, touched, and pleasured every part of her womanhood. She untied her outer bodice and lifted her breasts so they spilled from her corset. Her hands rubbed and played with her nipples. She knew what excited Bartolomeo. He continued to pleasure her while she touched herself, and he stroked his erection until he was near to bursting. Finally, he pulled her forward and slid into her, and her exclamation was louder than either of them expected. She clamped a hand over her mouth, wide-eyed. He did not release her. Instead, he slowed his motion, and once he felt sure no one could have heard them, he began to rock against her, deeper and harder. The bed began to creak, but he was lost in the depths of his desire. When she reached her climax, her cries more urgent and sustained, he lost control and spilled into her, his hips bucking a few more times. His legs threatened to give way with pleasure and exhaustion.”

LovemakingStella And Bartolomeo
Book:The Chef's Secret
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“The evening Bartolomeo left her the radish rose, he also ignored the words of her gray-haired mother and gave Stella an extra serving of pappardelle, made fresh from ricotta, eggs, and goat milk, fried to perfection and dusted in sugar. They were called "gobble-ups" for a good reason, and the principessa was pleased to indulge, that is until her mother bade Bartolomeo to take the plate away. She glared at her mother and snatched one last fritter. Sugar coated the edge of her pretty lips and Bartolomeo thought he might swoon. He would give anything to kiss the sweetness away. The rose was gone when he went to clear the plates. He could only hope she had secreted it away in the finely embroidered saccoccia hanging at her hip.”

RosePastaItalian CuisineStella And Bartolomeo
Book:The Chef's Secret
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“We had sausages of pheasant, sweet melon relish, and a patina of small fry. Was that your doing?" I gathered my courage and hoped my voice did not shake. I remembered that patina- an egg custard of which Maximus was quite fond. "Yes. The sweet melon relish was something new that I was trying." "How long did you work for Maximus?" "I ran his kitchen for a year before he died. He was fond of entertaining." My mind raced. Apicius was certainly interested in my cooking but what if this man was as cruel as Bulbus? Apicius raised an eyebrow at me. "Can you make roasted peacock?" "Yes. I have a recipe for peacock with damson raisins soaked in myrtle wine. It works equally well with partridge or duck. I'm sure you would find the dish to your liking." I wiped sweat off my brow. "What do you consider your specialty?" "There are three," I answered, raising my voice in order to be heard over the din of the market. "My ham in pastry, with honey and figs, has often been praised, but I have been told it is equaled by my truffles with pepper, mint, and rue. I can also make you a dish of roasted salt belly pork with a special mixture of garum, cumin, and lovage.”

Food For ThoughtPoultryCookThrasiusPatina
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“Vatia was no longer looking at me; she was rolling a round of dough around one of the hams, which had been scored, smeared with honey, and stuffed with figs. Her method was precise and the dough formed perfectly around the meat in a way I had never been able to achieve before. "I see what you mean about chilling the dough," I said, amazed. "This is what I wanted to show you." She directed my gaze toward a few strangely cut pieces of dough in front of her. "I don't understand." "Watch." She picked up the pieces and attached them to the pastry-wrapped ham, her thin fingers carefully sealing the pieces of dough to the ham by dipping them in water. In a few moments she sat back. "It's a pig!" I exclaimed, pleased with the ears and snout she had added to the ham. "I hoped you would like it," she said, her voice filling with pride. "I had the idea when you first told me what we were doing. I had a pig pictured in my mind and thought it might be pleasing to guests if I could re-create it." "Do you think they will bake without issue?" I asked, worried. "They should. Also, I thought I would brush them with egg so they are shiny when they come out of the oven." "Please do." I could not take my eyes off the little pig. It was brilliant and I wished I had thought of it.”

IdeaHamDoughPastry ChefThrasiusVatia
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“What's next?" he asked. "We need to grind some pepper." I pushed the mortar toward him, then poured a generous handful of peppercorns into the stone basin. "And silphium?" I gave him a genuine smile then. Silphium was a precious herb I used in many of my dishes, but in recent years it had become quite scarce and costly. It had a taste that was reminiscent of leeks, garlic, and fennel, but smoother and more aromatic. It was one of Apicius's flavors. "Definitely silphium.”

CookingFlavorHerbThrasiusSilphium
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I made the little girl all of her favorite dishes, and carved her little animals out of vegetables to adorn her plate. When she saw them, she ran to me and gave me a giant hug and told me how much she missed me. I hugged her for a long time and said nothing when I saw she was trying very hard not to cry. When I went to the market that day, I bought a honey cake from the temple of Ceres, paying extra for a protection blessing from the priestess. I gave it to Apicata with her afternoon meal, and while surely she had seen temple protection cakes and knew what they were, she ate it without a word.”

Caring For OthersLittle GirlAwwwww MomentsThrasiusApicata
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I loved Vinalia. Every year Passia and I looked forward to the first feast of the three-day festival. Aelia would line up the servants on both sides of the long hallway leading from the front door through the atrium. Together Apicius, Apicata, and Aelia would walk the lines and place a grape on the tongue of each slave and say a blessing to the lady Venus. Then Apicius would have ten jars of his best Falernian wine brought up from the cellar and he would give them to his most loyal servants. I would make sweet curds and honey tarts for the whole household, slaves included, and we would read poetry and listen to music.”

CelebrationGrapesFestivalThrasiusFamily TraditionsApicataAeliaVinalia
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I spent an inordinate amount of time at the markets, Apicius on my heels, purchasing the most costly spices; reams of opulent silk for pillow coverings; ornate, one-of-a-kind oil lamps; and hundred-year-old wines so thick that only the best honey, lead, and spices would bring them back to life. I buried fish in salt, and sealed plums in spirits and left them to age in the dark. I made Roman absinthe and apple wine. I bought the best suckling pigs and began to fatten them on the most expensive figs. I fed our goats a specially sourced mixture of apples, hay, and clover to give their milk new flavor.”

CookingSpendingShoppingFood And WineBanquetThrasius
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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“I went through all the motions of the meal, sending out the slaves with the food when the courses dictated. I sent the entertainment in- flutists, harpists, and singers. I sent the girls, the boys, all dressed in ever-amazing costumes, some like birds and animals, some like monsters, some like heroes, and some like nymphs. And oh, the food was magnificent! I had re-created all the old stories of the gods. Venus carved from a gourd, emerging from her shell. Fantastic Roman triremes made from hollowed cucumbers and holding tiny white carrot men fought battles across an ocean of cold beet juice. A platter of cheese and figs shaped into Cerberus and his double heads. And the dishes! Only the finest delicacies were served, with the pinnacle of each course flavored with the few dried sprigs of silphium I had been hoarding for a year- there was no fresh silphium to be had. Plate after plate of marinated mushrooms, Baian beans in mustard sauce, pork meatballs, honey melons, stuffed boiled eggs, fried veal slices, crunchy duck and flamingo tongues, pork pastries stuffed with figs, pear patinae, steamed lamb, soufflés of little fishes... even now my mouth salivates thinking back to that meal.”

BanquetThrasiusDelicacies
Book:Feast of Sorrow
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