Playing with History -- Roman Empire Honey Cheesecake

Yes, we are still in a pandemic and yes, I still need to minimize my trips to the store.  But if I plan ahead well, I can get some ingredients I don't normally keep around the house (although I am not always sure why I don't!) and make historical recipes.  So while I still consider myself in the "Making Do Challenge", I'm going to stop using that phrase in the title of my posts.

Today I was looking at a webpage by another blogger.  She (I don't see her name on the blog) made a recipe from PBS.org and Squidoo Ancient Roman Recipes (which is another blogger site!).   It was for Libum, a sort of cheesecake soaked in honey.  You can view her page here.

I liked the idea of a dessert that is a cross between bread and cake, and it only uses a few ingredients.  At first I thought I would not be making it for this blog, so I made it according to her directions.  It came out just as she directed:  four lovely loaves with a mild cheesy flavor, the scent of bay, and the sweetness of honey.  My guest taster and I both truly enjoyed them after a dinner of a big tossed green salad (which also had some sliced meat and crumbled cheese on it).

We both wanted to have them again, which got me to thinking about what I would do instead of what her instructions said.  And that, my friends, had me decide to write it up for my blog.

Since I am not following the historical directions as closely as I normally would, I decided that "Playing with History" was the best description for my post.  In a way it is an historical upgrade but I see it more as a side step instead.

Libum  (Honey cakes or Honey Cheesecake)

(these are from the PBS.org site)

Ancient Roman Libum Recipe

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Libum to be made as follows: 2 pounds cheese well crushed in a mortar; when it is well crushed, add in 1 pound bread-wheat flour or, if you want it to be lighter, just 1/2 a pound, to be mixed with the cheese. Add one egg and mix all together well. Make a loaf of this, with the leaves under it, and cook slowly in a hot fire under a brick.

- from Cato's On Agriculture, reprinted in The Classical Cookbook

Modern Roman Libum Recipe (serves 4)

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1 cup plain, all purpose flour
8 ounces ricotta cheese
1 egg, beaten
bay leaves
1/2 cup clear honey

Sift the flour into a bowl. Beat the cheese until its soft and stir it into the flour along with the egg. Form a soft dough and divide into 4. Mold each one into a bun and place them on a greased baking tray with a fresh bay leaf underneath. Heat the oven to 425° F. Cover the cakes with your brick and bake for 35-40 minutes until golden-brown. Warm the honey and place the warm cakes in it so that they absorb it. Allow to stand 30 minutes before serving.

And bay leaves and frontignac.

My Notes

I followed the modern recipe except I first put the ricotta into a bowl, measured the flour over it, then poured the beaten egg over the top.  I mixed it with a spoon until it was barely mixed, then used my hands to finish mixing it.  The spoon came in handy to scrape the dough off the sides of the bowl.

It was a little sticky to work with but came together as a cohesive ball with just a little hand mixing.  I was careful not to overwork it; I kept thinking about how quick breads are best with minimal mixing.

Soft, moist, but not too sticky

Instead of four cakes, I made eight little ones.  Each one sat on half of a bay leaf.

The oven temperature was 375 degrees F and they baked for 30 minutes before they turned lightly golden brown.

They puffed!

I decided that four of them would soak in honey, which I diluted a little with water and warmed on the stove.  The other four would soak in the elderflower syrup, frontignac, which I had written about in a previous post (but did not warm).  (See here for how to make frontignac.)

As soon as the cakes were done, I flipped each one over and peeled off the bay leaf.

Leaf off, leaf on.  I love the leaf imprint!

Then, while they were still very warm, I put them into the honey and the frontignac to soak.  I let them soak an entire hour.

in frontignac

in slightly diluted and warmed honey

The Verdict

The first time I made them, they soaked about 15 minutes in warmed undiluted honey while we ravenously hovered over them and then couldn't wait any longer.  They smelled wonderful!  The bay scents the air and stimulates the appetite.  There was some honey soaked into the cakes, which was tasty.  We sopped up the rest of the honey with the cakes as we were eating them.

This time I managed to control myself and wait the entire hour.

I diluted the honey this time to make it more syrupy than just warming it.  I wanted it to soak into the cakes more.

After soaking for one hour, I noticed that the frontignac appeared to have been absorbed more than the honey but both syrups still had not been completely absorbed.

I flipped the cakes over to put a little glaze on top of each one, then decorated them with borage flowers that were from my garden.

Just too cute!

We had them for dessert, two each.  Both had their syrup soaked into the bottoms and up about 1/4 inch.  Both were tasty and flavorful!  Bay, cheese, honey or elderflower, all in a light bread base.  I liked the honey best and my guest taster liked the frontignac best.  Both were good.

You can see how far the syrup soaked into the cake.

The only difference I noticed between making the small ones and the large ones is that the small ones seemed a little drier in the middle.  Not bad, just a small difference.  We enjoyed them with a homemade fig wine as an aperitif.

Success!  I might make them again and try making six instead of four or eight.  Making the servings a little bigger might keep them moist without making them too big.

The "Making Do" Challenge -- Pickled Lemons (a revisit)

About four years ago, my neighbor gave me his Meyer lemons, and my daughter and I pickled them and wrote about it here:  Pickled Lemons.

They were fine but did not inspire me to want to keep making them.  My neighbor's tree has since died (whaaaaaa!) but my friend DL gave me lemons from his wife, GL's tree.  I wanted to try pickling lemons again but this time using a recipe from Charles Perry's translation of Scents and Flavors, a 14th century Syrian cookbook.

ISBN 978-1-4798-5628-2

I wrote about this book previously, as its recipes were featured at a culinary symposium, put on by the Society for Creative Anachronism.  You can read about it here:  West Coast Culinary Symposium 2018.

This book is fun to read.  The Arabic writings are on the left side of the page and his translation is on the right.  The recipes are intriguing and look tasty.  The spices referenced are wide and varied, including the usual cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, ginger, pepper, and other familiar ones.  But there are also others like spikenard, betel nut, and rose hips. Few recipes look complicated but many use techniques or food combinations I am not used to but look good and doable.

In all honesty, this looks like a cookbook I could spend a lot of time exploring and still offer up tasty meals.

I looked in Chapter 8:  How to Make the Various Types of Sour and Salty Pickles.  The book offers several variations on salted lemons, and I chose the first variation, recipe number 8.20.

Salted Lemons -- First variation

Take salted lemons, cut up small, put in a vessel, and squeeze the juice of fresh lemons to cover.  You can also use sour orange juice, which is milder than lemon juice.  Add oil, mixed spices, pounded toasted coriander seeds, minced parsley, mint, and rue, and set aside.  It is one of the very best and most fragrant of condiments.

These are the ingredients for the pickling liquid. 

My Notes

The night before making the recipe I sliced the cleaned lemons, spread them in a pan, and sprinkled kosher salt over them.  The pan was left slightly tilted so the liquid would gather at the bottom.  The next morning the slices were softer and the salt had been absorbed.

the night before

the morning after

My goal was to make one quart jar full of pickled lemons.

The two lemons missing their peels were juiced for the pickling liquid.  (Their peels were dried and powdered -- well worth it as a flavoring ingredients themselves.  They are really good in bread with olives and sun-dried tomatoes.)

I used a premixed "Poudre fines", consisting of cinnamon, cloves, ginger, grains of paradise, pepper, and saffron.

1/4 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon coriander
1 teaspoon Poudre fines
1/4 cup mixture of coarsely chopped rue, mint, and parsley

These ingredients were mixed well together in a bowl.

First I put in some of the spice and herb mix. Then several lemon slices.  Then more mix.  I repeated this until the jar was full.

The lemon juice went in to cover, although there was some floating of the lemon slices.  (Two lemons' worth of juice was not enough and I had to add some lemon juice from a bottle.)  After that I poured about a one inch layer of oil over the top.

Not quite full but close enough.

The whole container went into the refrigerator for about a week before I tasted it.

The Verdict

We tried them out of the jar, without putting them with a meal.

The flavor was, well, luscious.  Sour (but not too much for me), barely salty, but the spices and especially the herb flavors came through.  I loved it and so did my guest taster.  I ate several and wanted more.  I think that I liked the mint the best but the whole blend was superb.

The peel is not bitter from the white and the yellow zest is softer in flavor and texture than fresh lemon peel.

We have since had them with a meal, roasted chicken next to a vegetable stew.  It is a great condiment, adding some zing and intrigue to the meal.  We also made sandwiches with cheese and meat and slices of pickled lemon -- it was amazing!

One guest taster, who loves lemons but does not like parsley or cinnamon, did not like the mixture at all.  I could not get parsley as a dominant flavor, but she did.

I have since refilled the jar with more salted lemon slices, using the same juice, herb, and spice mixture.  This one is a keeper.

Success!