One of the most pernicious lies about medieval cooking is that cooks used spices to cover up the smell of rotting meat (or fish.)
It just persists and persists and persists and it's just ludicrous on the face of it.
If we can distinguish between these things via smell, surely our fore-bearers were equally talented at it.
Also, spices were not cheap. The Arab and the Venetian middle-men had a stronghold on the supply and they charged pretty hefty premia for these things.
The upper classes who could afford the spices could obviously also afford the best meat and fish that money could buy since it was all local back in those days.
The idea has been thoroughly debunked by scholars like Paul Freedman but the popular imagination keeps it alive. It's absolutely amazing that so silly a meme has persisted for almost a few centuries at this point.
It's very clear to see the antecedents of medieval European cooking in modern terms. Just pick up a Persian or an Indian cookbook. They still have the same relation to spicing that would be expected in Europe in the middle ages.
Nobody in history has ever wanted to eat rotting meat. We have extraordinarily sophisticated tuned apparatuses in our systems to detect against poisoning. They even go into complete and utter overdrive to prevent us from doing so (e.g. vomiting during pregnancy, etc.)
Consider this idea as debunked.
Showing posts with label medieval. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medieval. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Monday, December 21, 2015
Getting Medieval on the World's Tastes
The format of medieval cuisine has waned over the centuries but if you squint hard enough, you can still see its antecedents reflected in modern food.
Medieval cuisine — at least in the European sense — was characterized by its use of exotic spices and ingredients. Meat was expensive with game being even more so. There's heavy use of black pepper, saffron, cardamom and ginger and a reliance on a sweet-sour taste. Nuts make their way into most dishes either in the native form or as a thickener – almond milk is practically a cliché.
Most cooking was hard not just from the point of the expense of ingredients and firewood but labor as well. There were no modern conveniences. Everything was done by hand. When we talk about "medieval cuisine", we end up inevitably talking about the nobility because that's what's documented and they're the only ones who could afford to do so.
Most cooking was hard not just from the point of the expense of ingredients and firewood but labor as well. There were no modern conveniences. Everything was done by hand. When we talk about "medieval cuisine", we end up inevitably talking about the nobility because that's what's documented and they're the only ones who could afford to do so.
The modern conception finds some of these dishes to be strange. Meat cooked in sugar syrup or honey is relatively alien to the modern palate – even though it tastes terrific. Our tongues are still the same but our trained response seems to be a little off-center. (You can still see it in dishes like pork chops with apple sauce except the sauce is now served separately.)
Even the format of the meal is a little strange. The stomach needed to be "opened" with an apéritif (literally from Latin: aperire - "to open"), then followed by vegetables, then "heavy meats", then "closed" with aged cheese and a digestif.
If you recognize the above as the slightly modified format of a classic French meal then you will understand the medieval roots of modern eating. (The placement of the salad has been moved around a few times by the French and Italians – and the Americans – but that's fodder for another post.)
Medieval cuisine in its traditional sense but with New World enhancements is most clearly seen today in Persian and Indian cooking. Indian is not that surprising because most spices originally came from India and classical Indian cooking borrows heavily from the Persian format so they are joined at the hip. In fact, most cooking styles borrow heavily from the Persian format given that they were the original Empire spread over vast swathes of modern-day Asia, Africa and Europe. You can see the same formats spread with the medieval Arabic Empire over Northern Africa into Spain and all the way to Sicily.
The point is that these cooking styles have still maintained their "medieval nature" — there's heavy use of spices, saffron, black pepper, ginger, nuts, and a marked preference for sweet-sour tastes.
A slight detour must be made at this point about why spices lost their use in Europe as opposed to modern-day Iran and India where they are still as popular as they were a millenia ago.
Most spices were imported from India to imperial Europe. The spices were a province of the nobility and both Constantinople and Venice were founded on the basis of taxation of the spice trade. In modern economic terms, the middlemen made the spices expensive. This was the whole basis of trying to find a new sea route to India – disintermediation – a way to bypass the taxation. Once these routes were found, and the New World accidentally discovered, the price of spices went down precipitously because of the lack of taxation and the fact that alternatives were found to grow spices in the newly discovered Hispaniola (modern-day Haiti and Dominican Republic), various islands in Indonesia, etc.
After that we come to a cliché of human nature. Anything that the hoi-polloi discovers is anathema to the upper-classes just like the old money on Fifth Ave. would disdain the Brooklyn hipsters. And so, spices fell out of favor with the upper-classes in Europe in favor of a "purer cleaner taste" — reverse snobbery at its very finest.
The critical point is that these ideas never did fall out of favor in the places where the spices were grown where the distinction between "expensive" v/s "cheap" simply didn't exist. Spices were always cheap across the growing areas and the swathe populated by traders traversing routes that were not subject to taxation. Places like Sicily are more like the lands that "time forgot" — they had no strategic value and they kept the formats even though their neighbors did not.
This is what explains meats cooked in cashewnut milk with heavy spices in classical Awadhi cuisine even though the cashews are New World – they would've been almonds originally — or the love of almond granita in Sicily. Sicilian dishes like sardines cooked in a sweet-sour sauce or the very Persian "Jeweled Rice" (javaher polow) are all modern-day embodiments of medieval cooking.
The past bleeds into the present — and in a very aggressive format. It's just hard to see until you squint just right.
Even the format of the meal is a little strange. The stomach needed to be "opened" with an apéritif (literally from Latin: aperire - "to open"), then followed by vegetables, then "heavy meats", then "closed" with aged cheese and a digestif.
If you recognize the above as the slightly modified format of a classic French meal then you will understand the medieval roots of modern eating. (The placement of the salad has been moved around a few times by the French and Italians – and the Americans – but that's fodder for another post.)
Medieval cuisine in its traditional sense but with New World enhancements is most clearly seen today in Persian and Indian cooking. Indian is not that surprising because most spices originally came from India and classical Indian cooking borrows heavily from the Persian format so they are joined at the hip. In fact, most cooking styles borrow heavily from the Persian format given that they were the original Empire spread over vast swathes of modern-day Asia, Africa and Europe. You can see the same formats spread with the medieval Arabic Empire over Northern Africa into Spain and all the way to Sicily.
The point is that these cooking styles have still maintained their "medieval nature" — there's heavy use of spices, saffron, black pepper, ginger, nuts, and a marked preference for sweet-sour tastes.
A slight detour must be made at this point about why spices lost their use in Europe as opposed to modern-day Iran and India where they are still as popular as they were a millenia ago.
Most spices were imported from India to imperial Europe. The spices were a province of the nobility and both Constantinople and Venice were founded on the basis of taxation of the spice trade. In modern economic terms, the middlemen made the spices expensive. This was the whole basis of trying to find a new sea route to India – disintermediation – a way to bypass the taxation. Once these routes were found, and the New World accidentally discovered, the price of spices went down precipitously because of the lack of taxation and the fact that alternatives were found to grow spices in the newly discovered Hispaniola (modern-day Haiti and Dominican Republic), various islands in Indonesia, etc.
After that we come to a cliché of human nature. Anything that the hoi-polloi discovers is anathema to the upper-classes just like the old money on Fifth Ave. would disdain the Brooklyn hipsters. And so, spices fell out of favor with the upper-classes in Europe in favor of a "purer cleaner taste" — reverse snobbery at its very finest.
The critical point is that these ideas never did fall out of favor in the places where the spices were grown where the distinction between "expensive" v/s "cheap" simply didn't exist. Spices were always cheap across the growing areas and the swathe populated by traders traversing routes that were not subject to taxation. Places like Sicily are more like the lands that "time forgot" — they had no strategic value and they kept the formats even though their neighbors did not.
This is what explains meats cooked in cashewnut milk with heavy spices in classical Awadhi cuisine even though the cashews are New World – they would've been almonds originally — or the love of almond granita in Sicily. Sicilian dishes like sardines cooked in a sweet-sour sauce or the very Persian "Jeweled Rice" (javaher polow) are all modern-day embodiments of medieval cooking.
The past bleeds into the present — and in a very aggressive format. It's just hard to see until you squint just right.
Monday, January 7, 2013
What's Good for the Goose!
From Johann Jacob Wecker's Eighteen Books of the Secrets of Art of Nature (1660) comes a most unusual recipe.
It's how to roast a goose alive and eat it in that condition.
The last line of the recipe is the pièce de resistance!
(Hint: the character ſ is the modern day "s".)
Source: Link.
It's how to roast a goose alive and eat it in that condition.
The last line of the recipe is the pièce de resistance!
(Hint: the character ſ is the modern day "s".)
Source: Link.
To roſt a Gooſe alive
Let it be a Duck or Gooſe, or ſome ſuch lively Creature, but a Gooſe iſ beſt of all for thiſ purpoſe, leaving hiſ neck, pull of all the Feather from hiſ body, then make a fire round about him, not too wide, for that will not roſt him: within the place ſet here and there ſmall potſ full of water, with ſalt and Honey mixed therewith, and let there be diſheſ ſet full of roſted Appleſ, and cut in pieceſ in the diſh, and let the Gooſe be baſted with Butter all over, and Larded to make him better meat, and he may roſt the better, put fire to it; do not make too much haſte, when he beginſ to roſt, walking about, and ſtriving to fly away, the fire ſtopſ him in, and he will fall to drink water to quench hiſ thirſt; thiſ will cool hiſ heart and the other partſ of hiſ body, and by thiſ medicament he looſneth hiſ belly, and growſ empty. And when he roſteth and conſumeſ inwardly, alwayeſ wet hiſ head and heart with a wet ſponge: but when you ſee him run madding and ſtumble, hiſ heart wantſ moyſture, take him away, ſet him before your Gueſtſ, and he will cry aſ you cut off any part from him and will be almoſt eaten up before he be dead, it iſ very pleaſant to behold.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
On the Love of Specialized Instruments
The CC owns something called a "bird beak paring knife". It's a paring knife with a curved beak (presumably like that of a bird.)
Mostly it's used for carving stuff - you know, edible roses and stuffed cherry tomatoes. The kinda fussy stuff which the CC generally doesn't get to very often.
It originally came in a package set and has been gathering dust ever since.
The CC has finally found a very good use for it. It's perfect for de-seeding and de-pithing the inside of a bitter melon when you want to stuff it.
The stuffing for this recipe is from Kashmir. Specifically, it seems to be a relatively modern vegetarian adaptation of what must inevitably originally have been a Mughal meat dish.
That it is a vegetarian response to the original marriage of Mongol and Persian traditions to Indian spices can hardly be in doubt. That it happens to feature the altogether New World potato means that it can be no more than 250-300 years old (long enough for the potato not only to cross the shores but enter into a routine upper middle-class vocabulary.) There's a variant that uses paneer which may be marginally older. (And then there are hybrids which are just the normal evolution of any dish.)
Even if you don't end up stuffing bitter melons, do make this recipe. It would be amazing stuffed in just about anything - peppers, tomatoes, zuccini, squash. It's all about the spices.
Several versions are presented below. Feel free to pick from any of them because the magic is in the texture and the spices. In fact, the CC guarantees that you will have to stop yourself from stuffing yourself just from the stuffing.
Just for full disclosure, this recipe is definitely "fussy" and time-consuming. Its origins clearly lie when emperors had armies of cooks from whence it filtered down into homes with cooks from whence it filtered down into regular homes where the wives stayed at home all day and were bored. It's not going to jive well with modern sensibilities but it made a lot of sense when the CC was cooped in all-day after a pesky little hurricane.
Q: What does he do when he's bored?
A: He stuffs fuckin' karela's.
E: Nice!
For the modern-day readers' convenience, short-cuts are suggested but you will definitely miss out on some of the textural element in the dish.
Ingredients
8 bitter melons (prepared - read below)
Stuffing
1 large red onion
4 green chillies (finely diced)
Meat or Potatoes
3 large potatoes
or
2 potatoes
1 cup crumbled paneer
or
2 cups minced meat
Spice Mix 1 (Whole)
1 tbsp fennel seeds
2 tbsp nigella
2 tsp turmeric
2 tsp chilli powder
2 tsp dried ginger (substitute by fresh)
3 tbsp amchur (dried green mango powder)
Spice Mix 2 (Ground fine)
2 tbsp fennel seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds
2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 tbsp garam masala
1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds
Recipe
First prepare the bitter melons. You need to scrape them clean till they are pale green and look like naked dead skinned green mole rats. Using a very sharp paring knife, cut them length-wise gently making sure that you don't slice them down the middle. This is harder than you think because every once in a while you will encounter a hard seed. Have no fears! Jump over the seed and continue. The problem will fix itself.
Gently with your fingers separate it along the edges. Be careful of both ends. They have a tendency to break. Using the bird-beak knife (or your fingers), gently reach inside and start scraping away at the seeds and the pith. This will take a few tries but as it does you will notice that it becomes easier and easier. (This was a surprise to the CC!)
There are pesky seeds at either end of the length of the bitter melon every once in a while. It's quite tough but you can do it! They must be removed.
You will have eight stuffable bitter melons which you need to thoroughly rinse and set aside until they dry.
When dry, thoroughly salt the inside and the outside of the bitter melon. Set aside in a colander for at least an hour. At the end of the hour, you will notice that the bitter melon has turned very very soft and flexible because the salt has changed its celullar structure and drawn out quite a bit of the bitterness. Thoroughly wash the melons both inside and outside one more time and set aside until they are dry.
Meanwhile, while the bitter melons are salting, prepare the stuffing.
The potato needs to be diced into what the French would call a small dice. You could do a brunoise but then you would really have to be extraordinarily bored. (Crumble the paneer with your hands into tiny irregular pieces.)
Hurrah, meat-eaters! You have something over the granola's after all. You don't need to do anything. All the prep above is doing is simulating the texture of ground meat.
The onion also needs to be diced really fine. So the meat-eaters can't really escape from the prep after all. Welcome to the jungle, my friends!
(Since the CC promised short-cuts, you can just dice the potatoes and do a quick mash with a potato masher in the pot and let cook for an additional 6-7 minutes. However, not the same. Be aware, be strong!)
In a large shallow pot with a lid, fry the onions and green chillies till the onions are translucent. Add the first set of whole spices, and fry for about 30 seconds. Add the potatoes (or meat) and fry for about 6-7 minutes till it changes color. Add water and cover.
Let cook until done. It's different for different versions. At least 15 minutes for either one, and possibly a tad more for the vegetarian versions.
Uncover and let cook till it's relatively dry. Toss in the second set of spices and mix thoroughly.
Let the stuffed mixture cool down.
Stuff the bitter melons. (Try not to eat all the stuffing. You will attempt anyway. You will be hunted down like the animals that you are by your own families so beware!)
You can pre-prep this recipe upto this point and let the stuffed vegetables sit in your refrigerator for a few days.
In a shallow skillet with a lid that can hold all the bitter melons, heat up some oil. When it is shimmering add the stuffed bitter melons gently face-down and let them fry for about 7 minutes at medium-high heat. Turn them over gently with a pair of tongs and let them fry for an additional 4-5 minutes. Gently add about a cup of water and cover the lid. Let cook for about 10 minutes on a very low flame till they are completely tender.
Serve with some parathas and some raita.
Mostly it's used for carving stuff - you know, edible roses and stuffed cherry tomatoes. The kinda fussy stuff which the CC generally doesn't get to very often.
It originally came in a package set and has been gathering dust ever since.
The CC has finally found a very good use for it. It's perfect for de-seeding and de-pithing the inside of a bitter melon when you want to stuff it.
The stuffing for this recipe is from Kashmir. Specifically, it seems to be a relatively modern vegetarian adaptation of what must inevitably originally have been a Mughal meat dish.That it is a vegetarian response to the original marriage of Mongol and Persian traditions to Indian spices can hardly be in doubt. That it happens to feature the altogether New World potato means that it can be no more than 250-300 years old (long enough for the potato not only to cross the shores but enter into a routine upper middle-class vocabulary.) There's a variant that uses paneer which may be marginally older. (And then there are hybrids which are just the normal evolution of any dish.)
Even if you don't end up stuffing bitter melons, do make this recipe. It would be amazing stuffed in just about anything - peppers, tomatoes, zuccini, squash. It's all about the spices.
Several versions are presented below. Feel free to pick from any of them because the magic is in the texture and the spices. In fact, the CC guarantees that you will have to stop yourself from stuffing yourself just from the stuffing.
Just for full disclosure, this recipe is definitely "fussy" and time-consuming. Its origins clearly lie when emperors had armies of cooks from whence it filtered down into homes with cooks from whence it filtered down into regular homes where the wives stayed at home all day and were bored. It's not going to jive well with modern sensibilities but it made a lot of sense when the CC was cooped in all-day after a pesky little hurricane.
Q: What does he do when he's bored?
A: He stuffs fuckin' karela's.
E: Nice!
For the modern-day readers' convenience, short-cuts are suggested but you will definitely miss out on some of the textural element in the dish.
Ingredients8 bitter melons (prepared - read below)
Stuffing
1 large red onion
4 green chillies (finely diced)
Meat or Potatoes
3 large potatoes
or
2 potatoes
1 cup crumbled paneer
or
2 cups minced meat
Spice Mix 1 (Whole)
1 tbsp fennel seeds
2 tbsp nigella
2 tsp turmeric
2 tsp chilli powder
2 tsp dried ginger (substitute by fresh)
3 tbsp amchur (dried green mango powder)
Spice Mix 2 (Ground fine)
2 tbsp fennel seeds
1 tsp coriander seeds
2 tsp cumin seeds
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 tbsp garam masala
1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds
Recipe
First prepare the bitter melons. You need to scrape them clean till they are pale green and look like naked dead skinned green mole rats. Using a very sharp paring knife, cut them length-wise gently making sure that you don't slice them down the middle. This is harder than you think because every once in a while you will encounter a hard seed. Have no fears! Jump over the seed and continue. The problem will fix itself.
Gently with your fingers separate it along the edges. Be careful of both ends. They have a tendency to break. Using the bird-beak knife (or your fingers), gently reach inside and start scraping away at the seeds and the pith. This will take a few tries but as it does you will notice that it becomes easier and easier. (This was a surprise to the CC!)
There are pesky seeds at either end of the length of the bitter melon every once in a while. It's quite tough but you can do it! They must be removed.
You will have eight stuffable bitter melons which you need to thoroughly rinse and set aside until they dry.
When dry, thoroughly salt the inside and the outside of the bitter melon. Set aside in a colander for at least an hour. At the end of the hour, you will notice that the bitter melon has turned very very soft and flexible because the salt has changed its celullar structure and drawn out quite a bit of the bitterness. Thoroughly wash the melons both inside and outside one more time and set aside until they are dry.
Meanwhile, while the bitter melons are salting, prepare the stuffing.
The potato needs to be diced into what the French would call a small dice. You could do a brunoise but then you would really have to be extraordinarily bored. (Crumble the paneer with your hands into tiny irregular pieces.)
Hurrah, meat-eaters! You have something over the granola's after all. You don't need to do anything. All the prep above is doing is simulating the texture of ground meat.
The onion also needs to be diced really fine. So the meat-eaters can't really escape from the prep after all. Welcome to the jungle, my friends!
(Since the CC promised short-cuts, you can just dice the potatoes and do a quick mash with a potato masher in the pot and let cook for an additional 6-7 minutes. However, not the same. Be aware, be strong!)
In a large shallow pot with a lid, fry the onions and green chillies till the onions are translucent. Add the first set of whole spices, and fry for about 30 seconds. Add the potatoes (or meat) and fry for about 6-7 minutes till it changes color. Add water and cover.
Let cook until done. It's different for different versions. At least 15 minutes for either one, and possibly a tad more for the vegetarian versions.
Uncover and let cook till it's relatively dry. Toss in the second set of spices and mix thoroughly.
Let the stuffed mixture cool down.
Stuff the bitter melons. (Try not to eat all the stuffing. You will attempt anyway. You will be hunted down like the animals that you are by your own families so beware!)
You can pre-prep this recipe upto this point and let the stuffed vegetables sit in your refrigerator for a few days.
In a shallow skillet with a lid that can hold all the bitter melons, heat up some oil. When it is shimmering add the stuffed bitter melons gently face-down and let them fry for about 7 minutes at medium-high heat. Turn them over gently with a pair of tongs and let them fry for an additional 4-5 minutes. Gently add about a cup of water and cover the lid. Let cook for about 10 minutes on a very low flame till they are completely tender.
Serve with some parathas and some raita.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Medieval Recipes for Spring Fever
Almost every civilization has a system by which they link food with bodily "humors" and attempt to control it.
The Romans had one, and India has one. China has a very elaborate one.
The "humors" (= dosha) in the Indian Ayurvedic system are called vāta (wind), pitta (bile) and kapha (phlegm.)
While the system dates back to the second millenium BCE, there is a particularly intriguing book written by a royal physician in the 16th century.
Ksemakuthuhalam was written by one Ksemasarma (clearly an attributive name rather than a real one since ksema means "welfare".)
Let's get right off the bat to the one of the best recommendations:
In any case, spring is here and the CC, quite clearly, has all of his dosha's completely and utterly out of sync. It's time to overcome all this buildup of vāta, pitta, etc.
Let's get medieval!
The Romans had one, and India has one. China has a very elaborate one.
The "humors" (= dosha) in the Indian Ayurvedic system are called vāta (wind), pitta (bile) and kapha (phlegm.)
While the system dates back to the second millenium BCE, there is a particularly intriguing book written by a royal physician in the 16th century.
Ksemakuthuhalam was written by one Ksemasarma (clearly an attributive name rather than a real one since ksema means "welfare".)
Let's get right off the bat to the one of the best recommendations:
During spring season, one should overcome the buildup of vāta, pitta and kapha by respectively embracing, kissing and enjoying intercourse with a damsel in the middle of her youth, moon-faced, lotus-eyed and made-up for the occasion.The CC wonders what he recommends for a damsel with the buildup of vāta, pitta, etc. Perhaps a moon-faced, lotus-eyed, etc. young man? Or a moon-faced, etc. damsel?
In any case, spring is here and the CC, quite clearly, has all of his dosha's completely and utterly out of sync. It's time to overcome all this buildup of vāta, pitta, etc.
Let's get medieval!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Garcia da Orta
People frequently ask the CC what he finds so endlessly fascinating about Spain, and the simple answer is that due to their complex society and insane wealth, they produced the most interesting personalities in science and art on the entire planet for their time.
The expulsion of the Jews due to the Reyes Catolicos (Ferdinand II and Isabella I in 1492) caused a massive upheaval among the highly intellectual community of Jews in Spain. They either converted (conversos) or fled.
The Orta family fled to nearby Portugal — little did they know that the Inquisition was coming there next.
Garcia de Orta was born in 1501 or 1502. He was trained as a physician, and practiced medicine in Lisbon. With the growing power of the Inquisition, he fled to India in 1534 and settled in Goa serving kings, governors and viceroys.
He was clearly successful. He was even granted a lease to the then worthless islands of what is now modern-day Bombay (!) though he never lived there.
His culinary claim to fame is his masterpiece Colóquios dos simples e drogas da India (Conversations on the simples and drugs of India) which is the unique book that tells us about the culinary knowledge of pre-New-World India.
It's written in the Galileo-style of conversations between the author and an imaginary colleague, Ruano, and basically walks us through all the known culinary spices and herbs in alphabetical order.
It should be noted that there wasn't a strict distinction between cuisine and medicine in those days (courtesy of Galen) and there is considerable evidence that he was a polymath speaking sufficiently in half a dozen local Indian languages (besides the usual Greek, Latin, Arabic which was expected of an educated man of his generation.)
While his life was not tragic, his story does end tragically. He died in 1568 but was "convicted" posthumously of "Judaism" and his remains were exhumed and burned in an auto da fé in 1580.
What's unique about his work is his independence of "received wisdom" of Greek, Latin or Arabic authorities. It's a strict example of the scientific method where claims have to be demonstrated not just stated as truth.
For all the tragedy, it is useful to know that he was well received in his time, and respected for his unique orignality.
The expulsion of the Jews due to the Reyes Catolicos (Ferdinand II and Isabella I in 1492) caused a massive upheaval among the highly intellectual community of Jews in Spain. They either converted (conversos) or fled.
The Orta family fled to nearby Portugal — little did they know that the Inquisition was coming there next.
Garcia de Orta was born in 1501 or 1502. He was trained as a physician, and practiced medicine in Lisbon. With the growing power of the Inquisition, he fled to India in 1534 and settled in Goa serving kings, governors and viceroys.
He was clearly successful. He was even granted a lease to the then worthless islands of what is now modern-day Bombay (!) though he never lived there.
His culinary claim to fame is his masterpiece Colóquios dos simples e drogas da India (Conversations on the simples and drugs of India) which is the unique book that tells us about the culinary knowledge of pre-New-World India.
It's written in the Galileo-style of conversations between the author and an imaginary colleague, Ruano, and basically walks us through all the known culinary spices and herbs in alphabetical order.
It should be noted that there wasn't a strict distinction between cuisine and medicine in those days (courtesy of Galen) and there is considerable evidence that he was a polymath speaking sufficiently in half a dozen local Indian languages (besides the usual Greek, Latin, Arabic which was expected of an educated man of his generation.)
While his life was not tragic, his story does end tragically. He died in 1568 but was "convicted" posthumously of "Judaism" and his remains were exhumed and burned in an auto da fé in 1580.
What's unique about his work is his independence of "received wisdom" of Greek, Latin or Arabic authorities. It's a strict example of the scientific method where claims have to be demonstrated not just stated as truth.
"Don't try and frighten me with Diocorides or Galen because I am only going to say what I know to be true."His empirical work on tamarind stands in stark contrast to the "received wisdom" of Arabic writers which considered them as "dates". By restricting himself to empirical observation, he markedly advanced the science of food in the Indian subcontinent.
For all the tragedy, it is useful to know that he was well received in his time, and respected for his unique orignality.
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