Gastronome
an excerpt

Cena Apicius

Baiae, Italy - 1 B.C.E.

"One of my favorite dishes is roasted peacock. Is that something you can make?" As he spoke, the man lifted up the large bronze plaque etched with credentials and history of ownership that Thrasius wore on a thin chain about his neck. Thrasius nodded. That was, after all, the reason he was back up on the block after only three months in the vicious hands of Titus Atilus Bulbus. Bulbus was a man who sounded much like his name; a fat, swarthy beast that Thrasius was glad he would never see again. As soon as he reached the age where most boys of wealthy means donned their manly toga, Thrasius had been cooking in the kitchens of a patrician named Gaius Flavius Maximus. On Maximus' death, the estate passed to his nephew--Bulbus. Thankfully, it was only a few months before Bulbus discovered that a cook would be worth two or three times his weight in denarii and decided it was better to sell Thrasius than to fuck him.

The noble in front of him was in his mid-twenties, with dark hair, thick brows over piercing brown eyes, a dimpled chin and a strong nose that had come from a long Roman bloodline. He was the sort of man that turned the heads of men and women alike and this contributed to Thrasius' momentary distraction by a small group of young ladies that had congregated near the platform where the slaves were being sold. The women giggled and whispered behind pale cupped hands, hoping to catch the eye of his potential purchaser. One of the girls, a slender blonde, reminded him of the first girl he ever kissed, when he was ten, in the olive grove behind his master's house. Seven years seemed so long ago now. He pushed wistful thoughts out of his head and focused on the tanned face before him.

"Yes. I have a recipe for peacock with damson raisins flavored with myrtle wine and liquamen. It works equally well with partridge or duck. I'm sure you would find it to your liking." Thrasius tried to sound eager even though he felt somewhat skeptical about the man's intentions. After Bulbus he was wary.

"You worked for Maximus?" the man said, letting go of the scroll so that it slapped gently against Thrasius' chest. "Interesting. I spoke with a man just last night who told me that he dined with Maximus just a few months before his death. He said that the meal was the best he had ever eaten. I assume that must have been your doing?

Thrasius nodded. “Yes. I ran his kitchen for three years-until he died. He was fond of entertaining.

The noble breathed in, as though deeply contemplating what his friend had said about that dinner. When he spoke again, there was a hint of excitement in his voice. “What do you consider your specialty?"

"There are three, Thrasius said, wiping the sweat off his brow with a nervous passing of a hand through his grimy hair. He hadn't washed in over a week and hated both how he smelled and how he felt.

The man raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response. Thrasius tried to sound as professional and intelligent as possible. Anyone could say they were a cook but it was important that the level of his craft was evident by his words. It didn't help that he was young and he looked it. He raised his voice in order to be heard over the din of the market, in particular over the shouting of a nearby baker selling fresh bread. His stomach growled as he spoke." My personal best is a baked ham in pastry with honey and figs, but I have been told that it is equaled by my truffles with pepper, mint and rue and also by a personally developed dish of roasted salt belly pork with a special mixture of garum, cumin and lovage."

As he finished speaking, the slave master, a heavy set Italian, stepped forward, extolling Thrasius as a prodigy in the kitchen among his other qualities-that he could read and write, was good with figures, and that he could speak several different languages. Bulbus never knew of these talents, which were not written on the slave scroll. In fact he never even bothered to ask when Thrasius came to live in his household. On the long ride from Pompeii to Baiae, Thrasius had taken time to better outline his abilities to the slave master in the hopes that his skills as a translator would come in handy if his expertise as a cook did not. This gave the slave master the distinct advantage of offering Thrasius for more than Bulbus was expecting, therefore pocketing the excess. Thrasius wanted to do whatever he could to prevent becoming a bedroom slave once again.

The noble nodded approvingly, a look of delight sparkling in his eyes." Very good, very good. Sotas..." He motioned to his body slave that stood on the edge of the platform. The slave, an Egyptian man with wick-black hair was only slightly older than his owner. He brought forth a jingling bag from under his tunic and placed it in the noble's hand.

Thrasius sold that day for more than all the other slaves on the block combined.