Going Skythian

When they want to drink wine that’s more undiluted, the Lakonians themselves say they “go Skythian.” Khamaileon of Herakleia in On Drunkenness at any rate writes about them as follows:

“the Lakonians say that Kleomenes the Spartan went mad because he learned to drink undiluted wine, having spent time with the Skythians. That’s why, when they wish to drink more undiluted wine, they say, ‘make it Skythian.’”

καὶ αὐτοὶ δ’ οἱ Λάκωνες ὅταν βούλωνται ἀκρατέστερον πίνειν, ἐπισκυθίσαι λέγουσι. Χαμαιλέων γοῦν ὁ Ἡρακλεώτης ἐν τῷ περὶ μέθης περὶ τούτων οὕτως γράφει·

«ἐπεὶ καὶ Κλεομένη τὸν Σπαρτιάτην φασὶν οἱ Λάκωνες μανῆναι διὰ τὸ Σκύθαις ὁμιλήσαντα μαθεῖν ἀκρατοποτεῖν. ὅθεν ὅταν βούλωνται πιεῖν ἀκρατέστερον, ‘ἐπισκύθισον’ λέγουσιν».

Athenaeus of Naucratis, Deipnosophistae, 10.29

Do truffles come from thunder and other questions

1. Aristotle (4th century BCE, dubious)

Attributed to Aristotle in some 19th century collections of fragments, but I have no idea why. Maybe because of a tendency to assign to Aristotle things said by his student? Or maybe the collection includes the early Peripatos? Found it with a TLG search, but I didn’t find the edition it comes from. σκληρότερα might be a corruption, see e.g. the Athenaeus text below where he says that there are more truffles when the storms are σκληραί / severe.

“Truffles become harder when there is continuous thunder, as Theophrastus has said in his works on plants.”

τὰ ὕδνα βροντῶν συνεχῶν γιγνομένων σκληρότερα γίγνεται, καθάπερ Θεόφραστος ἐν τοῖς περὶ φυτῶν εἴρηκεν.

2. Diocles of Carystus (4th century BCE)

‘Diocles of Carystus says in the first book of Matters of Health: “wild plants to be boiled are beet, mallow, monk’s rhubarb, stinging nettle, orach, grape hyacinths, truffles, mushrooms.”’

Διοκλῆς ὁ Καρύστιος ἐν αʹ Ὑγιεινῶν φησιν· ‘ἄγρια ἑψήματα τεῦτλον, μαλάχη, λάπαθον, ἀκαλήφη, ἀνδράφαξυς, βολβοί, ὕδνα, μύκαι.

Athenaeus, The Sophists’ at Dinner, 2.57, 61c = Diocles Fragment 195 van der Eijk

3. Theophrastus (4th century BCE)

“The same differences (in the roots) exist among undershrubs, herbs and the rest, except that some have no roots at all, like the truffle, the mushroom, the bullfist, and the keraunion .*”

αἱ αὐταὶ δὲ διαφοραὶ καὶ τῶν φρυγανικῶν καὶ τῶν ποιωδῶν καὶ τῶν ἄλλων· πλὴν εἰ ὅλως ἔνια μὴ ἔχει, καθάπερ ὕδνον μύκης πέζις κεραύνιον.

Theophrastus, History of Plants, 1.6.5

*Keraunion (κεραύνιον), from the word for thunderbolt, keraunos, perhaps another kind of truffle.

“For it is not correct to call everything underground a root. For in that case the stem of the grape hyacinth and of the long onion and generally any part which is underground would be a root, also the truffle and what some people call askhios and the ouignon and any other underground plants, of which none are roots—for we must distinguish things by natural capacity and not by place.”

τὸ γὰρ δὴ πᾶν λέγειν τὸ κατὰ γῆς ῥίζαν οὐκ ὀρθόν· καὶ γὰρ ἂν ὁ καυλὸς τοῦ βολβοῦ καὶ ὁ τοῦ γηθύου καὶ ὅλως ὅσα κατὰ βάθους ἐστὶν εἴησαν ἂν ῥίζαι, καὶ τὸ ὕδνον δὲ καὶ ὃ καλοῦσί τινες ἀσχίον καὶ τὸ οὔϊγγον καὶ εἴ τι ἄλλο ὑπόγειόν ἐστιν· ὧν οὐδέν ἐστι ῥίζα· δυνάμει γὰρ δεῖ φυσικῇ διαιρεῖν καὶ οὐ τόπῳ.

Theophrastus, History of Plants, 1.6.9

4. Dioscorides (1st century)

“Truffle is a root that is round with no leaves, no stem, light brown, dug up in the spring. It is both edible when raw and eaten when boiled.”

ὕδνον ῥίζα ἐστὶ περιφερής, ἄφυλλος, ἄκαυλος, ὑπόξανθος, ἔαρος ὀρυττομένη. ἐδώδιμος δέ ἐστιν ὠμή τε καὶ ἑφθὴ ἐσθιομένη.

Dioscorides, On Medical Materials, 2.145 (1.212,18–213,2 Wellmann)

5. Plutarch (1st century)

Why do some people think truffles are produced by thunder, and why do they think sleeping people are not struck by lightning?

‘Agemachos once offered us giant truffles while we were dining in Elis. Everyone there was amazed, and one person said with a smirk, “they’re surely worth the thunderstorms we’ve been having lately,” clearly poking fun at those who say truffles are produced by thunder. Indeed, there are some people who say that the earth is split by thunder, the air operating like a spike, and afterwards the truffle hunters use the cracks in the ground as a sign. From this arose a popular belief that truffles are produced by thunder rather than uncovered, as if someone were to think that snails were produced by rain instead of being lead out and made visible. Agemachos, however, held on stubbornly to the story and asked us not to think that what is wondrous is implausible. For there are many other wondrous things that come from thunder, lightning and related divine signs—things that have causes that are difficult or altogether impossible to discover.’

Διὰ τί τὰ ὕδνα δοκεῖ τῇ βροντῇ γίνεσθαι, καὶ διὰ τί τοὺς καθεύδοντας οἴονται μὴ κεραυνοῦσθαι.

Ὕδνα παμμεγέθη δειπνοῦσιν ἡμῖν Ἀγέμαχος παρέθηκεν ἐν Ἤλιδι. θαυμαζόντων δὲ τῶν παρόντων, ἔφη τις ὑπομειδιάσας ‘ἄξιά γε τῶν βροντῶν τῶν ἔναγχος γενομένων,’ ὡς δὴ καταγελῶν τῶν λεγόντων τὰ ὕδνα τὴν γένεσιν ἐκ βροντῆς λαμβάνειν. ἦσαν οὖν οἱ φάσκοντες ὑπὸ βροντῆς τὴν γῆν διίστασθαι καθάπερ ἥλῳ τῷ ἀέρι χρωμένης, εἶτα ταῖς ῥωγμαῖς τεκμαίρεσθαι τοὺς τὰ ὕδνα μετιόντας· ἐκ δὲ τούτου δόξαν ἐγγενέσθαι τοῖς πολλοῖς, ὅτι τὸ ὕδνον αἱ βρονταὶ γεννῶσιν οὐ δεικνύουσιν, ὥσπερ εἴ τις οἴοιτο τοὺς κοχλίας ποιεῖν τὸν ὄμβρον ἀλλὰ μὴ προάγειν μηδ' ἀναφαίνειν. ὁ δ' Ἀγέμαχος ἰσχυρίζετο τῇ ἱστορίᾳ καὶ τὸ θαυμαστὸν ἠξίου μὴ ἄπιστον ἡγεῖσθαι. καὶ γὰρ ἄλλα πολλὰ θαυμάσια βροντῆς ἔργα καὶ κεραυνοῦ καὶ τῶν περὶ ταῦτα διοσημιῶν εἶναι, χαλεπὰς καταμαθεῖν ἢ παντελῶς ἀδυνάτους τὰς αἰτίας ἔχοντα.

Plutarch, Table Talk (quaestiones convivales) 4.2, Moralia 664B–C

6. Galen (2nd century)

“On truffles. It is necessary to include these among the roots and vegetables, although they have no evident quality. That’s why people use them as a base for seasonings, just like they use the other ones they call bland, harmless and watery in taste. They all share in common that their nutriment, when it gets distributed to the body, has no remarkable property. Instead, the nutriment is a bit cool, while in thickness it is itself similar in quality to whatever was eaten, thicker when it comes from truffle, more watery and thinner when comes from colocynth and likewise in the case of the others.”

Περὶ ὕδνων. Ἐν ῥίζαις ἢ βολβοῖς ἀριθμεῖν ἀναγκαῖόν ἐστι καὶ ταῦτα μηδεμίαν ἔχοντα σαφῆ ποιότητα. χρῶνται τοιγαροῦν αὐτοῖς οἱ χρώμενοι πρὸς ὑποδοχὴν ἀρτυμάτων, ὥσπερ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις, ὅσα καλοῦσιν ἄποια καὶ ἀβλαβῆ καὶ ὑδατώδη κατὰ τὴν γεῦσιν. ἔστι δ' ἁπάντων αὐτῶν κοινόν, ὡς μηδὲ τὴν ἀναδιδομένην εἰς τὸ σῶμα τροφὴν ἐξαίρετόν τινα δύναμιν ἔχειν, ἀλλ' ὑπόψυχρον μὲν εἶναι, τῷ πάχει δ', ὁποῖον ἄν τι καὶ αὐτὸ τὸ ἐδηδεσμένον ᾖ, παχυτέραν μὲν ἐξ ὕδνου, ὑγροτέραν δὲ καὶ λεπτοτέραν ἐκ κολοκύνθης ἐπί τε τῶν ἄλλων ἀνὰ λόγον.

Galen, On the Properties of Foods, 2.66 (6.655 Kühn = 327,16–328,3 Helmreich)

“On Truffle. Truffles are known to everyone to have a predominantly earthy substance, possessing a small number of fine particles that have been mixed in to their composition.”

Περὶ ὕδνου. Ὕδνα πᾶσι γνώριμα γεωδεστέραν οὐσίαν ἐπικρατοῦσαν, ἐν τῇ συστάσει κέκτηται βραχέος τινὸς αὐτῇ μεμιγμένου τοῦ λεπτομεροῦς.

Galen, Simple Drugs 9.19, 12.147 Kühn

7. Athenaeus of Naucratis (2nd/3rd century)

‘Truffles. These are also produced spontaneously from the ground especially in sandy places. Theophrastus says about them: “the truffle, which some call geraneion* and any other subterranean plant.” And again: “this is the creation and nature of these earth-born plants, like the truffle and the thing that grows near Cyrene which people call misy. This is considered very sweet and has the scent of meat, like the oiton that is produced in Thrace. Something peculiar is said about these. For they say that they are produced when the autumn rains occur with strong thunder, and more when there is more thunder, as this is more their proper cause. They are not perennials, but annuals. They are useful and at their peak in the spring. Nevertheless, some people suppose that they start from seed. In any case, on the shores of Mytilene they say they do not grow before there is a heavy rain that washes the seed down from Tiarai, while this is a region in which many grow. They are produced especially on the shores and wherever the land is sandy, for Tiarai is also like this. They also grow in the Abarnis around Lampsakos and in Alopekonnesos and in Elis.” Lynkeus of Samos says: “the sea sends up sea-anemone, the earth truffles.” And Matron the parodist in The Banquet: “he has sent up oysters, the truffles of Thetis the Nereid.” Diphilos says truffles are difficult to digest, but juicy and relaxing, besides being laxative, and some of them can cause you to choke, in a similar way to mushrooms. Hegesandros of Delphi says that in the Hellespont there are no truffles, no glaukiskos, and no thyme. For this reason Nausikleides said “neither spring nor friend.” Pamphilos in Dialects says that truffle-grass is the herb that grows on top of truffles, by which the truffle is discovered.’

ΥΔΝΑ. γίνεται καὶ ταῦτα αὐτόματα ἀπὸ γῆς μάλιστα περὶ τοὺς ἀμμώδεις τόπους. λέγει δὲ περὶ αὐτῶν Θεόφραστος (1, 6, 9)· ‘τὸ ὕδνον (ὃ καλοῦσί τινες γεράνειον) καὶ εἴ τι ἄλλο ὑπόγειον.’ καὶ πάλιν (fr. 167 W)· ‘καὶ ἡ τῶν ἐγγεοτόκων τούτων γένεσις ἅμα καὶ φύσις, οἷον τοῦ τε ὕδνου καὶ τοῦ φυομένου περὶ Κυρήνην ὃ καλοῦσι μίσυ. δοκεῖ δ' ἡδὺ σφόδρα τοῦτ' εἶναι καὶ τὴν ὀσμὴν ἔχειν κρεώδη, καὶ τὸ ἐν τῇ Θρᾴκῃ δὲ γενόμενον οἰτόν. περὶ δὲ τούτων ἴδιόν τι λέγεται· φασὶ γάρ, ὅταν ὕδατα μετοπωρινὰ καὶ βρονταὶ γίνωνται σκληραί, τότε γίνεσθαι, καὶ μᾶλλον ὅταν αἱ βρονταί, ὡς ταύτης αἰτιωτέρας οὔσης. οὐ διετίζειν δέ, ἀλλ' ἐπέτειον εἶναι· τὴν δὲ χρείαν καὶ τὴν ἀκμὴν ἔχειν τοῦ ἦρος. οὐ μὴν ἀλλ' ἔνιοί γε ὡς σπερματικῆς οὔσης τῆς ἀρχῆς ὑπολαμβάνουσιν. ἐν γοῦν τῷ αἰγιαλῷ τῶν Μιτυληναίων οὔ φασι πρότερον εἶναι πρὶν ἢ γενομένης ἐπομβρίας τὸ σπέρμα κατενεχθῇ ἀπὸ Τιαρῶν· τοῦτο δ' ἐστὶ χωρίον ἐν ᾧ πολλὰ γίνεται. γίνεται δὲ ἔν τε τοῖς αἰγιαλοῖς μάλιστα καὶ ὅπου χώρα ὕπαμμος· καὶ γὰρ αἱ Τιάραι τοιαῦται. φύεται δὲ καὶ περὶ Λάμψακον ἐν τῇ Ἀβαρνίδι καὶ ἐν Ἀλωπεκοννήσῳ κἀν τῇ Ἠλείων.’ Λυγκεὺς ὁ Σάμιός φησιν· ‘ἀκαλήφην ἡ θάλασσα ἀνίησιν, ἡ δὲ γῆ ὕδνα.’ καὶ Μάτρων ὁ παρῳδὸς ἐν τῷ Δείπνῳ· ὄστρεά τ' ἤνεικεν, Θέτιδος Νηρηίδος ὕδνα. Δίφιλος δὲ δύσπεπτά φησιν εἶναι τὰ ὕδνα, εὔχυλα δὲ καὶ παραλεαντικά, προσέτι δὲ διαχωρητικά, καὶ ἔνια αὐτῶν ὁμοίως τοῖς μύκαις πνιγώδη εἶναι. Ἡγήσανδρος δ' ὁ Δελφὸς ἐν Ἑλλησπόντῳ φησὶν οὔτε ὕδνον γίνεσθαι οὔτε γλαυκίσκον οὔτε θύμον· διὸ Ναυσικλείδην εἰρηκέναι μήτε ἔαρ μήτε φίλους. ὑδνόφυλλον δέ φησι Πάμφιλος ἐν Γλώσσαις τὴν φυομένην τῶν ὕδνων ὕπερθε πόαν, ἀφ' ἧς τὸ ὕδνον γινώσκεσθαι.

Athenaeus of Naucratis, The Sophists at Dinner, 2.62

*γεράνειον geraneion – perhaps from geras = “old” and neios = “fallow land”?

8. Oribasius (4th century)

“On Truffles. They have no evident quality. That’s why people use them as a base for seasonings, just as they also use the other ones they call bland and watery in taste. They all share in common that their nutriment, when it gets distributed to the body, does not heat; instead, the nutriment is a bit cool, while in thickness it is similar to whatever was eaten, thicker when it comes from truffle, relatively more watery and thinner when it comes from the others.”

Περὶ ὕδνων. Οὐδεμίαν ἔχει σαφῆ ποιότητα· χρῶνται τοιγαροῦν αὐτοῖς πρὸς ὑποδοχὴν ἀρτυμάτων, ὥσπερ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ὅσα καλοῦσιν ἄποια καὶ ὑδατώδη κατὰ τὴν γεῦσιν. ἔστι δ' ἁπάντων αὐτῶν κοινὸν ὡς μηδὲ τὴν ἀναδιδομένην τροφὴν εἰς τὸ σῶμα θερμαίνειν, ἀλλ' ὑπόψυχρον μὲν εἶναι, τῷ πάχει δ' ὁποῖον ἄν τι καὶ τὸ ἐδηδεσμένον <ᾖ>, παχύτερον μὲν ἐξ ὕδνου, ὑγρότερον δὲ καὶ λεπτότερον ἐκ τῶν ἄλλων ἀνάλογον.

Oribasius, Medical Collections, 2.24.1 (35,5–11 Raeder)

9. Aetius of Amida (6th century)

“Truffles possess a prevalent, quite earthy substance, with some fine material in with it.”

Ὕδνα γεωδεστέραν μὲν οὐσίαν ἐπικρατοῦσαν κέκτηται, βραχέος τινὸς αὐτῇ μιγνυμένου λεπτομεροῦς.

Aetius of Amida, Medical Books, 1.397 (142,6-7 Olivieri)

10. Paul of Aegina (7th century)

“On truffles (hydna) and mushrooms (mycetai). The truffle produces a quality-less humour, but it is rather cool and thick. Mushrooms are cold and produce phlegm and bad humours. From this group, the boleti are less harmful and quality-less when they are properly boiled, while the amanitai are of the second order.* One should stay away from the other mushrooms, since many people have died from them. Even the boleti themselves are often hazardous when eaten if they are not properly boiled.”

Περὶ ὕδνων καὶ μυκήτων. Τὸ ὕδνον ἄποιον μὲν ἔχει τὸν ἀναδιδόμενον ἐξ αὐτοῦ χυμόν, ψυχρότερον δὲ καὶ παχύχυμον. οἱ δὲ μυκῆται ψυχροί τέ εἰσι καὶ φλεγματώδεις καὶ κακόχυμοι· τούτων δὲ αὐτῶν οἱ μὲν βωλῖται ἀβλαβέστεροι καὶ ἄποιοι καλῶς ἑψηθέντες, οἱ δὲ ἀμανῖται δευτέρας εἰσὶ τάξεως. τῶν δὲ ἄλλων μυκήτων ἀπέχεσθαι δεῖ· πολλοὶ γὰρ ἐξ αὐτῶν ἀπέθανον. καὶ αὐτοὶ δὲ οἱ βωλῖται ἀνεφθότεροι ἐσθιόμενοι κινδύνου παραίτιοι πολλάκις γίνονται.

Paul of Aegina, 1.77 (56,1–8 Heiberg)

Commentary by Adams. On mushroom varieties, see Athenaeus, The Sophists at Dinner, 2.56–57

11. Anonymous (late byzantine source)

“On truffles. They are quality-less and watery in taste. They are similar to amanitai. The nutriment from them produce phlegm and is cold, and if someone eats too many it produces bad humour.”

Περὶ ὕδνων. Ἄποιά εἰσι καὶ ὑδατώδη κατὰ τὴν γεῦσιν. εἰσὶ δὲ παραπλήσια τοῖς ἀμανίταις. φλεγματώδης δέ ἐστιν ἡ ἐξ αὐτῶν τροφὴ καὶ ψυχρά, καὶ εἰ πλεονάσει τις ἐν αὐτοῖς κακόχυμος.

Anonymous, On Food, chapter 74

12. Pseudo-Hippocrates (late byzantine source)

“On vegetables. Truffles and amanitai and the artichoke are productive of bad humours, difficult to digest and productive of black bile.”

Περὶ λαχάνων. […] τὰ ὕδνα καὶ οἱ ἀμανῖται καὶ ἡ κινάρα κακόχυμα καὶ δύσπεπτα καὶ μελαγχολικά.

Pseudo-Hippocrates, On the Differences of Foods to Ptolemy (De alimentorum differentiis ad Ptolemaeum), 491,9–10 Delatte (in Anecdota Atheniensia 1939)

Aristotle on wine-drunk vs. beer-drunk

“Hellanikos says the grape vine was first discovered in Plinthine, a city in Egypt, which is why Dio from the Academy says the Egyptians became lovers of wine and drinking. They also discovered a remedy for those who, because of poverty, couldn’t afford wine, by giving them a drink made from barley. And the people who took this were given such pleasure that they sang and danced and acted in every way like those who drank lots of wine. Aristotle, however, says that those who get drunk on wine fall forward onto their faces, while those who have been drinking beer fall back onto their heads, for wine makes one’s head heavy, while beer causes stupor.”

Ἑλλάνικος δέ φησιν ἐν τῇ Πλινθίνῃ πόλει Αἰγύπτου πρώτῃ εὑρεθῆναι τὴν ἄμπελον. διὸ καὶ Δίων ὁ ἐξ Ἀκαδημίας φιλοίνους καὶ φιλοπότας τοὺς Αἰγυπτίους γενέσθαι: εὑρεθῆναί τε βοήθημα παρ᾽ αὐτοῖς ὥστε τοὺς διὰ πενίαν ἀποροῦντας οἴνου τὸν ἐκ τῶν κριθῶν γενόμενον πίνειν: καὶ οὕτως ἥδεσθαι τοὺς τοῦτον προσφερομένους ὡς καὶ ᾁδειν καὶ ὀρχεῖσθαι καὶ πάντα ποιεῖν ὅσα τοὺς ἐξοίνους γινομένους. Ἀριστοτέλης δέ φησιν ὅτι οἱ μὲν ὑπ᾽ οἴνου μεθυσθέντες ἐπὶ πρόσωπον φέρονται, οἱ δὲ τὸν κρίθινον πεπωκότες ἐξυπτιάζονται τὴν κεφαλήν: ὁ μὲν γὰρ οἶνος καρηβαρικός, ὁ δὲ κρίθινος καρωτικός.

Athenaeus, The Sophists at Dinner, 1.61

Socrates’ Meteorology II

Xenophon, a source between Aristophanes and Plato, on Socrates’ meteorological reputation.

Weather Gods

“The conversations [at the party] were so good that the Syracusan [entertainer] noticed everyone was ignoring his dinner show and enjoying one another. Feeling a bit jealous, he said to Socrates:

‘Hey Socrates, aren’t you the one they call The Thinker?’

‘Isn’t that better,’ he said, ‘than being called thoughtless?’

‘Sure, if you weren’t supposed to be a thinker of ta meteora.’

‘Do you know,’ Socrates said, ‘anything more meteorological than the gods?’

‘For heaven’s sake, obviously not,’ he said, ‘but they’re not what people say you’re concerned with. They say you’re concerned with the most unbeneficial things.’

‘Well even if that were so,’ he said, ‘I’d still be concerned with gods. When it rains from above, they are beneficial, as when they give light from above. If it’s an awkward pun*,’ he said, ‘it’s your fault for giving me trouble.’”

τοιούτων δὲ λόγων ὄντων ὡς ἑώρα ὁ Συρακόσιος τῶν μὲν αὑτοῦ ἐπιδειγμάτων ἀμελοῦντας, ἀλλήλοις δὲ ἡδομένους, φθονῶν τῷ Σωκράτει εἶπεν:

ἆρα σύ, ὦ Σώκρατες, ὁ φροντιστὴς ἐπικαλούμενος;

οὐκοῦν κάλλιον, ἔφη, ἢ εἰ ἀφρόντιστος ἐκαλούμην;

εἰ μή γε ἐδόκεις τῶν μετεώρων φροντιστὴς εἶναι.

οἶσθα οὖν, ἔφη ὁ Σωκράτης, μετεωρότερόν τι τῶν θεῶν;

ἀλλ᾽ οὐ μὰ Δί᾽, ἔφη, οὐ τούτων σε λέγουσιν ἐπιμελεῖσθαι, ἀλλὰ τῶν ἀνωφελεστάτων.

οὐκοῦν καὶ οὕτως ἄν, ἔφη, θεῶν ἐπιμελοίμην: ἄνωθεν μέν γε ὕοντες ὠφελοῦσιν, ἄνωθεν δὲ φῶς παρέχουσιν. εἰ δὲ ψυχρὰ λέγω, σὺ αἴτιος, ἔφη, πράγματά μοι παρέχων.

Xenophon, Symposium 6.6–7

*lit. “if I’m saying frigid things”, but he’s referring to a pun he’s making: anôphelestata (most unbeneficial) like anô ôphelestata (very beneficial things from above), so anôthen ôphelousin: “from above, when it rains, they are beneficial.”

Mardi Gras with Galen: a recipe for ancient Roman pancakes

Here’s a recipe (well, sort of) and description of how pancakes were cooked in ancient Rome. Some things to note: Galen points out the word for ‘pancake’ is pronounced differently by Attic and Asiatic Greek speakers, where the α and the η are switched: ταγηνῖται (tagenitai) vs. τηγανῖται (teganitai). The word for ‘pan’, τάγηνον (tagenon), doesn’t seem to undergo this vowel shift. It is cognate with tajine, but a tajine is more like the ancient kribanos, which Galen mentions in relation to the more common kind of cake, itrion (ἴτριον), known as libum in Latin (a nice recipe here; I like this how-to video). Galen associates these cakes with country people and very poor city people who he tells us make their bread out of whatever they have around. I also think it is interesting how long it takes Galen to describe something as familiar (at least to a North American) as flipping a pancake. Flipping a cake must not have been a very common thing to do (I suppose it still isn’t something one does to most cakes).

“Now would be a good time to talk about all those other cakes that they make from wheat flour. The ones called tagenitai [pancakes] by the Attic speakers but teganitai by us Greek speakers in Asia are prepared solely with olive oil. The oil is placed in a pan that is set on a smokeless fire and once it’s hot wheat flour that’s been mixed with lots of water is poured onto it. After it has cooked for a short time in the oil, it sets and thickens like soft cheese solidifying in baskets. At this point the cooks turn it round, bringing the upper side underneath so that it comes into contact with the pan and turning the side that used to be underneath and is sufficiently cooked so that it becomes the top; once the side underneath has set, they turn it round again two or three times until they think it has been cooked through.

“Now, it’s clear that this is thick-humoured, able to block the stomach, and productive of raw humours. That’s why some people mix honey with it and others sea salt as well. This would be a “kind” or “type” (or whatever your want to call it) of flat-cake, like many other such types of flat-cakes made from whatever’s at hand by country people and very poor people in the city. Likewise all those unleavened cakes they bake in a kribanos then remove and put immediately into warm honey so that it soaks them through, these too are a kind of flat-cake, as are all dishes prepared from cakes with honey.”

Περὶ δὲ τῶν ἄλλων πεμμάτων, ὅσα σκευάζουσιν ἐξ ἀλεύρου πυρίνου, καιρὸς ἂν εἴη λέγειν. οἱ μὲν οὖν ταγηνῖται παρὰ τοῖς Ἀττικοῖς ὀνομαζόμενοι, παρ' ἡμῖν δὲ τοῖς κατὰ τὴν Ἀσίαν Ἕλλησι τηγανῖται σκευάζονται δι' ἐλαίου μόνου. βάλλεται δὲ τὸ μὲν ἔλαιον εἰς τάγηνον ἐπικείμενον ἀκάπνῳ πυρί, καταχεῖται δ' αὐτῷ θερμανθέντι τὸ τῶν πυρῶν ἄλευρον ὕδατι δεδευμένον πολλῷ. διὰ ταχέων οὖν ἑψόμενον ἐν τῷ ἐλαίῳ συνίσταται καὶ παχύνεται παραπλησίως ἁπαλῷ τυρῷ τῷ κατὰ τοὺς ταλάρους πηγνυμένῳ. τηνικαῦτα δ' ἤδη καὶ στρέφουσιν οἱ σκευάζοντες αὐτό, τὴν μὲν ἄνωθεν ἐπιφάνειαν ἐργαζόμενοι κάτωθεν, ὡς ὁμιλεῖν τῷ ταγήνῳ, τὸ δ' αὐτάρκως ἡψημένον, ὃ κάτωθεν ἦν πρότερον, εἰς ὕψος ἀνάγοντες, ὡς ἐπιπολῆς εἶναι, κἀπειδὰν ἤδη καὶ τὸ κάτω παγῇ, στρέφουσιν αὖθις αὐτὸ δίς που καὶ τρίς, ἄχριπερ ἂν ὅλον ὁμαλῶς αὐτοῖς ἡψῆσθαι δόξῃ.

εὔδηλον οὖν, ὅτι παχύχυμόν τε τοῦτ' ἐστὶ καὶ σταλτικὸν γαστρὸς καὶ χυμῶν ὠμῶν γεννητικόν. διὸ καί τινες αὐτῷ μιγνύουσι μέλιτος, εἰσὶ δ' οἳ καὶ τῶν θαλαττίων ἁλῶν. εἴη δ' ἂν ἤδη τοῦτό γε πλακοῦντός τι γένος ἢ εἶδος ἢ ὅπως ἂν ὀνομάζειν ἐθέλῃς, ὥσπερ καὶ ἄλλα πολλὰ τοιαῦτα πλακούντων εἴδη συντιθέασιν αὐτοσχεδίως οἵ τε κατ' ἀγρὸν ἄνθρωποι καὶ τῶν κατὰ πόλιν οἱ πενέστατοι. τοιγαροῦν καὶ ὅσα διὰ κριβάνου τῶν ἀζύμων πεμμάτων ὀπτῶσιν, εἶτ' ἀφελόντες ἐμβάλλουσιν εὐθέως εἰς μέλι θερμόν, ὡς δέξασθαι δι' ὅλων ἑαυτῶν αὐτό, καὶ ταῦτα πλακοῦντός τι γένος ἐστὶ καὶ τὰ διὰ τῶν ἰτρίων σκευαζόμενα μετὰ μέλιτος πάντα.

Galen, On the Capacities of Foods 1.3 (6.490–492 K.)

---

Update 22 February 2021

My nieces (with my sister’s help) decided to try out Galen’s recipe along with some traditional pancakes. They used some very light olive oil and some locally milled whole wheat flour. Here’s a quick video.

Recreating Democritus’ Party Tricks II: Egg Yolks

Revisiting Democritus’ Party Tricks

Here’s an update on my attempt to replicate one of the party tricks or paignia (παίγνια) attributed to Democritus in the London Papyrus 121, col. 5, ll. 1–19.

Since last year, I’ve noticed that several translators have interpreted the word κρόκος to mean egg yolk instead of saffron.

“To make an egg like an apple: after boiling an egg, coat it with a mixture of egg yolk and wine.”

Ὠὸν ὅμοιον μῆλον* γενέσθαι· ζέσας τὸ ὠὸν χρεῖε κρόκῳ μείξας μετ’ οἴνου.

*μήλῳ Wessely

Papyri Graecae Magicae VII 171–172 = VII (Atomists) R127A.2 Laks-Most

I figured it was worth testing the egg-yolk hypothesis experimentally.

In Greek natural philosophical and medical literature, κρόκος normally refers to the saffron crocus, Crocus sativus L., in particular to the dried stigmata from the flowers used as a spice. Since the spice dyes and stains with a strong orange-yellow colour, the name also came to refer to the colour itself, just as κόκκος, the ‘berry’ of the kermes oak, came to be used for the dark red color of plums. At some point, it also came to refer to the yellow part of the egg, much like the English word ‘yolk,’ which comes from old English word geolca, ultimately from OE geolu, ‘yellow.’ (Both yolk and yellow are cognate with the ancient Greek word χλωρός, ‘fresh,’ ‘green,’ ‘yellow,’ which also came to mean egg yolk).

All this means that interpreters have two options when translating κρόκος in our passage: saffron or egg yolk. Maybe because of the egg connection, some interpreters wagered here it means yolk.

It seemed unlikely to me that mixing egg-yolk with wine could produce a dye of any effect, but I decided to try it out using roughly the same procedure I used last year, boiling the eggs and then dying both the shells and the boiled egg whites. I should have used controls, but this is mostly for fun.

The Experiment

I tried to stay as close to the original experiment as possible. I would use red and white wine, brown and white boiled eggs, and paint both the shells and the egg whites with the mixture. I also tested saffron again for comparison.

Testing the egg yolk interpretation: egg yolks, red and white wine, brown and white eggs.

Egg yolks mixed with red and white wine.

Here are the shells painted with egg yolk and saffron. As you can see, none of these looks like apples.

Brown and white egg shells painted and smeared with wine and yolk mixtures.

Then I peeled the eggs and painted the whites — and the yolks too for good measure. The egg painted with saffron and white wine is the most yellow, almost the colour of the yolk. The egg painted with egg yolk and wine also is a bit yellow, but the mixture flowed off pretty quickly without staining the egg at all (see large photo below). Red wine in all cases made the whites blue. If I’d run a control of plain red wine, I imagine the same would have happened. The egg yolks look pretty gross.

Testing yolk vs saffron on cooked egg whites.

Painted and smeared on.

Here the saffron and wine mixture worked much like last time. It produced egg slices that look like peach or apricot. The egg yolk and wine mixture didn’t produce much of anything.

Red wine (top row) makes egg whites go blue, regardless of what is added. White wine with yolk (bottom right) does almost nothing. White wine with saffron (bottom left) turns egg white saffron or peach coloured.

Conclusions

I talked about the results with Glenn Most and André Laks, who went with egg yolks in their translation for the Loeb series. They offered a response that I admit had not occurred to me and is worth keeping in mind: what if the recipe was not meant to work? What if it was designed to fail?

After all, one might suppose that the title, ‘παίγνια’, even if the term is used in an nonstandard way, still has something to do with childish things: games, jokes, ticks, trifles. What if, in this case, the tick is the one played on the person gullible enough to perform it? It’s a least plausible, given some of the tricks:

“To get hard whenever you want. Grind up pepper with honey and rub it on your thing.”

Στ[ύ]ειν ὅτε θέλεις· πέπερι μετὰ μέλιτος τρίψας χρῖέ σου τὸ πρᾶ̣γ̣μ̣α.

Papyri Graecae Magicae VII 186

Could be. Then again, here’s a 2015 patent for a topical preparation to enhance genital sensation using piperine, a primary component of Piper nigrum L., black pepper.

Replication of PGM VII 171-172

A dinner party plate. Can you tell which of these is an egg?

Dinner Advice for New Year’s Eve

Cabbage with Vinegar

“If you are at a dinner party and want to drink a lot and enjoy your meal, before dinner eat as much raw cabbage with vinegar as you like, and likewise, after dining eat around five [cabbage] leaves. It will restore you as if you had eaten nothing, and you can drink as much as you like.”

Si voles in convivio multum bibere cenareque libenter, ante cenam esto crudam quantum voles ex aceto, et item, ubi cenaveris, comesto aliqua V folia; reddet te quasi nihil ederis, bibesque quantum voles.

Cato the Elder, De re rustica 156.1

Appetizer suggestion: Rotkohl.

Baked Pork Lung

“To make those who drink a lot also not get drunk: eat baked pork lung.”

Πολλὰ πίνοντα καὶ μὴ μεθύειν· χοιραῖον πνεύμονα ὀπτήσας φάγε.

Attributed to Democritus, from the collection of Magical Greek Papyri (source here)

First course suggestion: Bopis.

Partying: a neglected branch of moral philosophy

I’m drinking whisky. A bit from Philo of Alexandria’s work, On Being Drunk, since I’ve been thinking these days about the morality of partying.

“They say that Pheidias, that great sculptor, made statues from bronze, ivory, gold and all sorts of other materials, and that in all of them he expressed one and the same art, so that not only the critics, but even totally normal people might recognize the artist from his works. For, like in the case of twins, where nature will often use the same form and cast things similar that differ very little, in the same way, too, the perfect art, since it is an imitation and representation of nature, will take different materials and shape and stamp the same form on all of them, so that its works are related like siblings and twins.

“The same thing is exhibited in the power of the wise person. For when it is turned to questions about being, it is called piety and holiness. When it is concerned with questions about the heavens and the things in them, it is called physics. It is called meteorology when it is concerned with the atmosphere and its natural turnings and its changes throughout the seasons of the whole year and partially in each monthly and daily cycle. And it is called ethics when it is concerned with questions about correcting human character: one of its branches, the one concerned with the city, is called politics; another, the one concerned with household management, is called economics; and another, the one concerned with drinking parties and festivals, is called the science of partying.”

τὸν ἀνδριαντοποιὸν Φειδίαν ἐκεῖνον καὶ χαλκὸν λαβόντα φασὶ καὶ ἐλέφαντα καὶ χρυσὸν καὶ ἄλλας διαφόρους ὕλας ἀνδριάντας ἀπεργάσασθαι καὶ ἐν ἅπασι τούτοις μίαν καὶ τὴν αὐτὴν ἐνσημήνασθαι τέχνην, ὡς μὴ μόνον ἐπιστήμονας, ἀλλὰ καὶ λίαν ἰδιώτας τὸν δημιουργὸν ἀπὸ τῶν δημιουργηθέντων γνωρίσαι· καθάπερ γὰρ ἐπὶ τῶν διδύμων ἡ φύσις χρησαμένη τῷ αὐτῷ πολλάκις χαρακτῆρι παρὰ μικρὸν ἀπαραλλάκτους ὁμοιότητας ἐτύπωσε, τὸν αὐτὸν τρόπον καὶ ἡ τελεία τέχνη, μίμημα καὶ ἀπεικόνισμα φύσεως οὖσα, ὅταν διαφόρους ὕλας παραλάβῃ, σχηματίζει καὶ ἐνσφραγίζεται τὴν αὐτὴν ἁπάσαις ἰδέαν, ὡς ταύτῃ μάλιστα συγγενῆ καὶ ἀδελφὰ καὶ δίδυμα τὰ δημιουργηθέντα γενέσθαι.

ταὐτὸν οὖν καὶ ἡ ἐν τῷ σοφῷ δύναμις ἐπιδείξεται· πραγματευομένη γὰρ τὰ περὶ τοῦ ὄντος εὐσέβεια καὶ ὁσιότης ὀνομάζεται, τὰ δὲ περὶ οὐρανοῦ καὶ τῶν κατ' αὐτὸν φυσιολογία, μετεωρολογικὴ δὲ τὰ περὶ τὸν ἀέρα καὶ ὅσα κατὰ τὰς τροπὰς αὐτοῦ καὶ μεταβολὰς ἔν τε ταῖς ὁλοσχερέσιν ἐτησίοις ὥραις καὶ ταῖς ἐν μέρει κατά τε μηνῶν καὶ ἡμερῶν περιόδους πέφυκε συνίστασθαι, ἠθικὴ δὲ τὰ πρὸς ἀνθρωπίνων ἐπανόρθωσιν ἠθῶν, ἧς ἰδέαι πολιτική τε ἡ περὶ πόλιν καὶ ἡ περὶ οἰκίας ἐπιμέλειαν οἰκονομική, συμποτική τε ἡ περὶ τὰ συμπόσια καὶ τὰς εὐωχίας.

Philo of Alexandria, De ebrietate, 88–91

Recreating Democritus’ Party Tricks

I. The Recipe

A while ago, I wrote about a collection of recipes for dinner party games in the Greek magical papyri. The collection is light and frivolous, much more so than its arcane and erotic neighbours. It calls itself paignia—tricks—and it also names its author—Democritus, no less!—something most of the other medical and magical recipes avoid. I doubt anyone thinks Democritus actually wrote these recipes, but I still find the ascription curious. Democritus tends to be associated with magic and alchemy (on this, see Matteo Martelli’s work on the Pseudo-Democritus, and his faculty page + academia.edu), and he’s even sometimes presented as a physician. But these recipes aren’t magic or medicine. They’re party tricks.

Now, along with recipes for drinking without getting drunk and techniques for picking up fellow guests, the text also includes a few practical jokes. The first is a recipe for making bronze tableware look like golden, perhaps an omen of alchemy. I’ll try this one as soon as I get my hands on the materials. Materials for the second one were easier to source: it’s a recipe for making eggs look like apples.

“To make an egg that resembles an apple: having boiled the egg, coat it with a mixture of saffron and wine.”

Ὠὸν ὅμοιον μήλον γενέσθαι· ζέσας τὸ ὠὸν χρεῖε κρόκῳ μείξας μετ’ οἴνου.

PGM VII 170–171

I was recently talking about this recipe with Lucia Raggetti (faculty page, academia.edu) from the AlchemEast project at l’Università di Bologna, who inspired me to try it out. It seemed like a good way to try to understand some puzzles about the text: what kind of eggs would they have used? Did they leave the shell on, like an Easter egg? What kind of wine was it? Does the strength of the wine matter? Could we just use water? And saffron—isn’t it yellow? What kind of yellow apple is this supposed to look like? I would need to experiment.

In the end, with a suggestion from Lucia, I think we’re pretty close to understanding the recipe and getting the joke.

Here’s what I came up with:

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Democritean still life: boiled eggs coated with saffron-infused white wine, cut to resemble peaches (with abnormally large stones).

The goal of the recipe seems to be to make the whites of boiled eggs look like the flesh of peaches or apricots. Maybe this conclusion is a bit speculative, but when I showed the results of the experiments to people, these were the ones they found convincing. The other candidates just looked like badly-dyed eggs.

II. Designing the Experiments

The replication of the recipe taught me that imagination and creativity are about as important for designing such experiments as the text itself. I went into the project with a bunch of assumptions about what the recipe was for, assumptions which turned out to be unjustified. I had assumed, for instance, something about the process, namely that I was going to be making Easter eggs; and I had assumed something about the result, namely that I would end up with things that look like little apples.

Because I was starting from these assumptions, my initial design for the experiment was constrained. I came up with what I thought was a thorough test: I would coat the shells of two kinds of eggs (brown and white) using saffron soaked in two kinds of wine (white and red), and I would run two controls, coating each kind of egg with plain red or white wine.

I didn’t realize how constraining these assumptions were until I ran the experiment. What I got looked… well … the results didn’t make convincing Easter eggs, never mind apples (pictured below).

And as it turns out, I had made two mistakes.

The first was to restrict myself to apples. The word written on the papyrus obviously isn’t the English word “apple”—it’s a Greek word, mēlon (μῆλον). This word is by an interesting historical fluke cognate with the English word “melon,” but in Greek it does not refer to cantaloupes or honeydew. Instead, like its Latin cognate, malum, it refers to some kinds of tree fruit. It is usually translated “apple,” like in the Eve and Adam story; and, indeed, “apple” is what I found in most modern translations of the ps.-Democritean paignia. But of course, mēlon doesn’t really mean apple. Its range of meanings is much wider: peaches, citrons, plums, and apricots are all “apples”, or more accurately mēla. The word covers most of the larger tree fruits, which in Greek are usually distinguished by region. Peaches for example are “Persian mēla”; citrons are “Median mēla”, etc.

I knew this. I’ve even written on it before; but, once I had rashly accepted “apple” as a translation, I forgot about the other possibilities. Instead, I’d anticipated a result that wasn’t implied by the text of the papyrus at all.

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First attempt at the replication. White-shelled eggs with (1) saffron and red wine (left) and (2) saffron and white wine (right). The brown eggs (not pictured) showed no appreciable colour change.

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Peaches, detail, showing characteristic long, slender leaves (left panel of those pictured at the top of the post).

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Dyed eggs sliced with shells on to look like apple slices.

My second mistake was to restrict the experiment to dying shells. I didn’t have a principled reason for doing this and the text itself didn’t suggest it. It was more or less force of habit. I’m just used to dyeing egg shells. That’s not to say it was a bad guess (even though I think it was wrong). What I should have done, however, was set up experiments dyeing all the parts of a boiled egg, because the recipe was vague on precisely this point. It doesn’t say what part of the egg is to be coated after you boil it.

Luckily, Lucia caught the mistake. After seeing my yellow Easter eggs, she suggested that I try slicing them to make them look more like what you might find on a plate at a dinner party. These sliced eggs didn’t come out too badly; and it also opened up the possibilities for experimenting. Once the yolks fell out, the imagination took over. It became clear how close the shape and visible texture of the sliced egg was to a slice of peach or apricot.

Once I coated the slices without the yoke and shell, it was immediately obvious.

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Peach slices, canned. Image from here.

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Boiled egg-white, soaked in white wine infused with saffron.

III. How to Make Eggs that Look Like Peaches

Materials:

• Red wine

• White wine

• Brown eggs

• White eggs

• Saffron (you’ll need lots—I got mine at a market pretty cheap)

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Procedure:

The set up for this experiment is pretty straightforward. It also got a bit messy, so best avoid nice clothes and linens.

1. I placed around 30 saffron stigmata in separate glass bowls and soaked them in approx. 10 ml of red or white wine. I used a lot of saffron—so much you could smell it even at an arm’s distance from the bowl. I might have gotten away with less.

2. I let the saffron soak in the wine for around 15 minutes at room temperature. If you don’t use a lot of saffron, let them soak longer.

3. At first, I tried brushing the wine and saffron onto the egg shells, masking half the egg with tape, brushing on the wine, letting them dry, and then painting on the other half. The difference, though, was so minor that I gave up and simply smeared the mixture onto the shells with my fingers without masking. This got me yellow eggs.

4. Lucia suggested slicing the eggs to hide the egg shape and give the impression of a fruit with a rind. It seemed even better to simply remove the shells altogether and try again.

5. After removing the shells, I rolled the eggs around in the wine and saffron.

6. I then sliced them and coated the slices with the saffron and wine mixture again. Sometimes, I removed a slice and left the yolk intact, dimpled with a pencil to look like a peach stone, so that the whole thing looked like something from the Pompeii frescoes.

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1. Adding wine to the saffron

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2. Letting the saffron soak in the wine

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3. Failed experiment: brushing on the saffron mixture

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4. Sliced egg with shell, resembling white-fleshed quince slices.

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5. Rolling eggs, shelled, in the wine and saffron mixture.

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6. Finished product: sliced, with yolk dimpled to look like a peach pit.

IV. Some Conclusions

I shouldn’t read too much into this experiment, but I can’t help but get excited about it. There is something about the process of replicating an ancient recipe that tempts a feeling of familiarity. It’s like being at their table.

I’d love to believe this experiment counts as a piece of evidence for culinary history, that it tells us people used to serve succulent peach slices at their symposia, maybe even with presentations like those we see in the Pompeian frescoes.

And maybe it’s a stretch, but I’d also like to think it adds something to a passage from Sextus Empiricus about yellow apples that always puzzled me:

“The phenomena that strike our senses seem to be complexes of sensations, just as the apple seems to be smooth, fragrant, sweet, and yellow.”

ἕκαστον τῶν φαινομένων ἡμῖν αἰσθητῶν ποικίλον ὑποπίπτειν δοκεῖ, οἷον τὸ μῆλον λεῖον εὐῶδες γλυκὺ ξανθόν.

Sextus Empiricus, Outlines of Pyrrhonism, 1.94

Maybe Sextus and Democritus went to the same kinds of parties.

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Why you probably shouldn’t invite Democritus to your dinner party

Dinner parties can be dull, even in ancient Greece. Democritus’ solution was to prank the hosts, eat lots of garlic, and try to sleep with everyone. No wonder he was called the laughing philosopher.

Here is all of his advice, some of it terrible (find the introvert, rub honey on their face, and tell them to lighten up), some not so bad (a cure for garlic breath), some that uses language I wouldn’t have expected (βινεῖν, στύειν, words discussed by sententiae antiquae). It’s almost certainly not by Democritus; still, it says something about how people might have imagined a night like this would go.

The text is included in the collection of Greek Magical Papyri, the edition of which is available online, with German translation, at the University of Heidelberg Library (vol 1) (vol 2). An English translation with notes is available at archive.org.

Democritus’ Party Tricks (paignia)

To make bronzeware look golden: mix unfired (i.e., native) sulfur with chalky earth and wipe it with it.
To make an egg like an apple: after boiling an egg, coat it with a mixture of saffron and wine.
To make it so that the cook can’t light the fire: put a house-leek plant on his stove.
To make it so that those who eat garlic don’t smell: bake some beetroot and eat it.
To make an old woman stop blathering and drinking so much: chop up some pine and toss it in her drink.
To make the painted gladiators fight. Smoke some hare’s head underneath them.
To make cold hors-d'oeuvres burn the person eating them. Soak squill in warm water and give it to him to wash his hands with. Relieve with oil.
To make those who have a hard time mingling more easy going. Give them gum with wine and honey to rub on their face.
To make those who drink a lot not get drunk. Eat baked pork lung.
To make those who have to walk home not get thirsty. Chug an egg beaten in wine.
To be able to fuck a lot. Grind up fifty small pine cones with two ladles of sweet wine and pepper corns and drink it.
To get hard whenever you want. Grind up pepper with honey and rub it on your thing.

Δημοκρίτου παίγνια·
Τὰ χαλκᾶ χρυσᾶ ποιῆσαι φαίνεσθαι· θεῖον ἄπυρον
μετὰ γῆς κρητηρίας μείξας ἔκμασσε.
Ὠὸν ὅμοιον μήλον γενέσθαι· ζέσας τὸ ὠὸν χρεῖε κρόκῳ
μείξας μετ’ οἴνου. Μάγειρον μὴ δύνασθαι τὴν πυρὰν
ἀνάψαι· βοτάνην ἀεί[ζω]ον θὲς αὐτοῦ εἰς τὴν ἑστίαν.
Φαγόντα σκόρδον μὴ ὄζειν· [ῥ]ίζας <σ>εύτλου ὀπτήσας φάγε.
Γραῦν μήτε πολλὰ λαλεῖν μήτε πολλὰ πίνειν· πίτυν
κόψας βάλε αὐτῆς εἰς τ[ὸ] κράμμα. Μονομάχας ἐζωγραφη-
μένους μάχεσθαι· ὑποκάτω αὐτῶν κάπνισον λαγοῦ κεφαλήν.
Ψυχρὰ τρώγοντα κατακαίεσθαι· σκίλλαν εἰς ὕδωρ χλιαρὸν
βρέξας δὸς αὐτῷ νίψασ[θ]αι. λύσις ἐλαίῳ. Τοὺς [μεμ]ει-
[γμ]ένους μόγις ε̣[ὖ] ποι[εῖ]ν̣· κόμι μετὰ οἴνου καὶ [μέλιτο]ς
δὸς εἰς τὴν ὄψιν μυρ[ίσα]σθαι. Πολλὰ πίνοντα καὶ μὴ με-
θύειν· χοιραῖον πνεύμονα ὀπτήσας φάγε. Ὁδοιποροῦντα
μὴ διψᾶν· ὠὸν <εἰς> οἶνον ἀνακόψας ῥόφα. Πολλὰ βι[ν]εῖν
δύνασθαι· στροβίλια πεντήκοντα μετὰ δύο κυά[θ]ων
γλυκέος καὶ κόκκους πεπέρεως τρίψας πίε. Στ[ύ]ειν,
ὅτε θέλεις· πέπερι μετὰ μέλιτος τρίψας χρῖέ σου τὸ πρᾶ̣γ̣μ̣α.

Papyri Graecae Magicae VII 168-186