Cooking up the Past

By Josette Renard

This volume focuses on the ways in which the production and consumption of food developed in the Aegean region in the Neolithic and Early Bronze Age, to see how this was linked to the appearance of more complex forms of social organisation. Sites from Macedonia in the north of Greece down to Crete are discussed and chronologically the papers cover not only the Neolithic and Early Bronze Age but extend into the Middle and Late Bronze Age and Classical period as well. The evidence from human remains, animal and fish bones, cultivated and wild plants, hearths and ovens, ceramics and literary texts is interpreted through a range of techniques, such as residue and stable isotope analysis. A number of key themes emerge, for example the changes in the types of food that were produced around the time of the Final Neolithic-Early Bronze Age transition, which is seen as a particularly critical period, the ways in which foodstuffs were stored and cooked, the significance of culinary innovations and the social role of consumption.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Oxbow Books
• Release date: Feb 24, 2007
• ISBN: 9781782974512

Book preview

Chapter 1

Cooking up the Past: entre traditions et innovations dans le Néolithique et l’âge du Bronze égéens

Josette Renard

Une des premières tâches de l’archéologie a été de subdiviser notre histoire en périodes et de délimiter ces périodes par des dates. Pour les périodes qui nous intéressent ici, le Néolithique et l’âge du Bronze, ces dates restent souvent approximatives, même si des méthodes et des techniques scientifiques nous aident à affiner nos repères chronologiques.

Pour définir ces périodes, l’archéologie s’est fondée sur l’observation de transformations, notamment dans l’outillage et la céramique. Elle a établi des classements, des typologies. Elle a mis au point des méthodes pour étudier la technologie des différents matériaux utilises par les hommes–la pierre, l’os, le metal, la terre, les matériaux périssables -, et l’on a établi la chaîne opératoire de ces matériaux, autrement dit la succession des différentes étapes allant de l’acquisition du matériau jusqu’à son abandon en passant par sa préparation, la fabrication de l’objet et son utilisation.

Et puis, l’archéologie s’est peu à peu intéressée plus directement à ceux qui produisaient les outils, les armes, les bijoux, à ceux qui construisaient les maisons et les autres structures. Elle s’est ouverte au contexte dans lequel vivaient ces gens, à leur environnement climatique et aux paysages dans lesquels ils évoluaient, à leurs habitats. Elle a étendu son champ de recherche à l’étude des comportements sociaux, économiques, culturels... Pour ce faire, elle a été conduite à traiter avec le même soin toutes les catégories de matériel recueilli et à envisager l’étude de vestiges réduits à l’état d’éléments traces, car toute trace–aussi infime qu’elle soit–peut être source d’information sur le passé.

Ces approches, centrées sur les activités humaines, sont relativement récentes, et elles ont vu le jour d’une part grâce aux relations qui se sont établies entre l’archéologie et d’autres sciences humaines, notamment l’ethnologie, mais bien évidemment aussi l’histoire, et plus récemment la psychologie et la sociologie, d’autre part grâce aux collaborations mises en œuvre avec les sciences de la nature, qu’il s’agisse des sciences de la terre ou de la vie. C’est ce que l’on appelle couramment la pluridisciplinarité ou la multidisciplinarité ou encore l’interdisciplinarité, voire la transdisciplinarité. Ces expressions, souvent employées indifféremment, ne sont pourtant pas synonymes. La pluridisciplinarité et la multidisciplinarité laissent penser à la juxtaposition de plusieurs disciplines, même si elles contribuent sans doute à un même objectif. L’interdisciplinarité implique que les différentes disciplines en question tirent parti les unes des autres, se nourrissent mutuellement pour alimenter les résultats de la recherche. La transdisciplinarité quant à elle s’applique à une thématique approchée par un ensemble de disciplines. Ainsi, si l’on entend par « pratiques alimentaires » l’ensemble des opérations constituant la chaîne opératoire de l’alimentation, de l’acquisition des denrées alimentaires à leurs effets sur l’organisme et sur la santé en passant par la préparation et la consommation des produits, alors la question des pratiques alimentaires est par excellence une thématique pluridisciplinaire, interdisciplinaire et transdisciplinaire. C’est un vaste domaine ouvert à des champs d’investigation très varies, et il suffit, pour s’en convaincre, de lire les titres des articles de ce volume. On y trouve un vocabulaire très riche que l’on peut classer en quatre grands champs lexicaux: celui des sources témoins, c’est-à-dire des vestiges archéologiques, celui des disciplines impliquées dans les recherches, celui des méthodes utilisées pour étudier les vestiges, celui des apports de chaque discipline.

Parmi les différentes catégories de vestiges, on compte les restes organiques végétaux (macrorestes, carporestes, graines et fruits...), animaux (os, carcasses, coquilles...), les ossements humains, les résidus organiques; les vestiges de construction, le mobilier (céramique, outillage en terre, en pierre, en os, en metal...); les images (motifs peints sur les recipients ou sur les murs); les textes, en l’occurrence les textes inscrits sur les tablettes mycéniennes en Linéaire B. Certains de ces vestiges sont sans doute plus parlants que d’autres. Pour les périodes et la region qui nous occupent, le Néolithique et l’âge du Bronze égéens, l’absence de textes à caractère historique et littéraire nous laisse quasiment pour seules sources les vestiges matériels. On peut certes trouver, pour le Bronze Recent, quelques informations dans le contenu à caractère administratif des tablettes inscrites en Linéaire B, mais ces données, outre qu’elles sont très fragmentaires, sont aussi très partielles, et renseignent peu sur les mentalités et les pratiques de l’époque. Il en est de même de la documentation iconographique, les Égéens du Néolithique et de l’âge du Bronze ayant été très avares de representations de scenes de la vie quotidienne. Au Néolithique et au Bronze Ancien, ils préfèrent montrer leur habileté dans des décors géométriques varies et colorés. Au Bronze Moyen et au Bronze Récent, ils excellent dans des figurations végétales ou animales stylisées où les espèces représentées sont souvent difficiles à identifier, qu’il s’agisse de plantes, d’arbustes ou d’arbres, de mammifères, d’oiseaux ou de poissons. Mais nous ne devons négliger aucun indice, même si l’essentiel de nos reflexions se fonde sur les sources matérielles, et c’est en recoupant toutes les données que nous parviendrons peut-être à percevoir les codes structurant les pratiques alimentaires.

Parmi les disciplines impliquées dans la recherche sur les pratiques alimentaires, certaines sont encore très nouvelles. C’est le cas notamment de la paléobotanique (Valamoti) et de l’archéozoologie (Gardeisen, Halstead, Isaakidou), deux spécialités qui ont véritablement pris leur essor il y a une quarantaine d’années, et c’est depuis une trentaine d’années seulement que des programmes ont été initiés dans ces domaines pour le monde égéen, alors que des recherches d’envergure se mettaient en place de façon plus générale dans le domaine du paléoenvironnement. La chimie organique contribue à la mise en evidence de matières organiques archéologiques conservées sous forme de résidus (Decavallas, Roumpou et al.). L’anthropologie physique et la paléopathologie font désormais partie des disciplines qui contribuent à reconstituer un cadre nutritionnel et sanitaire (Charlier, Hapiot, Lagia et al., Petroutsa et al.).

Parallèlement à ces approches nouvelles, des approches plus traditionnelles, parmi lesquelles l’étude de l’architecture et des installations domestiques, se sont enrichies de problématiques plus larges, prenant davantage en compte les contextes de trouvaille et leurs relations (Papaefthymiou et al.). On a commence assez récemment à s’intéresser aux capacités techniques des matériaux de construction, notamment pour les structures de cuisson–fours (Papadopoulou et Prévost-Dermarkar), foyers–et les formes de stockage (silos, greniers). Les travaux sur les céramiques ou l’outillage n’ont plus pour seul objectif d’établir des typologies formelles, ils font désormais une très large place à l’aspect fonctionnel des objets, tant au plan matériel qu’au plan symbolique (Pomadère, Sophronidou et Tsirtsoni, Tomkins).

Ces différentes approches s’appuient sur des méthodes variées, qu’il s’agisse de méthodes traditionnelles en archéologie, enrichies par des problématiques nouvelles, ou de méthodes empruntées aux sciences physiques et aux sciences naturelles. Les typologies s’enrichissent d’études technologiques, d’observations tracéologiques, d’expérimentations (Papadopoulou et Prévost-Dermarkar), tant dans le domaine de la céramique que dans celui de l’outillage en pierre, en os, en terre, en métal, ou encore de la construction de structures de cuisson et d’autres installations culinaires. Les méthodes statistiques, même si elles ne font pas encore l’unanimité, sont devenues plus précises et plus performantes. Les analyses en laboratoire par des méthodes physico-chimiques s’appliquent aussi bien aux matériaux inertes qu’aux restes organiques. Par ailleurs, le recours à des données ethnologiques permet de proposer des modèles techniques ou comportementaux à tester par les faits archéologiques.

Les résultats obtenus par cette approche transdisciplinaire des pratiques alimentaires sont nombreux et varies. La recherche s’est d’abord consacrée à l’aspect nutritionnel des pratiques alimentaires, avant de chercher à replacer ces pratiques dans leur contexte socio-économique. La paléobotanique et l’archéozoologie nous renseignent bien évidemment sur l’évolution de l’agriculture, de l’élevage, sur la place de la chasse et de la pêche, sur la place respective de l’alimentation végétale et de l’alimentation carnée, mais aussi sur le traitement des différentes espèces domestiques ou sauvages, les techniques de boucherie et de transformation des produits végétaux (Gardeisen, Theodoropoulou, Valamoti). La variété des produits consommés au fil du temps révèlent des changements de gout, des choix régionaux, dévoilent des innovations culinaires (Valamoti) qui se manifestent également par l’apparition de formes céramiques différentes, qu’il s’agisse de récipients de cuisson ou de vaisselle de table (Mee). Dans un autre registre, on tente aussi de mettre en evidence, à travers les vestiges archéologiques, des pratiques sociales intracommunautaires et intercommunautaires, comme le partage, la fête ou les échanges (Halstead, Urem-Kotsou et Kotsakis, Cavanagh). Ces problématiques très nouvelles visent aussi à reconnaître, à travers les preparations culinaires, une cuisine ordinaire d’une cuisine plus élaborée peut-être destinée à des elites (Isaakidou). Enfin, l’anthropologie physique et la paléopathologie, révèlent, à travers les lesions observées sur les squelettes, ou grace à des analyses toxicologiques, parasitologiques et isotopiques, le type d’environnement dans lequel évoluaient les populations, les carences alimentaires dont elles étaient victimes et les maladies provoquées par l’absence ou la surabondance de certains apports nutritionnels (Charlier, Hapiot, Lagia et al., Petroutsa et al.).

Les articles qui suivent laissent bien percevoir la complémentarité des différentes disciplines qui œuvrent dans le champ des pratiques alimentaires, en croisant des données d’ordre naturel, matériel et culturel. Étudier les pratiques alimentaires, c’est contribuer non seulement à l’histoire de l’alimentation au sens strict, mais aussi à l’histoire à travers à la fois l’histoire des techniques et l’histoire sociale.

L’intérêt archéologique pour les questions liées aux pratiques alimentaires s’est développé au cours des dernières décennies, en même temps que se manifestaient les interrogations sur l’avenir nutritionnel de l’humanité. Des programmes de recherches interdisciplinaires ont été mis en place sur toutes les périodes, du Paléolithique à l’époque moderne. Des textes sont disponibles pour certaines d’entre elles, mais malgré leurs précieuses informations, aussi bien sur la matérialité des habitudes culinaires que sur les représentations culturelles qui leur sont liées (Bodiou, Roy), ils ne peuvent rendre compte de la totalité des pratiques anciennes.

La recherche sur les pratiques alimentaires est un chantier très prometteur, la réaliser à partir des seuls vestiges archéologiques est un défi auquel cette rencontre internationale propose de se mesurer. Entre traditions et innovations, les recettes ne manquent pas, alors...let us carry on cooking up the past–καλη ορεξη.

Chapter 2

Cooking in the Labyrinth: Exploring ‘cuisine’ at Bronze Age Knossos

valasia Isaakidou

INTRODUCTION

In Cooking, Cuisine and Society, Goody proposed a useful distinction of ‘the process of providing and transforming food’ into four main phases, completed by the final disposal of its remains (Goody 1982: 37).

To date, the study of food in Greek prehistory has concentrated mostly on the production and distribution of its main ingredients (i.e., crop and animal husbandry regimes and storage) and consumption (types of food consumed, receptacles and, to a lesser extent, contexts of consumption). Overemphasis on the nutritional aspect of the latter has been criticised by Hamilakis (1996), mirroring similar debates among sociologists and food historians in the late 1980s-early 1990s (Scholliers 2001, 10). This narrow focus has to some degree been rectified by two recent edited volumes, Food, Cuisine and Society in Prehistoric Greece (Halstead and Barrett 2004) and The Mycenaean Feast (Wright 2004), which situate consumption in its wider socio-economic context.

The stage intervening between production/distribution and consumption, however, that is preparation, remains relatively poorly known. The spatial distribution of cooking and other food processing facilities and its implications for social organisation have been considered (e.g., Whitelaw 1983; Halstead 1995; Rutter 2004). The range of actual and potential ingredients is fairly well known thanks to bioarchaeological studies (macroscopic, e.g., of animal bones and charred plant remains; and microscopic, e.g., lipid residue analysis), although discussion has scarcely gone beyond ‘shopping lists’ of ingredients. Methods of cooking, on the other hand, are largely derived from vessel morphology and the character of particular dishes (i.e., the combination of ingredients) has rarely been explored. The most systematic studies of preparation are those based on archaeobotanical finds of processed crops: split pulses and ground or cracked cereals at LB Thebes in central Greece (Jones and Halstead 1993), LB Akrotiri on the Cycladic island of Thera (Sarpaki 2001a) and EB Mesimeriani and Archontiko in Macedonia (Valamoti 2002). An ambitious recent project, Minoans and Mycenaeans: Flavours of their Time (Tzedakis and Martlew 1999), attempted to tackle the problem of ‘recipes’, mainly through the analysis of organic residues. By identifying traces of substances such as leafy vegetables, honey and fermented beverages, which do not otherwise survive in Aegean archaeological contexts, this project has broadened our understanding of available ingredients and of the use of cooking vessels. The identification, however, of a range of markers for meat, dairy products and vegetables (e.g., Vlazaki, in Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 108) or for resinated wine, barley beer and honey mead (McGovern in Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 208) from a single sherd does not necessarily signify their contemporaneous use in a dish; it could equally represent a palimpsest of meals or beverages prepared in the same vessel (as noted elsewhere in the same volume: Martlew and Beck in Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 183). Thus, despite claims to the contrary (e.g., ‘being among the very first people (sic) to find out what our Bronze Age ancestors ate and drank’–Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 23), this project has done little to advance our knowledge of ‘cuisine’, beyond what has been inferred from macroscopic zooarchaeological and archaeobotanical analyses.

The limitations on analysis of preparation are manifold. As Halstead and Barrett note (2004, 11), the archaeological record of the prehistoric Aegean is not particularly amenable to providing detailed insights into this phase of the cycle, due to conditions of preservation and the lack of complementary sources (in contrast, for example with the Roman period, when written and iconographic evidence are plentiful). The intransigence of the archaeological record is exacerbated by the rarity of bioarchaeological studies, leading to limited integration of complementary strands of archaeological evidence, and by the lack of research questions (other than occasional preoccupation with the antiquity of the ‘healthy Mediterranean diet’–e.g., Reily 1999) linked to an explicit methodological framework.

There are, however, good reasons why we should attempt to tackle this impasse. As Goody amply demonstrates, the rise of ‘haute cuisine’ (i.e., the creation of elaborate dishes as opposed to the mere provision of plenty) is a recurrent feature of elite hospitality in hierarchical societies in Europe and Asia (Goody 1982). Other studies draw attention to the use of food as a means of creating value (Halstead and Barrett 2004, 8) and defining social identity (Scholliers 2001, 11). In the context of the changing character of human societies in the Aegean from the Neolithic to the Bronze Age, the manipulation of food consumption by palatial elites has been convincingly argued from textual (e.g., Killen 1994; 2004) and archaeological (e.g., Bennet and Davis 2001; Bendall 2004; Halstead and Isaakidou 2004; Wright 2004) evidence. Did this manipulation extend to elaborate preparation, i.e. the creation of an ‘haute cuisine’?

The present paper attempts to explore the potential of such an approach. The proposed methodological framework is that provided by Goody’s historical and anthropological study of cooking and cuisine in Africa and Eurasia (Goody 1982). According to Goody’s observations, summarised below, we might expect to find evidence of elaborate cuisine in Aegean palatial contexts and absence of such evidence in earlier periods. Complementary lines of evidence (textual, ceramic, archaeobotanical and, to a lesser degree, iconographic) are surveyed, where available, to explore the potential for development of ‘haute cuisine’ by the palatial elites of southern Greece and especially Crete. Faunal evidence from Neolithic and Bronze Age Knossos, on Crete, is then examined as the basis of a diachronic consideration of the same issue in both prepalatial and palatial societies. In conclusion, some tentative suggestions are offered as to the significance of ‘haute cuisine’ in Aegean palatial societies.

‘HAUTE CUISINE’ À LA GOODY

In his diachronic and cross-cultural study of the cooking, presentation and consumption of food, Goody highlights recurrent contrasts between the culinary traditions of modern African and historical Eurasian societies (the latter ranging from the Greco-Roman world through to Imperial China, Medieval Europe and the Islamic empires). Of especial interest to the present study are his observations concerning the socio-economic conditions underpinning the creation of differentiated cuisines within many Eurasian societies. Goody concludes that ‘in a system of differentiated access to resources (i.e. stratified as opposed to transegalitarian societies) we tend to find a differentiated cuisine, often expressed and elaborated in a culinary literature’ and that the creation of a distinct ‘haute cuisine’ requires a fairly extensive ‘clientele’/elite with ‘an interest in experimentation and ability to sustain and reproduce it’ (Goody 1982, 215). This is seen as an important strategy used by elites to accentuate their differences from ‘commoners’ and so to create a distinct identity.

From the rich array of historical and ethnographic examples presented by Goody, certain recurring features of ‘haute cuisine’ may be identified.

First, in terms of the dishes themselves, Goody notes:

–the use of rare ingredients (exotic/imported, or of restricted local availability), with emphasis on flavour-enhancing spices/condiments and herbs;

–the creation of elaborate recipes and the introduction of exotic/foreign recipes.

Secondly, he notes the need for dependent personnel:

–for acquiring and monitoring produce required for preparation (Goody 1982, 130-31);

–for inventing and executing elaborate recipes and for serving (Goody 1982, 139).

Labour investment is an important aspect of the creation of value, demonstrated in the acquisition of rare ingredients (through cultivation, hunting, trade) and the use of complex sequences or laborious methods of preparation (succession of boiling, frying, baking, in executing a single recipe; fine milling of flour) (Goody 1982, 130). The existence of specialised dependent personnel to invent and reproduce elaborate dishes using specialised utensils (including cooking vessels) is another dimension, as ‘correct’ processes and quantities are crucial in recreating complex dishes and Goody emphasises the element of ‘secrecy’ in recipes, in terms of both methods and ingredients (Goody 1982, 148).

ARCHAEOLOGICAL APPLICATION: PROSPECTS AND LIMITATIONS

Both Goody’s model and previous archaeological research into consumption suggest that exploring the archaeological record for the rise of differentiated cuisines is a worthwhile pursuit. The Minoan (MB-early LB) and Mycenaean (late LB) palatial societies of the southern Aegean were strongly hierarchical, satisfying Goody’s prerequisite for the development of ‘haute cuisine’. Moreover, several contributors to Food, Cuisine and Society in Prehistoric Greece and The Mycenaean Feast have demonstrated that feasts of a highly ‘diacritical’ nature were organised by the palaces, showing manipulation of these commensal events by the elite with the aim, inter alia, of accentuating socio-political differences. The contrast between these events and apparently communal Neolithic feasts of a far greater scale, in terms of foodstuffs consumed and thus number of participants and/or temporal duration, suggests fundamental differences between Neolithic and palatial societies in the role of commensality (Halstead and Barrett 2004; Pappa et al. 2004).

Can we also identify differences between palatial and non-palatial societies in food preparation, including the existence of differentiated cuisines in the former? Some of the characteristics of ‘haute cuisine’ can be identified in the archaeological record, directly or indirectly. Direct evidence for ingredients is provided by bioarchaeological remains, most commonly, in an Aegean context, animal bones and charred plant remains. Bioarchaeological evidence is widely available in time and space, but has not been commonly used to illuminate preparation, for various reasons. The archaeobotanical record is heavily influenced by standards of retrieval, which have rarely been systematic in the southern Aegean, and by the complex of factors controlling preservation by charring. Available charred plant remains most often represent other stages of the cycle (e.g., processing debris, stored produce and excreted animal fodder) and only rarely cooking accidents which might directly illuminate methods of food preparation. Moreover, the commonest finds by far are cereals and pulses, while flavour-enhancing spices and herbs are rarely found. The retrieval and preservation of faunal remains, though far from unproblematic (Payne 1985), is probably more routine and less fortuitous. Animal bones mostly represent discarded remains of food, but provide evidence for preparation in the form of fragmentation patterns and butchery traces. Such information, however, can only be derived from large assemblages recorded systematically and in great detail–requirements not commonly met in faunal studies in the southern Aegean. Finally, an important component of Goody’s model, dependent specialised personnel, can be identified only through other types of archaeological evidence. Because of the above, before considering faunal evidence from Knossos, discussion will focus on what can be gleaned from other types of information, in some respects more interpretable, but also of more restricted availability in time and space, than animal remains.

Linear B and archaeobotanical evidence for herbs and spices

One recurrent feature of ‘haute cuisine’, observed by Goody, is the use of flavour-enhancing –often exotic–spices and condiments. Such ingredients are mentioned in a number of Linear B texts from the later Mycenaean palaces and have been discussed mainly in the context of the palatial perfumed oil industry (e.g., Shelmerdine 1985). The list (compiled from Ventris and Chadwick 1973 and including records from southern mainland Greece as well as Knossos) includes:

–Celery

–Coriander

–Cumin

–Cyperus

–Fennel

–Mint

–Pennyroyal

–Safflower (including both seeds and flowers, potentially used as flavourings and food dyes respectively–Melena 1983, 91)

–Saffron

–Sesame

–‘Phoenician spice’/‘Condiment from Canaan’

The most extensive list of such herbs and spices comes from the House of the Sphinxes at Mycenae (Ge602–608 set) (Ventris and Chadwick 1973, 225–31). They are measured mostly by volume (in rather small quantities, e.g., 0.5–2 1., except for coriander seed, which is listed as 241.), in cups and baskets (suggesting that the measurements probably refer to seeds rather than plants), but also by unit–interpreted as bunches, since they refer to items probably collected as stems and leaves, e.g., mint (Killen 1983, 230). Melena suggests a culinary use for the goods in the Ge set, as the small quantities listed are in stark contrast to the large quantities of spices recorded in tablets related to unguent manufacture (Melena comments in Killen 1983, 232–3; Melena 1983). Moreover, Killen argues that the Ge tablets are ‘likely to be records of central palace ... activity’, with successive contributions of these goods within one year (Killen 1983, 229), implying a concern with freshness of herbs that would certainly be compatible with elite culinary use (see also Palmer 1999, 480). As with other commodities (Halstead 1992), the close monitoring of spices and herbs attests to their importance for the palatial administration (Palmer 1999, 482). Finally, the texts provide hints of an exotic origin for some of these plants: according to Ventris and Chadwick, cumin (the natural distribution of which today is Central Asia–Zohary and Hopf 2000, 206) and sesame (see also Melena 1983,91) retain Semitic names and a third item is described as ‘Phoenician spice’ in the Linear B texts. As Ventris and Chadwick also point out, even plants ultimately of exotic origin may, by the time they appear in these texts, have been cultivated in the Aegean (Ventris and Chadwick 1973, 131, 136).

Actual finds of the herbs and spices mentioned in Linear B texts are extremely rare in the Aegean: coriander has been identified at EB Sitagroi (Zohary and Hopf 2000, 205) and LB Akrotiri-Thera (Sarpaki 2001b, 216). In the case of spices stored in seed form, this rarity reflects, in the first instance, the relatively recent application of systematic recovery of archaeobotanical remains (i.e., through flotation). Moreover, as Valamoti notes, their high content in oils will cause them to combust rather than become charred and thus preserved, reducing the likelihood that they will be preserved archaeologically like other seed crops (Valamoti 2004). Among plant remains preserved overwhelmingly by charring, the causes of the lack of evidence for herbs are self-evident. Finally, systematic use can be reliably inferred archaeobotanically only from finds of cached seeds, as some of these plants are indigenous to the Aegean and may represent wild seeds accidentally introduced with cultivated crops, while another recently suggested use is as insect repellents in stored seed crops (Panagiotakopulu et al. 1995). The waterlogged finds of coriander, safflower, sumac and black cumin from the LB Uluburun shipwreck are extremely important from this point of view as they constitute solid evidence that spices were transported by ship around the Eastern Mediterranean (Haldane 1993, 352). Another interesting find from the same wreck is that of pine nuts (Haldane 1993, 352), for which collection and extraction from the woody shells is a very laborious task; pine nuts have in more recent times been used in sauces (e.g., pesto) and in stuffing of elaborate meat and vegetable dishes with raisins and rice in elite Persian and Ottoman cuisine.

At least in the palatial period, therefore, herbs and spices were monitored and consumed by the palaces and potentially also traded. Their use in cooking, although not unambiguously demonstrable, would have allowed the creation of recipes with more intricate flavours, to which value would have been added by the use of ingredients of exotic origin. The combined textual and archaeobotanical evidence, such as it is, is thus consistent with two components of Goody’s model: the use of a variety of flavour-enhancing ingredients (spices and herbs); and the use of ingredients of possibly exotic origin. To what extent these herbs and spices were available before their appearance in written records of the palatial period is unclear from the sparse archaeobotanical record, but names of Semitic origin in Linear B perhaps indicate late introductions.

Finally, a range of additional foodstuffs, locally produced but requiring a considerable amount of labour investment in their production, is manifested in the archaeobotanical and/ or textual record: olive oil arguably for culinary use (listed in the Knossos Fs series along with other foodstuffs–Chadwick 1966, 30-32), cheese (Pylos Un718), possibly edible olives (Melena 1983, 122) and fruits (which could be used in a range of states, i.e., dried, juice extracted/fermented, etc.). The enhancement of value through use of such ingredients brings us to Goody’s next observation, the role of personnel in the creation of differentiated cuisines.

Linear B and iconographic evidence for specialist personnel

The existence of a variety of both skilled and unskilled personnel and craftspeople is also revealed in Linear B documents from LB Knossos and elsewhere. Of relevance to the present discussion are (Ventris and Chadwick 1973, 123):

–Bread bakers (a-to-po-qo)

–Flour grinders (me-re-ti-ja)

–‘Grain pourers’ (si-to-ko-wo)

–Serving women (a-pi-qo-ro)

–Hunters (?providers of game)

Palmer has proposed the following division of labour and status for the first three occupational groups: i) a small group of specialised male employees of ‘some status’ who prepared and baked bread (a-to-po-qo); ii) a slightly larger number of women of lower status who produced finely-ground flour (me-re-ti-ja); iii) a larger group of women of low status who mass-produced coarse-ground meal (Palmer 1992, 487). Palmer suggests that the much larger numbers of si-to-ko-wo women listed in the texts, as opposed to me-re-ti-ja, imply that smaller quantities of flour were produced by the latter and considerably larger quantities of meal by the former and notes an ‘interesting Mesopotamian parallel from an Ur III text’, where the estimated output of the daily labour of a woman grinder was approximately 20 litres of ‘esa flour’ and only 5 litres of ‘finest quality gu flour’ (Palmer 1992, 488–9 and footnote 71).

Another indication of differential status may be the dress code implied by LB iconography. Male figures performing tasks are routinely dressed in short garments, as is the case of the rowers, helmsmen and shepherds in the Miniature Fresco from Thera (Doumas 1992, e.g., pls. 27–29). Examples relevant to the present discussion are the ‘kilt-wearing’ tripod-cauldron bearers in the miniature fresco from Ayia Irini, Keos (Morgan 1998, 209, fig. 6) and analogous figures from Pylos, also dressed in knee-high garments and accompanied by dog leaders and a male figure carrying a, presumably, slaughtered animal (Wright 2004, figs. 10 and 11). The outfit of these figures contrasts strongly with the long garments worn by the seated figures in the Theran boats (Doumas 1992, pls. 36–38), those seated at a table in the Pylos megaron fresco (Wright 2004, fig. 13) and the various, arguably, high-status women in elaborate dress known from a host of scenes. Evidently, the long elaborate garments are more compatible with the types of activity–or, rather, inactivity–in which the apparently higher status individuals are involved, while the scantily-clad figures are engaged in tasks such as carrying vessels and tending animals.

The listing and depiction of specialised personnel who performed very distinct tasks related to food preparation and consumption, the gender division of labour–also known elsewhere in the Linear B record–and the substantial time investment in the procurement (e.g., hunting of game) and processing (e.g., of limited quantities of finely-ground flour) document two further components of Goody’s model: use of specialised dependent personnel and major labour investment. As with herbs and spices, however, in the absence of written records and figurative art, the failure to identify prepalatial culinary specialists must be treated with extreme caution.

Ceramic evidence for methods of cooking

Further insights into cuisine, especially methods of food preparation, can be gleaned from cooking vessels and utensils. Metal vessels and utensils of potentially culinary use are found infrequently and mostly in funerary contexts, making interpretation of their use problematic, and so the following discussion focusses on their more abundant and more ubiquitous ceramic counterparts. To avoid conflating evidence from rather different regional ceramic traditions, discussion is also restricted to Crete and will thus use the conventional division of the Bronze Age into Early Minoan (EM), Middle Minoan (MM) and Late Minoan (LM); the ‘palatial period’ on Crete is subdivided into Old Palace (MMIB-MMIIA/B), New Palace (MMIIB-LMIB) and Final Palace (?LMII-LMIIIB early). Unfortunately, cooking vessels and utensils have been low on the traditional research agendas of both excavators and pottery specialists in the Aegean, because of their negligible aesthetic appeal, their limited potential (compared to fine decorated pottery) as dating devices and the considerable time investment required in ‘strewing’ and mending (usually exacerbated by their lack of decoration). One grave consequence of their low status has been a tendency to discard ‘coarse wares’ and to publish only ‘representative examples’ (for a list of publications discussing cooking vessels and installations from Crete, see Rutter 2004, 86, endnote 4). Research into cooking vessels has thus tended to concentrate on typology rather than function.

The resulting scarcity of published data prevents a systematic analysis of cooking vessels. Detailed recording and analysis, of features such as height of legs (and thus distance from source of heat), capacity, presence/absence of spouts, type of rim and arrangement of handles, would be required to shed light on the types of preparation possible with different forms. Such an approach is attempted by Borgna (1997), but not in a systematic fashion and without quantitative data. Martlew has discussed an experimental approach to function, but results from this study are not yet published (Martlew 1996, 144–45). Nor have studies been published examining technological properties that might influence vessel usage (e.g., thermal shock resistance). Analysis of spatially associated sets of utensils and vessels, which might shed light on the complexity of cuisine without assigning functions to individual vessel types, is also a recent development (e.g., Rutter 2004). Consequently, only an impressionistic presentation of the data can be attempted here, drawing evidence from various Cretan sites and highlighting some trends relevant to the present discussion.

Understanding of the cooking vessel repertoire of Neolithic Crete is particularly difficult. The large ceramic assemblage from Knossos is currently under detailed study (Tomkins in press). Immediately recognisable examples of probable cooking vessels are rare: the jars with stands (called ‘hole-mouth pots’ by the excavator), found crushed but complete in two pits cut within the collapsed Middle Neolithic (in local terms) House A at Knossos (Evans 1964, 174, 176, figs. 42–3), are plausible candidates. Indeed, recognisable cooking vessels are not common in the earlier Neolithic elsewhere in Greece, either because pots were not initially used for cooking (Vitelli 1989) or because potters did not draw a clear distinction between vessels and fabrics for cooking and serving food (e.g., Urem-Kotsou et al. 2002, 116).

Identification of Bronze Age cooking vessels is simpler, as shapes and fabrics become more specialised. The repertoire is dominated by two broad categories of vessels: deep jars and tripod cooking pots; and shallow trays (with or without legs) and legless dishes (for the distinction between trays and dishes, see Betancourt 1980). A notable feature is the continuity of these two broad categories of cooking vessels from at least EMII to LMIII (Popham 1984, 174). A number of smaller vessels have also been identified as probable cooking pots, for example, the small ‘cup-shaped jugs’ of various sizes, with a globular profile, single handle and occasionally a pouring spout, from LMII contexts in the Unexplored Mansion at Knossos (Popham 1984, 175, pl. 85h and i). A range of less common artefacts has been identified, by analogy with modern utensils of similar forms, as preparation and serving utensils, including dippers (often categorised as cups), strainers (Warren 1972, 158, fig. 42, P71; 207, fig. 9 P702) and graters (Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 96–7, pls. 68, 69) and spit rests and ‘grids’ (Bosanquet 1923, 72, fig. 58).

A number of complete vessels from palatial contexts allows a distinction to be made between two distinct shapes of tripod cooking pots (TCP): the straight-sided TCP with open mouth, often a spout and handles (Betancourt’s type B–for a complete MMII–III example from Phaistos, see Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 88, pl. 53); and the globular TCP, usually with no spout and two horizontal handles (Betancourt’s type A) and everted rims (e.g., Betancourt 1980, fig. 1A), or incurving mouth (e.g., Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 89, pl. 54, an MMIIB example from Monastiraki, Amari). Type B is represented from at least EMII onwards by several examples from Myrtos Phournou Koryphi (Warren 1972, figs. 60-62). Both types (A and B) appear to have been used concurrently in the Neopalatial period but, at least at Kommos, Type B is almost completely replaced by Type A from LMIIIB (Betancourt 1980, 5). Both types are also found from EM to Final Palatial contexts at Knossos (e.g., Catling et al. 1979, Popham 1984, Wilson 1985).

A few characteristics, observable in published drawings and photographs, give some clues as to the types of cooking possible with these vessels. First, the provision of legs was presumably intended to control heating. In the later Neolithic this was achieved by the use of fenestrated stands (as described above) through which fire could presumably be kindled or refuelled, a technique which resurfaces in LMIIIC (e.g., Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 102, pls. 72–3). Differentiation between types of cooking is suggested by the contemporaneous existence of straight-sided (Type B) and globular (Type A) TCP in Neopalatial and early Final Palatial contexts. Type A would have reduced the amount of liquid lost through evaporation, and so would have been particularly suitable for dishes requiring prolonged cooking. Evaporation of liquids in either type of TCP could have been controlled by the use of a lid, and the presence of a central hole on a LMII lid from the Unexplored Mansion (Popham 1984, pl. 95d) would have allowed vigorous boiling with reduced danger of boiling-over. The open mouths of Type B vessels would have afforded easy access for frying, but their use for the preparation of liquid dishes is clearly implied by the presence of spouts on most of the published examples. The open mouth of these vessels would also have facilitated evaporation to thicken sauces and such use seems particularly plausible for the small versions of Type B TCP found in the Unexplored Mansion (Popham 1984, pl. 162 no 11). Even the larger TCP, to judge from a few complete LMIA examples from Kommos (Rutter 2004, figs. 4.3 and 4.4), are of modest capacity and would be suitable for cooking, say, no more than about 3 kg of chick peas (and large LMII examples from the Unexplored Mansion are half this size). Cooking jars without legs (e.g. Rutter 2004, fig. 4.5) would have allowed the preparation of larger quantities of food. The availability of pots of significantly different capacities has two implications. Smaller vessels would have been more suitable for the successful execution of elaborate recipes, while the numbers of people to be fed could not have been great–possibly a couple of dozen.

While trays and TCP would have been suitable for boiling, stewing and frying, it is not obvious how baking might have been achieved. The rarity of ovens and permanent cooking installations in Minoan contexts is curious, unless interpreted as an artefact of preservation and interpretation biases. The provision of Minoan cooking vessels (pots and trays) with legs, however, may indicate an ‘oven-free’ cooking tradition (also noted by Sarpaki for LB Akrotiri –2001a, 40), while some finds suggest alternative methods for baking bread. Sarpaki has raised the possibility that Bronze Age bread was flat ‘pitta’, rather than raised loaf type, and illustrates two examples of ‘portable ovens’ with a flat closed top, on which the former could have been baked while fire was controlled through a side opening (Sarpaki 2001a, 40, figs. 6 and 7). Tripod trays may have been used in a similar fashion. Finally, various propositions have been made for the function of the peculiar ‘cooking dish’, attested from at least EMII onwards at various sites across Crete (e.g., baking plate Type I in Wilson 1985, 337, pl. 32; Gerontakou 2000). The latest suggestion is of use as the lining of shallow pits related to cooking and/or overnight preservation of fire (Gerontakou 2000, 213; for a rival interpretation see Sakellarakis and Sakellaraki 1997, 423 and fig. 394). The spit-rests discussed above also imply the practice of barbecuing.

During the palatial era, therefore, a wide range of utensils and pot types was available, making possible several alternative methods of cooking: slow and fast boiling, steaming, frying, stewing, baking and barbecuing. Two distinct types of TCP, globular and straight-sided, co-existed for a few centuries, implying their complementary use for distinct types of cooking (see also Rutter 2004, 180), even if the nature of these different cooking methods can only be suggested very tentatively. A variety of other cooking vessel types and auxiliary utensils (e.g., the ‘cup-jugs’ from the Unexplored Mansion; strainers), in a range of sizes, will have enabled a degree of complexity and sophistication in food preparation in palatial contexts that is consistent both with the documentary evidence discussed above and with the expectations of Goody’s model. The diversity of palatial cooking equipment contrasts strikingly with the scarcity of recognizable cooking vessels from the Neolithic and is unlikely to be simply an artefact of limited published data from the Neolithic. Whether or not the palatial repertoire of cooking vessels was more diverse than that from the pre-palatial Early Minoan period is more difficult to assess, as excavations of EM settlements have been few and relatively small in extent. Certainly, the available EM evidence indicates considerable continuity in at least basic forms throughout the Bronze Age.

The evidence presented in this section suggests that some of the material components of Goody’s model for the creation of differentiated ‘haute cuisine’ are encountered in palatial Crete, but preservation and research biases leave unclear whether or not they occur in earlier periods and non-palatial contexts. Textual and iconographic evidence is temporally and spatially very restricted, complete sets of cooking vessels are known mostly from palatial contexts and archaeobotanical remains, which have begun to be systematically recovered only in the last 15–20 years, provide a patchy picture. For this reason we finally turn to the last type of evidence to be examined, faunal remains, which are almost ubiquitous in time and space. The faunal assemblage from Neolithic and Bronze Age Knossos on Crete provides an outstanding opportunity for long-term diachronic analysis of meat processing and consumption.

FAUNAL EVIDENCE FOR ‘HAUTE CUISINE’ FROM PREHISTORIC KNOSSOS

In order to evaluate the importance of meat consumption in ‘haute cuisine’ at Knossos, it is important first to state that the role of meat in prehistoric Cretan diet is unlikely to have been that of a staple, for simple ecological reasons. The production of meat is energetically far more costly than the production of grain crops (cf. Odum 1975) and production of fat-rich carcasses, necessary for a viable carnivorous diet (e.g., Speth 1983), is particularly demanding. Meat-based subsistence is thus extremely improbable for large communities (e.g., Halstead 1981), such as Knossos in the Bronze Age or even in the Neolithic (cf. Whitelaw 2001; 2004). On the other hand, ethnographic (e.g., Prakash 1961, quoted in Goody 1982, 116; Goody 1982, 63; Halstead, this volume) and historical evidence (e.g., Ahsan 1979, quoted in Goody 1982, 128; Stuff 1970, 276, quoted in Goody 1982, 134) strongly suggest that meat is likely to have been consumed on special occasions, the regularity of which differed between different segments of the population. Arguments to the contrary for later Bronze Age southern Greece, based on isotopic analysis of human skeletons (Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 18), are unconvincing for two reasons. First, the skeletons analysed are primarily from elite contexts (e.g., the Mycenae grave circles). The LM Armenoi cemetery in Crete, is argued to include both ‘rich’ and ‘poor’ burials (Tzedakis and Martlew 1999, 18), but the criteria for assigning status to burials are not specified, nor are the published isotopic data differentiated by inferred status so that the relationship between diet and status can be evaluated. Secondly, and most importantly, isotope ratios represent animal protein intake which may result from consumption not only of meat, but also of dairy products (e.g., Triantaphyllou 2001 with further references), as is pointed out by the analysts elsewhere in the volume.

Consumption of meat, although arguably marking special events, is not enough in itself to suggest the existence of differentiated cuisine (the consumption of roast lamb or kid at Easter in recent Greek village communities is an obvious counter-example). Faunal analysis, however, may provide evidence for two of the recurrent features of haute cuisine identified by Goody. First, the consumption of animals that are exotic, rare, difficult to capture (e.g., dangerous game, such as wild boar) or costly to rear (e.g., well fed adult cattle) may be recognised from taxonomic and demographic data, interpreted in the light of broader patterns of animal biogeography and animal management. Secondly, the adoption of methods of carcass processing suggestive of, or amenable to, elaborated cuisine may be inferred from anatomical representation and traces of butchery. More particularly, the anatomical distribution of butchery marks may indicate the size of ‘parcels’ in which meat was cooked and hence the practicability of stewing or boiling meat in a pot, perhaps with other ingredients, rather than roasting it in an oven or pit. To this end, faunal evidence for meat parcel size must be compared with ceramic evidence for cooking vessel capacity from contemporary contexts. These variables are explored here in the faunal material from Knossos. A diachronic study brings into relief similarities and differences between various stages in the history of the site and invites interpretation of these patterns in the light of the changing wider socio-economic context. Unfortunately, comparison with other sites on the island is not possible at present, due to the lack of comparable published data.

Material and methods

Ongoing study of faunal remains at Knossos has centred on analysis of ca. 50,000 identified specimens of animal bones and teeth, from contexts spanning some 6,000 years of apparently continuous occupation at the site. All phases of the Neolithic and Bronze Age are represented, albeit in varying quantities, depending on the area exposed by excavation. For present purposes, the following chronological units are distinguished: Neolithic (seventh to fourth millennia BC); Early Minoan (third millennium BC); MMIA (early second millennium BC) and ‘palatial’ (second millennium BC).

Specimens chosen for analysis were those most amenable to quantification and taxonomic identification: horn/antler, mandible and limb bones (excluding carpals and smaller tarsals). Precise location of butchery marks, fragmentation and taphonomic information (carnivore gnawing, burning, etc.) were recorded for each specimen as appropriate, as well as anatomical, taxonomic, pathological, metrical, age and sex data (for detailed discussion, see Isaakidou 2004). Following Binford’s actualistic study of Nunamiut carcass processing (Binford 1981), butchery marks were assigned, where possible, to skinning (encircling marks around the head and feet), dismembering (transverse cuts around articulations inflicted in sectioning of carcasses) and filleting (typically, longitudinal or diagonal marks on bone shafts, implying the removal of meat from the bone). Binford studied Nunamiut processing of uncooked carcasses, rather than ‘carving’ of cooked meat. Cooking renders muscles and joints softer and thus more amenable to dismembering and filleting, so that cutting implements are used less frequently and with less force and are thus less likely to inflict detectable marks on the bone. It is assumed below that most dismembering and filleting marks observed in the Knossos assemblage were inflicted in the course of processing raw meat.

Insights from taxonomic and demographic composition

There is strong evidence that all animal remains unearthed at Knossos are derived from species originally introduced by humans. The Pleistocene endemic fauna of Crete is now well known from palaeontological studies (see various papers in Reese 1996) and ongoing zooarchaeological work has established the absence of endemic herbivores in archaeological contexts at Knossos from the earliest Neolithic onwards (Isaakidou 2004). It is thus likely that the endemic populations were extinct by the time of human colonisation in the Neolithic (Isaakidou 2004; contra Lax and Strasser 1992). The four major domestic taxa, sheep (Ovis aries), goats (Capra hircus), pigs (Sus domesticus) and cattle (Bos taurus), introduced by Neolithic colonists in the early seventh millennium BC (Jarman and Jarman 1968; Broodbank and Strasser 1991; Isaakidou 2004), were the main sources of meat protein throughout the Neolithic and Bronze Age. At some point in time, introduced goats gave rise to the present Cretan population of feral goats or agrimia, the presence of which is often inferred uncritically from palatial iconography. Given the absence of endemic competitors, feral populations may also have developed (and subsequently disappeared) from other domesticates. Metrical data for all four principal domestic species exhibit considerable variability, diachronic and/or synchronic, but the combination of variable sample size and sexual dimorphism (especially marked in goats) at present precludes the identification of feral individuals of distinctive size.

Dog (Canis familiaris) and badger (Meles sp.) were also introduced by man and apparently consumed at Knossos, as some specimens bear traces of butchery not readily attributable to skinning. Remains of badger and dog are few (even with allowance for biased recovery), however, and widely distributed in time, with no contextual evidence that their consumption had particular significance (e.g., of a ritual nature or as famine food). Other introduced taxa, such as red deer (Cervus elaphus), are represented so rarely, by single specimens in any one ceramic phase, that not even their chronological distribution can be ascertained reliably. Of particular interest, therefore, are fallow deer (Dama dama), also undoubtedly introduced to the island by humans and present in consumption debris among remains of domesticates in a few Neopalatial and Final Palatial contexts (Isaakidou 2004). Interestingly, fallow deer are absent from Neolithic levels (with the exception of a single fragment identified among 20,000 recorded specimens), in contrast to their introduction to other Aegean islands in the Neolithic (Halstead 1987, 75). At LM Knossos, parts of the skeleton represented (head, legs and feet) suggest that whole animals were introduced to the site, either as carcasses or on the hoof. It is difficult to establish whether these animals had been released in the wild and hunted–as has been argued for Neolithic and EBA Cyprus (Davis 1989, 191) and LN-FN Rhodes (Halstead 1987, 75 and fig. 2)–brought as gifts from overseas, or bred in captivity. Their chronological distribution, body part representation and rarity (0.35% of the Neopalatial and 0.8% of the Final Palatial assemblage) suggest that, at Knossos, fallow deer were a restricted resource of special status. Such a proposition would be further strengthened by their absence from contemporary sites of lower status across the island, but relevant evidence is not as yet available.

Analysis of age and sex data from Knossos indicates a shift to consumption of higher frequencies of adult male sheep, goats and cattle in the Bronze Age (Isaakidou 2006). These adult males might represent the costly rearing of large carcasses for elite consumption or by products of emphasis on exploitation of secondary products (compatible with textual evidence for palatial specialisation in wool sheep and draught cattle). It is difficult to choose between these alternatives, because the faunal samples of palatial date from Knossos are almost entirely derived from the ‘public-elite core’ of the site (cf. Whitelaw 2001).

Insights from butchery marks

Analysis of butchery marks at Knossos indicates a significant increase in the frequency of both dismembering and filleting marks (TABLE 2.1) from the Neolithic and Early Minoan to the palatial period (Isaakidou 2004). This contrast is not an artefact of taphonomic processes: for example, gnawing by dogs might obscure cut marks and is infrequent in most palatial contexts, but the same is true of some Neolithic phases with low incidences of butchery traces (Isaakidou 2004). Nor can this contrast be attributed to the substitution of chipped stone cutting tools by metal knives, because the EM assemblage has a low incidence of cut marks and yet these can be attributed, on the basis of morphology and details of anatomical placement, to metal knives. Thus the observed shift in butchery patterns is not an artefact of greater visibility of cut marks inflicted by metal knives nor the