Layered Cheesecake

This remarkable cake comes from Cato’s farming book. The name is Greek (and it had nothing to do with the modern meaning of placenta, invented by a seventeenth-century scientist). In Greek the word could often mean a flat cake with a pastry base; goat’s milk cheese and honey were among typical ingredients. A Greek comedy included a brisk exchange between a wordy gourmet and a down-to-earth eater:

The streams of the tawny bee, mixed with the clotted river of bleating she-goats, placed upon a flat receptacle of the virgin daughter of Zeus, delighting in ten thousand delicate veils - or shall simply say cake for cake.

Roman placenta, like libum, was not only a delicacy for humans but also a sacrificial cake offered on temple altars. The Roman poet Horace tells of a temple slave who ran away because he was sick of honeyed placenta and wanted some good plain bread. Cato’s Latin placenta is a single, very specific and very complicated recipe. It is likely that Cato was confused by the recipe he was copying. The ratio of ingredients doesn't always work: the 2lb of soaked semolina will not absorb 4lb of flour to make a dough for the internal layers; and the base dough, when rolled out, will be several feet across! The thickness of the outer covering is crucial: if made to Cato’s recipe, it must have been fairly thick or the cake would have been too large to bake. To make a dinner-party placenta we had better ignore the ratios he gives and simply follow the method. The following recipe, then, is a small delicate version of Cato’s cake that could have graced a Roman banquet.

This remarkable cake comes from Cato’s farming book. The name is Greek (and it had nothing to do with the modern meaning of placenta, invented by a seventeenth-century scientist). In Greek the word could often mean a flat cake with a pastry base; goat’s milk cheese and honey were among typical ingredients. A Greek comedy included a brisk exchange between a wordy gourmet and a down-to-earth eater:

The streams of the tawny bee, mixed with the clotted river of bleating she-goats, placed upon a flat receptacle of the virgin daughter of Zeus, delighting in ten thousand delicate veils - or shall simply say cake for cake.

Roman placenta, like libum, was not only a delicacy for humans but also a sacrificial cake offered on temple altars. The Roman poet Horace tells of a temple slave who ran away because he was sick of honeyed placenta and wanted some good plain bread. Cato’s Latin placenta is a single, very specific and very complicated recipe. It is likely that Cato was confused by the recipe he was copying. The ratio of ingredients doesn't always work: the 2lb of soaked semolina will not absorb 4lb of flour to make a dough for the internal layers; and the base dough, when rolled out, will be several feet across! The thickness of the outer covering is crucial: if made to Cato’s recipe, it must have been fairly thick or the cake would have been too large to bake. To make a dinner-party placenta we had better ignore the ratios he gives and simply follow the method. The following recipe, then, is a small delicate version of Cato’s cake that could have graced a Roman banquet.