1,000 years after the Chinese first wrote about it, and it spread throughout the Roman Empire. Long before the rise of Rome, the Romans had mastered everything to do with salt. Then, they went on to conquer the salt people.
THE CELTS – MYSTICAL SALT PEOPLE
Existing in parallel with the Roman Empire were the barbarians (the Romans referred to everyone who lived outside of their Empire as barbarians, albeit not necessarily with the same negative connotations that the word carries today), and among the most important of the barbarian peoples were the Celts. There remains an aura of mystery and uncertainty around the Celts, primarily because they left behind no written sources. What we do know, however, from numerous archaeological discoveries, is that theirs was a rich culture, skilled in trade, livestock and, not least, salt.
The Greeks called the people living to the north of the Roman Empire ‘keltoi’. The Romans called them ‘galli’, or Gauls, while the Egyptian version was ‘hal’ – which means salt. The Celts were the salt people.
Strabo (63 BC–24 AD)
Whenever you find a town called Hall-something-or-other, it’s more than likely that you’re looking at a Celtic settlement – a town where salt was extracted. The most famous of these is Hallstatt, where a huge prehistoric salt mine, filled with archaeological riches, has been found.
According to Mark Kurlansky’s book Salt, the Celts quickly learned that there was much to be gained from selling not just salt but salted meat, too. Salted meat was a Celtic speciality, known throughout Europe and the outer edges of the ancient world.
We know of the Celts’ love of pork from two ancient, unconnected historians from Greece. Strabo (63 BC –24 AD) observed that the Celts were fond of ham, especially from domesticated animals. They may well have developed the forerunner to Parma ham, for example, and they didn’t stop there. The second historian, Athenaios, writing 200 years later, tells that the Celts seemed to have a particular love of the upper cuts of ham, which brings us perilously close to that all-important pork belly. It’s interesting that Athenaios felt that this distinction was worth pointing out. The difference between a cut of meat from the upper or lower part of the leg isn’t especially great in itself, but as soon as you reach the belly, the meat becomes much fattier. This makes the distinction more worthy of note. It’s as though the historian is trying to tell us that the Celts almost loved bacon but missed by a few centimetres – perhaps due to a lack of precise terminology, culinary understanding, or anatomical knowledge.
In summary: the Celts loved pork, were specialists in both salt and the art of salting meat, and they loved the upper part of the leg. It’s more than likely that the Celts made bacon – or, at least, something very like unsmoked bacon. It’s also not improbable that the Romans learned to make bacon, perhaps by figuring it out for themselves, perhaps by learning it from the Celts.
The Romans made something called petaso, often cited as a sort of forerunner to bacon. Petaso was, at least according to Apicius’ cookbook, made from the foreleg, or shoulder. It was boiled with figs for several hours, before being grilled and served with pepper. It’s not easy to see what this has to do with bacon, although I don’t doubt that it was tasty.
Another Roman source gives us a clearer idea of what the Romans actually ate. In Cato the Elder’s book on agriculture, which includes a good deal of practical information about wine-making, olive pressing, animal husbandry and the like, the entire final chapter is devoted to salting ham. There are detailed descriptions of how the meat should be completely covered with salt, that it should be turned after a few days and other such practical tips. Then he tells us that the meat should be hung ‘over smoke’ for two days. He doesn’t go into much more detail than that, which suggests that this was a familiar technique that required no elaboration. You get the impression that this was simply something that ‘everybody knew’.
«Given that the Romans were also known for salting and for raising pigs, they certainly had access to all three of the magic ingredients for making bacon.»
In this instance, the instructions are explicitly about ham. But, given that the Romans were also known for salting and for raising pigs, they certainly had access to all three of the magic ingredients for making bacon. Apicius’ cookbook includes several – more than several, in fact – references to pork that has been salted (salsum crudum), dried and even smoked. There are no actual recipes for anything that might be bacon, and the various types of cured pork are only ever referenced as pre-made ingredients, so details are unfortunately sparse.
The Romans, just like modern Italians, had a knack for coming up with delicious delicacies, so it should be no surprise that at least some of the Roman Empire’s numerous farmers, chefs and gourmets would try to salt, smoke and cure pork. It makes sense. They had everything they needed.
PHOTO: THINKSTOCK.COM
THE DEVELOPMENT OF the word ‘bacon’ seems to have been something of a shared project for Europe. The word exists in English, French, German, Dutch and Norwegian. The road has been bumpy, but today we all agree that the word is bacon.
If you entered an inn 1,000 years ago and ordered bacon and eggs, you certainly wouldn’t have been served bacon and eggs. Eggs wouldn’t have been a problem, but less certain is what they would have accompanied. Perhaps a steak?
There seems to be general agreement among people who’ve tried to write the history of bacon that the word can be traced to Old German, where we find the word ‘bak’. This evolved into the High German ‘bakko’ (which can be spelled in numerous ways, including ‘bacho’), which can mean either belly or bacon.
The word also appeared in the Netherlands as ‘baken’ and we know that the French were talking about bacon before the 1600s. In the German vernacular, this would eventually develop into ‘bakkon’, the equivalent of the English ‘back’ and the Norwegian ‘bak’. So far, so straightforward. Bacon must be about the back. Of a pig. Right?
The only problem here is that bacon is not, in fact, always made using meat from the back. ‘Bak’ on a pig can mean one of two things – either the back, or the gammon. This presents us with a problem, because bacon can actually come from the belly – that is the front and the bottom.
In England, back bacon generally refers to the thin rashers of meat carved from the loin at the back of the pig, which makes everything fairly straightforward. But in the USA and Scandinavia bacon comes from the side or belly of the animal, making ‘streaky bacon’. This doesn’t have much to do with the back. So, what’s going on?
When the word bacon entered the English language in the 1100s (from French) it was used in more or less the same way as ‘flitch’, referring to the salted sides of pork. A few centuries later, the word bacon was generally used for salted pork. There was even a somewhat confusing period when bacon was also used to describe pork in general. This practice lasted until well into the 1800s.
As the years have passed, everyone has thankfully come to general agreement about the meaning of ‘bacon’. That is to say, everyone in England. And everyone in the USA. Unfortunately, there’s still plenty of confusion between the two.
It was only with the development of modern industry and the need for standardisation that two different types of bacon developed. There is, however, no doubt that the whole thing started in England.
Etymology
ETYMOLOGY IS THE STUDY