As only like can be known by like, to know me you should extend yourself so far and wide that your being flows out into every nook and cranny of the earth's surface. Then, like the vine, you should entwine yourself around every tree and every stake that stands upright in the ground, reaching avidly with your finger-tips up towards the sky, though never forgetting that your feet are firmly anchored in the soil. You should also roam freely over the mountains, allowing yourself to be blown by the wind over steep precipices and dashed to pieces on the rocks below. If you can imagine a birth beyond time in order that in time, you may die repeatedly and be born again, then you will have become like me, and in knowing me, will have become a part of me.



[41]

Although the area to the South of Florence had been known to both Etruscans and Romans as Clante, it was not until 1384 that the word Chianti was first used when the districts of Castellina, Radda and Gaiole joined together to form the Chianti League. Taking a black cockerel as their emblem, the league was founded primarily for defence purposes but also functioned as a local government with its own statues. Among these statues were rules governing the cultivation and harvesting of grapes, one rule specifying that the verdemmia was not to take place before the twenty-ninth of September, because prior to that date the wind would not be good.
The first recorded use of the word Chianti as applied to wine occurred in 1404, when Amideo Gherardini wrote to his friend Marco Datini (the merchant of Prato) to say that he was sending him half a barrel of his own personal stock from Vignamaggio, this being, he says (as it still is), one of the finer wines of Chianti. In tasting these good wines, wrote Datini's friend, Ser Lapo, We did nothing but laugh... For my part, either because I truly require it, or because I am spoiled, I would spend money like dust to obtain them.



[42]

Despite the artificiality of the task Maceanas had assigned to them, Roman poets were sincere in their appreciation of the country and many of them have left behind verses in which they try to entice their friends in the city to come and stay with them in their country villas. To the Humanists of the Renaissance, these invitations were more than appealing. Though no Roman villas were standing, on the foundations of medieval castellos and torres, new villas were to arise. As in Roman times, ownership of the land was now passing from the hands of the small land-owning peasants into the possession of the richer towns-people.
Apart from the pastoral tradition of Virgil, rendered in a contemporary form by Petrach, Politian and Mantuan, the new land-owners had the example of the old feudal landlords to follow. Though they had been compelled by the growing power of the commune to live in the city, least they be overtaken in affairs of state, these feudal land-owners had not given up their links with the land. Instead they found that the money made in the city could be used to improve their estates in the country. This interest in the land duly spread to the merchants and bankers of Florence, who, taking advantage of the crisis in agriculture, also bought land. As the High Renaissance was a time of recession, these new land-owners were not looking for the high returns that their Roman counterparts had. Rather, along with the status and modest income that land-ownership brought, their main object was to find a secure form of investment for their capital and scarcely a merchant in Florence, if he did not already own a farm, did not hope one day to buy one. Then, even if his work did confine him to the city, there was always the satisfaction of knowing that the fruit, olives and wine on his table came from the land of his own farm. For less wealthy people the aspiration was that of an orto, a little patch of land on the edge of the city, where they could grow their own fruit and vegetables and escape for a few hours, from the dark, winding streets of the city.
In contrast to the freedmen of Roman times who were forced to into the cities due to land-owners using slave labour instead of rented labour, the so-called mezzadria system provided employment for peasants who wished to remain in the country whilst enabling land-owners to continue working in the city. In such cases large estates were broken down into small farms to be worked by one man and his family. The land-owner would provide the land and working capital while the farmer provided the labour. At harvest time the crops would be divided according to a prearranged ratio, which by Renaissance times was usually fifty-fifty. Originating from the ninth century, the mezzadria system only really came into its own following the break up of the great feudal estates. By 1430 there were more than fourteen thousand such agreements in Florentine territory and seventy per cent of the land in Chianti was farmed in this way. Tuscan cities meanwhile, had always opened their gates to those who no longer wished to till the land. During the eleventh and twelfth centuries they had absorbed the populations of starving serfs who fled the tyranny of their masters in search of food, freedom and work. Later, as the feudal properties began to break up it was these men's former masters who decided to exchange their hill-top castles for torres overlooking the city streets. Finally there had been the ravagings, towards the end of the fourteenth century, of the so-called Free Companies. In the service either Gian Galeazzo Visconti, then Duke of Milan, or whichever one of the Central Italian cities which had called upon them in defence, these marauding armies of soldiers of fortune, who inevitably left a trail of devastation in their wake, were to drive still more peasants to seek a livelihood in the relative security of the towns. Most simply joined the guilds and became part of the populo minuto; but some became skilled workmen and shopkeepers, whose families, in the course of a few generations were able to save up enough money so as to be able to return to the land as the proud owners of a small farm. And so for a while, an equilibrium was established, linking town and country. And though both land-owner and peasant viewed each other with suspicion (knowing how each could be cheated by the other) the hills of Tuscany were to become crowned with olives and garlanded with vines.



[43]

In the Ancient World, the temple, incense, images and offerings made to a god had always played an important in reflecting his likeness and nature, in the hope that he, in his benevolence, might be persuaded to descend from on high. Having survived the Middle Ages in astrological manuscripts, the images of us gods were subsequently reinvested with classical form through the rediscovery and imitation of classical works of art. However the artists of the Renaissance were able to go beyond what had been achieved in Antiquity and the images of us gods were endowed with the feelings and emotions appropriate to our characters. To see my reaction as I tasted the first kylix of wine one has only to go to the Bargello in Florence and look at Michangelo's statue commemorating the event; while the grace with which Venus was first blown to the shore having arisen naked from out of the sea is shown perfectly in Botticelli's Birth of Venus.



[44]

The sun, as a visible symbol of the divine intellect of the universe, was called by Greeks the Eye of Zeus. However Apollo, as a god of order and measure, was soon entrusted with its running, while Zeus, though still honoured as God the Father, was to slip gradually into the background of the world's affairs. With the coming of the Renaissance, the Humanists of the age needed to find some way of incorporating the gods of Olympus into the body of Christian iconography. Generally considered too unpredictable to play the part of Christ, I for my part, was only too pleased to suggest that my half-brother Apollo should represent the unchanging aspect of my ever-changing self. This modest sacrifice gave the men of the Renaissance all they needed. Equating Phoebus Apollo with Christ, Jupiter with God the Father and Venus with the Virgin Mary, they were able to rehabilitate us gods not just in private houses but also in the churches and palaces of popes, emperors, cardinals and kings. As the Holy Spirit was thought of as the spiritus of the gods, held together by the furor of Venus, the classical triad of Zeus, Hera and Athene, venerated by Greeks, Romans and Etruscans, was replaced by the trio of Jupiter, Apollo and Venus who were duly venerated in the form of the Christian Trinity. As the Planets Venus, Sol and Jupiter they were also known as the Three Graces of Heaven or the Three Fortunate Planets and Ficino recommends that a figure of the world be made, which, by featuring these gods and their colours green, gold and blue, is capable of concentrating their influence. This he suggests, is best done by someone, on the domed ceiling of the innermost cubicle of his house, where he mostly lives and sleeps... And when he comes out of his house he will perceive, not so much the spectacle of individual things, but the figure of the universe and its colours.
This was one of the first of many attempts by Renaissance philosophers to try and imprint upon their minds the order of the universe. By seeing the world and all its diversity of things as fitting into the scheme of universal order which he had etched into his mind, the philosopher sought to liken himself to its divine intellect. Subsequent systems organised everything that was known about the world into circles of ascending hierarchies. These corresponded in the physical world with the stars and planets whose influences could be invoked by means of magic images. It was these images which the philosopher inscribed on his memory. Through the action of the spiritus of the world, his mind was placed in correspondence with its mens or logos and the philosopher was able to scale great heights and chart the lowest depths of the world-soul. Like the Etruscan haruspix who believed the microcosm of the liver to contain the secrets of the macrocosm, the Renaissance magnus believed his mind was capable of mirroring the thoughts of the world-soul. However the fundamental difference lay in the fact that the correspondence sought by the Renaissance magnus, was one initiated by the magnus himself, whereas that pertaining between the liver and the world had been created by gods. For a haruspix, his understanding of the relation between the liver and the world was something passive, for though it was his duty to read and interpret it, he was not in any way the originator of the correspondence. But the Renaissance Hermeticist was the initiator of a correspondence between microcosm and macrocosm. For him, the whole dignity of man lay in his ability to actively etch the order of the universe onto his own mind, thus effecting a radical change in his consciousness, and enabling him to ascend to the level of the mens. It is therefore no accident that the emergence of the individual, as a socially and spiritually independent being, was to be seen as one of the hall-marks of the Renaissance.

1 Chicken Breast	1 Orange
1/2 Cup ground Rice	1 Tbsp. Sugar
1/2 Cup ground Almonds	Specie Forte/Dolce
Chicken Stock	Pomegranate Seeds
Rose-water	Salt

To make specie forte: take the following quantities of ground spices; 1 Tbsp. black pepper, 1 tsp. cloves, 2 tsp. cinnamon, 1/4 tsp. saffron, 1/2 tsp. ginger and grind together in a pestle and mortar.
To make specie dolce: grind together the following quantities of ground spices; 1 Tbsp. cinnamon, 1 tsp. cloves, 1/2 tsp. nutmeg, 1 tsp. mace, 1 tsp. ginger, 1/2 tsp. saffron, 1 Tbsp. sugar.
In a pestle and mortar grind the almonds and mix them in with the ground rice, then with an equal volume of chicken stock, warm the mixture until it has become a stiff paste and the rice is cooked. Poach the skinned chicken (preferably breast) in chicken stock until tender. Then shred the meat until as "fine as hairs" before mixing it with the rice and almond mixture. Return to the pan and warm (adding more stock should the mixture become too sticky) while flavouring with salt, sugar and rose-water. Pour out into moulds and leave to cool. Garnish with pomegranate seeds and a slice of orange and serve with a sprinkling of salt, sugar and specie forte/dolce, stirred into a little orange juice.
The cockerel is a solar bird, sacred to Apollo and represents fame, supremacy, courage and vigilance - however Bianco Mangiare, "white things", can be made from any white meat, including fish. Spice mixtures were used for flavouring stews, stuffings and as a garnish, often being mixed with rose-water, the juice of an orange or with verjuice.

[45]

While the Romans had prized any delicacy that was hard to get they were not gourmets in the modern sense of the word. Rather than being valued for its intrinsic qualities, Roman food was presented as a masquerade in which the flavours of foods were masked by rare spices and costly sauces. In order to allow these sauces to penetrate whatever was being cooked in them, cooking times were long and many dishes were finished by being cooked in a second sauce, which incorporated the reduced and seasoned stock from the first. Inevitably this lead to mannerist tendencies and after giving a recipe for an anchovy stew made without anchovies, Apicius declares proudly, Ad mensam nemo agnoscet quid manducet - at the table nobody will know what they are eating. This was indeed the credo of many chefs, who would spend hours making hares out of pork or piglets out of chicken. The guests would then be challenged to guess what it was that they were eating and the more unlikely the ingredients, the more impressed they would be.
In presentation too, the Romans could not refrain from introducing elements of surprise or theatrical effects. At the famous dinner given by Trimalchio, one of the gustatio dishes consisted of a wooden pea-hen sitting on a nest of straw, with eggs around it. The guests, as they were used to doing, duly chipped holes into the eggs and tried to suck out the contents. To their horror it appeared that the eggs were too old and contained partly grown chicks; but Trimalchio reassured them and on breaking open his egg promptly devoured the chick inside. The guests did likewise and found the egg-shells to be made of pastry, each one containing a finely seasoned oriole in a sauce of spiced egg yolk. Later the fercula was introduced with the arrival of a huge, globe-shaped tray, which had the twelve signs of the zodiac going round the edge. Above each sign, were dishes which in their shape or nature had some connection with the section of the zodiac above which they were placed. Above the sign of the ram there were chick-peas, on the bull, beef. For the twins there were kidneys, for the crab, a crown of myrtle. The lion was represented with African figs, the virgin with a sterile sow's womb. In the place of Libra, there was a pair of scales, on which were balanced tarts and honey-cakes; on Scorpio there was a scorpion fish, on the archer an eye fish. For Capricorn the cook had put a lobster, on the water-bearer, a goose, while for Pisces there were two red mullets. In the middle of all this was a large piece of turf with a honey-comb on it. Although for mortals, honey is the equivalent of the gods' ambrosia, the guests were not exactly sure what to make of this dish. Trimalchio however, was adamant that before them lay the most succulent of meals. Thereupon four slaves removed the centre part of the tray to reveal roast chickens, sows' udders and a hare with wings, symbolising Pegasus. Then live laconian hounds burst into the room, followed by slaves bearing a whole roasted boar, suckled by piglets made of pastry. Once the hounds had been removed the boar was carved open, releasing, to the guests amazement, thrushes which circled around the room. Inside the piglets too, were more thrushes, which released themselves by pecking their way out. Just as the Greek symposium was not complete without music and dancing-girls so, at important Roman banquets, musicians, dancers, acrobats, clowns and sometimes even gladiators would entertain the diners between courses. In this manner, the spectacles and theatre of Trimalchio's feast continued for a full eight hours, accompanied by amphorae of hundred-year old Falerian wine.
With the gradual reappearance of spices during the late Middle Ages and the inspiration of recipes brought back from the East by crusaders, the spirit of the Roman cuisine was revived. In Siena, the members of the so-called "Spendthrifts Brigade" incurred the wrath of Dante with their flagrant use of spices. As spices were only just becoming available, this was a costly pastime and in San Gimignano, it was easier to raise a loan using saffron as a deposit than it was to raise one using land or serfs. Saffron and pepper were both accepted by officials of the commune as a means of payment and cloves too, were notoriously expensive. Dante therefore places the members of La Brigatta Spendereccia in the eighth circle of his Inferno. The group's cook however, escaped judgement by the frugal spirit and wrote what was to be the first cookery book of the Renaissance, including such recipes as Crispetti Ubaldini (a kind of pancake flavoured with saffron and honey) and Niccolò dei Salimbeni's Limonia, which he liked to have roasted over a fire made of cloves.
As in Roman times, the banquet was an occasion for display and the more courses that were served and the rarer the dishes, the grander the occasion. There was still the Roman love of surprise too. When Cardinal Lorenzo Campeggio gave a banquet to celebrate the entry into Rome of Emperor Charles V, the guests, as they unfolded their napkins for the desert released into the air the song birds that had been carefully concealed in them. Following their Roman model, Renaissance banquets also included intervals for dancing, theatre, music, allegorical pageants, as well as rest periods in private rooms.
Nevertheless there had been some changes. Sauces were now lighter, being thickened with bread rather than flour; and although it was still the flavour of the spices that counted rather than the taste of the food, the Roman cuisine was slowly being stripped of its excesses. Cooking was no longer spicy for spiciness' sake but was designed to produce subtle combinations of taste and texture. The arrival of sugar meant that sweet dishes could be created without necessarily being encumbered by the richness of honey. Plates were no longer piled high with meat as in Medieval times and the knife and fork used by Italians, meant that the bowls of rose-water in which people had traditionally washed their greasy hands, were now only used at the beginning of a meal. Guests were expected to eat elegantly, taking small amounts from the wide range of delicacies offered to them. Thus it was not without some truth that, at the end of his recipe for Bianco mangiare, the classicist and gourmet, Platina was to pronounce that in gastronomy at least, the Greeks and Romans had been surpassed. In any case, his De Honesta Voluptate et Valitudine, was the first best selling cookery book in history.

3 pairs Calf's Sweetbreads	300 ml Double Cream
250g lean Veal	White Wine
4 Slices fresh Pork Loin	Chicken Stock
2 large Black Truffles	2 Tbsp. Truffle Juice
150g Green Olives	Olive Oil
1 large Onion	1 Bay Leaf
16 large Mushrooms	Basil
Flour	Thyme
Bread Crumbs	Salt
1 Egg Yolk	Pepper

Wash the sweetbreads and soak in cold water for two hours. With a fresh change of water, blanch by bringing to the boil and simmering for 3-5 minutes. Plunge into cold water and remove any fat, skin, gristle, etc. before pressing for a few hours between two plates to flatten.
Mix flour and water, adding a small amount of olive oil to make the mixture workable. Then roll out and brush with oil. Fold and leave to chill before turning through 90° and roll out again. Repeat this operation anything up to eight times, each successive turning adding to the number of layers and giving the pastry lightness.
Roll out two squares of the pastry and lay out one on a backing tray. In the centre, place a suitable mould form over which the other can be draped. Press the two layers of pastry together at the base and trim so that a flange remains. Use the excess pastry to make a collar, above which the cooked pastry will be cut. Any remainder can be used for ornamentation and in making a knob and handles for the "terrine". Brush the outside with an egg yolk and water mixture and then bake until browned. When cool cut out the lid and remove the mould form.
After fluting the mushrooms and chopping the onion, sauté both briefly in olive oil. Add the cubed pieces of pork and herbs to the casserole and when the meat is sealed, cover with stock and white wine. Baste the sweetbreads in oil and place on top of the vegetables before bringing to the boil and cooking (with the lid on) in a moderate oven, adding more stock and basting occasionally if necessary. After one hour, remove the sweetbreads and add the truffle juice. Leave to simmer until the liquid has reduced to form a well flavoured sauce, thickening with ground bread crumbs.
Mince the veal twice and chill. When chilled, stir in the cream a spoonful at a time, adding a little salt and pepper. Mould the mixture into balls and then poach them for three minutes in simmering chicken stock.
If fresh olives are being used, blanch for two minutes in boiling water before cooling and removing the stones. Alternatively olives pickled in brine may be used.
Briefly re-heat the pastry case and place on its serving tray. With the casserole brought back to simmering point, cut the sweetbreads into cubes and stir them into the sauce, along with the quenelles, olives and sliced truffles. Simmer long enough to let the heat penetrate the ingredients and then spoon out into the pastry case. Spread the remaining contents of the casserole around the pastry terrine and serve.
With the coming of the Renaissance, truffles, which during the Middle Ages had been thought of as a manifestation of the Devil, regained their place as "the diamonds of the kitchen".

[46]

At his country villa of Careggi, Cosimo di Medici and the poets, artists and philosophers of the Florentine Academy would meet to discuss the works of Plato; and it was here that the founder of Medici power was to die in 1469, listening to a dialogue of Plato's. Centred on the study of Plato, the work of the Academy chiefly consisted in developing a theosophy capable of replacing Christianity. After the death of Cosimo the Elder, the Academy was to continue under the patronage of Lorenzo the Magnificent, Cosimo's grandson. Among its members were the philosophers, Marsilo Ficino and Pica della Mirandola, the artists, Donatello, Brunelleschi and Alberti and the poet and scholar, Politian. Unlike any other Maecenas in history, Lorenzo actually participated creditably in the pursuits he promoted and could not only speak with equal fluency on painting, sculpture, music, philosophy and poetry, but was also an elegant prose writer and a poet of originality. Along with Politian, he was one of the first to write genuinely modern Italian poetry, which having absorbed the classical learning was no longer bound to it in pedantry. Just how well the lessons of the past had been learned is shown in the fact that the majority of Politian's poems are in Greek and Latin and that they constitute an original contribution to the classic idiom Among his works in Latin are: The Manto, an elaborated eulogy in praise of Virgil, The Ambra, which combined idyllic sketches of Tuscan landscapes with an eulogy on Homer. The Rusticus is a colourful celebration of the pleasures of country life whilst Nutricia is an introduction to both ancient and modern poetry. As well as giving lectures at universities, Politian was also tutor to Lorenzo's children. Ficino, who had taught Politian philosophy, tutored Lorenzo's nephew, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de' Medici. And it was for Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco's country villa that Botticelli was to paint, according to formulae devised by Ficino, three of his finest works.



[47]

Though there were never any sacrifices during the Renaissance and only the occasional burnt offering, the eating of food and the drinking of wine was, for the sophisticated Humanists of the age, just as much of an invitation to us gods as any sacrifice. For in the same way that a picture can function as a talisman, so a meal can function as a invocation, drawing down the spiritus of the gods to whom it is addressed. Precious stones and pearls were seen as summoning the influences of the gods and so, along with pieces of gold, were included in the rich sauces served at banquets. However the plat de résistance at such occasions was often a peacock, stuffed with pounded pork, capon and nutmeg, beaten up together with the white of an egg. After it had been cooked, the bird would be given legs and be made to stand. Then its tail feathers would be stuck on and its flesh would be covered with gold leaf. Finally some cotton wool would be put in its mouth and set alight, so that it would appear to be breathing fire. Gold, representative of spiritual illumination, was associated with the sun, while the flesh of the peacock, was according to Christian tradition, as incorruptible as gold. Though the peacock's tail shows the starry firmament of the universe, through which the sun travels, yet the resemblance between this fire-breathing bird and the phoenix calls to mind images of my own dying in order to rise again. Thus, despite appearing to be a culinary hymn addressed to the new Apollo/Christ, the dish really symbolises the illumination attained by those who follow the furor of Venus to its ultimate heights.



[48]

As ruler of the Cosmos, Zeus, like Ophion, Uranus and Cronos, was to become intolerably arrogant. One day as he was sleeping, we gods decided that we'd had enough. Surrounding him as he slept, we tied him up with rawhide thongs, which we knotted with a hundred knots. On awaking he threatened us with death but his thunderbolts were well out of reach and he couldn't move, so we merely laughed and got on with the business of discussing who his successor was going to be. However Thetis the Nereid, wisely foresaw the approach of a civil war on Olympus and fetched the hundred-handed Briareus, who, using every hand at once, quickly untied his master. As it had been Hera who had lead the conspiracy, Zeus punished her by hanging her from the sky with a golden bracelet around each wrist and an anvil tied to each foot. Though we pitied her, despite her cries no one dared to rescue her. Eventually Zeus agreed to free her on the condition that we all swore never to rebel against him again. This we grudgingly did and Hera was set free. Poseidon and Apollo were punished by being made to act as servants for King Laomedon, for whom they built the city of Troy but the rest of us were pardoned as having acted under duress. After this, Apollo was only once again to incur Zeus' wrath. This was when his son, the physician Asclepius resurrected a dead man, thereby depriving Hades of a victim. When Hades duly complained, Zeus killed Asclepius with a thunderbolt. In revenge Apollo killed the Cyclopses and would have been banished to Tartarus, were it not for his mother, Leto, who pleaded for Zeus to forgive him, promising that their son would reform himself. Zeus relented and Apollo was sentenced to work in King Admetus' sheep-folds for a year. This he carried out humbly, afterwards preaching order and moderation in all things. Soon after he tamed the laurel-chewing Muses and taught them to dance formal, decorous dances to the music of the planetary spheres, for whose harmony he was now responsible.
During the Renaissance, the light which emanated from the sun was no longer symbolic of the lecherous eye of Zeus but was representative instead, of the light of divine harmony, orchestrated by the reformed Apollo. To instigate a new order on Earth it remained only for the celestial canopy to be cleansed of its unruly elements and Zeus' first great act of the Renaissance was to call a meeting of all the gods and goddesses, at which this was to be debated. Pointing to the stars of the sky, he declared that they had degenerated into shoddy and tattered symbols. And in truth, many of them were deformed, like the bear in Ursa Major, or else testified to shameful deeds like the Lyre, which recalled the thefts of Mercury and the constellations of Persus and Heracules, which immortalised Zeus' own bastard sons. He therefore suggested that we consider each of the constellations in turn and discuss carefully the virtues and vices associated with them. "Let us," he said, "remove from the heaven of our minds the Balance of Iniquity, the Cancer of Slowness, the Capricorn of Deception. Let not the Scorpion of Fraud come near us, nor the Fish of Unworthy Silence. May the Twins of Indecent Familiarity fall with them, along with the Bull of Concern for Mean Things, the Ram of Inconsiderateness, the Lion of Tyranny, the Aquarius of Dissoluteness, the Virgin of Fruitless Conversation and the Sagittarius of Detraction."
Beginning therefore with Ursa Major and Minor we duly deplored the Deformity, Falsehood and Defect we saw but praised the opposing qualities of Truth, Being and Goodness. In Cephus we found Ignorance and Foolish Faith which we quickly replaced with Wisdom. In place of Crime we adorned Bootes with Natural and Human Law, in the Corona Borealis, Justice replaced Iniquity. In the Triangulum we drove out Fraud, setting in its place, Faith, Love and Sincerity. In Pleiades we praised Union, Civility and Concord at the expense Sect, Fraction and Party. In Scorpio, Sincerity and Truth replaced Fraud and Treason. Rapine and Falsehood, once we had banished them from Orion, made way for Magnaminity and Public Spirit. In Corvus, Magia Divina dispelled Imposture, while my infamous Cup of Insobriety became instead the Chalice of Veneration and Becoming.
By thus purging the heavens of all that was opposed to virtue, the so-called Triumphant Beast, that had for so long reared its ugly head, was expelled and the scene was now set for the gods to re-instate themselves in the physical world.

1 1/2 Caciocavallo or Cacetta Cheeses	2 Eggs
30g mature Provolone Cheese	2 Egg Whites
200g ground Almonds	Rose-water
50g Pine Kernels	4 Tbsp. Olive Oil
200g Flour	Sugar
250g Crème Fraîche	Cinnamon

To make rose-water: on a dry morning, gather the buds of wild roses just before they are about to expand into full-blown flowers. Cut the heels off and lay the petals in layers in a cask, with salt sprinkled between to help preserve them until enough have been collected for distillation. Fill the still two-thirds full with petals and salt, with some water at the bottom to prevent burning. Distillation should be carried out over a gentle heat and the distillate collected in small quantities so that it can be examined. The first will be very potent, the others less so. As soon as the slightest smell of burning is detected, the operation should be stopped and the portion that is contaminated discarded. Rose-water should be kept in a cool, dark place and is best made regularly in small quantities as it does not keep long. The salted leaves, however will keep for months. Perfumed water for finger bowls is easily made by infusing a few fresh or dried leaves eight hours in advance.
Mix together the flour, eggs and ground almonds together with some olive oil to make a pastry. Roll out and use approx. 1/8 to line a round baking tray. Cut the remainder into tagliatelle-like strips and sprinkle repeatedly with rose-water so that they absorb it but do not become soggy. Cut 1 Caciocavallo into slices and soak in rose-water for 1 hour.
Dice the remaining 1/2 Caciocavello and mix with the crème fraîche. Then add the pine kernels, 50g sugar, 2 egg whites, 150 ml rose-water and the grated Provolone cheese (or a well flavoured Caciocavello). Scatter sugar and cinnamon over the pastry base, lay down some of the Caciocavello slices soaked in rose-water and again sprinkle with sugar and spice. Spoon in 1/2 the above mixture, spreading it out evenly. Then cover with the strips of pastry soaked in rose-water, arranging them over one another crossways. Scatter with sugar and cinnamon and repeat the process. Complete with a pastry rosette, basting it and the visible strips of pastry with white of egg.
In Italy, prior to the widespread introduction of tomatoes during the nineteenth century, "pizza", possibly deriving from the Greek "pitta", originally meant a sweet cheese-based tart or pie. In France "peis-salat", "pissara", and" pissala" all referred to a garum/alec type purée of dissolved fish. This was eaten on "pompe", a traditional flat bread. Ligurian "pissaladiere" then added onions and olives and once they had become common in France, tomatoes.

[49]

The benefits of sympathetic magic are clearly shown in one of the three pictures Botticelli painted for Lorenzo Pierfrancesco de' Medici. The Pallas and Centur of the group not only functions as a talisman but it also has a political dimension to it in that Pallas can be seen as standing for the civilising diplomacy of Lorenzo the Magnificent, while the bestial centur represents the combined forces of the Sienese and the King of Aragon, who in 1478, at the Pope's persuasion, were intent on besieging the city. Lorenzo the Magnificent had been excommunicated and Florence placed under interdict. More seriously, after a bad harvest, a long drawn-out siege would almost certainly have brought with it a plague. Fortunately though, on the twenty-fourth of November Ferdinand declared the customary winter truce and in December, the Magnificent slipped secretly out of the city and from a small port in the Maremma, took a ship to Naples. There, after three month's negotiation he secured a settlement with the King of Aragon, thus separating Naples, the city in the background of Botticelli's painting, from his main enemies, the Pope and the Sienese. Later, on the steps of Saint Peter's, the Pope received a delegation from the city and after granting them his pardon for having attacked them, a mass of thanksgiving was celebrated.



[50]

All things that reflect the likeness of a god invoke his spiritus according to their capacity and measure. Thus a person wishing to invoke the influence of the sun should don a robe of a suitably solar colour and conduct a rite involving the burning of incense made from solar plants. This should be done on an altar on which there is an image of the sun, crowned and seated on a throne, wearing a saffron cloak. There may also be the image of a raven, as the raven is the messenger of Apollo. Then, anointed with solar unguents such as saffron or rue oil, the supplicant should sing a hymn to the sun. Such rites were carried out by Ficino's pupil and imitator, Francesco Diacetto and Ficino himself also sang hymns to the gods. Accompanying himself on the lira da braccio, his hymns were set to a simple monodic music, that echoed the notes of the planetary spheres.
But gold and the light of the sun also symbolise spiritual illumination and the philosopher's search for the divine. The light of the sun, orchestrated by Apollo, is reflected into the world of the mind by his sister, Diana and hence it was in the world of nature that hermetic philosophers looked for traces of this divine light. Following the image of Diana and Actaeon they saw themselves as hunting after reflections of the mens. At first stumbling blindly on "vestiges", they hoped by means of progressive insights to become, like Actaeon, more and more wild, so that eventually they would be able to transcend the world of the senses and contemplate the naked truth of the Lady of the Wild Things, even if these insights, represented by Actaeon's hounds were to bring about their own destruction.
In his De gli eroici furori, Giordano Bruno distinguishes between two states of enthusiasm. One is when a divine spirit enters a person and though the person is inspired by the spirit, he is ignorant of the source of his inspiration. The other kind of enthusiasm occurs when persons skilful in contemplation and possessing innately a clear intellectual spirit... come to speak and act, not as vessels and instruments, but as chief artificier and experts. Of these two, the first are worthy, as is the ass which carries the Sacraments; the second are as the sacred thing. Inspiration or enthusiasm was arrived at by the hermeticist through love and Bruno speaks of two Cupids, one higher and one lower. The one is armed with the arrows of Venus, the other with those of Diana. De gli eroici furoi, or The Heroic Enthusiasts, therefore consists of a series of love poems addressed to a woman in the style of Petrach. But the poems come with a commentary which make it clear that Bruno is talking of spiritual love addressed to a divine being. In a state of natural contemplation Bruno sought to let the divine light take possession of his soul and allow himself to be pierced by the arrows of Diana, which are none other than the innumerable individuals and species of things, in which shine the Splendour of Divine Beauty. Then among the mirrors of similitude, in those works where shines the brightness of divine goodness and splendour, which works are symbolised by waters superior and inferior, which are above and below the firmament, he (the philosopher/hunter) sees the most beautiful bust and face... that it is possible to see.
Hermetic Philosophers such as Bruno were clearly in pursuit of Hecate (whom they revered in her Egyptian guise as Isis), unaware that this is what I had been doing since time immemorial. Having become filled with my spirit the most sacred mystery into which my followers could be initiated was, through my divine furor, to be afforded a glimpse of the goddess. Then, like Bruno they would cry

Render thyself, O Goddess, unto pity!
Open, O Lady, the portals of thine eyes,
And look on me if thou wouldst give me death!

The death prayed for by the initiate is the death that takes the worshipper back to the beginning, when Eurynome first danced naked over the waters. To those who are sincere, such a death brings also life, as the individual, being a perfect image of myself, draws me down into him so that we become one and he is taken back beyond time to be reborn as an aspect of myself. Though the sacrificing of the Year King was no longer necessary to ensure the smooth passing of the years, it was still possible for my followers to step into his role and by joining the Immortals, achieve a lasting unity with my spirit. This then, was the ultimate secret of the Bacchic rites and though few succeeded in transmuting their spirit into a likeness of me, many died in the attempt, as their last flicker of consciousness was not one of divine furor but was a moment of self-consciousness in which they succumbed to either fear or pride.
Bruno himself, after a lifetime's preparation, did successfully transmute his soul when he was burnt at the stake in 1600. Fortunate in that the fire had been well prepared, instead of being slowly and painfully burnt to death, as was so often the case, he was suffocated by the ardent flames as they took a hold of the dry wood. His last image of this life was that of a goddess dancing over a labyrinth; but this image was combined with the realisation that the flames that were licking his body were none other than "the innumerable species of things", the darts of Diana, which were putting his love of the goddess to the ultimate test.

---

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | References | Bacchus Table of Contents