Roman Revel

Want to nero in on a fresh idea for a year-end fling? Then we have just the thing, by Jupiter: an antic take-off on Roma Antica, that swinging citadel of the Caesars. Ancient Rome was, of course, the center of Western civilization some 2000 years ago and even its most august citizens were noted for throwing bacchanalian bashes that lasted far into a fortnight. While you'll probably want to limit your fete to one night of uninhibited merrymaking, that's no reason to cramp your Roman-style banquet giving--as the photos on these pages attest.

So that your phalanx of fun seekers will show up in appropriately wanton moods--and costumes--begin by sending out scroll-style invitations announcing the date and hour in Roman numerals and stressing that mini- rather than maxi- togas and tunics, worn with lace-up sandals, are the order of the evening. (Give a prize for the miniest.) Such Augustan accessories as plumed army helmets, gladiator-type broadswords and shields rented from a theatrical supply house will make your party look like a Legion (Roman, that is) convention.

However, if your guests have kinkier tastes when it comes to costumes--or wish to put in an appearance dressed as famous historical twosomes--so much the better. A topless Cleopatra borne aloft in her sedan chair by four muscular bodyguards would be accompanied by Mark Antony. Romulus, of course, would team up with a girl garbed as Remus (the wolf is an optional accessory). A satyr, sporting fur slacks and carrying pipes of Pan, would undoubtedly insist that his wood-nymph date wear nought but a see-through gown.

Roman gods, too, can be easily summoned up. A bearded, spear-carrying King Neptune could be accompanied by a mermaid; and Mercury, the messenger god of science and commerce (not to mention rogues, vagabonds and thieves), would wear winged shoes and hat (and perhaps make off with someone's date).

In any event, it's doubtful that you'll find it (text continued on page 240) Roman Revel (continued from page 108) necessary to give any dress directives to the Sabine women who accompany the soldiers and statesmen of the Empire. Quite likely, they'll enter your urban forum sporting brass and gold slave bracelets, amulets and necklaces and, perhaps, a Theban toe ring or two. But if you must give the girls a tog talk, make it known that breastplates are out.

Although your pad's physical dimensions and decor may not measure up to the Colosseum, that's no excuse to turn thumbs down on the idea of a First Century Saturnalia. The decorations can be surprisingly effective, providing they're all variations on classic Roman themes. For example, instead of setting out conventional chairs, beg, buy or borrow a goodly number of couches, drape them with white sheets and place brimming bowls of assorted fruits (grapes, of course, are a must) nearby. Guests who arrive after the festivities are in full swing will find the others stretched out on the touches or on the floor, talking, feeding each other grapes or quaffing vino from outsized goblets, and they, too, will happily assume a horizontal position. (You'll be surprised how prone guests will soon be more prone to suitably sybaritic dallying.) Stacks of throw pillows offer further solicitations to supine pleasures. Plaster casts of Greek and Roman statuary set atop waist-high facsimiles of classic columns might be scattered about. In case some of those noble heads look too solemn for such a festive occasion, top off a few with laurel wreaths. Designate the door to your washroom as the Baths of Caracalla and provide plenty of terrycloth for toweling off after the tandem tubbing that's bound to ensue.

Fun and Games

To keep the conviviality at a continuing peak, you should act as ringmaster of a Circus Maximus of games. A little imagination will make your guests turn thumbs up on your performance in the arena of hostmanship. A fig-throwing contest can be a fruitful way to enliven the evening. Equipped with a handful of figs, each guest can take his turn at trying to toss one into a loving cup at 20 paces. In the absence of ambrosia, keep the winningest pitcher in good spirits with a magnum of champagne. Further flavor the fling with provincial amusement: Have on hand a number of Gallic wine sacks to be liberally squirted by your guests at each other's open mouths. Make missing, on the squirter's part, subject to imperial punitive measures (such as having to down the contents of the wine sack alone).

Another excellent ancient custom is the Marathon Grape Relay. In this gala event, there are two teams, with an equal number of gals and gladiators to a side--and the more the merrier. Each team lines up shoulder to shoulder, alternating guys with girls. The first man in line from each team holds one of the largest, juiciest grapes in the Empire between his lips. At a signal from the host (or any other authority of Senatorial rank), the possessor of the tender morsel transfers it, no hands, to the lips of the girl next to him; she then passes it on to the next chap in line. The winning team is the one that passes the least damaged grape to the other end of the line the fastest.

Another Capitoline contest worthy of your fete is the Cross-Country Chariot Race. Turn your living room into a Roman obstacle course by laying out a circuitous Appian Way around chairs, couches, tables and anything else that will present an obstruction but not a catastrophe. Put blindfolds on all of the hard-charging horsemen and have them get down on all fours. A preferably diminutive distaff driver will mount each of the sightless "steeds" and wordlessly direct his route among the hazards (they'll decide beforehand what the signals will be for left, right, go and whoa). The swiftest "chariot" around the course is obviously the winner, but, unless there is plenty of open area in your apartment, each entrant should run the course alone against the clock, to avoid complete chaos.

If your domicile survives destruction during the games, slow the pace down a bit with Roman Charades. Such solo tableaux as "Nero fiddling while Rome burns" and "Antony's funeral oration" can be contrasted with group efforts such as the "Rape of the Sabine Women." As an atmospheric addition to your historical high-jinks, ask your wittiest friend to play the role of a Roman soothsayer casting bones and telling funny fortunes to anyone brave enough to inquire into the future.

All this delightful nonsense should be set to live music, if possible. The ideal instrumentalists--if your local musicians' union can unearth them--would be a host of harp, flute, lute and lyre players, coupled with the contemporary beat of rock polyrhythms.

Food and Drink

Then there are the vital viands to consider. Hopefully, you won't be caught in the same situation as poor Nero and the unfortunate Heliogabalus--not to mention all the other great Roman gluttons: Their evil lived after them; but their good recipes were oft interred with their bodies. Let it be understood immediately that by good recipes we don't mean such absurdly esoteric foods as roast Maltese cranes, nightingales' tongues and sautéed ostrich brains--which may sound fascinating but are close to inedible. Certain delightful Roman recipes, however, have been preserved. They bear the name of Apicius, another profligate who spent his fortune on marathon dining parties. They give rich zest to such festive fare as roast suckling pigs, stuffed capons and honey-glazed hams with figs.

The wise and well-to-do Roman host had one guiding principle for party giving--summer or winter--and none better has come along in 20 centuries: namely, to make his guests so comfortable and relaxed that they'd be loath to leave. The idea of the contemporary cocktail party from six to eight in the evening or a buffet dinner from six to ten would have struck the civilized citizens of Rome as barbaric. To them, leisure was almost a religion.

When guests arrived for the Roman dinner party, they were offered light sandals in place of their street footwear or they were free to dine with no footwear at all. They'd set aside their street garb for a light dinner garment called a synthesis. During a particularly long evening of festivity, the synthesis might be changed for a fresh one as the hours wore on. Frequently, guests were given gifts by the host as a sign of his regard for them. At certain times, the guests might be offered a bath or a massage as a refreshing interlude between drinks. Before entering the dining room, everyone was given perfumed water for his hands. In the town houses of affluent Romans, a servant would bathe both the guests' hands and feet in perfumed water from melted snow.

The triclinium--a word that meant both the dining room and the furniture on which the guests lounged--was equipped with three wide couches, U shaped around the dining table. The couches, sometimes inlaid with tortoise shells or embroidered with gold, were covered with soft mattresses and fresh linen. There were silk-covered pillows on which the guests' left elbows rested, so that they could reach for food and handle it comfortably. Each couch accommodated three guests. Crowding, night-club style, was unthinkable. Cicero was once outraged at the bad taste of Calpurnius Piso, who tried to squeeze four Romans onto a single couch. To be able to recline while eating wasn't merely a comfort but a distinguished privilege. Occasionally, one or two gate crashers or professional scandalmongers (whom the guests called their "shadows") might find their way into the party; but if they were allowed to stay, it was only in a sitting position. At one time, Roman women, too, were forced to sit upright at the table; but as the girls gradually won their rights, they also were allowed to dine in the easy prone position. At warmer times of the year, servants with huge fans provided the air conditioning. Smoking was unknown; instead, the nostrils were flattered with soft incense, and garlands of fresh flowers on the walls, as well as flower petals strewn on the couches, offered their relaxing, refreshing fragrance. All told, it was a rich indoor version of the gentle pleasure people today enjoy at a secluded and beautiful picnic spot.

In the midst of all this affluent ambiance, it seems odd today that Roman guests usually took their own napkins to a party. But, upon investigation, it makes sense. A napkin served not only to protect the host's linen on the triclinium but was also used to carry home the apophoreta--the leftover goodies that weren't enjoyed on the spot.

At most Roman parties, it was the custom to appoint one of the guests as the magister bibendi (drinking host). He determined such things as the size of the drinks, how they should be diluted and when and to whom toasts were to be offered. Acting as magister was, naturally, a favored role; it allowed the host to attend to his guests' other comforts and honored Bacchus in one stroke.

Often, the magister was chosen by rolling dice; but there were some things the Roman host never left to chance. Frequently, he would go into his kitchen and supervise the food on the fire. At some parties, no food reached the triclinium whose quality hadn't been checked by a skilled taster--the praegustator. Actual cooking was in the hands of a chef-slave, whose technical ability was highly valued. In a grateful gesture for the fine food he ate, Mark Antony once presented his chef with a city of 35,000 inhabitants. Antony's tribute cost him nothing and was a perfect guarantee against any possible servant problem--a dilemma that no longer bothers hosts today, since there are few servants to be appeased at any price.

Roman hosts were extremely zealous about the quality and freshness of their food. Only the mushrooms and fruit whose very scent was a feast were allowed at a dinner party. Some Roman homes were equipped with built-in ponds where fish were kept alive and swimming until the last moment before dinner--and their final visit with the chef. Carving at the table was entrusted to men who had come by their craft after working originally on models of jointed wood. Whether the carver faced a goose or a goat, he operated with the skill of a surgeon.

In the matter of spices, Roman cooks took their courage in both hands and, with mortar and pestle, came up with many magnificent combinations. Crushed or ground spices, such as anise or powdered sage, were, fortunately, not bottled or put up in tin boxes, only to become pathetically impotent once exposed to the air. No modern host is expected to grind his own cinnamon or mustard. But once the incredibly rich and natural fragrances of hand-ground anise, cumin or caraway seeds are inhaled, even the casual chef will want to get his own mortar and pestle--remembering that a brass or stone mortar is required for crushing garlic or anything wet and that a wooden one will do for dry spices.

Roman cooks seem to have used wine even more lavishly than Frenchmen do today. Like the French, Roman cooks frequently reduced their wine; that is, cooked it down for a deeper concentration of flavor. Often, it was mixed with honey, particularly in the sweet-sour combinations of honey with vinegar or vinegar and tart wine. One ever-present ingredient in their kitchens was garum. or liquamen. This was a sauce manufactured from dried and fermented fish, with an intense salty concentration of flavor reminiscent of soy sauce with a dash of anchovy paste. When used, it took the place of salt.

Although Roman wines were poured into the most elegant crystal, gold, silver or earthenware goblets, the wine was almost always mixed with water; sometimes, it was cooled with ice or snow. We can't know what their vinum tasted like, but some of it, like certain Greek wines today, was resinated; some was mixed with honey or herbs. During Pliny's time, there were nearly 200 varieties of wine, a lot of which was aged 10 to 20 years. The heady effects of Roman wines, served mainly after dinner, rather than before, were described splendidly by the poet Horace. "Good wine," he said, "made the wise confess their secret love; brought hope to anxious souls and gave the poor strength to lift up his horn." Today, as in Horace's time, the wines that stand up to the intrepid Roman dishes are the fine dry reds of northern Italy: barolo, Valpolicella and the genuine chiantis.

The phrase "from soup to nuts" was paralleled by the Romans' ab ovo usque ad mala (from egg to apples). Actually, on their menus, eggs might appear as a first or a middle course, but the end of their meals frequently included apples. A huge bowl of fruit and nuts was their favorite finale, sometimes supplemented with pastry. Much attention was lavished on the gustatio (beginning) and the mensa prima (main course). Playboy's Food and Drink Editor, Thomas Mario, has rounded up a roster of Roman recipes to match the grandeur of the celebration you've planned. In modernizing ancient food formulas, anachronisms such as sugar or apricot jam are not only inevitable but encouraged.

Roman Vegetable Appetizers

To start their meal, Romans devoured radishes and olives, both black and green, often dressed with oil, wine vinegar and an abundance of freshly ground pepper. They added garum as a seasoning; nowadays, we would use salt or anchovy paste. Sliced cucumbers were served the same way. The Romans' chopped beets seem to have been a sophisticated version of our own pickled beets, supplemented with raisins, leeks and coriander. Cold leeks in a modified French dressing were a prominent favorite. Nero ate prodigious quantities of leeks not only for their mellow flavor but because he was convinced they'd improve the sonority of his voice as an orator. He ate them so often, in fact, that he was eventually nicknamed Porrophagus, from the Latin porrum, meaning leek. As an appetizer, their preparation is simple: 1-in. sections of leek, white part only, are boiled until nearly tender and then drained; they're cooked until completely tender in a liquid of 4 parts water, 2 parts oil and 1 part vinegar flavored with bay leaf, mustard seed, peppercorns and salt, and are marinated in this liquid and chilled overnight. Fresh fennel, cut into sixths or eighths, or fresh mushrooms may be prepared the same way, with a clove or two of garlic added to the marinade.

[recipe_title]Cold Asparagus Purée[/recipe_title]

(Makes 1-1/2 cups)

[recipe]10-oz. package frozen asparagus[/recipe]

[recipe]2 hard-boiled egg yolks[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons olive oil[/recipe]

[recipe]1 small onion, grated[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon lemon juice[/recipe]

[recipe]1 large dove garlic, forced through garlic press[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon prepared mustard[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon dry mustard[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon very finely minced cilantro (available in stores carrying Puerto Rican specialties)[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, freshly ground pepper, cayenne[/recipe]

[recipe]Bread crumbs[/recipe]

Roman asparagus purée, like guacamole, may be served as a cold cocktail dip.

Cook asparagus, following directions on package. Drain well and cut crosswise into 1/4-in.-thick slices. Force egg yolks through a sieve. Put asparagus, egg yolks, olive oil, onion, lemon juice, garlic, both kinds of mustard and cilantro into well of blender. Blend until smooth. Remove from blender; add salt and pepper to taste and a generous dash cayenne. If mixture seems too liquid, add a small amount of bread crumbs to take up extra liquid. Stir well. Serve ice-cold.

Huge platters of oysters on the half shell, sometimes served on snow or ice, would frequently help unfurl the party. Romans were just as fond of other seafood, too, particularly shrimp, as in the following recipe.

[recipe_title]Cold Glazed Spiced Shrimp[/recipe_title]

(Eight appetizer portions)

[recipe]2 lbs. shrimps, medium size[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teaspoons caraway seeds, pounded in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon cumin, pounded in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 teaspoon aniseed, pounded in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup olive oil[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teaspoons prepared mustard[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup white-wine vinegar[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons honey[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup apricot jam[/recipe]

[recipe]1/3 cup thinly sliced scallions, white and firm part of green[/recipe]

Place shrimps in a pot and cover with cold water. Add 1/2 teaspoon salt. Slowly bring water to a boil; turn off flame and let shrimps remain in water 10 minutes. Reserve 1/2 cup cooking liquid, discarding balance. Peel and devein shrimps. Into well of blender, put the reserved cooking liquid, pounded spices, olive oil, mustard, pepper, vinegar, honey and apricot jam. Add 1/8 teaspoon salt. Blend until smooth. In mixing bowl, combine shrimps, blended ingredients and scallions. Marinate overnight. Serve very cold, as appetizer.

[recipe_title]Glazed Ham with Figs and Apples[/recipe_title]

(Serves 10 to 12)

[recipe]1 8-lb. fully cooked, bone-in, smoked ham[/recipe]

[recipe]1 lb. dried figs, boiling type[/recipe]

[recipe]4 medium-size Rome Beauty apples[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup sugar[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon lemon juice[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cinnamon stick[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon vanilla[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cups dry red wine[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup finely minced shallots or scallions[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup honey[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons instantized flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon dry mustard[/recipe]

Prepare figs and apples a day before the dinner. Soak figs 2 hours in cold water. Drain. Peel and core apples; cut into eighths. Bring 1 quart water and sugar to a boil; reduce flame and simmer 5 minutes. Add lemon juice. Add apples and simmer, covered, just until tender. Remove apples from syrup with slotted spoon. Save syrup. Chill apples, covered, in refrigerator. Add figs and cinnamon stick to same syrup in which apples were cooked. Simmer, covered, 30 to 40 minutes or until tender. Add vanilla. Keep figs in syrup and chill in refrigerator. Next day, combine wine and shallots and simmer until the wine is reduced to 1/2 cup. Strain wine and discard shallots. Preheat oven at 325°. Place ham, fat side up, in roasting pan. Roast 1-1/2 hours. In saucepan, combine wine and honey, mixing well. Stir in flour, cinnamon and mustard until all dry ingredients are completely blended. Simmer over low flame until mixture bubbles and is thick. Remove ham from oven. Turn heat up to 400°. Brush fat side of ham generously with honey mixture. Bake until top is glazed, brushing with additional honey mixture from time to time to complete glazing. While ham is in oven, drain figs. Discard syrup. Place figs and apples in a greased shallow pan. Place briefly in oven to heat through. Garnish ham with mounds of fruit.

[recipe_title]Roast Capon, Calf's-Brain Stuffing[/recipe_title]

(Serves six to eight)

[recipe]1 8-lb. capon[/recipe]

[recipe]1 calf's brains[/recipe]

[recipe]1 tablespoon lemon juice[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]Flour[/recipe]

[recipe]Salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup buckwheat groats[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup very finely minced onion[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup very finely minced celery, with leaves[/recipe]

[recipe]8 slices stale whole-wheat bread--at least three days old[/recipe]

[recipe]2 eggs, well beaten[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon celery seed[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon leaf sage, crushed in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram, crushed in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons finely minced parsley[/recipe]

[recipe]Bread crumbs[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup pine nuts[/recipe]

[recipe]8 dates, pitted[/recipe]

[recipe]1-1/2 cups chicken broth, fresh or canned[/recipe]

[recipe]1 oz. amontillado[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon lemon juice[/recipe]

Wash calf's brains under cold running water. Cut away membrane. Soak in cold water in refrigerator several hours. Drain; cook in boiling salted water, to which 1 tablespoon lemon juice has been added, 10 to 12 minutes. Drain; chill in refrigerator. When cold, cut into 1/2-in. cubes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper; dip in flour and sauté in 1/4 in. oil until browned. Set aside. Cook groats, following directions on package. Sauté onion and celery in 1/4 cup oil until vegetables are tender but not brown. Celery may remain slightly crisp. Soak bread in cold water. Drain and squeeze gently to remove excess water. Chop bread coarsely. Combine groats, bread, sautéed vegetables, sautéed calf's brains, eggs, celery seed, sage, marjoram and parsley. Season generously with salt and pepper. If dressing seems too moist, add a few tablespoons bread crumbs. Stuff capon with dressing. Sew vent shut or fasten with small skewers. Brush capon with oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Preheat oven at 325°. Roast capon, breast side up, in shallow pan 3 hours or until very tender and brown. While capon is roasting, heat pine nuts in shallow pan 10 to 12 minutes in oven or until light brown. Sprinkle with salt. Cut dates crosswise into quarters. Remove capon from pan. Pour off excess fat. Add chicken broth, amontillado and 1 teaspoon lemon juice and scrape pan to loosen drippings. Simmer over top flame about 5 minutes. Carve capon; garnish each portion with dates and pine nuts. Pass gravy at table.

[recipe_title]Roast Squab, Herb Sauce[/recipe_title]

(Serves six)

[recipe]6 squabs, 1 lb. Each[/recipe]

[recipe]Salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup loosely packed fresh spinach leaves, no stems[/recipe]

[recipe]1-1/2 cups cold chicken broth, fresh or canned[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons instantized flour[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons finely minced fresh parsley[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon finely chopped chives[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon finely minced fresh tarragon or 1/2 teaspoon dried tarragon[/recipe]

[recipe]l/2 teaspoon dried summer savory[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon lemon juice[/recipe]

Preheat oven at 325°. Heat 2 tablespoons oil in casserole suitable for top of stove. Sprinkle squabs with salt and pepper. Sauté in casserole until light brown, turning when necessary to brown evenly. Transfer casserole to oven and roast squabs breast side up, uncovered, 1 hour or until tender. Wash spinach well. With water remaining on leaves, cook in saucepan until spinach is tender. Drain and chop spinach extremely fine or force it through a sieve. Combine chicken broth, spinach, flour, parsley, chives, tarragon and savory. Stir until flour dissolves. Heat in a saucepan, stirring frequently, until thick. Simmer 10 minutes. Remove squabs from casserole. Scrape casserole to loosen drippings. Add chicken-broth mixture and simmer 5 minutes. Add lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste. Pour gravy over squabs on serving platter, or pass separately at table.

[recipe_title]Roast Suckling Pig, Roman Style[/recipe_title]

(Serves eight to ten)

[recipe]10-lb. suckling pig[/recipe]

[recipe]Salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon oregano[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 teaspoon leaf thyme[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 teaspoon rosemary[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup pine nuts[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup dry red wine[/recipe]

[recipe]1-1/2 cups cold chicken broth[/recipe]

[recipe]1/2 cup raisins[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon anchovy paste[/recipe]

[recipe]2 tablespoons instantized flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1 small red apple[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup thinly sliced scallions[/recipe]

The suckling pig may be filled with bread stuffing or prune stuffing for a more substantial dish; but more often these days, it's served like spareribs, as something to be munched for its succulent flavor and crispness; another meat or poultry dish usually accompanies it.

Preheat oven at 350°. Brush pig with oil. Pound oregano, thyme and rosemary in mortar and rub into meat. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Fasten front legs forward and back legs rearward with skewers. Place a block of wood in mouth of pig. Place on wire rack in roasting pan. Roast 3 to 3-1/2 hours or until crisp and brown. While meat is roasting, place pine nuts in shallow pan and heat in oven about 10 minutes or until light brown. Sprinkle with salt. Boil wine until it is reduced to 1/4 cup. When wine is cool, add chicken broth, raisins, anchovy paste and flour, stirring well until flour is completely dissolved. Slowly bring to a boil, stirring constantly until thick. When pig is done, remove wood from mouth and replace it with apple. Place pig on a long platter. Remove rack from pan and drain off all but 3 tablespoons fat from roasting pan. Add chicken-broth mixture and scrape pan to loosen drippings. Simmer 5 minutes over top flame. Pour part of the sauce over pig. Sprinkle with pine nuts and scallions. Pass balance of sauce at table.

[recipe_title]Minutal of Meatbalis, Pork and Fruit[/recipe_title]

(Serves six to eight)

[recipe]2 lbs. top sirloin or top round of beef[/recipe]

[recipe]2 lbs. boneless fresh pork shoulder or loin of pork[/recipe]

[recipe]2 pieces celery[/recipe]

[recipe]3 medium-size onions[/recipe]

[recipe]4 slices stale white bread[/recipe]

[recipe]2 eggs, slightly beaten[/recipe]

[recipe]Salt, pepper[/recipe]

[recipe]3 tablespoons salad oil[/recipe]

[recipe]2 cloves garlic, very finely minced[/recipe]

[recipe]2 teaspoons cumin seeds, pounded in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]1 teaspoon coriander seeds, pounded in mortar[/recipe]

[recipe]2 sweet red or green peppers, 1/2-in. dice[/recipe]

[recipe]6 tablespoons flour[/recipe]

[recipe]1 quart and 1 pint (6 cups) stock or chicken broth[/recipe]

[recipe]1/4 cup honey[/recipe]

[recipe]1/3 cup vinegar[/recipe]

[recipe]1 cup dry red wine[/recipe]

[recipe]1-lb. can pitted sweet black cherries, drained[/recipe]

[recipe]30-oz. can apricot halves, drained[/recipe]

Cut celery into 1-in. pieces. Slice 2 onions. Place celery and sliced onions in small saucepan with water to cover. Simmer until tender, about 15 minutes: drain. Soak bread in cold water. Drain and squeeze gently to remove excess water. Put beef through meat grinder, using fine blade. Again put through meat grinder, with cooked celery, onion and bread. Add eggs, 2 teaspoons salt and 1/4 teaspoon pepper. Mix extremely well. Shape into small balls about 3/4 in. thick. Dip hands in cold water to shape meat easily. Place meatballs in a single layer in shallow greased pan. Preheat oven at 375°. Bake 20 minutes or until meatballs have lost raw color and are firm. Cut pork into 1-in. squares about 1/4 in. thick. Heat oil in large stewpot or Dutch oven. Sauté pork until it loses raw color. Mince remaining onion and sprinkle on pork, together with garlic, cumin, coriander and sweet peppers. Sauté a few minutes longer. Sprinkle flour over meat, stirring well. Add stock, stirring well. In mixing bowl, combine honey, vinegar and wine and blend well. Add to pot; simmer over low flame 1 hour. Add meatballs and cook 1/2 hour longer or until pork is very tender. Add salt and pepper to taste. Add drained fruit. Cook only until fruit is heated through.

The host who invites friends, Romans and lovers to his villa for a magnum opus like the one we've fashioned should enjoy the tributes of his guests for ages to come.