Must Cakes

Thank you for those last three blog posts, I said to Pliny this morning. They were very entertaining.

I did my best, said Pliny.

Yes, you did. And Pliny, I didn't know you were so fond of cake.

Well, I am rather partial to it. But of course, I rarely eat it.

Neither do I. But I sensed you were complaining. I'm not averse to baking one every now and then, for a special occasion, and eating it too. Would you like me to bake you a cake? I could try the Erupting Volcano.

No, don't do that, said Pliny. Writing about it was one thing, but I don't think I could face eating one just yet.

Well, what kind of cake do you like?

Do you know, said Pliny dreamily, there was a cake I used to really like. It was called Must Cake.

Alright I'll have a go at that. What's the recipe?

Let me see......said Pliny. You take a modius of wheat flour....

That's easy, I said.

Then you moisten it with must.

What's must?

It's a wine sediment, from the lees of the wine.

This is sounding lovely already, I said.

Yes it adds a wonderful flavour. But that is just the beginning. You add anise, cummin, two pounds of lard, a pound of cheese, and the bark of a laurel twig. Mix it all up and make it into cakes. Then you place them on bay leaves and bake. Ahh. The aroma! I can almost smell it now.

So can I, I said. But you sure about the lard? People nowadays are not very fond of lard. And all that cheese as well! It would be awfully rich. What if I leave out the lard and the cheese, and use a bit of olive oil instead?

Pliny looked glum.

Goodbye my dream cake, he said.