One of the things I love the most about December is its fragrances, of fresh evergreens in the house, bay or pine scented candles, good food on the stove and in the oven – and on the table.
One of the things I love the least about winter as it moves on into January and February is its lack of aromas. The ice and snow have coated everything in a chilly seal that keeps scents hidden away.
So winter has always been a time, for me, of drawing aromas back out again, sometimes with fresh flower arrangements, but most often through cooking.
The herb Rosemary is perfect for winter stews, with a woodsy, almost briny flavour from its origins along the Mediterranean coast. Its original scientific name, Rosmarinus officinalis, refers to the drops of sea spray on its leaves from the salty waters surrounding it.
Because the plant was evergreen, rosemary became a symbol of immortality. The ancient Egyptians, after using it while embalming their dead, also added sprigs of it to the burial rites in order to protect their souls on the journey to the afterlife, while the ancient Greeks and Romans often carried sprigs of rosemary in funeral processions and placed them on the deceased at the burial site. It’s still used in funerals to this day, and in 2022 was part of the floral arrangement on Queen Elizabeth II’s casket.
It was also renowned for strengthening the memory. Ancient Greek scholars would twine the herb in their hair when studying for exams, and then rosemary crowns during the exams to help them remember what they’d been taught. (Wish I’d known that during university.) Recent scientific studies have shown that eating or breathing the aroma of rosemary does enhance cognitive functions.
Rosemary’s medicinal properties weren’t lost on ancient cultures – it was used for a variety of ailments: fatigue, pain, indigestion, inflammation, even jaundice. Hippocrates, the ancient Greek physician known as the “Father of Medicine”, would treat joint pain with an ointment made of the plant’s flowers and leaves macerated in olive oil.
In Medieval times, rosemary was believed to offer protection from the plague. In the 14th century, the Black Death took out up to 60% of the entire population of Europe, and also swept through Asia and Africa. The total death count was an estimated 50 million people. It was a terrifying spectacle each time there was an outbreak, thought to be the Hand of God.
As a result, during an outbreak in 1603, when 38,000 Londoners died in very short order, the demand for the herb was so high that the price for an armful of branches increased from one shilling, which would buy an entire pig or 18 gallons of good ale, to six shillings for a handful.
There was even a concoction called “Four thieves vinegar”, made from wine or cider vinegar and steeped with herbs like rosemary, along with spices and garlic. Legend had it, during a plague outbreak, a group of thieves was caught robbing the sick and dead. In exchange for leniency, they offered to exchange their secret medicinal recipe, which had allowed them to commit the robberies without catching the disease.
A recipe in the Museum of Paris in 1937, said to have been an original copy of the recipe posted on the walls of the city of Marseille during one of the outbreaks, instructed:
Take three pints of strong white wine vinegar, add a handful of each of wormwood, meadowsweet, wild marjoram and sage, fifty cloves, two ounces of campanula roots, two ounces of angelica, rosemary and horehound and three large measures of camphor. Place the mixture in a container for fifteen days, strain and express then bottle. Use by rubbing it on the hands, ears and temples from time to time when approaching a plague victim.
Rosemary’s powers were extended to the supernatural as well – it was believed to keep evil spirits at bay. In Spain, it was used to protect against witchcraft and other menaces on the road. (Spanish roads of the time sound a great deal like the Roads in my Chaos Roads Trilogy.)
Covering the ground with fragrant herbs was a common practice in the Middle Ages, to mask any off-putting odours from the compacted-earth floors and laughable sanitation systems of the time. Malodours were thought to bring disease, which wasn’t that far off the mark considering that those vapours arose from cesspools, while nature’s aromas were considered revitalizing and healing.
Smelling rosemary on Christmas Eve was believed to bring a year of health, happiness and good luck, and it became a tradition to scatter the herb on the floor that night and tread upon its leaves to release the fresh aroma, which must have been quite a pleasant change from the usual odours.
Drawing on all of these legends, rosemary became a staple in classic literature. In Shakespeare’s play Hamlet, Ophelia, losing her sanity after the tragic death of her father, Polonius, distributed imaginary flowers to everyone she met, saying “There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance. / Pray you, love, remember.”
When Miguel de Cervantes wrote Don Quixote, he tasked the titular knight with making and consuming the Balsam of Fierabras, a miraculous substance that would heal whoever drank it. Don Quixote ended up vomiting and sweating, but healed after sleeping. For his trusty aide Sancho Panza, it had so much of a laxative effect that he almost died. To prepare the potion, Quixote used what’s called an ensalmo, a combination of potion and prayer with various gestures and signs to cure the sick. Such a ritual was forbidden by the Church.
Rosemary wood was even prized for making musical instruments, and it was said that using a comb made with the wood for one’s hair would prevent ‘giddiness’ (perhaps lightheadness, which must have happened often to have special hair implements created!).
So the next time you make a delicious, cozy meal with rosemary, you’re not just cooking with a pleasant herb, you’re truly cooking with history.
Here’s a recipe with rosemary from BBC Good Food that sounds delightfully sunshiny on a dreary winter day, Rosemary Chicken with Oven-roasted Ratatouille. I haven’t tried it out yet, but I plan to this week!