Pompeii’s Ancient Bread Has Been Recreated

Nearly 2,000 years after Pompeii was buried in ash and pumice stone, fresh bread made according to ancient traditions is for sale once again.

“Hey, you’re the bread lady! I used your recipe,” said Huang Jing Lun, a Taiwanese tourist asking for a selfie with Farrell Monaco, a Roman bread archaeologist and food writer, and her panis quadratus loaf. “But I made it without the poppy seeds – they’re illegal in my country!”

Mr Lun was one of the 20,000 daily visitors now allowed in the world’s best-known Roman archaeological site, where approximately 1,800 residents of Pompeii and Herculaneum perished during the devastating eruption of Mount Vesuvius in AD 79.

The park’s management capped crowds in 2024 to protect it, but the stream of tourists hasn’t slowed.

“I’ve worked here for 40 years. Usually they only want to see bodies and brothels,” said Agostino, a security guard, leading us through the throngs to find frescoes depicting bread and grains.

After a decade of studying carbonised loaves in labs, and baking experiments, Ms Monaco, a Canadian-born British archaeologist, brought her research and several hundred recreated loaves to the first agricultural fair inside ancient Pompeii.

“Its fantastic” said Terence Hopman from Ontario, a retired 76-year-old chef, as he ate a crusty wedge. “What’s special is that the recipe is so ancient.”

The recipe is an approximation, points out Ms Monaco, based on the available research about grains, leavens, milling and extraction methods, some of which were first written down by Pliny the Elder.

Ms Monaco, who is an honorary fellow and PhD candidate at the University of Leicester School of Archaeology and Ancient History, began baking eight years ago to test her culinary archaeology theories.

Some 35 ancient bakeries have been unearthed so far in Pompeii. With new excavations in the north-east corner of the Unesco site, Ms Monaco expects more to be discovered.

“Forms? Tools? What might be lying beneath the soil untouched since 79 AD? The research thus far is largely focused on the production process and ovens,” Ms Monaco told The Telegraph while exploring the rutted Roman road she called “Street of the Bakeries”.

She adds: “I was interested in Roman food and diet, and as soon as I saw there was a gap in the research, I decided I was going to try to fill in the bread blank.”

Inside the bakery of Popidius Priscus, tourists peer at the holes in a kneading vat where wooden paddles once would have turned the dough. “A KitchenAid from 79 AD!” Ms Monaco quips.

Centuries ago, giant volcanic millstones ground loudly through the night. Kneaders formed the rounds in prep rooms. A bakery foreman oversaw slaves or convicts working in the searing heat around the brick ovens.

And yet, “Hic Habitat Falicitas” – Here Lives Happiness – is inscribed on the front of the bakery.

In 2023, a fresco was unearthed of a still life depicting an Italian flatbread with fruits, nuts and condiments, accompanied by a wine goblet.

“It’s not pizza,” Ms Monaco admonishes, busting the myth. “It’s a sacrificial cake.”

Three kinds of bread figured most prominently in Pompeii: a sacrificial cake, used as supports for foods offered on altars to the Gods; bread rings, called Arculata (sweet ancestors of today’s ubiquitous Italian taralli salty snacks); and the panis quadratus sectioned bread, which is most commonly depicted throughout Pompeii.

Incredibly, 81 loaves were discovered by archaeologists in 1862, preserved in a sealed oven in what is known today as the “Bakery of Modestus”.

Pompeii microbiologists found the panis quadratus bread was lightly leavened and made from a variety of multi-grain flour blends.

“They chucked it all into the mill, a testament to their frugality and the value they put on bread,” said Ms Monaco. “Today we let it go mouldy on the counter, but they locked it up to protect it from thieves.”

Archaeologists are still puzzled about whether those 81 loaves were baking at the time of the deadly pyroclastic ground surge or had been stored for safekeeping.

“Did they cut and run as the bread was baking, or were they lobbed in there by bakers expecting to come back, maybe to protect them from looting?” asks Ms Monaco. “We may never know, but it is a mystery that obsesses me.”

Fingerprints are still visible in some rounds. The radiating wedge pressed into the top with a reed allowed the loaf to be divided into eight perfect sections (each containing the minimum daily caloric needs).

Flour was more refined for wealthy families, with bran removed and set aside for the dogs and slaves, further evidence of historians’ theory that slaves were given more nutritious food than ordinary people, perhaps to enhance their strength and productivity.

A piece of twine was placed around the bread before baking to encourage it to rise vertically, saving oven space. The string could also be used later to hang the bread from long wooden poles used by foodstuff porters to transport it.

And the boastful frescoes in villas depicting an abundance of bread, wine, fruit and nuts? No different from today’s foodie post of a fancy plate.

“It gave the ancient Romans a sense of community and it is still like this here in Italy,” said Raffaele Cirillo, Ms Monaco’s Italian business partner, as he broke off a wedge for a visitor from Toronto.

“When you share food, you share sentiments. Bread unites people.”