Fish fermentation allowed the ancient Romans to store their fish surplus for long periods, in a time when there were no freezers and fishing was bound to fish migratory patterns.

Picture: http://www.urbanoutdoorskills.com/garum_1.html

Fish sauce is widely seen as unique to Eastern cooking —distinctive of Thai, Vietnamese, or Phillipine cuisine. Less well known is the fact that it was one of the main condiments used by the ancient Romans, and that they had an extensive, low-tech trade network to produce it in large quantities. Making fish sauce also helped reduce food waste both in the food industry and for households.

Ancient Roman and modern fish sauces are probably identical in preparation, color, and taste. Making garum, as it was called then, is simple. Place some fish—such as mackerel, sardines, anchovies, or discarded fish innards—in a barrel with salt at a 5:1 ratio. Place a weight on top of the mixture, and let sit for 2-3 months.

By this time the fish will ferment and liquify, creating an umami flavor similar to that of parmesan, and a slightly pungent smell. You can now take out the liquid, and use the remaining residue to make a second batch of fish sauce with more salty water.

How to make fish sauce, modern and ancient. Source: Robert Curtis.

It was long thought that garum was a condiment reserved for the rich. The elite like to have access to ‘exotic’ flavors, and historians have suggested that for this reason garum was mainly appreciated by rich gourmands. Yet recent research shows that fish sauce was a condiment enjoyed by the hoi poloi as well.

The extent of fish sauce urns in Pompei’s restaurants, homes, and public places indicates that it was available to and enjoyed by most citizens, elite or slave. It was included in over 75% of recipes found in a cookbook from the first century AD, which included many dishes that were likely composed by slaves or servile cooks.

In addition, the trade network for fish sauce was immense. Archeologists have found over 60 fish sauce-processing sites in Spain and Portugal, and one site in Morocco had a production capacity of more than 1000m3. By plotting shipwrecks containing amphorae of fish sauce, we now know that fish sauce was widely traded across the Mediterranean. Spanish fish sauce amphorae have been found in Greece, Lebanon, Germany, and England.

These processing sites functioned at a scale similar to modern factories—supplying the multitudes of Roman soldiers, sailors, and slaves with flavor enhancer. These factories were placed strategically along lines of tuna migration, so that fishers could bring their catch to shore, which could then immediately be processed and sent throughout the empire. During off-seasons, these same sites would process smaller fish such as sardines and anchovies.

Fish fermentation therefore allowed the ancients to store their fish surplus for long periods, in a time when there were no freezers and fishing was bound to fish migratory patterns. In addition, these factories likely fermented the insides of the larger fish, making use of what in our society would be considered a waste product. In this way, the fermentation process was a useful compliment to, and byproduct of, their large fishing industry, which was necessary to feed the mobile masses of the Roman empire.

Salting vats at ancient Roman fish processing sites, Almuñecar, Spain. Source: Robert Curtis.

But fish fermentation also happened at smaller scales. Fermentation vats have been found at fish market stalls and in private homes, indicating that many Romans supplemented their income from a ‘cottage industry’ of fish sauce. Fishmongers would make use of fish waste and sell it on the side, often flavoring it with herbs, spices, or wine.

The condiment had many benefits for the Romans. It contains lots of amino acids, vitamin B-12, and other micronutrients. It has low bacteria content and isn’t prone to spoilage because of its fish-to-salt ratio and low pH. Romans ate mostly lentils, bread, dairy, vegetables, fish, and a small amount of meat—so fish sauce was a crucial flavor enhancer and appetite-stimulant.

But perhaps most importantly, the fermentation of fish provided a low-tech alternative to storing fish yields for up to two years, in a time when there were no modern fishing fleets containing on-board processing facilities, freezers, which produce 27 million tonnes of waste from by-catch annually. There were also no supermarkets lined with fridges, so consumers needed access to quality products that remained edible for long periods of time.

It also provided a cheap method of processing what is considered refuse in our society: fish intestines. Imagine if every modern fish market had a big vat of fish innards fermenting in the back, instead of sending those tasty intestines to the landfill.

This low-tech solution to fish waste may be a bit beyond our comfort level. Even Pliny the Elder snubbed Ancient Roman fish sauce, referring to it as “that secretion of putrefying matter”. But on the other hand, the fact that the fish sauce developed by Romans is almost exactly the same as that found in South-East Asia today, indicates that this type of food preservation can have universal appeal. Over ⅓ of food goes to waste globally—making fish sauce an inexpensive, low-energy, simple, and appetizing way to minimize that waste, both at large and small scales.

Aaron Vansintjan

Source: Umami and the foods of classical antiquity. American Journal of Clinical Nutrition. Curtis, Robert I. 2009.

When the British colonized India, they imposed their own system of water management, which included the building of large-scale dams, sewers, and irrigation channels. This high-tech approach continues today, as the World Bank is urging India to build enormous dam projects to fight drought and depleted aquifers. The Indian government has followed its advice. Its first Prime Minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, called dams the “Temples of modern India”. Since then, India has built over 5,000 dams and large reservoirs. [1]

However, before the British arrived, people on the subcontinent used traditional low-cost, low-tech engineering to collect rainwater for thousands of years. This involved the placement of thousands of small structures throughout rural areas which, in one way or another, catch excess rainwater from the monsoon months and allow it to slowly percolate into the groundwater during the dry season. To maintain and manage these structures, community-based management schemes were necessary. However, these were actively discouraged during British rule and following independence. As a result, in the 20th century many of these small reservoirs fell into disrepair.

In the 1980s, the Alwar district in the North-Western state of Rajasthan was one of the driest in all of India, even though older villagers remembered that its rivers used to flow in the past. Many farmers were migrating to the cities, as there was no longer any means of subsistence from the land. In 1985, Rajendra Singh—now known as the ‘Water Man of Rajasthan’—arrived in the area and started encouraging villagers to rebuild their old water reservoirs, or water johads. When the villagers had constructed 375 johads, the river began to flow after having been dry for several decades. [2]

By 2003, Singh, through the NGO Tarun Bharat Sangh, had helped with the construction of over 5,000 johads and the rejuvenation of 2,500 old reservoirs, providing irrigation water to 140,000 ha. and 700,000 people. [3, 5] In 2015, 8,600 johads had been built, bringing water back to 1,000 villages. [4] The johads are incredibly cheap and productive—at 100 rupees per capita, they can raise economic production by as much as 400 rupees per year. Compare this to nearby Sardar Sarovar Dam project, which cost 300 billion rupees, and cost 100 times more per person supplied with water, and 340 times more per hectare irrigated. [3]

The design of water johads. Source: Anupma Sharma, National Institute of Hydrology

And yet water johads are extremely simple and low-cost structures that require no large equipment or expensive materials to build—simply a village of able hands and local elements. After digging a pit, the villagers shape the excavated earth into a semicircular mud barrier. A stone drain is sometimes set up, allowing excess water to seep into the ground, or connecting it with johads nearby. Essentially the johad will capture runoff from monsoon floods and allow it to slowly percolate into the water table during the dry months. When many johads are built in one area, they have a cumulative effect, resulting in the replenishment of whole aquifers. [5] In addition, it has been shown that the water stored in the aquifers does not draw away water from communities downstream. [6]

It’s important to note that water johads are place-specific technologies and cannot necessarily be replicated to other geographical locations or climates. They require steady sloping land—where each johad can feed water into another downstream—and a rainy season, where floods can fill up the reservoirs during the dry months.

In addition, constructing and maintaining thousands of water reservoirs also required new forms of resource management. Since the government refused to participate with the johad construction efforts, or recognize that they were effective—its policies remain tied to the development narrative. Villagers decided to take matters in their own hands and organize their own water management councils, which have now expanded to managing forests and parks through participatory and democratic methods. The result is what some have claimed a miracle: bringing water back to a water-scarce and impoverished area.

Building Community

An engineer might look at a johad and claim that it is far too simple a technology—there is no innovation here, let alone a miracle. This is true: similar technologies exist all over the world. In Mediterranean countries, for example, rain water catchments were built over a thousand years ago and continue to provide water to farmers during dry seasons.

Rajendra Singh attributes the success of the johads to the fact that the technology encourages people to work together, building community while addressing essential needs. This is in strong opposition to the large government-built dams, which have displaced millions of people in India and, on average, have increased poverty. [5]

So, perhaps the key innovation with the johads is that rather than relying on engineering expertise or governmental action, villagers have constructed the johads themselves through traditional methods and community participation. The result is the revival of a low-tech tradition that is far more cost-effective than high-tech dams could ever be.

Aaron Vansintjan

Sources:

[1] International Commission on Large Dams (ICOLD). http://icold-cigb.net/GB/World_register/general_synthesis.asp?IDA=206

[2] The Water Man of Rajasthan. Frontline. Sebastian, Sunny, 2001.

[3] Water-harvesting in India transforms lives. Alternet. McCully, Patrick. 2003

[4] An ancient technology is helping India’s “water man” save thousands of parched villages. Ghoshal, Devjyot. 2015.

[5]. Water Harvesting: Alwar, Rajasthran. National Institute of Hydrology (Roorkee, India). Sharma, Anupma.

[6]. Traditional Water Harvesting Structure: Community behind ‘Community’. Economic and Political Weekly. Vol. 41, No. 7, pp. 596-598. Kashwan, Prakash, 2006.

[7]. “Dams,” The Quarterly Journal of Economics, MIT Press, MIT Press, vol. 122(2), pages 601-646, 05. Esther Duflo & Rohini Pande, 2007.

Related: Madakas.