"For drink, there was beer which was very strong when not mingled with water, but was agreeable to those who were used to it. They drank this with a reed, out of the vessel that held the beer, upon which they saw the barley swim"
About this Quote
Xenophon drops this detail with a soldier's eye: not to romanticize a feast, but to inventory the strange logistics of living among other peoples. The beer is "very strong when not mingled with water" - a line that quietly exposes a Greek palate trained on diluted wine and suspicious of anything taken neat. Calling it "agreeable to those who were used to it" is polite, but it's also a cultural shrug: the drink isn't objectively good; it's a habit you acquire, like climate or discipline.
The image does the real work. Drinking "with a reed" from the communal vessel while "they saw the barley swim" turns the scene tactile and slightly alien, a close-up of foreignness. Xenophon isn't just noting an odd custom; he's marking a boundary between his cohort and the world they're moving through. The reed implies distance and caution, as if direct contact with the slurry would be too intimate, too much like becoming local. That floating barley, visible as you sip, is a reminder that this beverage hasn't been refined into something abstract and civilized. It's agriculture still in the cup.
Context matters: Xenophon writes as a marcher and survivor, and his ethnographic asides double as operational intelligence. What do people eat, how do they serve it, what does it do to you? Underneath the neutrality is a Greek confidence that "our" way is the baseline, and everything else is an adaptation you tolerate if circumstances force you. The passage is travel writing before tourism: curiosity sharpened by conquest and the need to stay alive.
The image does the real work. Drinking "with a reed" from the communal vessel while "they saw the barley swim" turns the scene tactile and slightly alien, a close-up of foreignness. Xenophon isn't just noting an odd custom; he's marking a boundary between his cohort and the world they're moving through. The reed implies distance and caution, as if direct contact with the slurry would be too intimate, too much like becoming local. That floating barley, visible as you sip, is a reminder that this beverage hasn't been refined into something abstract and civilized. It's agriculture still in the cup.
Context matters: Xenophon writes as a marcher and survivor, and his ethnographic asides double as operational intelligence. What do people eat, how do they serve it, what does it do to you? Underneath the neutrality is a Greek confidence that "our" way is the baseline, and everything else is an adaptation you tolerate if circumstances force you. The passage is travel writing before tourism: curiosity sharpened by conquest and the need to stay alive.
Quote Details
| Topic | Food |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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