From bear chops to borscht, how menus helped shape world politics

In a world of QR code menus and takeout meals, it's easy to forget that menus — both the physical objects and the dishes they list — for centuries played an important symbolic role.

The "A World of Menus" exhibit that opened in Rome last week at the Garum Library and Museum of Cuisine lays out some 400 menus from major private and public collections. 

They offer a fascinating glimpse into defining moments of diplomatic aspirations, displays of wealth and power, creative acts of defiance and calm before catastrophe.

"We tried to put together an exhibit where you can see history on many different levels through meals that tell a story," said Matteo Ghirighini, Garum museum director and exhibit co-organizer.

The menus on display include those of the final meals aboard the Titanic; Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini's first lunch; Pope Francis's first (and probably last) meeting with Russian Orthodox Patriarch Kirill; and the coronations of Queen Elizabeth II and the last czar of Russia.

"A menu is the most direct witness of a moment in time and the gastronomy of that moment," said Ghirighini. "A menu doesn't lie."

The menus from the Titanic afford a look at the class differences aboard the ship.

On April 14, 1912, when the ocean liner began sinking, taking with it more than 1,500 people, first-class passengers would have dined on everything from fillets of brill fish and chicken à la Maryland to grilled mutton chops, with a variety of meat, fish and cheese options from the buffet.

Third class would have eaten roast beef and gravy with boiled potatoes for dinner, with a supper of gruel, cabin biscuits and cheese. The menu tellingly came with a note at the bottom directing passengers where to make complaints regarding "food supplied, want of attention or incivility." 

The menu of Mussolini and Hitler's first meal — and first meeting — in Venice on June 15, 1934 reveals details of both how the fascist dictator perceived the Nazi, and Mussolini's nationalist push.

Hitler had risen to power the year before, and aspired to Mussolini's dictatorial status.

The menu was written in German as a diplomatic courtesy, but showcased food like Adriatic crabs to Piedmontese beef — a reflection of Mussolini's nationalism, highlighting Italian regional ingredients and recipes.

Still, Ghirighini called it a boilerplate diplomatic offering, void of signs of trying to impress or pander.

"At the time, Mussolini didn't care about Hitler," said Ghirighini. "He found him annoying, with all the things he wanted, uniting Germany with Austria and so on. After they met, he called Hitler 'a little stupid clown.'"