Making Manioc Flour in a Tupinambá Village
Draft: this translation has not yet been checked against the original by a separate review.
- Written
- printed 1578, revised 1580 (events of 1557–1558)
- Place
- Guanabara Bay
- Language
- French
- Kind of source
- travel account
- Reading time
- 5 minutes
- Difficulty
- Moderate
- Intensity
- Low
Amazon and OrinocoFood, farming and hungerLanguages and words
The women grated the roots on boards studded with small sharp stones, the way a French cook grates nutmeg, and stirred the flour over the fire in pans of clay until it formed little pellets. When the French tried to toss the dry flour into their mouths as the Tupinambá did, they powdered their beards and had to fall back on spoons.
Jean de Léry was a young Calvinist from Burgundy, studying theology in Geneva, when he sailed with a small party of Protestants to join the French colony in Guanabara Bay, where Rio de Janeiro now stands. The colony, called France Antarctique, had been founded in 1555 by Nicolas Durand de Villegaignon. Léry arrived in March 1557. After religious quarrels with Villegaignon, he and the other Genevans left the fort and lived for some months among the Tupinambá, before sailing home in January 1558.
Léry saw what he describes, and he ate this food every day. But he wrote the book years later: his first draft was lost twice, and it was printed only in 1578, twenty years after his return, then revised for the edition of 1580 translated here. His spellings of Tupi words are a Frenchman's attempts at the sounds.
Léry wrote as a Protestant who had lived through religious war in France, including the siege of Sancerre. In this chapter he is practical: he compares each step to something a French reader knows, such as starch, nutmeg, chestnuts or omelets. Notice who does the work, and how carefully he separates the two kinds of root, one of which is poison unless it is made into well-cooked flour.
The edited translation, in simplified modern English. Bracketed words were added for clarity; [...] marks a cut. Tap a note number to read the note.
[...] Our Americans1 have two kinds of root in their country, which they call Aypi and Maniot.2 In three or four months these grow in the ground as thick as a man's thigh and about a foot and a half long. When they are pulled up, the women do the rest, for the men have nothing to do with it. Sometimes the women first dry the roots over the fire on the Boucan,3 which I will describe elsewhere, and sometimes they take them quite fresh. Either way, they grate them hard on small sharp stones set in a flat piece of wood, just as we grate cheese and nutmeg. In this way they turn the roots into flour as white as snow. This raw flour, and the white bran that comes from it, which I will speak of shortly, smell exactly like fresh, wet starch. I mean starch made from pure wheat soaked a long time in water. After I came back here, I happened to be in a place where starch was being made. The smell reminded me of the odor you usually notice in the savages' houses when they are making root flour.
Next, to prepare the flour, these Brazilian women use large, very wide pans of clay, each holding more than a bushel.4 They make the pans themselves, quite neatly, for this purpose. They set them on the fire with a quantity of flour inside. While it cooks they keep stirring it with half gourds,5 which they use as we use bowls. Cooked this way, the flour forms little pellets, like fine hail or an apothecary's sugar pills.
They make two sorts. One is well toasted and hard, and the savages call it ouy-entan.6 Because it keeps better, they carry it when they go to war. The other is less cooked and softer, and they call it ouy-pon. It is much better than the first. When it is fresh and you put it in your mouth, you would say it was the soft inside of a loaf of white bread, still hot. Both kinds, as they cook, lose the first smell I described and take on a more pleasant, mellow taste.
[...] Both flours make good porridge, which the savages call Mingant.7 It is best mixed with a rich broth, for then it turns lumpy like rice, and made this way it tastes very good.
However that may be, our Toüoupinambaoults, men, women and children, have been used to eating this flour dry instead of bread since childhood. They are so practiced at it that they take it with four fingers from the clay dish or pot where they keep it. Then they toss it into their mouths from quite a distance, yet they aim so straight that they do not spill a single crumb. When we French tried to copy them and eat it this way, we were not trained to it as they were. Instead of tossing it into our mouths, we scattered it over our cheeks and floured our whole faces. So we had to take it with spoons, unless we wanted to look like clowns in a farce, especially those of us with beards.
Sometimes, too, after the Aypi and Maniot roots have been grated fresh, in the way I described, the women make large balls of the fresh, wet flour. They squeeze and press these very hard between their hands and force out a juice almost as white and clear as milk. They keep it in clay dishes and set it in the sun, whose heat makes it set and thicken like curdled cheese. When they want to eat it, they turn it out into other clay pans and cook it over the fire, as we cook omelets. Made this way, it is very good.
The Aypi root is good not only as flour. You can also cook it whole in the ashes or in front of the fire. It softens, splits and turns floury, like a chestnut roasted on the coals, and it tastes almost like one too. Eaten this way, it is good. It is not the same with the Maniot root. It is good only as well-cooked flour, and eaten any other way it would be poison.
The plants or stems of both kinds look very much alike. They grow as tall as small junipers, and their leaves are rather like those of the peonia, or peony as we say in French. But what is wonderful and well worth noticing about these Aypi and Maniot roots of our land of Brazil is how they multiply.8 The branches are almost as soft and easy to break as hemp stalks.9 Yet you can break off pieces and push them as deep as you can into the ground. Without any other tending, each one gives you a big root in two or three months.
Notes
- Léry means the Tupinambá, whose name he spells Toüoupinambaoults: the Tupi-speaking people of the coast around Guanabara Bay. back
- Aypi is sweet manioc and Maniot bitter manioc (cassava): forms of the same plant. Bitter manioc contains a poison that grating, drying and cooking reduce. back
- A frame of green wood set over a fire, used to dry and smoke food. Léry describes it in a later chapter. back
- A boisseau, an old French measure of dry goods, roughly a bushel. back
- Gourds cut in half to make bowls. back
- Léry's spellings of Tupi words for the two kinds of manioc flour: the hard, well-toasted kind that keeps, and the soft kind. back
- Léry's spelling of the Tupi word for a porridge. back
- Manioc grows from pieces of stem pushed into the ground. back
- The stalks left when hemp is stripped of its fiber, which snap easily. back
Left out of this excerpt.
Ayans doncques nos Ameriquains en leur pays, deux especes de racines qu'ils nomment Aypi & Maniot, lesquelles, en trois ou quatre mois, croissent dans terre aussi grosses que la cuisse d'un homme, & longues de pied & demi, plus ou moins ; quand elles sont arrachees les femmes (car les hommes ne s'y occupent point), apres les avoir fait secher au feu sur le Boucan, tel que ie le descriray ailleurs, ou bien quelquesfois les prenans toutes vertes, à force de les raper sur certaines petites pierres pointues, fichees & arrangees sur une piece de bois plate (tout ainsi que nous raclons & ratissons les formages & noix muscades), elles les reduisent en farine, laquelle est aussi blanche que neige. Et lors ceste farine ainsi crue, comme aussi le son blanc qui en sort, dont ie parleray tantost : a la vraye senteur de l'amidon fait de pur froment longtemps trempé en l'eau quand il est encore frais & liquide, tellement que depuis mon retour par deca, m'estant trouvé en un lieu où on en faisoit, ce flair me fit ressouvenir de l'odeur qu'on sent ordinairement ès maisons des sauvages, quand on y fait de la farine de racine.
Our Americans thus having in their country two kinds of roots which they call Aypi and Maniot, which in three or four months grow in the ground as thick as a man's thigh and a foot and a half long, more or less: when they are pulled up, the women (for the men do not occupy themselves with it at all), after having dried them at the fire on the Boucan, such as I shall describe it elsewhere, or else sometimes taking them quite green, by dint of grating them on certain small pointed stones, stuck and arranged on a flat piece of wood (just as we scrape and grate cheeses and nutmegs), reduce them to flour, which is as white as snow. And then this flour thus raw, as also the white bran that comes from it, of which I shall speak presently, has the true smell of starch made of pure wheat long soaked in water when it is still fresh and liquid; so much so that since my return over here, having found myself in a place where they were making it, this smell made me remember the odor that one ordinarily smells in the houses of the savages when they are making root flour there.
Our Americans have two kinds of root in their country, which they call Aypi and Maniot. In three or four months these grow in the ground as thick as a man's thigh and about a foot and a half long. When they are pulled up, the women do the rest, for the men have nothing to do with it. Sometimes the women first dry the roots over the fire on the Boucan, which I will describe elsewhere, and sometimes they take them quite fresh. Either way, they grate them hard on small sharp stones set in a flat piece of wood, just as we grate cheese and nutmeg. In this way they turn the roots into flour as white as snow. This raw flour, and the white bran that comes from it, which I will speak of shortly, smell exactly like fresh, wet starch. I mean starch made from pure wheat soaked a long time in water. After I came back here, I happened to be in a place where starch was being made. The smell reminded me of the odor you usually notice in the savages' houses when they are making root flour.
- Léry means the Tupinambá, whose name he spells Toüoupinambaoults: the Tupi-speaking people of the coast around Guanabara Bay.
- Aypi is sweet manioc and Maniot bitter manioc (cassava): forms of the same plant. Bitter manioc contains a poison that grating, drying and cooking reduce.
- A frame of green wood set over a fire, used to dry and smoke food. Léry describes it in a later chapter.
Apres cela & pour l'apprester ces femmes Bresiliennes ayans de grandes & fort larges poesles de terre, contenant chacune plus d'un boisseau, qu'elles font elles-mesmes assez proprement pour cest usage, les mettans sur le feu, & quantité de ceste farine dedans : pendant que elle cuict elles ne cessent de la remuer avec des courges mi parties, desquelles elles se servent ainsi que nous faisons d'escuelles. Ceste farine cuisant de ceste facon, se forme comme petite grelace, ou dragee d'apoticaire.
After that, and to prepare it, these Brazilian women, having great and very wide pans of earthenware, each holding more than a bushel, which they make themselves quite neatly for this use, putting them on the fire and a quantity of this flour inside: while it cooks they do not stop stirring it with half-split gourds, which they use as we do bowls. This flour, cooking in this way, forms like small hail [grelace?], or apothecary's sugared pills.
Next, to prepare the flour, these Brazilian women use large, very wide pans of clay, each holding more than a bushel. They make the pans themselves, quite neatly, for this purpose. They set them on the fire with a quantity of flour inside. While it cooks they keep stirring it with half gourds, which they use as we use bowls. Cooked this way, the flour forms little pellets, like fine hail or an apothecary's sugar pills.
- A boisseau, an old French measure of dry goods, roughly a bushel.
- Gourds cut in half to make bowls.
Or elles en font de deux sortes : assavoir de fort cuicte & dure, que les sauvages appellent ouy-entan, de laquelle parce qu'elle se garde mieux, ils portent quand ils vont en guerre : & d'autre moins cuicte & plus tendre qu'ils nomment ouy-pon, laquelle est d'autant meilleure que la premiere, que quand elle est fraische, vous diriez, en la mettant en la bouche & en la mangeant, que c'est du molet de pain blanc tout chaut : l'une & l'autre en cuisant changent aussi ce premier goust que j'ay dit en un plus plaisant & souef.
Now they make two sorts of it: namely, [one] well cooked and hard, which the savages call ouy-entan, of which, because it keeps better, they carry when they go to war; and another less cooked and softer, which they call ouy-pon, which is so much better than the first that when it is fresh you would say, putting it in your mouth and eating it, that it is the soft crumb of white bread quite hot. Both, in cooking, also change that first taste I spoke of into a more pleasant and sweet one.
They make two sorts. One is well toasted and hard, and the savages call it ouy-entan. Because it keeps better, they carry it when they go to war. The other is less cooked and softer, and they call it ouy-pon. It is much better than the first. When it is fresh and you put it in your mouth, you would say it was the soft inside of a loaf of white bread, still hot. Both kinds, as they cook, lose the first smell I described and take on a more pleasant, mellow taste.
- Léry's spellings of Tupi words for the two kinds of manioc flour: the hard, well-toasted kind that keeps, and the soft kind.
Left out of this excerpt.
Neantmoins l'une & l'autre farine est bonne à faire de la boulie, laquelle les sauvages appellent Mingant, & principalement quand on la destrempe avec quelque bouillon gras : car devenant lors grumeleuse comme du ris, ainsi aprestee elle est de fort bonne saveur.
Nevertheless both flours are good for making porridge, which the savages call Mingant, and especially when one thins it with some fat broth: for becoming then lumpy like rice, thus prepared it is of very good flavor.
Both flours make good porridge, which the savages call Mingant. It is best mixed with a rich broth, for then it turns lumpy like rice, and made this way it tastes very good.
- Léry's spelling of the Tupi word for a porridge.
Mais quoy que c'en soit, nos Toüoupinambaoults, tant hommes, femmes qu'enfans, estans dès leur ieunesse accoustumés de la manger toute seiche au lieu de pain, sont tellement duits & faconnez à cela que, la prenant avec leurs quatre doigts dans la vaisselle de terre ou autre vaisseau où ils la tiennent, encores qu'ils la iettent d'assez loin, ils rencontrent neantmoins si droit dans leurs bouches qu'ils n'en espanchent pas un seul brin. Que si entre nous Francois, les voulans imiter, la pensions manger de ceste facon, n'estans point comme eux stylez à cela, au lieu de la ietter dans la bouche, nous l'espanchions sur les ioues & nous enfarinions tout le visage : partant, sinon que ceux principalement qui portoyent barbe eussent voulu estre accoustrez en ioueurs de farces, nous estions contraints de la prendre avec des cuilliers.
But however that may be, our Tupinambá, men, women and children alike, being from their youth accustomed to eat it quite dry instead of bread, are so trained and fashioned to it that, taking it with their four fingers from the earthen dish or other vessel where they keep it, although they throw it from quite far, they nevertheless hit so straight into their mouths that they do not spill a single crumb of it. Whereas if we French, wishing to imitate them, thought to eat it in this fashion, not being trained to it like them, instead of throwing it into the mouth we spilled it on our cheeks and floured our whole face: therefore, unless those especially who wore beards had wished to be got up as farce players, we were forced to take it with spoons.
However that may be, our Toüoupinambaoults, men, women and children, have been used to eating this flour dry instead of bread since childhood. They are so practiced at it that they take it with four fingers from the clay dish or pot where they keep it. Then they toss it into their mouths from quite a distance, yet they aim so straight that they do not spill a single crumb. When we French tried to copy them and eat it this way, we were not trained to it as they were. Instead of tossing it into our mouths, we scattered it over our cheeks and floured our whole faces. So we had to take it with spoons, unless we wanted to look like clowns in a farce, especially those of us with beards.
Davantage il adviendra quelquefois qu'apres que ces racines d'Aypi & de Maniot (à la facon que ie vous ay dit) seront rapees toutes vertes, les femmes faisant de grosses pelotes de la farine fraische & humide qui en sort, les pressurant & pressant bien fort entre leurs mains, elles en feront sortir du ius presques aussi blanc & clair que laict : lequel elles retenans dans des plats & vaisselle de terre, apres qu'elles l'ont mis au soleil, la chaleur duquel le fait prendre & figer comme caillee de formage, quand on la veut manger, le renversant dans d'autres poesles de terre, & en icelle les faisant cuire sur le feu comme nous faisons les aumelettes d'œufs, il est fort bon ainsi apresté.
Further, it will sometimes happen that after these roots of Aypi and Maniot (in the way I have told you) have been grated quite green, the women, making large balls of the fresh and moist flour that comes from them, squeezing and pressing them very hard between their hands, will make juice come out of them almost as white and clear as milk; which [juice] they keep in dishes and earthen vessels; after they have put it in the sun, the heat of which makes it set and thicken like curdled cheese, when one wishes to eat it, turning it out into other earthen pans and cooking it in them on the fire as we do egg omelets, it is very good prepared thus.
Sometimes, too, after the Aypi and Maniot roots have been grated fresh, in the way I described, the women make large balls of the fresh, wet flour. They squeeze and press these very hard between their hands and force out a juice almost as white and clear as milk. They keep it in clay dishes and set it in the sun, whose heat makes it set and thicken like curdled cheese. When they want to eat it, they turn it out into other clay pans and cook it over the fire, as we cook omelets. Made this way, it is very good.
Au surplus, la racine d'Aypi non seulement est bonne en farine, mais aussi quand toute entiere on la fait cuire aux cendres ou devant le feu, s'attendrissant, fendant & rendant lors farineuse comme une chastagne rostie à la braise (de laquelle aussi elle a presque le goust), on la peut manger de ceste facon. Cependant il n'en prend pas de mesme de la racine de Maniot, car n'estant bonne qu'en farine bien cuicte, ce seroit poison de la manger autrement.
Moreover, the root of Aypi is not only good as flour, but also when one cooks it whole in the ashes or before the fire, softening, splitting and becoming then floury like a chestnut roasted on the embers (of which it also has almost the taste), one can eat it this way. However, it does not go the same with the root of Maniot, for being good only in well-cooked flour, it would be poison to eat it otherwise.
The Aypi root is good not only as flour. You can also cook it whole in the ashes or in front of the fire. It softens, splits and turns floury, like a chestnut roasted on the coals, and it tastes almost like one too. Eaten this way, it is good. It is not the same with the Maniot root. It is good only as well-cooked flour, and eaten any other way it would be poison.
Au reste les plantes ou tiges de toutes les deux, differentes bien peu l'une de l'autre quant à la forme, croissent de la hauteur des petits genevriers : & ont les fueilles assez semblables à l'herbe de peonia, ou piuoine en francois. Mais ce qui est admirable & digne de grande consideration en ces racines d'Aypi & de Maniot de nostre terre du Bresil gist en la multiplication d'icelles. Car comme ainsi soit que les branches soyent presque aussi tendres & aisées à rompre que chenevotes, si est ce neantmoins qu'autant qu'on en peut rompre & ficher le plus avant qu'on peut dans terre, sans autrement les cultiver, autant a on de grosses racines au bout de deux ou trois mois.
For the rest, the plants or stems of both, differing very little from one another in shape, grow to the height of small junipers, and have leaves rather like the herb peonia, or piuoine [peony] in French. But what is admirable and worthy of great consideration in these roots of Aypi and Maniot of our land of Brazil lies in their multiplication. For although the branches are almost as tender and easy to break as hemp stalks, it is nevertheless so that as many as one can break off and stick as far as one can into the ground, without otherwise cultivating them, so many big roots one has at the end of two or three months.
The plants or stems of both kinds look very much alike. They grow as tall as small junipers, and their leaves are rather like those of the peonia, or peony as we say in French. But what is wonderful and well worth noticing about these Aypi and Maniot roots of our land of Brazil is how they multiply. The branches are almost as soft and easy to break as hemp stalks. Yet you can break off pieces and push them as deep as you can into the ground. Without any other tending, each one gives you a big root in two or three months.
- Manioc grows from pieces of stem pushed into the ground.
- The stalks left when hemp is stripped of its fiber, which snap easily.
Page images of the original object or of the printed edition, from the libraries and archives that hold them. The pages shown are copied here where the holder marks them public domain; titles link to the holder's own viewer. Click a page to see it full size.
Léry, Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil, ed. Gaffarel, vol. 1, Paris 1880
Internet Archive (digitized by Google from the University of Michigan). pp. 141–145. Public domain (published 1880; Internet Archive marks it NOT_IN_COPYRIGHT).
The printed edition our text follows; it reproduces the 1580 second edition.
Léry, Histoire d'un voyage fait en la terre du Bresil, La Rochelle 1578
Internet Archive. chapter 9. Public domain (published 1578).
The first edition. Our text has not yet been collated with it.
New translation from the French text of Jean de Léry's Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil, second edition (1580), as reprinted by Paul Gaffarel (Paris, 1880), pages 141–145. About the first third of chapter 9, with two paragraphs cut: the opening, which links the chapter to the last, and a paragraph on why the flour will not make bread.
Léry's “sauvages” is translated “savages,” the word he uses; the notes say Tupinambá. His “Ameriquains” is kept as “Americans.” His spellings of Tupi words are kept, in italics. His long sentences, joined by colons, are broken up.
- Original
- Text as printed in the named edition or on the object, read from page images. Edition: Jean de Léry, Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil, new edition with introduction and notes by Paul Gaffarel, vol. 1 (Paris: Alphonse Lemerre, 1880), chapter 9, pp. 141–145. Gaffarel reproduces the second edition (Geneva: Antoine Chuppin, 1580). Digital text: Internet Archive item histoiredunvoya00gaffgoog (digitized by Google from the University of Michigan), OCR text, extracted by code. Long s printed as s; other OCR slips corrected and listed in unit notes. Not yet read against the page images. The edition's spelling, accents and ampersands are kept. Gaffarel's notes are not copied. Léry's text only.
- Transliterated
- Not needed: the original is in the Latin alphabet
- Close English
- Close translation drafted by Claude (Anthropic), kept as a working draft
- Simplified English
- Drafted by Claude (Anthropic) from the original. Not yet checked by a separate review.
- Editor’s review
- Not yet.
- Specialist review
- Not yet. Readings a specialist should confirm are listed for later review.
- Rights
- Original: public domain. Edition: public domain.
Sources for the notes
- Léry, Jean de. Histoire d'un voyage faict en la terre du Brésil. Edited by Paul Gaffarel. Vol. 1. Paris: Alphonse Lemerre, 1880. Chapter 9, pages 141–145, and the editor's biographical notice, pages i–xii. Internet Archive. https://archive.org/details/histoiredunvoya00gaffgoog
- Pinheiro, Marinaldo Pantoja, and Maria do Perpétuo Socorro Gomes de Souza Avelino de França. “Jean de Léry: Records of Colonization and Education in the Work ‘Story of a Journey Made to the Land of Brazil, Also Called America’ (1557–1558).” Revista Brasileira de Educação 31 (2026). https://doi.org/10.1590/S1413-24782026310028 (English text: Léry's arrival and departure dates, France Antarctique, Fort Coligny)
- Tewe, O. O. “Detoxification of Cassava Products and Effects of Residual Toxins on Consuming Animals.” In Roots, Tubers, Plantains and Bananas in Animal Feeding. Rome: FAO, 1992. https://www.fao.org/4/t0554e/t0554e06.htm (on bitter and sweet varieties and how grating, drying and cooking reduce the poison)