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Dormice on the Menu: From Roman Delicacy to Croatian Fast Food. Edible Dormouse


''The last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.'' Lewis Caroll
''The last time she saw them, they were trying to put the Dormouse into the teapot.'' Lewis Caroll

Rome’s Gourmet Rodents: The Tasty Tale of the Edible Dormouse Dormice on the Menu


German school Edible Dormouse
German school Edible Dormouse

Ah, the edible dormouse (Glis glis), or puh as it’s known in Croatia—a chubby, fluffy little critter that once graced the golden platters of ancient Rome's wealthiest citizens. While we modern folks might think twice before nibbling on a squirrel-sized rodent, the Romans didn’t just eat them; they elevated them to haute cuisine. These fat, furry delicacies weren’t just a meal—they were a status symbol, a testament to wealth, luxury, and a willingness to turn forest friends into feasts.

Dormice à la Carte

The edible dormouse gets its name from—you guessed it—the ancient Romans, who grilled these small animals with gusto and plenty of honey. Bigger than your average rodent, these dormice were plumped up to perfection, their flavor described as somewhere between squirrel and chicken (or maybe rabbit, if you’re feeling fancy).

For the Romans, dormice weren’t just food; they were a gastronomic obsession. Recipes ranged from honey-glazed with poppy seeds to a heartier version stuffed with pork, pepper, nuts, and even their own entrails. Appetizing, right?

The First Rodent Farms

Dolia, sometimes called Glirarium, used to fatten dormice. Source: Wikipedia
Dolia, sometimes called Glirarium, used to fatten dormice. Source: Wikipedia

How do you ensure a steady supply of gourmet dormice? Enter the dolia, terracotta dormouse mansions where these little guys were pampered on a diet of acorns, chestnuts, and walnuts. Once they’d doubled in size—seriously, they could double in size before hibernation—they were deemed ready for the dining table.

To keep them well-fed, Romans even planted chestnut trees across the empire. If this isn’t dedication to dinner, I don’t know what is.


Too Fancy for the Law


The Romans’ dormouse obsession grew so outrageous that their consumption was eventually banned under sumptuary laws. These laws aimed to curb excessive displays of wealth—and apparently, feasting on fattened rodents was just too much. Alongside dormice, other luxury items like peacock, pheasant, and hog testicles made the forbidden list.


Dormice in Croatia and Slovenia: Puh and Polh


dormice are grilled over an open flame and served on bread
dormice are grilled over an open flame and served on bread

Dormice didn’t vanish when Rome fell. Today, they’re still a traditional dish in Croatia, where they’re called puh, and Slovenia, where they’re known as polh. Unlike their Roman debut as elite cuisine, they became a humble peasant dish, and trapping them remains an important cultural event.

In Croatia, especially on the island of Hvar, dormice are grilled over an open flame and served on bread. The slogan for their annual dormice fiesta? “Jednega puha u dvi fete kruha,” or “One dormouse between two slices of bread.” It’s fast food with a historical twist. Being small, they don’t need much time on the grill, making them an ancient precursor to modern quick bites.

In Slovenia, they take a more rustic turn, baked with buckwheat or stewed into a hearty goulash. Whether flame-kissed on a Croatian grill or bubbling in a Slovenian pot, dormice dishes still capture the spirit of traditional cuisine.



The Devil’s Dormice

According to Old Slovenian mythology, the devil himself is a dormouse shepherd, herding his furry flock through the forest and sowing chaos wherever he goes. Maybe this explains their mischievous appeal—or perhaps it’s just a warning to always keep an eye on your snacks in the woods.


From Ancient Rome to British Invasives

Even the dormouse couldn’t escape British ingenuity. In 1902, some escaped from a menagerie in Hertfordshire, and now, about 30,000 wild dormice are thriving in the UK. Sadly for adventurous gourmands, dormice are protected under EU law, so Brits can’t roast these invaders and re-create Roman recipes just yet.


Dormouse in Wonderland?

Alice in Wonderland illustration by John Tenniel.
Alice in Wonderland illustration by John Tenniel.


… and now I am wondering whether Lewis Carroll’s dormouse-in-the-teapot scene echoes the Oxford writer’s Victorian classical education, which possibly included mention of a glirarium. After all, the Romans’ use of terracotta dormouse pots to fatten their tasty treats wasn’t just a culinary quirk—it was a piece of classical culture, the sort of detail that might tickle the imagination of someone spinning whimsical tales like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. Could Carroll’s sleepy dormouse have been a nod to this ancient gourmet tradition? If so, I’d say the little rodent was lucky to be in a teapot and not on a platter.





A Rich, Greasy Bite of History

A glirarium recoverd from Pompeii. The Ashmolen Museum, exhibition "Last Supper in Pompeii"
A glirarium recoverd from Pompeii. The Ashmolen Museum, exhibition "Last Supper in Pompeii"



Whether you’re grilling them on Hvar or baking them with buckwheat in Slovenia, edible dormice remain a culinary link to the past. Their rich, fatty meat might not be for everyone, but they’ve certainly left their mark on history—and on a few dining tables.

So next time you spot a squirrel-sized critter scurrying by, ask yourself: honey glaze or goulash? And if you hear rustling in the woods, it might just be the devil driving his dormice herd—or a Roman ghost, still craving their ancient delicacy.

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