A Plate of Grilled Squits and a Side of Carob Beans

I just got back to work after a brief but enjoyable holiday in Majorca. As usual, it was very nice to get away, but even nicer to get back home.

Last Wednesday, sitting in a harbour-front restaurant under the stars, I was enjoying a plate of what the menu described as ‘grilled squits’.  Yummy.  Well, it was either that or a whole sucking-pig.  Fortunately for me, as I am very fond of seafood, the grilled squits turned out to be a nice plateful of the locally caught bite-sized squid, slathered in garlic.

One bottle of the local plonk, a huge pile of grilled squits and patatas bravas later, I was feeling pleasantly mellow, and started to relax and take in my surroundings.  It was a clear, warm, starlit night, and the almost-full moon floated high above the craggy peaks of the Tramuntana Mountains encircling the bay,  and lit up the flotilla of little boats bobbing around in the quiet harbour.

Low over the horizon, one bright star caught my attention.  I made the fatal error of pointing it out to my partner in crime and Better Half.  ‘Look over there, I wonder what that bright star is’, I said, in what I thought was a meditative and not unromantic manner.

 Not content with enjoying the romance and beauty of the peaceful scene, drinking in the mysterious ineffability of the Mediterranean night sky, he whipped out his iPhone and uttered the immortal words ‘I’ve got an app for that!’.  I really do give up. How bloody typical.

Now here comes the strange part of the story.  By an amazing coincidence, that bright star turned out to be none other than Arcturus, our company’s name-sake.  How odd, I thought.  Strange that it is impossible to get completely away from thoughts of work, even a thousand miles away in Majorca.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny, and we decided to explore further afield. Climbing a steep lane, we cleared the outskirts of the little town and walked through an area of terraced olive groves and orchards in the foothills of the Tramuntana Mountains.  Alongside the lane, amongst the usual olives and fruit trees, I spotted a more unusual specimen. This tree bore no easily-recognisable fruit, but a crop of strange-looking chocolate-coloured pods, each about 20 centimetres long.

Carob Pods

With a bit of help from my trusty guide book, these were identified as Carob beans.  Now that was another interesting coincidence for me, obsessed as I am with the folk-lore, history and of trivial minutiae of banking, money and payment systems.  I don’t think I have ever seen a Carob tree before, but I was instantly aware of its significance in the development of currency and trading systems.  Why?  Well, because way back in the dim and distant past, the Carob was valued not only as a useful substitute for chocolate, but as a handy and accurate measuring device.

It turns out that Carob beans grow in an exceedingly regular and reliable habit, and are of a remarkably uniform size and weight; so much so that they were used to weigh out small quantities of gold for trading purposes.  That might seem a bit hard to believe, but please bear with me for a moment longer.  Just use your imagination and visualise yourself back in the Middle Ages.  I bet that digital scales were few and far between, but Carob trees were abundant! Abundant, that is, if you happened to live in the Mediterranean region.

What is the connection between the Carob and banking regulation? Can you see where this is going yet?  We no longer rely on gold as a day-to-day currency, but we still reckon the weight and value of gold in units known as ‘carats’.  Can you guess where that word originated? Yes, that’s right, the good old Carob bean!  It played a significant role in the currency of the Roman Empire, too, where the gold coin known as the solidus was measured at 24 carobs, or around 4.5 grams.

So there you have it, another clear example of my dedication and devotion to work.  I can’t seem to get away from it, not even on holiday. Ah yes, sun, sea, sangria and grilled squits are all well and good in their own way, but I must say, I think I prefer Yorkshire.  It’s good to be back!