Avodah Zarah 34

The Gemara has spent the past several pages digesting a mishnah that describes food and utensils that, if they come from non-Jews, are forbidden to Jews: wine, vinegar, Hadrianic shards, earthenware jugs, etc. In most cases, the concern is contact with wine that has been used for libations. Today, we’re going to focus on a likely unfamiliar food item from this list: muryas.

Muryas is a peculiar word of unclear provenance. It may be derived from the Greek almuris,“something salty or salted,” or the Latin muries, “brine” or “pickle.” Marcus Jastrow defines it as, “[a] pickle containing fish-hash and sometimes wine.” The Steinsaltz translation renders it simply “fish stew.” Muryas shows up over 100 times in the Talmud alone, indicating that it was a common food in the ancient world.

The mishnah states that Jews may not eat muryas owned and/or prepared by gentiles, with Rabbi Meir extending that prohibition to any type of benefit. The concern is that the muryas contains gentile wine. But the Gemara carves out an exception:

The sages taught: Fish stew prepared by an expert is permitted, as professionals do not mix wine in it.

Apparently, wine was only added to poorly made versions of muryas. Real chefs don’t cut the stew with wine, as is further explained:

Avimi, son of Rabbi Abbahu, would teach: Fish stew prepared by an expert is permitted. He would teach this beraita that he received through tradition, and then he would say its explanation: The first time and the second time that fish stew is prepared from a fish, it is permitted, but the third time it is prohibited. What is the reason? With regard to the first time and the second time, as the fish’s oil is plentiful, there is no need to place wine in it. From this point forward, one might place wine in it.

This passage suggests that muryas was made by submerging fish in brine so its oils leach out into the brine, flavoring it. Later, the fish could be reused, submerged in new brine, imparting its flavor once again. But by the third submersion, the fish was depleted of oil and imparted much less flavor. That’s when wine was likely added, to bolster the flavor. Real chefs, Avimi explains, use fresher fish and do not cut their muryas with wine.

The price of wine might also influence the decision to add it to muryas, as the following anecdote makes clear:

There was a certain boat carrying fish stew which came to the port of Akko, and Rabbi Abba from Akko placed guards over it to ensure that no wine would be added to the fish stew. Rava said to him: Until now, who guarded it? Rabbi Abba said to him: Until now, for what should we be concerned? If the problem is due to the concern that they mix wine in it, that concern is unfounded, as in the place where this fish stew was produced, a kista of fish stew sells for one luma while a kista of wine sells for four luma.

Rabbi Akiva has no concerns about wine being mixed into the muryas before it arrives in Akko. Why? The boat and the stew come from a place where wine is more expensive than fish stew, so we can assume no one would have poured good, pricey wine into the fish stew, thereby reducing its value. But in Akko, where wine is cheaper than fish stew, Rabbi Akiva worries someone will cut the muryas with it.

Because this is the Talmud, we can expect dissent:

Rabbi Yirmeya said to Rabbi Zeira: But perhaps they came by means of Tyre, where wine is inexpensive and therefore likely to be added to the fish stew to increase its volume. Rabbi Zeira said to him: There, by way of Tyre, there are impediments and melted snow.

Rabbi Yirmeya points out that the boat carrying the fish stew may have temporarily laid anchor in the port of Tyre where wine is inexpensive. How do we know the sailors didn’t take advantage of cheap wine prices to increase the volume of their muryas? But Rabbi Zeira points out that Tyre would have been an inconvenient port of call, if not downright inaccessible. As a result, the fish stew is still assumed to be unadulterated with gentile wine.

This is probably more discussion of fish brine than you ever expected to read. Frankly, I’ve hit my limit, and I like a good fish chowder as much as the next person. But beyond expanding our palates, this sugya shows us how the rabbis think about the kashrut of a food item. The analysis is nuanced and detailed, and the ultimate ruling depends on the likelihood (though not certainty) of contamination, striking a balance between avoiding prohibited ingredients and enjoying a savory stew when it’s reasonable to expect it hasn’t been spiked with idolatrous wine.

Read all of Avodah Zarah 34 on Sefaria.

This piece originally appeared in a My Jewish Learning Daf Yomi email newsletter sent on July 22, 2025. If you are interested in receiving the newsletter, sign up here.