Almond Milk Anyone?.

Yesterday’s recipe for ‘Brewet Of Almony’ reminded me that I have been intending to talk about almond milk for some time. It is difficult to imagine today how important almond milk was in medieval times in the kitchens of the extremely wealthy. It is also difficult to imagine what it must have been like for the lowliest kitchen workers of the time to be faced with a sack of expensive imported almonds and a mortar and pestle and to be told to get them all ground up and made into almond milk in time for the dinner shift to use!

Almond milk has been an ingredient in many of the recipes given in this blog over the years – in a fragrant fish dish, a risotto-like rice dish, and a dish of eggs for Lent, for example. It often seems to be suggested that almond milk came to the fore during Lent, but in fact, in the kitchens of the wealthy, it was prized above ‘cow mylke’ for many reasons – its fine flavour and fragrance of course, but also the labour-intensive production method itself presupposed sufficient wealth to be able to support a great kitchen, making it a desirable quality product by definition. After all, any lowly peasant could get access to rough farm animals such as cows.

But judge the method for yourself. How would you like to make many gallons of almond milk by this method, without a food processor?

Almond Milk.
Take blake sugre, an cold water, an do hem to in a fayre potte, an let hem boyle to-gedere, an salt it an skeme it clene, an let it kele; than tak almaundus, an blawnche hem clene, an stampe hem, an draw hem, with the sugre water thikke y-now, in-to a fayre vessel; an yf the mylke be noght swete y-now, take whyte sugre an caste ther-to.
Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books; Thomas Austin.

Almond milk also had medicinal uses, as this early eighteenth century recipe-remedy shows:

Almond Milk
Take Barley-Water one Pound, sweet Almonds blanch’d; make an Emulsion (to which add Barley-Cinnamon-Water one Ounce, a little Sugar,) of which drink plentifully.
‘This is a cooling and diluting Drink, and serves to quench the Thirst of Persons in Fevers, as well as to nourish ‘em; and when there is Danger of the Fever’s turning up to the Head, it cools that Fervor, and keeps ‘em sensible.’
Pharmacopoeia Radciffeana: or, Dr Radcliffe’s prescriptions … (1716) by John Radcliffe

We must not forget the culinary use of almond milk of course. I am not entirely sure that I should include the following recipe as the almonds are ground in a bit of water before being added to the cream, but are not actually made into milk – but the grinding being the difficult part I am going to include it as I absolutely love the recipe.

My Lady of Exeter’s Almond Butter .
Take a good Handful of Almonds blanch’d in cold Water, and grind them very small in a stone Mortar; mingle them well with a Quart of sweet Cream, and strain them through a Cushion Canvas Strainer; afterwards take the Yolks of nine or ten Eggs, the Knots and Strings being taken away clear, and well beaten; mix them very well with the Cream and set it in a silver Skillet on a quick Fire, stirring it continually till it begins to curdle; then take it off the Fire, put it into your Strainer, and hang it up that your Whey may pass from it; that done break the Curd very well in your Dish with a Spoon, and season it with Rose water and Sugar to your Taste.
The Housekeeper’s Pocket-book: and compleat family cook (1739), by Sarah Harrison.


Quotation for the Day.

Blossom of the almond trees,
April's gift to April's bees.

Sir Edwin Arnold, Almond Blossoms

Capon Capers.

Christmas is on the horizon, and for those of you in the USA, Thanksgiving is closer still, which means that some grand catering schemes will already be underway in many of your households. I thought this week I would try to find some tricks, treats, or temptations to amuse you as you work.

One of the terrors of catering for family events is that of unexpected guests. Professional chefs have professional-size cold rooms and pantries and professional know-how, so an extra mouth or ten to feed should cause no more than a minor ripple of reorganisation in the kitchen. Not so for the harassed home-cook with an over-stuffed fridge and depleted bank account, for whom finding more food to go around at short notice can be traumatic in the extreme. What if there is only a small piece of pork or a single chicken to roast, and find (through one of those little family communication glitches) that you were not told (or were told and forgot) that half-a-dozen extras had been invited by ‘someone’ in the circle? You could get into a long debate along the lines of ‘I told you’ - ‘No you didn’t’ ‘- Yes I did’ - ‘No you didn’t’, but this will not make the guests fail to appear, and it will also waste valuable time.

Instead of wasting it in a futile conversation, you could use the time to make a ‘sham pig’ - if you had enough potatoes and were a dab hand at modelling (Sensible Rule No. 1: always ensure that you have the raw materials at hand for Fun with Potatoes). Or alternatively, you could make two chickens out of one, if you were a dab hand at skinning a bird neatly. The following fifteenth century recipe could be your guide.


Two capons of one.
To make two capons of one, take a capon and scald him clean and keme off the skin by the back. Then flay off the skin but keep it whole. Then grind figs and fresh pork with powder of ginger and cinnamon and stuff the skin and sew it fast and roast it sokingly and serve it

Quotation for the Day.

Do not be afraid of simplicity. If you have a cold chicken for supper, why cover it with a tasteless white sauce which makes it look like a pretentious dish on the buffet table at some fancy dress ball?
Marcel Boulestin (1878-1943)

Dinner Rules.

It sometimes seems that in modern times we live in an over-legislated society, but perhaps the rules in previous times were not less, but just different. For example, I don’t suppose the staff at Buckingham Palace have the exact details of their meals set out in their work agreements nowadays.

Princess Cecily, the mother of King Edward IV (1442-1483), outlived her son by many years – managing to get to the then very ripe old age of 80 years. The Ordinances governing the day to day business of her household state exactly what the staff (most of whom lived in) were to receive for their meals on each day of the week.

Uppon sondaye, tuesdaye, and thursdaye, the houshoulde at dynner is served with boyled beefe and mutton, and one roste; at supper leyched [sliced] beefe and mutton roste.

Uppon mondaye and wensdaye at dynner, one boyled beefe and mutton; at supper, ut supra [as above].

Upon fastinge days, salte fyshe, and two dishes of fresh fishe; if there come a principal l fasted, it is served like unto the feaste honorablye.

If mondaye or wensdaye be hollidaye, then is the houshold served with one roste, as in other days.

Upon satterdaye at dynner, saltfyshe, one fresh fishe, and butter; at supper saltfishe and egges.

Here, for satterdaye dinner, is a nice recipe for fish with herbs and sorrel sauce. It is from a manuscript dated about 1500, called A Noble Boke Off Cookry Ffor A Prynce Houssolde


Freche makrelle
To dight a freche makerelle tak and draw a makerelle at the gil and let the belly be hole and wesche hym and mak the sauce of water and salt and when it boilithe cast in mynt and parsly and put in the fisshe and serue it furthe with sorell sauce.

Quotation for the Day.

Fishing is boring, unless you catch an actual fish, and then it is disgusting.
Dave Barry.

Dinner with Queen Eleanor.

Queen Eleanor (Leonora) of France (1498-1558) visited her brother, the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V (1500-1558) in Brussels in 1544. A royal retinue took some feeding in those days, as a contemporary account of her visit shows:

“Queen Leonora received daily for her mouth, 128 lbs. of beef, 2 ¼ sheep, 1 calf, 2 swine, 2 fat capons, 18 fowls, 4 partridges, 2 woodcocks, 2 pheasants, 2 hares, 24 quails or turtle doves.”

Clearly, all of this food was not for the Queen herself. I am not sure what the phrase “for her mouth” means (and hope that one of you will enlighten me) – perhaps it refers to the members of her personal household?

There was more. The same document tells us that additional supplies were provided for others in her train.

“For the kitchen of the suite were daily supplied 2 oxen, 18 sheep, 3 calves, 12 swine, 60 capons, 48 fowls and pigeons, and 40 head of game.”

When the omitted vegetables, bread, sweetmeats, ale and wine are added to this list, it was an awesome amount of food indeed. Sadly, there are no details of the actual dishes made from them, so we do not know what was served to the Queen. There are plenty of sources of medieval recipes however, and not a great deal changed over a few hundred years or so. I give you the recipe for a right royal quantity of small birds and poultry from the early fifteenth century cookbook Du Fait de Cuisine, by Master Chiquart Amizco.

And again a gravy of small birds and poultry: to give understanding to him who makes it, let him take about a thousand small birds and let these small birds be well plucked and carefully cleaned so that there remains neither feathers nor refuse; and take a hundred large poultry which are fair and clean, and let them be cut in half and cut into pieces, and one should make four pieces from each quarter, and wash them very well and cleanly with the small birds; and, being washed, put them to dry on fair, white, and clean boards. And take a great deal of lard and melt it in fair, large, and clean frying pans; and arrange that you have a fair and clean cauldron and put your small birds and poultry therein and strain your melted lard well and cleanly, then put it into the said cauldron over the said small birds and poultry. And take a great deal of bread according to the quantity of your meat and slice it into rounds and put it to roast on the grill until it is well browned; and have beef and mutton broth -- and let it not be too salty -- put in a fair and clean small cask, and put therein a great deal of clear wine; and when your bread is roasted put it to soak in the said cask of broth and clear wine. And take your spices: cinnamon, ginger, grains of paradise, pepper; minor spices: nutmeg, cloves, mace, galingale, and all spices -- and let the said master be advised not to put to much in of anything, but have a temperate and sure hand in putting in that which it seems to him is necessary. And while he is straining his bread and his spices, let him have his meat sautéd over a fair clear fire; and let him have a man who stirs it constantly with a big slotted spoon so that it does not stick to the bottom and that it does not burn; and the said master in straining his bread and his spices should put while straining either a third or a half or what he has strained with his meat, so that the said meat will neither be spoiled nor burn, until he has strained all of it and put it into the said broth. And, being strained and set to boil, the said master should check and taste if it needs spices, vinegar, salt or something else and that it has too much of nothing; and do not wait until your meat is overcooked but draw it back over a few coals, at least until it is time to take it to the sideboard, and there, at the sideboard, it should be arranged in serving dishes well and properly.

Quotation for the Day.

Chicken one day, feathers the next.

Mock Food No. 3

April 16

The very strict dietary rules decreed for hundreds of years by the Christian Church were a very powerful inspiration for fake food. At some times in history almost half the days of the year were ‘fish’ days. There were multiple and overlapping reasons for this. The prevailing idea was that ‘flesh’ food stimulated bodily heat and lust, whereas fish, which came from the water was cooling, including cooling to the passions. The fact that fish do not have an observable sex life enhanced the belief that it was more suitable for times of religious observance when distracting thoughts were best kept to a minimum – and for those in religious orders, that meant all the time.

There were economic and political reasons too: encouraging fish consumption preserved livestock on the land, and encouraging the fishing industry meant the availability of a large cohort of men with sailing experience who could then be sent on voyages of discovery or used to supply the Navy.

The proscriptions led to the invention of some wonderful fish dishes, and some artful substitutes for meat, but the best fake food was invented for Lent. During Lent, all animal products were forbidden. Essentially it was a vegan diet, although the word was not coined until very recent times.

No milk, no butter, no eggs. What to do?

Make almond milk, that was step number one. Huge amounts of it were made in medieval times, and the mind boggles at the work involved in pounding vast quantities of almonds without the assistance of food processors – but kitchen labour was cheap in those days, I suppose.

Eggs? No problem. The following recipe is taken from the Harleian MS (circa 1430). It is difficult to follow, but essentially says to ‘blow’ the eggs (pinhole each end and … blow the contents out) then re-fill it with a ground almond mixture, half of which is coloured yellow with saffron (and cinnamon) and placed in the middle to mimic the yolk.

Eyroun in lentyn [Eggs in Lent].
Take Eyroun, & blow owt þat ys with-ynne atte oþer ende; þan waysshe þe schulle clene in warme Water; þan take gode mylke of Almaundys, & sette it on þe fyre; þan take a fayre canvas, & pore þe mylke þer-on, & lat renne owt þe water; þen take it owt on þe cloþe, & gader it to-gedere with a platere; þen putte sugre y-now þer-to; þan take þe halvyndele, & colour it with Safroun, a lytil, & do þer-to pouder Canelle; þan take & do of þe whyte in the neþer ende of þe schulle, & in þe myddel þe ȝolk, & fylle it vppe with þe whyte; but noȝt to fulle, for goyng ouer; þan sette it in þe fyre & roste it, & serue forth.

Butter? Almonds again to the rescue. The following recipe is from a Neopolitan recipe collection, Cuoco Napoletano, via Terence Scully’s excellent translation.

Butiro Contrafata.
Get a pound and a half of blanched, well ground almonds; get half a beaker of good rosewater and strain the almonds - if that rosewater is not enough, use however much you need so that the amount of almonds can be strained; then, so the almond milk will bind well, get a little starch, a little saffron if you want, and fine sugar, and lay this mixture into a mold as if were butter; like that it is good to eat.
[Scully, Terence. Cuoco Napoletano. The Neapolitan Recipe Collection: A Critical Edition and English Translation. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2000].

Tomorrow’s Story …

Mock Food No. 4

Quotation for the Day …

Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling. William Shakespeare (1564-1616), from Romeo and Juliet.

Raisins of all sorts.

February 14

An article in the Scientific American on this day in 1852 set me off on a few thinking tangents.

Skins of Raisins.
We see it stated in some papers, that Dr Devees, of Boston, has said that raisin skins are indigestible, and that nothing but the stomach of an ostrich can master them. He mentions the deaths of three children, caused by skins of raisins not digesting in their stomachs. Well, Dr. Devees, what about their digestibility when cooked? Raisins are fruit, which from time immemorial, have been used as a nourishing and healthy food by all Orientals.

I was glad to see the silly Dr Deeves taken to task so promptly. I would have asked him if there was the same risk with currants and sultanas, just to see how he responded. They are all dried grapes, after all. ‘Raisins’ were once specifically called “raisins of the sun”, to indicate that it was the dried variety of grape that was meant. "Raisins of Corinth" were from a small variety of grape, and ‘Corinth’ eventually became corrupted to ‘Currants’, sultanas are from Sultana grapes, and muscatels from the Muscat grape. It is quite OK to substitute freely. A Raisin cake will be fine if you use sultanas or currants. I promise.

Today’s recipes are below.

Today’s sermon is below the recipes. Just letting you know so you can skip it if you wish.

The recipes are (1) a fifteenth century version of little mincemeat pies – with veal, pork, eggs, spices and dried fruits (including of course raisins), baked in pastry ‘coffins’, (2) and a nineteenth century sweet, fruity ‘baba’, because I have been neglecting one of my favourite sources lately – the incredibly comprehensive Cassell’s Dictionary of Cookery.

Chawettys.
Take buttys of Vele, and mynce hem smal, or Porke, and put on a potte; take Wyne, and caste ther-to pouder of Gyngere, Pepir, and Safroun, and Salt, and a lytel verous [verjus], and do hem in a cofyn with yolks of Eyroun [eggs], and kutte Datys and Roysonys of Coraunce, Clowys, Maces, and then ceuere thin cofyn, and lat it bake tyl it be y-now [enough].

Baba with Raisins.
Mix half an ounce of German yeast and four ounces of sifted flour with warm water to a soft dough, and put it near the fire to rise. Rub twelve ounces of butter into twelve ounces of flour, work it into a smooth paste with eight well-beaten eggs, one ounce of pounded sugar, and a little salt. When the paste is ready and the sponge sufficiently risen, blend them well together and mix in two ounces of finely-minced candied citron-peel, two ounces of well-dried currants, and three ounces of stoned raisins. Butter a mould fill it about half full, and allow it to rise until it is nearly at the top, when it may be baked at once in a moderate oven. Time to bake, one hour and a half.

We live in an era when it seems that fewer and fewer of us cook less and less. There are many reasons quoted – but two of the commonly given reasons do not strike very true, really, when you think about it.

One is that we have “no time”. But legally we have a mere five eight hour days in which to earn our living. And we have labour-saving gadgets to take the work out of kitchen chores such as chopping and kneading and. And we buy our raisins pre-stoned. And in any case the “time” of rising of yeast dough is not our time - we can watch a lot of U-Tubes while the Baba dough does its silent thing.

The other “reason” (excuse, I call it) is that we have lost our skills (because our mothers didn’t cook, and maybe even our grandmothers, and it is always the mummy’s fault anyway). If this is true, it is also true that now have cookbooks with easy-to-follow, accurate instructions - none of this “take some wine and cast some spices thereto”, and “cook it till it be enough”. AND our ovens have temperature regulators. AND they have timers. AND we no longer believe that raisins kill little children. Progress seems to have offered a few pretty reasonable trade-offs to me.

We should quit whingeing and have more home-made fresh buttery Babas in our lives. Sweet yeast dough is pretty forgiving stuff.

Tomorrow’s Story …

All in a stew.

Quotation for the Day …

The past is always a rebuke to the present. Robert Penn Warren

Portrait of a Gardener.

Today, July 11th ...

The register of deaths at the Magistro della Sanita of Milan records that the painter Guiseppe Arcimboldo died on this day in 1593, at about 66 year of age, from kidney stones. Arcimboldo is best known for his much-imitated ‘portraits’ made from carefully assemble fruits, flowers, vegetables, and other foods. It is possible that his idea of creating pictures in this way was inspired by dishes at actual banquets held by various artists of his time, who made compositions out of real food.

The paintings are surreal, before there was an official Surrealist movement, and are full of allegory and symbolism which is lost to many of us today (I include myself here), but which would have been clear to his patrons and contemporaries. They are also clever and fun, and we can all appreciate that. My favourite is “The Vegetable Gardener”. Or should it be “The Vegetable Bowl”?

Paintings sometimes give us good information about food and dining in previous times. It is easy to identify the carrots and onions in this picture, and is that the long stalks of cardoons on the right (or the left, depending on which image you are looking at)? Garlic for the eyes too. Can you see anything else?

The carrot is our vegetable of choice today. Carrots have been around since ancient, perhaps prehistoric times – but it seems that they may have originally been used for their seeds and leaves. It was probably the Arabs who introduced them from Afghanistan into the Middle East and Central Asia sometime between the 8^th and 10^th centuries, from whence they gradually spread to the Europe and Britain by the fifteenth century. These were different from the carrots we know today - they were purple or yellow, with thinner roots, and likely not as tender or sweet. It was the Dutch who bred the classical orange carrot in the sixteenth centuries, some say as an act of patriotic horticulture in honour of the Dutch Royal Family, the House of Orange.

The carrot belongs to the vegetable family Umbellifereae, and, as the name suggests, they have umbrella-like flower heads. There are over 3000 members of the family, including many herbs (parsley, dill, coriander, fennel and caraway) as well as celery and angelica. The carrot’s most obvious relative is the parsnip, which looks very similar and cooks very similar.

Here are some words and, and recipes of sorts, for both the carrot and the parsnip from the fifteenth century Italian Bartolomeo Sacchi (a.k.a Platina). He considers them simply variations of the same medicinally useful vegetable.

On the Carrot and Parsnip.
There are two kinds of parsnip … Doctors say that the parnsip is white while the carrot is red or almost black. … Both are difficult to digest and of little and harsh nourishment. The parsnip should be boiled twice, with the first water thrown away, and cooked with lettuce the second time. Transferred from there to a dish and seasoned with salt, vinegar, coriander, and pepper, it is suitable to eat, for it settles cough, pleurisy, and dropsy, and arouses passion. It is even customary for it to be rolled in meal and fried in oil and fat when it has been hollowed out after the first boiling.
Carrot is seasoned in the same way as parsnip, but it is considered sweeter if cooked under warm ash and coals. When it is taken out, it should cool a little, be peeled, scraped entirely free of ash, cut up in bits and transferredin to a dish. Salt should be added, oil and vinegar sprinkled on, some condensed must or must added, and sweet spices sprinkled over. There is nothing more pleasant to eat than this. It is good for people in two respects, for it represses bile and moves the urine. In other ways it is harmful, as it is for liver, stomach, and spleen.
[On Right Pleasure and Good Health; Platina (1475), from the Milham translation]

Tomorrow’s Story …

A Mystery of Cooks.

Quotation for the Day …

Some guy invented Vitamin A out of a carrot. I'll bet he can't invent a good meal out of one. Will Rogers.

Gourmet Eggs and Giant Eggs.

Today, May 18th …

Peter Carl Fabergé was born on this day in 1846 in St. Petersburg, and he grew up to be the goldsmith to the Russian Imperial Court of Tsar Alexander III. He is famous for the extraordinary handcrafted bejewelled Easter Eggs he created for the Russian royals, who gave them to each other as gifts.

In 1998, Fabergé was honoured by the famous London hotel, Claridges, during its centenary year. The focus was on the recreation of famous and fabulous dishes from historic events for a special “Taste of History” menu. At least one new dish was especially created for the centenary, and it was inspired by Fabergé’s exquisite jewelled eggs. Egg Fabergé consisted of a lobster mousseline stuffed with a quail's egg and garnished with a mosaic of macaroni and truffle, served on a nest of celeriac. An elegant, stylish dish for an elegant stylish hotel.

In medieval times, the feast was an opportunity to impress – a feast was as much about theatre (and propaganda) as about food, and often these were the same thing. At the end of each course, a ‘subtelty’ would be produced and paraded around the feasting hall. It might be a huge pastry sculpture of a castle complete with drawbridge and moat, or a stag in full flight which spouted red wine when it was ‘shot’, or an image of a saint. Whatever its actual form, it was a message designed to induce shock or awe in the guests. When they left the feast they were in no doubt as to the wealth, power, and superiority of their host.

Sometimes of course theatrical food was just fun. Style is all very well, but some celebrations demand size. Giant eggs seem to have been particularly popular, if the surviving references and recipes are any guide. Here is one from a fifteenth century German manuscript.

A dish made from 30 or 40 eggs

In order to make a dish from 30 eggs or 40 in form of one big egg, you must take two pig's bladders, one of them smaller than the other. Rinse them carefully inside. Then take the eggs, remove the shells, and separate the whites from the yolks. Take the small pig's bladder, mix the yolks and put them into the smaller bladder, until the bladder is full. Tie the bladder up carefully and give it into a pot. Let it boil, until the big yolk becomes solid. Then take away the bladder from the big yolk. Take the bigger bladder and cut a hole in it, big enough to put in the big yolk. Sew up this hole in the bigger bladder with the big yolk within. Then you have to mix up the white of the eggs. Take a funnel, put it into the opening hole of the bigger bladder and pour the white of the eggs on top of the yolk within the bigger bladder, so that the bladder is filled. Tie it up, put it into the pot and let it boil once more. The white of the eggs will boil around the big yolk, and there will be one big egg. You can serve it with a sauce of vinegar.

Monday’s Story …

Wonder(ful) Bread?

This Day, Last Year …

We found out a little about the history of coffee.

Quotation for the Day …

He that but looketh on a plate of ham and eggs to lust after it hath already committed breakfast with it in his heart. C.S. Lewis.

Tuesday Fritters.

Today, February 7th …

This day in 1665 was a Tuesday - Shrove Tuesday to be exact - and Samuel Pepys recorded his dinner in his diary:

“Up, and to my office, where busy all morning. At noon, at dinner, it being Shrove Tuesday, had some very good fritters.”

In the Christian calendar Shrove Tuesday is the last day before the beginning of Lent, when the faithful abstain from fleshly things for 40 days. It is the day to feast before saying “Farewell to Meat” (Carne Vale) and to use up the last of the eggs and milk and butter in a frenzy of fritter and pancake-making (hence “Pancake Tuesday”).

What is the difference between fritters and pancakes? Not much really. Both start with a batter of flour, milk, and eggs. A pancake is made by frying a small amount in a pan to form a thin cake (a pan cake – get it?), which becomes French if you call it a crêpe. This simple pancake is usually served with butter, or sugar or lemon or orange juice. It may, however, be filled by rolling it or folding it around something. If something is dipped in the raw batter and then fried, it becomes a fritter. Of course, not all fritters and pancakes abide strictly by this rule, but you get the general idea.

A religious excuse is not necessary to enjoy pancakes and fritters. They have been made and enjoyed since time immemorial in countries and cultures where the basic ingredients are found. They are easy to make and fun to eat - unless you have fallen victim to the campaigns of the world-wide Food Police who would have us banned from anything requiring f..ing.

Here is selection from across the ages, just to prove their versatility.

For to make Fruturs.[Apple fritters with saffron and ginger]
Nym flowre and eyryn and grynd peper and safroun and mak therto a batour and par aplyn and kyt hem to brode penys and kest hem theryn and fry hem in the batour wyth fresch grees and serve it forthe.
[From: The Form of Cury, 1390.]

Samacays. [Curd cheese fritters]
Take vellyd cruddys or they be pressyd; do hem yn a cloth. Wryng out the whey. Do hem in a mortar; grynd hem well with paryd floure & temyr hem with eyryn & creme of cow mylke, & make thereof a rennyng bature. Than have white grece in a panne: loke hit be hote. Take up the bature with a saucer & let hit renne in the grece; draw thy hond backward that hit may renne abrode. Then fry hem ryte well & somdell hard reschelyng & serve hit forth in disches, & strew on white sygure.
[From: An Ordinance of Pottage, by Constance B Hieatt; from a 15th C manuscript]

To make Fritters of Spinnedge [Spinach].
Take a good deale of Spinnedge, and washe it cleane, then boyle it in faire water, and when it is boyled, then take it forth and let the water runne from it, then chop it with the backe of a knife, and then put in some egges and grated Bread, and season it with suger, sinamon, ginger, and pepper, dates minced fine, and currans, and rowle them like a ball, and dippe them in Butter made of Ale and flower.
[From: The Good Housewife's Jewell by Thomas Dawson 1596]

To make Fritters.
Take halfe a pint of Sack, a pint of Ale, some Ale-yeast, nine Eggs, yolks and whites, beat them very well, the Egg first, then altogether, put in some Ginger, and Salt, and fine flower, then let it stand an houre or two; then shred in the Apples; when you are ready to fry them, your suet must be all Beef-suet, or halfe Beef, and halfe Hoggs-suet
tryed out of the leafe.
[From: The Compleat Cook, 1658]

P.S. This year Shrove Tuesday falls on February 20th, so you have time to practice. If the ones given above do not suit you, here are the links to other suitable recipes for fritters and pancakes featured in previous stories.

How Water Pancakes are made by poor People (1750)

Apple Fritters (1869)

Salsify Fritters (1870’s)

Kidney Fritters (1870’s)

Pets de putain (Farts of a Whore) – which are fritters by a funnier name. (1653)

Pink Pancakes (1797)

To make Raspberry Fritters (1769)

Bacon Froise (1695) – which is somewhere between an omelette and a pancake.

Australian Pancakes (1971) – an Englishman’s view.

Crêpes Suzette – the mystery.

Tomorrow’s Story …

First, Kill your Pig.

A Previous Story for this Day …

One of the cookbooks of Ambrose Heath was featured on this day.

Quotation for the Day …

I will here say nothing of the fact that some fast in such a way that they nonetheless drink themselves full; some fast by by eating fish and other foods so lavishly that they would come much nearer to fasting if they ate meat, eggs and butter, and by so doing would obtain far better results from their fasting. For such fasting is not fasting, but a mockery of fasting and of God. Martin Luther.

Risotto à la Milanaise.

Today, January 16th …

There is a charming myth that the classical northern Italian dish Risotto à la Milanaise was created in 1574 by the artist responsible for the stained glass windows in the Cathedral of Milan when he added some saffron (supposedly used for colouring his paints) to a dish of rice at his daughters wedding. It is a legend that begs many questions, not the least of which is what was an elite artist doing in the kitchen at that time, paint colourings in hand. The legend goes on to say that the guests pronounced the dish “risus optimus”, or “excellent rice”, which became eventually became “risotto”. The OED does not give this explanation, but does concede that the name is of Italian origin, and then rather prosaically describes the dish as “A stew or broth made with rice, chicken, onions, butter, etc.” The crucial “etcetera” that makes basic risotto into Risotto à la Milanaise, is, of course - saffron.

So, can we get any closer to the real origins of this dish?

What we do know is that a dish of “Sicilian style rice” was served on this day in 1543 at a banquet organised by Cristoforo da Messisbugo, a steward of the Este family in Ferrara. The dish allegedly contained egg yolks, grated cheese, pepper, saffron and sugar. It is certain that Sicily was under Moorish influence for centuries, and saffron originated in the Middle East - probably in ancient Sumeria, and is a feature of Sicilian dishes, so the explanation so far sounds reasonable. We also believe that the Moors also took rice to Europe, and were growing it in Spain in the 8th or 9th century, and that it was being produced in the Lombardy plain by the end of the 15th century, which also fits our story.

Dishes are rarely, if ever “invented” – they evolve and develop over time, and one day might be given a special name, along with which comes the belief that it is newly invented. In reality, rice and saffron were partners at least two centuries before our mid-sixteenth century banquet. It is possible that they were partners in the 8th or 9th century, but no cookbooks (if indeed there were any) survive from that time. I give you recipes for fourteenth and fifteenth century risotto-like dishes containing saffron.

From France, from the manuscript known as the Viander de Taillevent, written in about 1375, and translated by James Prescott:

Decorated rice for a meat day.
Pick over the rice, wash it very well in hot water, dry it near the fire, and cook it in simmering cow's milk. Crush some saffron (for reddening it), steep it in your milk, and add stock from the pot.

From England, from the manuscript known as the Form of Cury, written in about 1395:

Ryse of Flesh.
Take Ryse and waishe hem clene. and do hem in erthen pot with gode broth and lat hem seethe wel. afterward take Almaund mylke and do therto. and colour it with safroun an salt, an messe forth.

From late 15thC Italy, from the cookbook of Maestro Martino, as translated by Jeremy Parzen in The Art of Cooking: the first modern cookery book; edited by Luigi Ballerini.

Martino gives it as a variation of a recipe for Farro (or emmer, an ancient variety of wheat).

Farro with Capon Broth or Other Meat Broth.
To make ten servings: first of all, clean and wash the farro well, and cook in good capon broth or fatty pullet broth, and let it simmer for a long while. When done cooking, add some good spices; and take three egg yolks and a bit of cold farro, and mix together. Then drop into the farro, and make yellow with some saffron.

Rice with Meat Broth.
Prepare as for farro broth. But many do not like eggs with their rice, so you should leave it up to your master’s tastes.

And for a named version of the dish of the day (although not necessarily the first), we jump to the mid-nineteenth century, to Eliza Acton’s version in Modern Cookery for Private Families (1845).

Risotto a la Milanaise
Slice a large onion very thin, and divide it into shreds; then fry it slowly until it is equally but not too deeply browned; take it out and strain the butter, and fry in it about three ounces of rice for every person who is to partake of it. As the grain easily burns, it should be put into the butter when it begins to simmer, and be very gently coloured to a bright yellow tint over a slow fire. Add to it some good boiling broth lightly tinged with saffron, and stew it softly in a copper pan for fifteen or twenty minutes. Stir to it two or three ounces of butter mixed with a small portion of flour, a moderate seasoning of pepper or cayenne, and as much grated Parmesan cheese as will flavour it thoroughly. Boil the whole gently for ten minutes, and serve it very hot, at the commencement of a dinner as a potage.

Obs.- The reader should bear in mind what we have so often repeated in this volume, that rice should always be perfectly cooked, and that it will not become tender with less than three times its bulk of liquid.

Tomorrow’s Story …

The Queen’s Beef.

A Previous Story for this Day …

The ancient Roman festival of Concordia was our story on this day in 2006.

Quotation for the Day …

Rice is a beautiful food. It is beautiful when it grows, precision rows of sparkling green stalks shooting up to reach the hot summer sun. It is beautiful when harvested, autumn gold sheaves piled on diked, patchwork paddies. It is beautiful when, once threshed, it enters granary bins like a (flood) of tiny seed-pearls. It is beautiful when cooked by a practiced hand, pure white and sweetly fragrant.Shizuo Tsuji

The Baronet’s Egg.

Today, January 27th …

This day in 1860 was the birthday of Sir George Sitwell, father of the writers Edith, Osbert and Sacheverell, and a superb example of an aristocratic eccentric in a country that excels in them. It might be truer, but less kind, to say his hold on reality was tenuous all his life. When he was a child travelling with his nurse, he announced to another passenger "I am Sir George Sitwell, baronet. I am four years old and the youngest baronet in England." Like all true eccentrics, he never achieved the capacity to see himself as others saw him.

Aristocratic birth and wealth facilitate eccentricity of course, as they allows the pursuit of bizarre whims and strange projects, and George had many of them. He was a prolific writer (although only one book was published), genealogist, antiquarian, and inventor of all sorts of oddities such as a musical toothbrush, a small gun for shooting wasps, and a convenient travel food which he called “The Sitwell Egg”. The “yolk” was made of smoked meat, the “white” made of rice, and a shell of synthetic lime. He supposedly arrived unannounced at the office of Sir Gordon Selfridge, wearing his usual silk hat and frock coat and saying “I am Sir George Sitwell, and I have brought my egg with me”. Sir Gordon may have been amused, but he was not impressed: Selfridges did not subsequently stock the Sitwell egg.

George firmly believed that everything was done better in the past, so perhaps his inspiration came from one of the “illusion foods” of Medieval times, such as this Lenten Egg from a fifteenth century English manuscript.

Eggs in Lent.
Take eggs, and blow out that is within at the other end; then wash the shell clean in warm water; then take good milk of almonds, and set it on the fire; then take a fair canvas, & pour the milk thereon, & let run out the water; then take it out of the cloth, &; gather it together with a platter; then put sugar enough thereto; then take half of it, & color it with saffron, a little, & powdered cinnamon; then take & do the white in the nether end of the shell, & in the middle the yolk, & fill it up with the white; but not too full, then set it in the fire & roast it, & serve forth.

On Monday: Dinner with the Crown Prince.

To tease a jaded palate.

Today, December 8 ...

The Roman lyric poet Horace was born on this day in 65BC. In one of his “Satires” he illuminates the extravagant excesses of the obscenely wealthy by describing a dinner held by a boring and pretentious host. When a large wall-hanging fell down, bringing with it much dust and dirt, the guests could hardly contain their glee at his discomfort.

Among the “things that tease a jaded palate” were wild boar (caught when a soft southerly blew), crane’s legs, blackbirds with “charred” breasts, the liver of a white goose fattened on figs, and …

“ … Then a lamprey was brought in, lying on a great platter with shrimp sauce. Our host informed us that it had been caught before spawning, as its meat is less succulent if caught after spawning, and he gave us the recipe for the sauce. ‘You need virgin oil from Venafrum; roe and juices from the Spanish mackerel, a domestic wine five years old, added while the sauce is simmering … ”

The lamprey is a scaleless parasitic fish that looks like an eel, with a powerful sucker for a mouth, and was prized as a delicacy from ancient times - especially during Lent, because of its oily flesh and gamey taste. A large lamprey pie was a traditional demonstration of loyalty from the Corporation of Gloucester (the best lampreys came for the river Severn) to the King or Queen at the Coronation. After a century in the doldrums, the practice was resurrected in 1953 for Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation.

It is odd, this enthusiasm to give lampreys to royalty, given that Henry I is supposed to have died from eating “a surfeit” of them. Are the burghers of Gloucester trying to send a message to his descendants in the First Family?

Here are the 15th century instructions to prepare your lamprey by first drowning it in red wine (with the lid on the pot in case it leapt out), before cooking it in its own blood:

Take a quicke lamprey; do hem in a pott. Do thereto a porcyon of rede wine, & stop the pott above that he lepe nought out. When he ys endyng, take hym out & put hym in scalding watyr; & take hym in a linnen cloth in thy hond, & strip hem well that all the glame go awey, & save the skuyn hole …

Tomorrow … Pottages for the King’s Dyet. …

Back to the Future.

Today, November 15 …

In 1930 the Italian Futurists launched their “Manifesto of Futurist Cooking” in Milan. Futurism was a 20th century artistic movement that had as fundamental notions a hatred of anything rooted in the past, and a love of change, speed, noise, and machines. In things gastronomical this meant bizarre combinations of ingredients (sardines with pineapple, mortadella with nougat), arranged as edible sculptures representing such things as “Earth + North Pole”, and “Alaskan Salmon in the sun with Mars sauce”, the total sensory experience of the meal being enhanced with dynamic olfactory, tactile, sound and light devises and surprises.

The dishes – as was intended – were controversial and shocking, but they were nothing compared with the outrage felt throughout Italy at the Futurists major victim – pasta itself, which they said was “heavy, brutalising, and gross” and inducing of “sloth and pessimism”. The Mayor of Naples’ response was simple: “the angels in Paradise eat nothing but vermicelli al pomodoro”, he said.

The combination of tomatoes and pasta is actually quite new, gastronomically speaking. Before the discovery of the New World, tomatoes were unknown in Europe, and the first actual written recipe for the combination of tomatoes and pasta is in 1839!

So – what did Italians eat with pasta, before tomatoes? Bartolomeo Sacchi, better known as Platina - a papal librarian, not a cook, wrote “On Right Pleasure and Good Health” in about 1475. He gave a recipe for pasta dough, made from white flour, egg white, rosewater and plain water, which could be used in various ways.

On Vermicelli.
Beat flour in the same way as above. When it is beaten separate into bits with your fingers. You will call these bits vermiculi [worms], then place in the sun. When they are well dried, they will last two or more years. When they have been cooked for an hour in rich broth and put in a dish, season with ground cheese and spices, but if there is a fast day, cook with almond juice and goat’s milk. Because milk does not require much cooking, first make it boil a little in water, then add the milk, When they have cooked, remember to sprinkle with sugar. The cooking of all pastas made from flour is the same. They may be somewhat coloured with saffron, unless they have been cooked in milk.

Tomorrow …Tea-time memories.