Category Archives: Historical

Eternal Sky Series – Bansh, Mongolian Dumplings

“After a hand of days or so, Temur took up his new bow to bring food back to those fires–marmots, mostly , and the odd zeren gazelle, because he could not range widely enough or draw the bow strongly enough to bring down larger game. But whatever he brought was accepted gratefully, and in return the others shared with him what they had– dumplings, clarified mutton fat, salted butter, airag — fermented mare’s milk– from the bags that hung over the flanks of the cattle when the herds were on the move.” -Range of Ghosts

If you haven’t read any of Elizabeth Bear’s series, you should really fix that. She’s so ridiculously prolific a writer that there’s bound to be one in a genre you like. This one is a sprawling fantasy epic of… I’ll call it parallel history. The story takes place just after the peak of the Mongol empire, but there’s magic and skies that change depending on who rules under them, and a whole lot of other super cool stuff. But for me, it’s her descriptive writing and clever worldbuilding that most appeals. She even makes marmots sound tasty… mostly. And you know how I love my fictional food!
Temur, one of the main characters in the series, even names his horse Bansh – “dumpling”. It’s a somewhat ignominious name for what turns out to be an extraordinary horse, but in a way, it also fits. Dumplings such as this would have been a staple food item in Mongolian eating, essential for survival, just as it turns out the horse is.
I recently met someone who has been studying cheese around the world (I know, right?! Crazy cool.), including among the still nomadic Mongols. She told me how their cheese is dried on the outside of their tents until it is rock hard, and can only be sucked on or dissolved into tea. That tartness would pair so well with these dumplings, which are a bit greasy, but in the best way, richly flavorful. I made up a batch and fed them to my horse-mad husband along with some rice after a long day working outside. They were just what we didn’t know we needed.

Recipe for Bansh Dumplings

Cook’s note: caraway is a common ingredient in many recipes for bansh, but I didn’t have any on hand when I tackled this dish. Instead, I added a small amount of curry powder to give it that slightly other-than-expected flavor. It’s fantastic with lamb, but the beef version is pretty good, too.
For some awesome pairings, consider picking up some Ayran from your nearest Middle Eastern food store, or make up some Milk Tea. We also played some Mongolian throat-singing music to really complete the mood. ;)
Dough Ingredients:
  • 2 1/2 cup flour
  • 1 tsp salt
  • about 1 cup water
  • oil for frying

Filling:

  • 1 lb. ground lamb or beef
  • 1 small onion, minced
  • 2 cloves garlic, minced
  • salt, red pepper, curry powder, to taste
  • water

Mix up the dough by combining the flour and salt in a small bowl, then adding in just enough water to make a smooth dough. Knead for several minutes until it’s soft and pliable. Set aside to rest for about 15 minutes while you make up the filling.

Combine the lamb or beef, onion, garlic, salt, pepper, and curry powder in a bowl. Add just enough water to make it into a smooth paste.

Start heating your oil in a pan over medium heat, and begin making the dumplings. Divide the dough into 12 small pieces, and roll each into a bowl. Roll each ball flat and thin, no more than 1/8″ thick. Add a dollop of the filling, then fold over and crimp.

Full disclaimer: it turns out I’m just awful at crimping dumplings. I tried a few different styles, but settled on the basic potsticker approach as the easiest to do. There are numerous video tutorials on the subject, and I heartily recommend them.

Once the oil is hot and the dumplings are wrapped, set a few at a time in the hot oil. Mine started to hiss and spit a fair amount, so I covered the pan while they cooked some, which I’m guessing also helped steam them a bit. Flip occasionally so the dumplings are evenly brown, then remove to a plate lined with paper towel to drain.

They can also be boiled, but I love the crispy outside of a fried dumpling, so that’s what I went with. Extra tasty with some soy sauce for dipping.

 

 

Winterfell Potted Salmon

WF Podded Salmon

It’s springtime, and the salmon are flinging themselves up the raging currents of the White Knife river that surges past Winterfell, and the bears are lining up for their freshwater buffet (how does hibernation work in Westeros, anyway?)

Even though the weather is taking a turn for the better, we know that winter is always coming, so it’s never too early to set aside some stores for later.

Unfortunately, this recipe is so delicious that it doesn’t last long at all. I’ll admit that I only had salted butter when I made this, and I’ll also readily admit that I’m a salt fiend. It was all I could do to stop eating the still-warm salmon in order to let it set for the photo. So yeah, salted butter works great too, but it depends on your taste for salt. ;)

Potted meats were historically a way of preserving the ingredients in a world without refrigeration. The “because they ate spoiled meat” argument for why so many spices are used in old recipes is ridiculous. It’s also a rant for another day. Suffice to say that medieval folks were no more inclined to eat bad food than we are, and they were often considerably more clever about how to go about preserving many of their ingredients, from meats to edible flowers.

The legacy of those techniques is this tasty little ramekin stuffed with all the salmony goodness of fresh fish packed into a little jar and preserved for a later day. Personally, I could put away one of these little treats just about every day for lunch.
Try it and let me know what you think!

Potted Salmon Recipe

Prep: 30 minutes       Makes: 2-4 small servings

Pairs well with: the rest of the white wine, fresh grapes or other fruit, a spring picnic

Ingredients
  • 1/2 lb. boneless salmon
  • 1 cup vegetable stock
  • 1 cup white wine
  • 1 bay leaf
  • 1/2 heaping tsp. dried juniper berries, crushed
  • pinch each allspice, ginger, smoked salt
  • 1/2 Tbs. minced parsley
  • 1 stick unsalted butter
  • crusty bread, to serve

Remove the skin from the salmon, if there is any, and discard. Set the salmon aside.

Combine the stock, wine, bay leaf, and spices in a medium pot with a lid. Bring everything up to a roiling boil, then remove from heat. Add the salmon to the hot broth, put the lid on the pot, and let sit until cooled, about 20 minutes.

When the salmon has cooled somewhat, transfer it to a small bowl and flake into small pieces with a pair of forks. Add in the parsley and a dash of the melted butter. Pack the salmon somewhat firmly into small jars or ramekins, then fill halfway up with the broth from broiling. Top off with just enough of the remaining melted butter that it covers the meat completely. Place in the fridge to set.

Should keep for at least several weeks in the fridge, but I doubt you can resist it that long. Let warm to room temperature before enjoying, and it’s great with lightly toasted bread.

 

 

 

Panforte

Bartolomeo Scappi strikes again!

I recently queried you all on Facebook about your favorite traditional holiday cookies and sweets. One of the most intriguing of those suggestions was for “Panforte”, an Italian confection that struck me as super medieval in origin. And for the first time in a long while, I summoned the oomph to do a modern and historical recipe comparison. I didn’t find an exact corollary, but I found a recipe in Scappi that looked to have similar ingredients, and tried that.

While the list of ingredients is similar, the two dishes are quite different. The panforte, which I’ll admit I’ve never had before, is really dense, packed with all sorts of nuts and preserved fruits. It’s an ideal superfood for long travel, as it stays pretty much the same after baking.

The historical recipe? ZOMG. It’s like a proto-mince pie in flavor, with more texture than the usual smooth consistency added by the almonds. My husband is a consummate Anglophile, and he thinks he likes it even better than mince. When warm, the filling is gooey, slowly oozing out of the crust, and it might just be my new favorite winter recipe…

Where in Westeros?

I could definitely see this being made in King’s Landing, and exported to different regions of Westeros, as the various ingredients would be easier to come by in the big trading hub city. It would likely be a special dish, perhaps connected to a holiday from the Faith of the Seven.

The recipe likely originally came from across the Narrow Sea, and traveled with traders. I expect it’s a new dish in King’s Landing, but one that will take the city by storm.

Cinnamon Tourte Recipe, 1577

“To prepare a cinnamon tourte, or some other sort. Get a pound of milanese almonds and grind them with a pound of sugar, two ounces of Neapolitan mostaccioli, three ounces of pinenut paste, one ounce of cinnamon, four ounces of clarified honey, two ounces of dried peaches that have steeped, and two ounces of candied orange peel. When everything has been ground up in a mortar, add in a beaker of rosewater to make the mixture thinner. Then have a tourte pan ready, lined with a rather thick sheet of dough make of fine flour, salt, oil, pinenut milk and sugar; put the filling into it. That tourte should not be too deep. Cover it over with another sheet of dough worked in any of a variety of ways. Bake it with a low heat, giving it a glazing of sugar and rosewater. Serve it hot or cold as you like. In the same way you can make a marzipaned tourte made of ground almonds, sugar and rosewater; or else marzipan paste. You can also make a tourte that same way with various candied fruits mixed with the marzipan paste and pinenut paste ground up with them. And for a tourte that you want to have a slightly roasted flavor, put in orange juice or verjuice.” -The Opera of Bartolomeo Scappi, 1577

Ingredients for dough:

  • 2 1/2 cups flour
  • 1/4 cup sugar
  • 1/2 cup olive oil
  • 1/4-1/2 cup almond milk

Ingredients for filling:

  • 1 1/2 cups sliced or slivered almonds
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1/4 cup cookie crumbs
  • 1 Tbs. cinnamon
  • 1/4 cup dried peaches, or apricots, diced
  • 1/4 cup candied orange peel, diced
  • 1/2 cup warmed honey
  • dash each rosewater and orange juice

Begin by making the dough – combine the flour and sugar, then work in the olive oil, followed by as much almond milk as it takes to bring the mixture together into a cohesive, workable dough. Form into two discs, then wrap in plastic and set aside.

To make the filling, combine the almonds, sugar, cookie crumbs, and cinnamon in a food processor. Blitz everything until you have a nice even mixture of coarse nuts and sugar. Add in the diced fruit, then stir in the warmed honey. Add a dash each of rosewater and orange juice.

Preheat the oven to 325F. Roll out half of the dough and lay in a pie pan. Scoop the filling into the pan, then roll out the other half of dough and lay over top. Trim off any excess, then crimp the edges closed. Bake for around 45 minutes, or until the dough seems cooked through. Allow to cool somewhat before slicing, as the filling is is quite runny when hot.

Image result for scappi pans

Modern Panforte Recipe

Ingredients:

  • Butter for greasing the pan
  • 3/4 cup unbleached all-purpose flour
  • pinch of salt
  • 1 tsp. ground cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp. each ground ginger and coriander
  • 1/4 tsp. each ground mace and cloves
  • 1 cup almonds
  • 1/2 cup each toasted hazelnuts and walnuts
  • 1/2 cup each dried apricots, dried figs, golden raisins, dark raisins
  • 3/4 cup dried cherries
  • 1/4 cup candied orange peel
  • 3/4 cup sugar
  • 3/4 cup honey
  • 1/4 cup water
  • 1/4 cup white wine (brandy?)
  • Confectioners’ sugar for dusting

Preheat the oven to 300F, then butter a round 8″ pan (springform will make this the easiest) and line the bottom with a disc of parchment paper. Butter the parchment paper as well, and set aside.

Roughly chop all the nuts and move them to a large bowl. Add in the dry ingredients and toss until evenly mixed. In a small saucepan, combine the sugar, honey, water, and wine over medium heat, stirring until dissolved. Add the dried fruit and allow to cook for around 10 minutes, until the fruit has absorbed some of the liquid. Pour this mixture into the dry ingredients, and stir vigorously, until the entire batter is mixed evenly.

Carefully pour the mix into the prepared pan, pressing down to make sure there are no gaps. Bake for about an hour, until the panforte is browned and a little puffy.

Either serve warm, or allow to sit for a few days for the flavors to develop. Cut into thin slices, and serve with tea or coffee. It should keep, wrapped, in a cool area for up to a month. Dust with powdered sugar before serving.

 

Holiday Baking!

One of the best things about this time of year is the nearly constant stream of delicious goodies that turn up at work functions, or are dropped off by kindly neighbors and family. Baking at home fills the house with familiar smells of special spices, and let’s be honest: having the oven on to warm up the kitchen doesn’t hurt any!

Dessert is pretty much my favorite part of a meal (unless there’s cheese involved. or risotto…), and in a way is responsible for this whole blogging adventure, since the first recipe we posted way back in 2011 was for the first version of lemoncakes.

Since we are still limited by physical distance, we can’t have a big holiday bakeoff together (OR COULD WE?!?), but in the spirit of the season, here are some of my favorite recipes from the blog that have a little holiday flair. Most are great for delivering as little gifts to neighbors or bringing to a holiday party. I’m hoping to make up little plates and deliver them to neighbors.

I’d love to know what your families make every holiday season, SO as a bonus, if you comment below with your favorite holiday treat, I’ll put your name in a drawing for a set of Game of Thrones wax seal coasters (like these). The drawing will take place next Wednesday, Dec. 14th, at noon est.

Update: And the winner is Elizabeth F, who recommended some tasty sounding St. Nicholas cookies she encountered in Prague. Congrats!

Image result for game of thrones wax seal coasters

In the meantime, try some of these tasty recipes:

And Happy Holiday Baking!

“Colonial” Thanksgiving, 2016

 

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So as you may have seen in previous years (2014, 2015), our family has started doing a “colonial” Thanksgiving celebration. I use the quotes because it’s far from strictly colonial in terms of preparation and authentic recipes, but we do try to keep things mostly historical, and then we use only candles and oil lamps once it gets dark. I also have grand ambitions to grow everything we eat. Maybe if I really get the vegetable garden sorted out next year! In the meantime, we’ll settle for locally grown.

This year, my mother is gung ho to make a stew outside over a cookfire, which I think will really take the whole thing to the next wacky level. Our house was built in 1795, but due to some remodels and a fire, doesn’t have that classic brick kitchen oven setup, or you could bet your breeches I’d be using that.

The biggest change this year is that we won’t have a turkey. I made many, many tasty turkeys during the WoW Cookbook process, so it turns out that nobody in the family is quite ready to eat any more just yet. I think there’s still some in the freezer, waiting to be made into soup. But that’s actually pretty traditional. Just take for example this account from 1748 New Hampshire:

“Our bay is full of lobsters all the summer and affordeth variety of other fish; in September we can take a hogshead of eels in a night, with small labor, and can dig them out of their beds all the winter. We have mussels … at our doors. Oysters we have none near, but we can have them brought by the Indians when we will; all the spring-time the earth sendeth forth naturally very good sallet herbs. Here are grapes, white and red, and very sweet and strong also. Strawberries, gooseberries, raspas, etc. Plums of tree sorts, with black and red, being almost as good as a damson; abundance of roses, white, red, and damask; single, but very sweet indeed… These things I thought good to let you understand, being the truth of things as near as I could experimentally take knowledge of, and that you might on our behalf give God thanks who hath dealt so favorably with us.” -William Haywood’s journal, Charlestown, NH

Or this account, from 1779 Connecticut:

“Of course we could have no roast beef. None of us have tasted beef this three years back as it all must go to the army, & too little they get, poor fellows. But, Nayquittymaw’s hunters were able to get us a fine red deer, so that we had a good haunch of venison on each table. These were balanced by huge chines of roast pork at the other ends of the tables. Then there was on one a big roast turkey & on the other a goose, & two big pigeon pasties. Then there was an abundance of good vegetables of all the old sorts & one that I do not believe you have yet seen. Uncle Simeon had imported the seed from England just before the war began & only this year was there enough for table use. It is called sellery & you eat it without cooking. It is very good and served with meats. Next year Uncle Simeon says he will be able to raise enough to give us all some. It has to be taken up, roots & all & buried in earth in the cellar through the winter & only pulling up some when you want it to use. Our mince pies were good, although we had to use dried cherries as I told you, & the meat was shoulder of venison instead of beef. The pumpkin pies, apple tarts & big Indian puddings lacked for nothing save appetite by the time we had got around to them.”

I don’t know about you, but those descriptions definitely set my mouth watering!

Here’s the current plan, which always changes at the last minute. I’ll hopefully be posting any new recipes that turn out well:

Flair

  • Hand washing water – (also makes the house smell nice)
  • Beeswax and bayberry candles
  • Pewter, linen, antler, and assorted other period dishware

Appetizers

Main

  • Venison Stew – traditional, 1749
  • Cod in Coals – traditional

Sides

  • Cranberry Chutney – 1767, with some tweaks
  • Blueberry Chutney – ad lib, homegrown
  • Roasted Squash with homemade maple syrup
  • Cabbage, onions, and bacon

Dessert

Drinks

 Sources used:

  • The First American Cookbook, Amelia Simmons, 1796
  • The Compleat Housewife: or, Accomplished Gentlewoman’s Companion by E. Smith, 1754
  • Vinetum Britannicum, J. Worlidge, 1691
  • Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, Mrs. Beeton, 1861
  • The Way to a Man’s Heart, various authors, pre-1891
  • Dr. Chase’s Receipt Book, Dr. Chase, 1887
  • Martha Washington’s Booke of Cookery, Karen Hess, 1749

The Verdict?

As my mother put it, “Why would anyone settle for turkey when they could do this?!” We had an absolute blast, and the extra smoky flavors from cooking over the fire put everything right over the top. From shaking up cream to make our own butter, to toting that giant cod to and from the firepit, it was a holiday to remember. My mother prepped the cod by wrapping it in cabbage leaves and clay (8 lb turned out to be a lot of fish), and baked some bread in her woodstove. The star of the day, the venison stew, was rich and hearty, with chunks of meat, sausage, and root vegetables swimming in a flavorful broth. The handwashing water was a big hit, and while the lemon pie didn’t quite set right, it was tasty enough to perfect- more on that later. We concluded the evening, as always, with dramatic readings in the livingroom, by candlelight.

The thing I love most, perhaps, about approaching a holiday like this is that it takes away so much of the pressure that can do in what should be a festive time. Nobody was worried about the turkey prep, or whether their cranberry sauce would hold up to Aunt Mabel’s scrutiny. Instead, it’s about the adventure of the cooking, and having fun together. And because we try to make the dinner with all local or homegrown ingredients, it gives us a proper appreciation for the effort that goes into growing and preparing the food. Looking back in time, it’s easy to marvel at the amount of hard work that went into keeping a family alive and fed. Here’s to all the hunters and housewives that have gotten us to where we are today!

And speaking of that, I’m thankful for the years you all have spent here at The Inn with me, and I hope you’ll join me for many more to come!

A Weedy Salad and Pottage

A few weeks ago, I had the chance to tag along on one of the many Weed Walks around Pennsic (or as I like to call it, “medieval summer camp”). This, in addition to a great introductory class about medieval gardens, inspired me to take another look at my garden plots, and the “weeds” growing in them. There’s a great list here of the various plants, many of which we would consider “weeds”, that medieval gardeners and cooks would have prized for their extra nutritional boost, either in salads or pottage.

Foraged Greens for Medieval Cookery

One of the most interesting finds in the yard was Lambsquarters. Pretty much everything about this plant is great, except perhaps that you’ll likely find it growing in your garden as a “weed”. Well, before you go tossing it onto the compost heap, consider for a moment that it’s related to chard and spinach, but more nutritious than both. In fact, Michael Pollan counts it as one of the most nutritious plants worldwide. How about that? PLUS it can serve as a decoy for garden pests, luring them away from the more cultivated crops. I’m all kinds of crazy for this stuff. And since I’m halfway doing a medieval-style cloister garden, I’m not too fussed about leaving some good weeds here and there. Because let’s be honest: Ain’t nobody got time for all the weeding.

Anyway, back to the food. For today’s post, I’ve actually done two simple recipes, one for a salad and one for a pottage, which is a sort of herbaceous oatmeal. Because winter is not only coming, but it can be tough, and back in the day, getting enough greens was hard to do.

Here’s my pick list from the yard and gardens, which I divided among the two recipes:

  • Wood Sorrel
  • Clover
  • Lambsquarters
  • Dead Nettle
  • young Plantain
  • Creeping Charlie
  • Oregano
  • Marjoram
  • Mint
  • Nasturtiums
  • Creeping Thyme
  • Violet Leaves
  • Borage

And a few things I have, but didn’t include: purslane, hops shoots, lovage, burdock, and a few others.

See how many delicious green edibles could be lurking just outside your door? Then again, as one of my cousins recently observed, “Wow, most people just grow cucumbers and stuff, but you only have weird things!” Whoops.

Anyhow, I was surprised just how tasty both these recipes are. And I know that “recipe” is a bit of a stretch for the salad, but even so. They taste… healthy. And they really are, especially compared to the flavorless crunch of iceberg lettuce, or the nearly-always-wilty storebought baby spinach. My husband called the greens an “elf salad” because of how zesty and healthy they tasted, and I love the idea. I’ll admit that I’m not much of a vegetable fan, so whenever I find a new way to get some leafy greens, I’m a happy eater. While the salad is a quirky take on a fairly timeless dish, the pottage is pretty unique. But the more I thought about it, the more I reasoned that it was probably the medieval equivalent of slipping some healthy greens into a smoothie to hide them!

Where in Westeros?

Just about anywhere for the salad, and for the pottage anywhere they’d have a rough winter. A lot of “weeds” are the first plants to come up in the spring,

Salads always strike me as a more southern Westeros fixture, though, for the Reach, or even King’s Landing, if the castle gardens were up to the task. The pottage seems a decidedly Northern dish, though. I could easily see the cooks in Winterfell or Castle Black slipping some greens into the morning oats to keep everyone’s scurvy levels down during those interminable winters. If they couldn’t get fresh greens (I might die in a Westeros-length winter), they might have pickled some to store through those long, long cold months.

A Salat

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Take persel, sawge, grene garlec, chibolles, oynouns, leek, borage, myntes, porrettes, fennel, and toun cressis, rew, rosemarye, purslarye: laue and waische hem clene. Pike hem. Pluk hem small withyn honde, and myng hem wel with rawe oile; lay on vyneger and salt, and serue it forth. -Form of Curye, 14th Century

Basically, you pick an assortment of the greens listed in the link above, toss with a little olive oil, then a little vinegar and salt (I used red wine vinegar, but pick your favorite).

 

To make buttyrd Wortys

Medieval Pottage with Foraged Greens

Take all maner of gode herbys that ye may gette pyke them washe them and hacke them and boyle them vp in fayre water and put ther to butture clarefied A grete quantite And when they be boylde enowgh salt them but let non Ote mele come ther yn And dyse brede in small gobbetts & do hit in dyshys and powre the wortes A pon and serue hit furth. -Pepys, 15th Century

This one is a little more complex, but not by much. Essentially, parboil your greens in some broth, then strain and press out the liquid. Chop them small, with some oatmeal (which I’ve taken to mean uncooked oats, in this case). Boil some broth, then add everything into the pot. Boil a bit (until the oatmeal is done), adding more broth if needed then serve.

Ingredients:

  • a few handfuls assorted greens
  • as many handfuls rolled or flaked oats
  • enough fish or chicken broth

Gooseberry Hops

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I first saw this idea over on Ivan Day’s site, Historic Food, and knew that I had to try it at some point. But that was actually several years ago, when I didn’t even know where to buy gooseberries in New England, let alone expect to have any of my own.

But when I found myself in my own house, with heaps of fertile dirt outside (the place used to be a giant sheep farm), I went in search of a few currant and gooseberry bushes of my own. In the process, I discovered that they are scarce in the states in part because of what I’ve nicknamed the War on Fruit. It turns out that the genus ribes, of which gooseberries and currants are members, can also be a carrier for a disease that harms pine trees.

But surely, I thought, New Hampshire will sell me some of these plants- they live free or die! Nope. They’re banned in the entire state! But trusty old Vermont came through for me, and you’d better believe I planted one of each- red currant, black currant, and gooseberry. This was the first year they produced anything in quantity, so I get to actually play with the fruits, and see what cool old recipes I can dredge up. They’re all classic fruits, noted throughout the medieval period, and especially in colonial American cooking. So that’s where I’m headed for the gooseberries!

This is a recipe from 1792, which means it’ll be a perfect contender for colonial Thanksgiving this year. The idea is to string together several sliced gooseberries so that they look like candied hops flowers. It’s so quirky. I love it.

I followed the instructions (below) pretty much exactly. I’m also lucky enough to have inherited some massive concord grapevines, so the leaves for blanching were no problem. And I’ve got to say, I’m utterly charmed by how they turned out. They look just like little juicy hops! I could easily see them being a simple subtlety down in the Reach, where they love all things green and growing, but I could also see them being a treat up North, where they would be preserved to liven up some cold blustery day.

That’s what I’ve done with mine- they’re in a jar of the sugar syrup in the fridge, topped off with a little brandy, until I can pour a bit of beeswax in there to seal them up until Thanksgiving. I’m looking forward to seeing how they are then!

Recipe for Gooseberries in Imitation of Hops

TAKE the largest green walnut gooseberries you can get and cut them at the stalk end into four quarters. Leave them whole at the blossom end, take out all the seeds, and put five or six one in another. Take a needleful of strong thread with a large knot at the end; run the needle through the bunch of gooseberries, tie a knot to fasten them together, and they will resemble hops. Put cold spring water into your pan, with a large handful of vine leaves at the bottom; then three or four layers of gooseberries, with plenty of vine leaves between every layer, and over the top of your pan. Cover it no that no steam can get out, and set them on a slow fire. Take them off as soon as they are scalding hot, and let them stand till they are cold. Then set them on again till they are of a good green, then take them off, and let them stand till they are quite cold. Put them into a sieve to drain, and make a thin syrup thus: To every pint of water put in a pound of common loaf-sugar, and boil it and skim it well. When it is about half cold, put in your gooseberries, let them stand till the next day, give them one boil a-day for three days. Then make a syrup thus: To every pint of water put in a pound of fine sugar, a slice of ginger, and a lemon-peel cut lengthways very fine. Boil and skim it well, give your gooseberries a boil in it, and when they are cold, put them into glasses or pots, lay brandy-paper over them, and tie them up close. –The Housekeeper’s Instructor,1792

Ingredients:

  • 1-2 cups fresh gooseberries
  • several fresh grape leaves
  • 1 lb. sugar to every pint water
  • a slice of fresh ginger
  • a little lemon peel
  • a large needle and some thick cotton or linen string

Cook’s Note: The original directions are pretty great, and I followed them fairly closely until near the end; my gooseberries were ripe when I started, and I worried that the continuous boiling in sugar syrup would cause them to fall apart. We’ll see if I was wrong to mess with a good thing!

Take your gooseberries and slice them into four segments, starting at the stem end, and leaving the blossom end still attached. Carefully scoop out all the seed and discard them. Tie a large knot in one end of the string, then thread about 6 of the prepared gooseberries onto the string, turning each slightly so the petals are alternately spaced. It helps if you start with a larger gooseberry on the bottom, then slightly decrease the size of each as you go up. Cut the string, leaving several inches at the top, and repeat this until you’ve used up all your gooseberries.

Line a pot with grape leaves, then lay the gooseberry hops on top. Cover with a few more grape leaves, then cover the whole assortment with water. Put the cover on the pan, and bring up to just under a simmer, then remove from heat and allow to cool. Transfer the hops to a clean jar, and make up your sugar syrup. Dissolve the sugar in the water in a saucepan over medium heat, along with the ginger to give it a little flavor. When it’s dissolved, pour over the “hops” until the jar is mostly full. You may need to gently push the gooseberries back down. At this point, I topped the jar off with a little brandy, but I also plan to seal it with a little wax on top. It’s in the fridge for now, until I get a spare moment to melt the wax!

Hildegard’s Happy Cookies

“Nutmeg has great heat and good moderation in its powers. If a person eats nutmeg, it will open up his heart, make his judgment free from obstruction, and give him a good disposition. Take some nutmeg and an equal weight of cinnamon and a bit of cloves, and pulverize them. Then make small cakes with this and fine whole wheat flour and water. Eat them often. It will calm all bitterness of the heart and mind, open your heart and impaired senses, and make your mind cheerful. It purities your senses and diminishes all harmful humors in you. It gives good liquid to your blood, and makes you strong.” -Hildegard von Bingen, Physica, ~1153

Thoughts:

For those who haven’t heard of her, Hildegard von Bingen was a nun of many talents who lived during the 12th century. Amidst composing music, founding monasteries, and apparently receiving visions from on high, she also wrote a treatise on diet, which is a fascinating read. In that, she lists the good and bad qualities of various ingredients, and how best to consume them for health.

I stumbled on these cookies by accident while looking for new recipes to try. If you search for them online, you’ll find many modernized versions that are likely quite tasty. However, as you know by now, I am a stickler for staying as true as possible to the original recipe. So when Hildegard says combine spice, flour, and water, then that’s what I do. Although, I’ll admit that when I tried the dough, I capitulated to my tastebuds and added a bit of raw sugar, too. Don’t worry, though. Hillie thought that sugar was “refreshing”, so I think she’d approve.

The resultant cookies, or cakes, are sort of like hardtack. Like… a healthy hardtack. They were not especially appealing when I first began to nibble on one, but the aftertaste is full of warm spiced goodness. While it’s certainly possible that HvB left out more common ingredients, figuring that anyone reading would know to add them (often done in historical cookbooks), I’m inclined to think that she meant them to be a little bland, despite the spices.

I mean, doesn’t this just seem like something a medieval nun would prescribe for someone with the blues? Plus, the lack of eggs and butter means that these would last almost indefinitely, a definite perk when dealing with expensive imported spices. I made mine with a lovely Irish wholemeal flour, combined with a bit of spelt flour. This gave it a rustic, flaked texture that holds together well, even when being toted around the house as a snack.

I can’t vouch for the purported healthy side effects, but so far, I’m a grudging fan. I also found that a nice dollop of thoroughly modern peanut butter and honey went delightfully well with the cookies. Just saying…

Where in Westeros?

I imagine that such quasi-medicinal foods might be the purview of the Maesters, or possibly the Sept, but that last might just be my mind associating septas with nuns…

Recipe for Hildegard’s Happy Cookies

Ingredients:

  • 2 tsp. cinnamon
  • 2 tsp. nutmeg
  • 1/2 tsp. clove
  • 2 cups flour (including 1/2 spelt, 1/4 almond)
  • 2 Tbs. raw sugar
  • water enough to moisten

Combine all dry ingredients, then add just enough water to bring the mix together into a workable dough. Roll this out on a floured surface to about 1/4″ thickness, and cut into desired shapes. Arrange on a cookie sheet.

Bake cookies at 350F for around 15 minutes, or until they are mostly hard.

Medieval Dornish Cream Cakes

Medieval Cream Tarts

“If you did not eat so many creamcakes you would not have such dreams.  Rich foods are not for girls your age, when your humors are so unbalanced.  Maester Toman says — ”
“I hate Maester Toman,” Teora said.  Then she bolted from the table, leaving her lady mother to make apologies for her. –The Winds of Winter, excerpt chapter

Thoughts:

Yep, this is your first recipe from Winds of Winter.

But don’t get too excited- it’s from a sample chapter that GRRM put up online several months ago. Sadly, I don’t get a better a preview of the food in the next book than any other fans. This recipe, though, was too good to put off.

Because they are bite-sized and not overly sweet, these tarts are dangerously addictive. They are made up of a sweet crust and what is essentially a custard filling. I’m not usually a fan of adding rosewater to food, but in this, the addition is so subtle that it helps round out the flavors, rather than clashing with them. An assortment of toppings finish off an awesome dessert, and make for a flashy presentation.

If anyone has a great suggestion for a modern version, I’d love to hear it!

Medieval Cream Tarts Recipe

Makes about 4 dozen mini tarts

For three tarts, which should each be about a foot wide, take one quart of the best cream that you can find, and put it in a pan over the fire. And put two eggs, which are well beaten, into it, and when it begins to boil, then take six more eggs and let them be well beaten and put them into it, and some good flour and pour it slowly into the pan. And one should stir it constantly, so that it does not burn. After that, when the eggs have been poured in, throw a quarter of a pound of fresh butter into it and let it simmer together, until it becomes thick. Afterwards let it cool, and when it is cold, then put it into three pastry shells, each of which is a foot wide. And let it bake in the tart pan. If you would put it straight away on the table, then sprinkle a quarter pound of sugar over all three, together with a little rose water. And one should serve it forth while it is yet warm.  -Das Kuchbuch der Sabina Welserin, 16th century

Cook’s Notes: I’ve halved the original recipe, and instead of making large tarts, opted for much smaller versions, which would better tempt a child with a sweet tooth.

Ingredients for pastry:

  • 3 cups flour
  • 1 cup sugar
  • 1/4 cup warm water
  • pinch of saffron, or a single drop of yellow food coloring

Ingredients for Filling:

  • 2 cups cream
  • 1 eggs, plus 3 more eggs
  • pinch of cardamom
  • pinch of cinnamon
  • 1/2 stick butter
  • 1 tsp. rose water
  • 2 Tbs. sugar for dusting
  • garnish with your choice of crushed pistachios, candied citrus, etc.

Make up the pastry shells: Combine the flour and sugar. Let the saffron soak in the warm water for about 5 minutes, until the water has taken on a slight yellow tint. Add this to the dry mixture a small amount at a time, until it has become a large lump of dough. Roll out the dough to a little under 1/4″ thickness, and cut into 2″ rounds. Press these into a mini muffin pan, and bake for around 5 minutes at 350F. Remove from pan and allow to cool.

For the Filling: Combine the cream and one beaten egg in a medium saucepan. Bring slowly to a simmer. In a separate bowl, beat the remaining eggs. While whisking furiously, gradually pour in about 1 cup of the cream- this tempers the eggs so you don’t scramble them. Pour this whole mixture back into the pot. Add the spices, butter, and rose water, and stir, as it thickens. When it has thickened appreciably, remove from heat and let cool.

Spoon the filling into the prepared shells, dust with sugar, and top with your choice of garnish.

Crazy Historical Poached Eggs

 

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Thoughts:

I didn’t have any partridge on hand for this recipe, but I did have some pheasant and chicken left over from a birthday dinner, so I decided to use that instead.

It may not look like much on the plate, but the taste of this breakfast is incomparable.  On somewhat of a whim, I chose to place the dish on a slice of toast, making it a bit more breakfast-centered. This was a great way to enjoy it, but I could also see how it would be a wonderful and hearty meal dished up in a wooden bowl, too.

The rich, savory gravy with bits of shredded meat in it, is lightly but warmly spiced, giving it an old-world feel. A soft poached egg on top, the yolk of which runs into the gravy and toast, makes each bite creamy. All in all, it is a bit of an involved breakfast, but amazingly delicious and unique, and certainly worth trying at least once.

Proposed Location?

Anywhere in Westeros. All it needs is some game birds, or even chicken, so it would suit most regions. Perhaps not Dorne, but I could easily see it being served in Winterfell, the Reach, King’s Landing, and on the Wall.

Recipe for Crazy Historical Poached Eggs

To Poach Eggs. Take a dozen of new laid Eggs and flesh of four or five Partridges, or other; mince it so smal as you can season it with a few beaten Cloves, Mace, and Nutmeg, into a Silver Dish, with a Ladlefull or two of the Gravy of Mutton, wherein two or three Anchoves are dissolved; then set it a stewing on a fire of Char-coals; and after it is half stewed, as it boyles break in your Eggs one by one , and as you break them, pour away most part of the whites, and with one end of your Egg-shel, make a place in your dish of meat, and therein put your yolks of your Eggs round in order amongst your meat, and so let them stew till your Eggs be enough, then grate in a little Nutmeg, and the juyce of a couple of Oranges; have a care none of the seeds go in, wipe your dish and garnish your dish, with four or five whole Onyons, &c. – Compleat Cook, 1655

Cook’s Notes: I’ve somewhat adapted the recipe to better suit a modern pantry. Since most of us don’t have a pot of mutton gravy simmering away on the stovetop, I’ve included simple instructions for a chicken-based gravy made from leftovers. I’ve also omitted some of the stranger ingredients, such as onion garnish, orange juice, and anchovies, although I could certainly see the latter being a tasty addition. It made me wonder if some trace of this dish might date back to Ancient Rome, when almost all food had fish in it…

Ingredients:

  • ~6 eggs, for poaching
  • 1 leftover roast chicken
  • pinch each ground mace, nutmeg, and clove
  • chicken broth
  • 4 Tbs. butter
  • 4 Tbs. flour
  • salt and pepper to taste
  • slices of toasted bread

The Night Before:

Strip all the usable meat from the chicken carcass and lay aside. Put the bones in a large pot, cover with water, and simmer for several hours. Strain into a clean container and place in the fridge overnight.

The Next Morning:

Skim off and discard any fat that has collected at the top of the broth.
To make the gravy, melt the butter in a saucepan, and add the flour to it, stirring the two together. Let this cook for a minute or two, until it is golden and bubbling. While whisking the flour-butter, add a ladle of broth. The mixture should thicken quickly. Continue adding broth until it seems to stop thickening.

Shred the meat, and season with salt and spices. Ideally, you’ll have a couple of cups of shredded meat. Combine the meat with the gravy in a saucepan, and place over medium heat. As it starts to bubble, make a series of small divots in the broth, and carefully crack the eggs into the mixture.

Gently spoon hot gravy over the eggs, so that it cooks on top as well as underneath. The challenge in poaching an egg in gravy is that it’s not as visible as when done in water, so it may take a couple of tries before you get the hang of it. It should be finished when the white is set, and the yolk is still soft.

When the egg is done, scoop it out of the pan along with a generous portion of the meaty gravy. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then serve on top of toast, or in a bowl.

Depending on how many you are serving, you may need to bolster the gravy mixture with extra broth, in order for the liquid to be deep enough to properly poach the eggs.

Medieval Gravy-poached Eggs