Fearless Kitchen

Recipe: Baghdadi Yogurt Dip

Recipe Source: al-Baghdadi, Muhammad b. al-Hasan b. Muhammad b. al-Karim.  A Baghdad Cookery Book.  Charles Parry, trans.  Prospect Books, Totnes 2005 p. 88.

I have two copies of A Baghdad Cookery Book.  One is translated by A. J. Arberry.  It came out, I believe, sometime in the 1930s and was later included in a much larger volume entitled Medieval Arab Cookery.  The other was published as its own volume and was cited above.  This was the first book of medieval recipes I ever owned.  It has, unfortunately, been lost somewhere in the recesses of my house for quite some time.  Recently the house decided to cough up the book.  I don't know why.  It was just suddenly on the shelf again.  This happens sometimes, I don't know why.  Anyway, I prefer to work with this translation rather than the other.  I don't feel that I'm qualified to comment on the quality or accuracy of the translations themselves, but the style of English in the Perry translation is much easier to work with.

Anyway, the book made its re-appearance in time for me to start work on our New Year's Eve celebration.  I wasn't necessarily setting out to make a medieval dish for the party, but I happened to be flipping through the book and saw the recipe and decided that it looked good. I like that about a lot of the recipes from the medieval Middle East.  I mean, medieval people had taste buds too, and food for the classes that left recipes didn't need to taste like dust.  But a lot of the medieval Middle Eastern recipes fit right in with modern tastes and preferences.  You can mix them right into a modern dinner or party and no one would ever know the difference.  Try this one at your Super Bowl party.

As is usually the case when I'm trying to re-create a medieval recipe I didn't make a lot of changes.  The original wanted mint.  My husband is allergic to mint so I left it out.  I substituted tarragon.  The two are nothing alike of course, but I really like tarragon and it at least has a similar strength to mint.

Baghdadi Yogurt Dip (serves 16; approx. $0.51/serving)

1 large leek, finely chopped

4 celery stalks, finely chopped, leaves separated

1 small bunch tarragon, finely chopped

1 large tub Greek yogurt

1 cup chopped toasted walnuts

Kosher salt to taste

1/2 teaspoon ground mustard

Equipment:

• Large bowl

1. Combine the leek, celery stalks, celery leaves, tarragon and yogurt in the large bowl.
2. Mix well.
3. Sprinkle the salt, mustard and walnuts over the top.
4. Transfer to a serving vessel and serve.

Recipe: Radishes with Pepper and Brine

Recipe Source: Apicius.  Cookery and Dining in Imperial Rome.  Joseph Dommer Vehling, ed. and trans.  Dover Publications, New York, 1977 p. 84

I'm looking at this recipe, and I'm looking at the original recipe.  The recipe has precisely four ingredients.  The original recipe takes up two lines, and even that's kind of a stretch.  What can I do to make something so simple, so elemental, interesting enough to be worth your attention?  Well, it was worthy of my attention, but I'm weird like that.  Maybe you're weird like that too.

Or maybe I can talk about why I made this dish.  I made it by accident.  I had initially intended to make a turnip recipe on the same page, but when I got down to work Sunday morning I got confused.  I had quite a few radishes on hand from our farm share, and I hadn't had nearly enough coffee, and the child and dog were distracting me, so I got down to slicing and the next thing I knew this dish was finished.  That was when I realized I'd made a mistake.  I'd meant to serve turnips.  Oh well, I thought, easy enough to fix.  Everyone can use more vegetables in their life, after all, and it got the radishes out of my refrigerator.

And that's kind of the thing.  When we modern folks think about Imperial Rome, we think of decadence, of opulence, of waste.  We think of aristocrats gorging themselves on food and drink, then deliberately inducing vomiting so they could repeat the process.  That certainly happened on occasion, but I don't believe that it was as commonplace as we think.  Those over-the-top banquets have survived in print and legend, I think, specifically because they were so extraordinary.  Apicius is the author of the most complete cookbook we have from that era.  There are certainly opulent recipes in Apicius, but there are plenty of recipes in there that are beautiful in their simplicity.  I frequently turn to Apicius for vegetable recipes, for example, that really let the vegetables themselves shine through.

This is one such dish.  It has four ingredients.  Four.  There are radishes, salt, vinegar and pepper.  You do not have to heat up your kitchen.  You can make this ahead of time by several hours.  You could bring it to a potluck or a picnic.  You could bring it to work as a healthy snack.  You can serve it as part of an elaborate banquet or as a side dish to a simple dinner, just as the ancient Romans did.

Radishes with Pepper and Brine (serves 8; approx. cost per serving not available)

2 bunches radishes, very well cleaned

1/2 cup red wine vinegar

4 tablespoons kosher salt

2 tablespoons pepper

Equipment:

• You'll need a very sharp knife to slice the radishes thinly, but a food processor with the slicer attachment will work just as well if you're not comfortable with your knife skills.

1. Slice the radishes as thin as you possibly can.  Transfer them to the serving dish.
2. Combine the salt with the vinegar and mix well.  Try to dissolve as much of the salt as you can.
3. Pour the brine over the radishes.
4. Sprinkle with pepper.  Mix well.
5. Serve.

Recipe: Tharda with Chard (Medieval Beef Stew)

Recipe Source: Anonymous.  An Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook, 13th Century.  Charles Perry, trans.  Find the original recipe here.

Stew isn't pretty.  I'm pretty sure it isn't supposed to be.  It is supposed to be comforting, nourishing, filling, but not really pretty.  Stews are common throughout the medieval period throughout the world, and there's a good reason for that.  Stews make great use of meats that are kind of tough, not really "prime" cuts.  They also enable the cook to "stretch" a little meat a long way, which is important when meat is scarce or expensive or both.  I've seen some pretty fancy stews, and do you know what?  They don't look any different from not-fancy stews.  They look like stew.

Tharid is a dish supposedly invented by a grandfather of a Very Important Person in Islamic history.  At it's heart it is somewhere between a soup and a stew.  I've seen descriptions of tharid that boggle the mind, filled with all sorts of exotic meats and garnished with sausages, and I was frankly very intimidated by the very idea of cooking such a dish.  Then I did a little more research and I realized that what the Caliph in Baghdad ate in 961 AD probably bore about as much resemblance to the favorite dish of the Prophet as Emperor Constantine's dinner did to Christ's daily fare.  I've made tharid that was so simple it had only eight ingredients, and it was so delicious I crave it to this day.  It was a popular style of dish all over the Islamic world with good reason.

This one comes to us from Andalusia.  It's easy to forget that Andalusia, part of Spain (and therefore Western Europe) for centuries now, was for many centuries an important center of Islamic art, culture and learning.  The anonymous Andalusian cookbook we know today comes to us from the thirteenth century AD and it's kind of fun to compare and contrast recipes from the same period in Baghdad.  Sometimes the recipes are very similar.  Sometimes they're wildly different but have the same name.  At any rate, this one was fun and easy to make.  Adding the eggs probably seems a little odd to you.  It seemed odd to me too.  I don't think that this dish would have been nearly as tasty without them, though, so don't leave them out if no one is allergic.

Tharda with Chard (serves 8; approx. $2.01/serving)

5 tablespoons olive oil

2 pounds stew beef, cut into large chunks

1 tablespoon ground cumin

2 teaspoons ground coriander

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1 tablespoon black pepper

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 red onion, diced

1 bunch cilantro, finely chopped

2 bunches chard, chopped (include the stalks)

5 garlic cloves, chopped

3 eggs

1/4 cup dried rosemary

1 1/2 cups bread crumbs

1 tablespoon black pepper

1 tablespoon ground cinnamon

Water

Equipment:

• Large saucepan

1. Heat the oil in the saucepan.
2. Add the meat.  Brown the meat on all sides.
3. Add the cilantro, onion, cumin, coriander, ginger, first tablespoon of pepper and the salt.
4. When the onions are softened add water to almost cover.  Bring to a boil.
5. Add the chard.  Reduce heat to a simmer.
6. Add the eggs to the mixture along with the rosemary and garlic.
7. Stir well and simmer until the meat is very tender.
8. Sprinkle with the breadcrumbs, remaining pepper and cinnamon.

Recipe: Turnips with Oil and Vinegar

Recipe Source: Apicius.  Cooking and Dining in Imperial Rome.  Joseph Dommers Vehling, trans.  Dover Publications, New York, 1977 p. 84

The turnip was never part of my culinary experience as a child, but it was always kind of bound up in my mental image of the Middle Ages.  In my little head I could see the Great Queen (who bore a strong resemblance to Elizabeth I of England) riding around the countryside while the peasants devoted their lives to growing turnips and cabbages, which they then sold at enormous fairs consisting of nothing but turnips and cabbages.  (I clearly had some very unclear ideas on economics.)  Since they were (in my imagination) medieval food, I reasoned that they had to be bland, boring and more than a little stinky.

Of course, I'm older now.  I've done some research.  I've read a few books.  I now understand that medieval people had taste buds too.  The diet of the average peasant probably had a lot of boredom to it, but is that any different than a steady diet of mass-produced food-like items?  Yes, they ate turnips.  They ate many other things too.  They cooked them in ways that made them taste good.  They seasoned them.  The dishes they made and recorded back then often continue to delight modern palates.

This dish, obviously, goes back quite a bit further than the Middle Ages.  Apicius was a Roman gastronome who was roughly contemporary with Jesus Christ.  He endowed a school of cookery, collected recipes and may have developed a few recipes himself.  A man of wealth such as himself would have been expected to have little to do with the kitchen - he had people for that - but evidence suggests that he actually did engage in the preparation of food himself.  The very earliest part of Imperial Roman history still captures the modern imagination as a time of extravagance, and some of Apicius' recipes reflect that.  Some of them, though, are stunningly beautiful in their simplicity.  This one has the added advantage of being very inexpensive without tasting cheap.

Turnips with Oil and Vinegar (serves 12; approx. $0.24/serving)

1 bunch turnips (about 5), peeled and chopped

4 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 cup red wine vinegar

Sea salt to taste

Equipment:

• Saucepan
• Bowl
• Whisk

1. Bring a saucepan of water to a boil.
2. Add the turnip pieces.  Boil until they are tender, but don't let them get so tender that they fall apart.
3. Drain.  Transfer to your serving vessel.
4. Whisk together the oil and vinegar until emulsified.
5. Pour the dressing over the turnips.  Sprinkle with sea salt and serve.

Eggplants with Cinnamon

Recipe Source: Anonymous.  A Translation of a 17th Century Romanian Cookbook.  P. Levesque, trans.  The book is available online here.

I wil be the first to admit that eggplant is kind of a hard sell.  Everyone knows someone who was hideously traumatized by the stuff at some point in his life.  Maybe they've only had super-greasy eggplant Parm, or maybe they tried an especially bitter example at some point in their history.  Medieval tales from the Middle East refer both to good and bad feelings about eggplant - often coming from the same person.  Well, I was never traumatized by eggplant.  I quite like the stuff.  I've also, on repeated occasions, convinced other people to take second helpings of a vegetable they had previously loathed.

I don't think I'm some kind of great culinary goddess.  I just know what I think will taste good.  I served this at a recent Sunday dinner as one of the actual medieval dishes I shared that day.  I never had much knowledge of Romanian cooking, but what I saw in this book seemed pretty tasty so I went with it.  The results were pretty well received.  I was a little disappointed that it came out looking quite so much like goo, but I guess I should have expected that.  Either way, it was a pretty easy dish to make so try it sometime when you have eggplant on hand.

Eggplants with Cinnamon (serves 12; approx. $0.98/serving)

3 eggplants, peeled and chopped

4 tablespoons olive oil

4 onions, diced

2/3 cup water

1/2 cup amond milk

1/2 cup lemon juice

10 sage leaves

10 sprigs thyme

10 sprigs oregano

1 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon plus more to taste

2 teasoons pepper

Equipment:

• Large saucepan
• Colander

1. Fill the large saucepan with water and bring to a boil.
2. Add the eggplants and boil about 20 minutes.
3. Drain the eggplants and wipe out the saucepan.
4. Heat the oil in the saucepan.
5. Add the onions with the kosher salt.  Saute until translucent.
6. Add the drained eggplant.  Saute about 5 minutes.
7. Add the water, spices, herbs, lemon juice and almond milk.  Bring to a boil.
8. Boil until the eggplants are well tender and the sauce is somewhat reduced.
9. Transfer to your serving bowl.  Sprinkle with cinnamon and serve.

Recipe: Medieval Stuffed Apples

Recipe Source: Coquinaria.nl.  I have no idea who the translator is; if it's you please let me know so I can properly cite you.  Find the original recipe here.

I've been kind of into the Netherlands lately and I'm not really sure why.  It's not like I know a lot about the Netherlands.  I know their history to some extent, but only as it touches upon other places.  I know about William of Orange because of his impact on English history.  I know a little about their struggle for independence from Spain because of how it impacted the reign of Elizabeth I.  I guess that the real pull that the place has on me is New York.  New York, for those of you who don't already know this, did not start out as an English colony.  The first European settlers were Dutch.  What we now know as New York State was called New Netherlands and the city they founded there was called New Amsterdam.  (The land belonged to other people before the Dutch, but I know even less about them to my great chagrin, and none of what I do know is at all relevant to a food blog.  Although if you do have any information on the diet of the first native New Yorkers please do get in touch with me.)

Anyway, I've found a couple of medieval Dutch recipes online.  Now, I don't have the best impression of a lot of Northern European cookery.  In my head it's all cabbage and boiled pork.  I know that this is not accurate by any stretch of the imagination but there you have it.  Both of these recipes involve, at least in some way, apples.  In my imagination, which is sometimes given to excess, I can understand what it is that drew those colonists to New York and it is the apple.  In my head I can just see an early Dutch colonist turning to his wife and saying, "This is great apple country!"  Except he says it in Dutch.  I love apples.  Upstate New York, my native land, is pretty fantastic apple country and I take great delight in gorging myself on apples every fall.

Back to the recipe.  The original only mentioned apples as a variation.  The recipe is for a stuffing with which you can stuff all sorts of things, from birds to eggs to, well, apples.  I was looking for a period side dish to serve at a Sunday open house and when I saw that you could stuff apples with it I said, "Ooooo!"  Now, I did make one fairly major change.  The recipe, which dates to 1484,  called specifically for pork.  I am hideously, ghastly allergic to pork.  But I could stuff apples.... I almost decided not to make the dish but then I changed my mind.  I've used turkey as a substitute for pork on several occasions and with the exception of bacon (turkey bacon is an abomination and must be stopped) it makes a very satisfying alternative.  I decided to use ground turkey here.

Some people, and you know who you are, will be losing your mind here.  Not only am I substituting out a period ingredient, but I'm replacing it with one that was unknown in Europe in 1484.  I think that it is perfectly acceptable to substitute or omit period ingredients where safety is concerned.  Usually when I do so it's a safety issue that affects everyone (Yes, I know they used pennyroyal like we use parsley.  It's al

so toxic under certain very common circumstances so I don't use it unless I know no one dining with us will possibly be affected.)  While in this case the safety issue only affects a small number of people - I can think of three including myself in my own social circle - it is a safety issue nonetheless.  Furthermore, large parts of the Netherlands were ruled by Spain.  We know from Nola that at least some cooks were accustomed to cooking for people who could not consume pork.  Now, Nola was working in Naples but he was working for an Aragonese ruler, and the King of Spain at this point was Aragonese.  I feel that it isn't much of a stretch to say that a cook in an area influenced by Spain might well have also substituted something else for pork.  Furthermore, at least in later times the Netherlands became known for tolerating certain folks who did not consume pork.  (Stuyvesant in New Amsterdam fought allowing Jews into the colony but his masters back in Europe firmly told him that he had to.)

So, now that I've justified using something other than pork for this recipe, let's talk turkey.  Turkey is the most delicious white meat that you can find.  It's probably just the result of Thanksgiving, but somehow the smell and taste of turkey are just eternally wedded to autumn in my mind.  (Not that I won't eat turkey at other times of year.  It's just more abundant in the fall.)  It is also incontrovertibly New World and therefore wildly inappropriate for a recipe that dates to 1484.  Okay.  That's all true.  I've certainly heard of turkey being recommended in later (still pre-1600) periods as a substitute for other birds that are not readily available as food in the modern United States - peacock or swan, for example.  I could have used chicken, but I happened to have ground turkey on hand.  Furthermore, while we modernly think of chickens as cheap protein sources they don't appear to have been thought so in the medieval period.  I could have used ground beef or ground lamb, but both of those have

very strong flavors of their own and would not have been quite right here.  If I were entering this into a period cooking competition I would not have used turkey.  I was not entering this into a period cooking competition.  I was serving this to some friends out on the back deck.  If you care that much, go ahead and use pork.

Medieval Stuffed Apples (serves about 12; approx. cost per serving not available)

15 apples (I used Macintoshes because that's what I had on hand.  I'm not sure what variety available in the medieval Netherlands would be available now.)

1 pound ground turkey

6 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and roughly chopped

1 tablespoon black pepper

2 teaspoons ground cumin

2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom

Kosher salt to taste

Scant 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

Equipment:

• Roasting pan
• Frying pan
• Food processor
• Optional: Big Green Egg or other wood-fired oven.  I could have easily made this indoors but the kitchen was hot enough and I think the smoke from the wood in the Egg really added something very tasty to this dish.

1. Brown the turkey in the frying pan.  I don't think I used any added fat, but if you're more comfortable with it use a little olive oil to prevent burning. The turkey should be fully cooked.
2. Let the turkey cool a little.
3. Transfer the turkey, eggs, spices and salt to the food processor and grind to a paste.
4. Slice the top off each apple.  Reserve the lids.
5. Hollow out a space in the center of each apple.  I used a melon baller to do this but you can use a spoon or whatever.  It's important to leave enough substance to the walls of the apple that it can still stand up in the roasting pan.
6. Fill the space you've just hollowed out with the turkey mixture.
7. Replace the top of the apples and arrange them in a roasting pan.
8. Roast in the Big Green Egg about 10 - 15 minutes at 350 degrees.  If you are cooking indoors cook in a 350 degree oven.  You can probably afford to go a little over time, but don't cook the apples so much that they collapse.  The stuffing ingredients are fully cooked so this is not a safety issue.
9. Serve.

Recipe: Medieval Doughnuts (Aqras Mukarrara)

Recipe Source: al-Baghdadi, Muhammad ibn al-Hasan ibn Muhammad ibn al-Karim al-Katib.  A Baghdad Cookery Book (Kitab al-Tabikh,  A. J. Arberry, trans.  Published in Medieval Arab Cookery, by Maxime Rodinson, A. J. Arberry & Charles Perry.  Prospect Books, Devon, 2006 p. 87

A few weeks ago, after some good-natured ribbing that I just had to interpret as a challenge, I made a Sunday open house dinner that consisted entirely of medieval recipes.  In order to make it even more of a challenge (and to keep me from referring to my favorite cookbook), I decided that all the recipes would be Western European in origin with the exception of the dessert.  (The fact is that I was just really craving something tasty involving nuts and rosewater and I knew I would find it if I looked East enough.)  I found this recipe in my copy of A Baghdad Cookery Book and decided that I just had to have it.

I have a little more trouble following the instructions for this cookbook, since they aren't written nearly as clearly as Annals of the Caliphs' Kitchens.  Where the original recipe said "Take white flour and knead lightly, then leave to rise," I interpreted that to mean that this was a leavened pastry.  I therefore took the same dough recipe as I was using for the whole wheat bread I was making that day and used white flour instead.  Also, I didn't have enough sesame oil on hand to fry all the doughnuts, so I had to substitute a little bit of plain vegetable oil to round out the oil.

This recipe was very painful.  Oil splatters, you see.  It also retains its heat well, especially when combined with melted and caramelized sugar.  I removed a pan from the heat but left a (plastic-handled) spatula to cool with it.  When I grabbed the handle of the spatula it had melted.... into my finger.... which hurt and hurt.  Don't do that.  The worst part is that there were witnesses!  Nothing got into the food itself - I was starting over with a clean pan anyway.  Proper first aid was followed and there was no lasting harm to me, and that spatula had long exceeded its reasonably expected lifespan anyway.

Fortunately the dish was one hundred percent worth it.  Even reheated it was worth it.  Wow.  I just cannot say enough good things about these little treats.  I will warn you, though, that these are Not A Health Food.  While our medieval ancestors, especially the ancestors in the Islamic world, certainly understood the connection between diet and health they were not overly concerned with things like cholesterol or stroke risk or anything like that.  So this is absolutely a treat, to be reserved for a special occasion or very special gathering or maybe once a year.  Just know that it will be worth it when you do.

Aqras Mukarrara (makes enough for about 12 people if they're brave; approx. cost per serving not available)

1 3/4 cup lukewarm water

3 cups white all-purpose flour

1 1/3 cups white bread flour

2 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons raw sugar

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast

4 cups raw sugar, divided

1/3 pound almonds

1/4 cup rosewater

1 1/2 cups water

Light sesame oil for frying (Note: do NOT use toasted sesame oil here, only the raw kind you can get at Middle Eastern or Indian markets.  The toasted kind you can find in the supermarket is entirely the wrong flavor.)

Equipment:

• Frying pan
• Saucepan
• Food processor
• Slotted spatula
• Stand mixer with dough hook attachment
• Bowls

1. Combine the 2 teaspoons raw sugar with the water and the yeast in a bowl.  Set aside until the yeast becomes markedly foamy.
2. Combine the flours, salt and olive oil in the bowl of your stand mixer.
3. Add the yeast mixture.  Knead on the lowest setting until the ingredients are combined, then increase speed slightly (from 1 to 3 of 11 on mine) and knead until a soft dough is formed.  It should form a ball around the dough hook.
4. Cover the dough and set aside to rise for about an hour or until very puffy.  The length of time this will take depends on the heat of your kitchen.
5. Meanwhile, make the rest of the components.  Start with the syrup: combine 1 1/2 cups water with 1 1/2 cups sugar in the saucepan.
6. Heat over medium heat, stirring constantly until the sugar is completely dissolved.
7. Bring to a boil.  Boil at least 1 minute.
8. Remove from heat.  Wait about thirty seconds and add the rosewater.
9. To make the filling, combine 2 cups raw sugar and 1/3 pound almonds in your food processor.  Process to a fine powder.
10. Add enough of the syrup to make it into a firm paste - you shouldn't need to add more than 1/2 cup but if you do that's okay.
11. Clean out your food processor and grind the remaining raw sugar into a fine powder.
12. When the dough is ready, pull off a small chunk of it, about as much as will fit between your thumb and forefinger if you touch the tips together.
13. Roll the piece of dough into a ball.
14. Break out a little bit of the almond paste from the food processor.  Roll it into a ball and flatten it with your hands.
15. Pat the cake into a flat disc and set aside.  Repeat with the remaining dough.
16. Heat the oil in your frying pan.  You want enough to fry the cakes without burning but not so much that you're deep-frying.
17. Add a few of the dough discs.  The number you add will depend on the size of your frying pan, but do NOT overcrowd your pan.  Not only does that lead to poor results it tends to lead to house fires.  So don't do it.
18. Fry the pieces on both sides for about a minute.
19. Dip each pastry into the syrup, then into the ground sugar, then return it to the pan.
20. Repeat this procedure twice more, setting the discs aside after the third sugaring.  Finish with the remaining discs.
21. Serve immediately.

Recipe: Sauce for Lords

Recipe Source: Anonymous.  An Early Northern Cookery Book.  Rudolf Grewe and Constance B. Hieatt, eds.  Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Tempe, 2001 p. 31

Okay, this one is a little strange.  I'm not entirely sure that it counts as a "fail," but I'm not exactly sure that it's a "win" either.  I think that while it is listed as a sauce it is probably more of a "marinade," and that it was just as likely to be considered as a preservative as anything else.  It is a very strongly flavored sauce and other, similar sauces have included the instruction to rinse off the meat before using it.  That said, this didn't actually taste bad.  It was actually kind of good.  I served it over roasted beef and while people didn't eat a whole lot of it they certainly ate it.

2 tablespoons ground cinnamon

A combination of ground cloves, nutmeg, cardamom, black pepper and ginger adding up to 1 tablespoon

1/4 cup breadcrumbs

1/4 cup red wine vinegar

Equipment:

• None

1. Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and mix well.
2. Serve with roasted meat.

Recipe: Game Hens in an Onion Sauce

Recipe Source: Anonymous.  The Book of Sent Sovi.  Joan Santanach, ed.  Robin Vogelzang, trans.  Barcino - Tamesis, Barcelona, 2008 p. 155

This is another recipe from the week of all medieval recipes.  This recipe dates to the early 1300s and comes to us from Catalonia.  It isn't an easy book to read or follow and it sometimes calls for things that seem very strange - I sometimes wonder if the author was a cook or was copying down something he didn't really understand.  There are quite a few good, useable recipes in this book though, and they help to dispel the notion that humankind only evolved taste buds after the Age of Enlightenment.

What it is, though, is another simple recipe that can be made from things you probably have on hand already.  The original did strongly suggest that partridges be used.  For whatever reason I read that as "game hens" when I was making up my grocery list, which are at any rate easier to find than partridges in most modern American grocery stores.  You could get away with chicken here, or even turkey breast if you're not concerned with historical accuracy.  (In fact, turkey would be really, really good.)  I did use olive oil in place of pork fat to accommodate my own food allergy, but I don't think that's too much of a stretch.  Stuff happens.  Your supply of pork fat could have gone bad, or the dog could have eaten it, or you could have used it all up.

This dish was very well received, which was kind of gratifying.  It did make a lot of sauce.  It's entirely possible that I made more sauce than strictly required, but I'm comfortable with my interpretation.  The fowl seems to be almost secondary to this dish; indeed, the name of the dish is "onion sauce."  ("Porriol" in medieval Catalan, in case you were curious, which of course you were.)  You can certainly use a starch - rice or bread or what have you - to soak up the remaining sauce if you wish.  What is important is that the vinegar and pepper shouldn't be too strong.  That's specifically stated in the original.

Game Hens in an Onion Sauce (serves 12; approx. $1.19/serving)

4 onions, finely minced

2 tablespoons olive oil

Kosher salt to taste

2 tablespoons black pepper

1 cup red wine vinegar

2 cups water

4 game hens, quartered

Equipment:

• Large saucepan

1. Heat the oil in the saucepan.
2. Add the onion with a pinch of kosher salt.  Saute until the onion is translucent and starting to brown.
3. Add the game hens.  Brown the meat on at least two sides, taking care to not let the onions burn.  (Why yes, this does require close attention.)
4. Add the remaining ingredients, with more salt if necessary.  Bring to a boil.
5. Reduce heat and simmer until the game hens are cooked through.
6. Transfer to a serving vessel and serve.

Recipe: Renaissance Chicken Wings

Recipe Source: Scappi, Bartolomeo. The Opera of Bartolomeo Scappi. Terence Scully, trans. University of Toronto Press, Toronto, 2008 p. 213

Bartolomeo Scappi was a master chef whose great work, referenced above, was published in 1570 AD. By "master chef" I don't mean a winner of some show on cable. I mean this guy was the personal chef to not one but two Popes, as well as a few cardinals. He cooked for the conclave that elected at least one Pope. Now, don't get me wrong. The Reformation was in full swing at this point, but the Pope was still probably the single most influential and powerful individual in the Western world. Scappi was responsible for keeping this man fed.

Now, this time was certainly an era of great opulence and show, at least for the wealthy and powerful. After all, what good was money if it didn't buy you power, and if no one knew how powerful you were you didn't have a whole lot of power at all. Our mental images of this period involve lavish costumes, ridiculously expensive furnishings, tables groaning under bizarre and fabulous dishes that later gave rise to nursery rhymes. There are plenty of fantastic dishes in Scappi, but there are plenty of more prosaic dishes as well. Our author is just as concerned about managing waste as any modern executive chef and his chapter on fowl includes recipes for cooking parts of birds that today we'd probably just throw away. Recipe 147 contains instructions for cooking necks, wings and feet of multiple types of fowl, including ducks and geese.

This is a very simple recipe. It has three ingredients - four if you count the salt, which isn't specified in Scappi. I did make one substitution. The original called for rendered fat to be used, although interestingly it does not call for the fat to be rendered pork fat. (Many medieval Western recipes call for pork fat, and refusal to use pork products in some places and times was interpreted as indicating that the cook or diner's conversion from Judaism or Islam was nominal only.) I used olive oil, because I did not have rendered fat of any kind on hand. I would like to think that Scappi would have used the same substitution if he found himself wanting rendered fat - through use, or possibly because the dog ate it, or whatever.

Basically, though, what you're getting here is a recipe for chicken wings that was certainly used five hundred years ago - all right, four hundred fifty - and still works well today. They didn't have buffalo sauce. Maybe you're serving guests who can't handle spicy food. Maybe you're out of buffalo sauce. Either way, these make a great appetizer or food for the game.

Renaissance Chicken Wings (serves 12; approx. $0.95/ea.)

18 chicken wings, prepared

2 bunches scallions, chopped

5 tablespoons olive oil

Kosher salt to taste

Equipment:

• Large saucepan
• Colander
• Large saute pan

1. Fill the large saucepan with salted water and add the chicken wings. Parboil the chicken wings until about half cooked.
2. Drain the chicken wings and set aside.
3. Set aside a handful of the chopped green parts of the scallions.
4. Heat the oil in the saute pan.
5. Add the chicken wings. Saute until the wings are cooked through.
6. About a minute before the chicken is done, add the scallion bits. Saute until the chicken is cooked through and the scallions are limp.
7. Transfer to your serving dish. Scatter with the reserved scallion greens and serve.