Let Lory (Larded Milk): Medieval English Custard Recipe | Harleian MS 279

Let Lory, also called larded milk, from Harleian MS 279

First Published: February 8, 2017
Updated: June 2026

Few medieval dishes feel as curious and unexpected to modern diners as Let Lory, sometimes called larded milk. Found in Harleian MS 279, dated to about 1430, this unusual English dish sits somewhere between a soft custard, a fresh cheese, and a delicate entremet. Milk scented with saffron is gently curdled with eggs, drained, and dressed with a warm sauce of sweetened yolks and warming spices.

To modern eyes, Let Lory may appear unusual, yet medieval cooks seem to have delighted in dishes of curdled milk and eggs. Similar preparations appear across Europe, from the English Forme of Cury recipe for Letelorye to French recipes for larded milk. These dishes blurred the line between custard, cheese, and composed delicacy.

Rather than a hearty pottage or broth of the first course, Let Lory feels especially at home among the entremets, the often-overlooked dishes served between courses to delight guests and shift the rhythm of the feast. Soft, rich, and lightly perfumed with saffron and spice, it makes an excellent conversation piece for historical dinners, reenactment feasts, or anyone curious about the stranger corners of medieval cookery.

Æppla Syfling: Following the Trail of an Anglo-Saxon Apple Butter

Æppla Syfling: Following the Trail of an Anglo-Saxon Apple Butter

Sometimes revisiting an old recipe does not reveal mistakes. Sometimes it reveals how much care went into the reconstruction in the first place.

A few weeks ago, while revisiting an Anglo-Saxon feast I originally prepared in 2003, I found myself in a strange place: ten pages deep into Google searching for Æppla Syfling.

The odd thing?

Most of the results led right back to me.

Or rather, to a much younger version of myself.

Back in 2003, for Ceilidh XVI, I prepared an Anglo-Saxon inspired feast using recipes from Mary Savelli’s Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England. Like many historical cooks of my generation, I trusted her work because she attempted something genuinely difficult: taking fragmentary evidence and transforming it into dishes that modern cooks could understand, discuss, and place on the table.

One of those dishes was Æppla Syfling, translated simply as apple butter.

At the time, the recipe felt entirely reasonable. Apples, cider, honey, mint, cumin, and black pepper cooked into a soft accompaniment to bread or the feast table. I made it, served it, enjoyed it, and moved on.

More than twenty years later, curiosity got the better of me.

What exactly had Mary seen in this recipe?

And perhaps more importantly:

What did Anglo-Saxons mean by the word syfling?

Ceilidh XVI, March 29, 2003. The original Anglo-Saxon inspired feast where Æppla Syfling first appeared on my table.

Original Feast Context: Æppla Syfling was originally prepared for Ceilidh XVI, an Anglo-Saxon inspired feast held on March 29, 2003.

📜 Read the original feast record:
Ceilidh XVI – March 29, 2003

🍏 Explore the updated feast research:
Reconstructing an Anglo-Saxon Feast: Ceilidh XVI Revisited

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The Value of Revisiting Old Recipes

One of the gifts of maintaining a long-running historical cooking blog is that older work remains visible. That is not always comfortable. Old recipes can show what sources were available, what assumptions were common, and what questions had not yet been asked.

But older work also preserves something precious: the moment when a cook took the evidence available and made it practical.

That matters especially for Anglo-Saxon food. Unlike later medieval English cookery, we do not have a large collection of household recipe books telling us exactly how these dishes were made. Instead, we work from scattered clues: medical texts, glossaries, archaeology, food rents, monastic rules, comparative sources, and later culinary habits.

In 2003, that work was harder than it is today. Searchable manuscript databases, digitized medieval texts, OCR search tools, online dictionaries, and high-resolution scans from major libraries were not sitting one click away.

Most historical cooks worked from the books they owned, interlibrary loans, photocopies, conference notes, handwritten bibliographies, and the generosity of other researchers.

A Note on Mary Savelli’s Work: This revisit is not an attempt to correct Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England. If anything, it has deepened my appreciation for it. Mary Savelli was doing something genuinely useful: building practical bridges between fragmentary Anglo-Saxon evidence and modern kitchens.

That is the spirit in which I returned to Æppla Syfling.

Not to ask, “Was Mary wrong?”

But to ask, “What was Mary seeing?”

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What Does Syfling Mean?

That question led me somewhere unexpected.

Not first to a recipe.

Not even to a manuscript.

It led me to a dictionary.

According to the Bosworth–Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, the Old English word syfling refers broadly to a food eaten with bread, an accompaniment, or something supplemental served alongside a staple food. Even more intriguingly, the dictionary glosses æppla syfling as apple sauce.

That stopped me for a moment.

Had I misunderstood the recipe all these years?

The longer I sat with the idea, the more I found myself circling back to Mary Savelli’s original interpretation with fresh appreciation.

If syfling means an accompaniment eaten with bread, then translating Æppla Syfling as apple butter begins to make practical sense. Historical cooks often choose familiar language to help modern readers understand unfamiliar ideas, and “apple butter” immediately communicates an apple-based preparation meant to accompany bread or a meal.

English speakers have long used the word butter for soft fruit preparations:

• Apple butter
• Pear butter
• Pumpkin butter

Not dairy butter, but soft, spoonable fruit accompaniments.

Seen through that lens, Mary’s choice feels less like a literal translation and more like an interpretive bridge between Anglo-Saxon foodways and a modern kitchen.

Language Note: Syfling does not need to mean “butter” in the dairy sense. It points toward an accompaniment eaten with bread. That makes “apple butter” a surprisingly sensible modern way to describe a soft apple preparation served at table.

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Following the Flavor Trail

If the word syfling started making more sense, the next question became flavor.

Why mint? Why cumin? Why pepper?

At first glance, these seem unusual companions to apples. Yet the deeper I looked into Anglo-Saxon medicine and comparative culinary traditions, the more thoughtful Mary Savelli’s reconstruction began to feel.

What I expected to find, if I am being honest, was evidence that I might reinterpret the recipe dramatically.

Instead, I found evidence that Mary may already have understood more than I first realized.

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Bald’s Leechbook, Digestion, and Familiar Flavors

Bald’s Leechbook is not a cookbook. It is a 10th-century Old English medical manuscript, deeply influenced by earlier Mediterranean medical traditions inherited through Greek, Roman, and Byzantine learning.

That matters because Anglo-Saxon medical texts often preserve familiar kitchen ingredients in practical use: apples, herbs, honey, vinegar, butter, milk, ale, grains, and warming spices.

While revisiting Mary Savelli’s reconstruction, I found something in Bald’s Leechbook that stopped me in my tracks.

In Book II, Chapter XII, a digestive remedy “for spewing, and in case that a man’s meat will not keep down” combines several ingredients that felt immediately familiar:

• Mint
• Pepper
• Cumin
• Sour apples
• Wine

“For spewing, and in case that a mans meat will not keep down… take one ounce of seed of dill, four of pepper, three of cumin… put into water in which mint has been sodden and sour apples… if the man be not in a fever, eke it with wine.”

Thomas Oswald Cockayne, Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, Vol. II, Book II, Ch. XII.

That does not prove Æppla Syfling exactly. Historical evidence rarely works so neatly.

But it demonstrates something important:

Anglo-Saxon medicine already understood apples, mint, pepper, cumin, and wine as ingredients that belonged together.

Even more fascinating, Cockayne notes that this remedy partly reflects the medical writings of Alexander of Tralles, a Byzantine physician whose work helped transmit older Mediterranean medical traditions into medieval Europe.

In other words:

Anglo-Saxon medicine did not emerge in isolation.

It inherited centuries of medical thinking in which foods, herbs, and spices were understood to warm, cool, stimulate digestion, soothe discomfort, and support bodily balance.

Bald’s Leechbook, Book II, Chapter XII. Digestive remedies preserve combinations of mint, cumin, pepper, sour apples, and wine.

Primary Source Trail

• Bosworth–Toller Dictionary Entry for Syfling
• View Bald’s Leechbook in the British Library Manuscript Viewer
• Cockayne Translation: Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, Vol. II
• Explore Apicius Online

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Ann Hagen, Fruit Sauces, and Digestion

Ann Hagen’s work on Anglo-Saxon foodways provides another fascinating clue.

Hagen notes that fruit sauces were traditionally served with meat and fish dishes and could help “cut the fat,” making richer foods easier to digest.

Even more intriguingly, she points out that Anglo-Saxon leechdoms mention sauces of vinegar, honey, and herbs, observing that there is little reason to suppose these belonged only to medicine.

In one discussion, Hagen references:

“sweet apples, marinaded in wine, then stewed and sweetened with honey and peppered.”

That combination immediately caught my attention.

Not because it proves Æppla Syfling exactly, but because it demonstrates something important:

apples, honey, pepper, herbs, and sharp liquids already belonged together in Anglo-Saxon thinking.

Apples provide tartness and body. Honey softens the edge. Mint brightens. Pepper and cumin warm.

Seen this way, Æppla Syfling begins to feel less like an odd reconstruction and more like a very plausible accompaniment for richer foods on an Anglo-Saxon table.

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Roman Echoes: Apicius

Mary also pointed toward Apicius, the Roman cookbook tradition.

This does not mean Anglo-Saxons were cooking Roman recipes unchanged. Rather, it suggests that flavor families survived and evolved across centuries.

In John Edwards’ The Roman Cookery of Apicius, a cumin sauce for oysters combines:

• Pepper
• Mint
• Cumin
• Honey
• Sharp liquids such as vinegar

No apples, of course.

But the flavor logic feels strikingly familiar.

Sweet. Sharp. Herbal. Peppery.

Modern cooks sometimes find these combinations surprising. Ancient and medieval cooks clearly did not.

Explore Apicius Online:
Roman Cookery of Apicius

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Mary Savelli’s Original Reconstruction

One of the things I expected to find while revisiting this recipe was evidence that I might want to reinterpret it more dramatically. Instead, revisiting Mary Savelli’s original instructions revealed something surprising:

She was closer to an Anglo-Saxon interpretation than many may have recognized.

Her recipe does not resemble the thick, heavily reduced modern apple butter many of us imagine today.

Instead, it produces something softer, brighter, and far more sauce-like.

Æppla Syfling – Apple Butter
Makes 1½ cups

• 2 medium apples, peeled and finely chopped
• 1 cup apple cider (or apple juice)
• 2 tbsp honey
• ⅛ tsp ground black pepper
• ¼ tsp each dried mint and cumin leaves

Method:
Boil the apples in the cider for 30 minutes or until soft; purée. Thoroughly mix the remaining ingredients into the apple purée and cool.

Recipe adapted from Mary Savelli, Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England.

At first, I thought I might reinterpret this dish as something looser and more relish-like.

Looking back at Mary’s original instructions, however, I realized she may already have been aiming for exactly that.

What changed for me was not the recipe itself.

It was understanding the historical logic behind it.

My 2026 Interpretation: I would keep the heart of Mary’s recipe and its soft, sauce-like texture. If anything, I would be careful not to reduce it too far. I would aim for a tart, herbal apple accompaniment eaten with bread or served beside richer foods.

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Æppla Syfling: A Modern Historical Reconstruction

Serves 8

Ingredients

• 6 medium tart apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
• 1 cup apple cider or unsweetened apple juice
• 1 to 2 tablespoons honey, or to taste
• 1 tablespoon fresh mint, finely chopped, or 1 teaspoon dried mint
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Pinch of salt, optional
• 1 to 2 teaspoons cider vinegar, optional, if your apples are not tart

Method

1. Place the chopped apples and cider in a saucepan over medium heat.
2. Bring to a gentle simmer, then reduce the heat and cook until the apples are soft, stirring occasionally.
3. Mash the apples with a spoon or potato masher. For a smoother sauce, press through a sieve or use an immersion blender briefly.
4. Stir in the honey, mint, cumin, pepper, and salt if using.
5. Taste. If the sauce is too sweet or flat, add a small splash of cider vinegar.
6. Continue cooking only until the mixture is soft and spoonable. Do not reduce it into a dense preserve unless you prefer a more modern apple butter texture.
7. Serve warm or at room temperature.

To Serve

Serve Æppla Syfling with warm bread, oatcakes, roast pork, sausage, fish, sharp cheese, or as part of an Anglo-Saxon inspired feast board.

Cook’s Note: For a version closer to modern apple butter, continue cooking the mixture over low heat until thick and deeply reduced. For my current interpretation, I prefer to leave it looser and more sauce-like, preserving the tartness of the apples and the brightness of the mint.

2003 Version vs. 2026 Interpretation

In 2003, I understood this dish primarily through the modern phrase apple butter. In 2026, I still think that phrase is useful, but I understand it more broadly.

A syfling was an accompaniment. Something eaten with bread. Something that made the staple more flavorful, nourishing, or pleasant.

So yes, Æppla Syfling can still be understood as apple butter.

But perhaps not only as the thick sweet preserve many of us grew up with.

It may also be apple sauce. Apple relish. Apple accompaniment. A tart, herbal spoonful of something bright beside bread and meat.

And in that sense, Mary’s original translation may have been doing exactly what good reconstruction often does: giving modern cooks a doorway into a much older kitchen.

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Frequently Asked Questions

What does Æppla Syfling mean?

Æppla means apples. Syfling refers broadly to a food eaten with bread or an accompaniment. Bosworth–Toller glosses æppla syfling as apple sauce.

Is Æppla Syfling really apple butter?

It can reasonably be understood that way if “apple butter” is used broadly to mean a soft apple accompaniment served with bread or at table. It may not have resembled the thick, heavily reduced sweet preserve many modern cooks associate with apple butter.

Why does the recipe include cumin and pepper?

Cumin and pepper may seem surprising with apples today, but they make sense in a historical context where sharp, sweet, herbal, and warming flavors often appeared together. Bald’s Leechbook, Ann Hagen, and Apicius all help contextualize this flavor family.

Would this have been eaten with meat?

Possibly. Ann Hagen notes that fruit sauces could accompany meat and fish dishes and help cut richness. Æppla Syfling would make sense with sausage, pork, beef, fish, cheese, or bread.

Was Anglo-Saxon food medicinal?

Food and medicine overlapped in Anglo-Saxon culture. Medical texts regularly used common kitchen ingredients, including fruits, herbs, honey, vinegar, dairy, and grains. This does not mean every dish was medicinal, but it does show that food and bodily comfort were closely connected.

More Like This

• Ceilidh XVI – March 29, 2003: Original Feast Record
• Reconstructing an Anglo-Saxon Feast: Ceilidh XVI Revisited
• Medieval Cooking Basics: Spice Powders
• Five Medieval Breakfast Dishes Worth Waking Up For

Sources and Further Reading

• Mary Savelli, Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England. Anglo-Saxon Books, 2002.
• Ann Hagen, Anglo-Saxon Food: Processing and Consumption. University College London, 1992.
• Bosworth–Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, entry for syfling.
• Thomas Oswald Cockayne, ed., Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, Vol. II.
• Bald’s Leechbook, British Library Manuscript Viewer.
• Apicius, The Roman Cookery of Apicius, translated and adapted by John Edwards, 1984.
• Apicius Online, LacusCurtius.

Final Thought: Revisiting this recipe made me appreciate Mary Savelli’s work more. With modern tools, digitized sources, and twenty years of additional cooking experience, I understand Æppla Syfling differently today. But the trail she followed still feels thoughtful, plausible, and very much worth tasting.

Would you serve Æppla Syfling with warm bread, or beside sausage and roast pork?

Medieval Braised Kale and Collards in Beef Broth (Lange Wortys de Chare)

Medieval Braised Greens in Beef Broth - Lange Wortys de Chare

Lange Wortys de Chare, medieval braised greens simmered in beef broth and thickened with bread.

Much like Caboges, this dish of mixed greens braised in beef broth is far better than it appears at first reading.

A simple dish of greens? No. This is kale and collards, or other sturdy greens, first parboiled, then simmered again with beef, marrow bones, saffron, salt, and grated white bread. The result is not a sad little bowl of boiled leaves. It is a savory, bread-thickened pottage with rich broth clinging to the greens.

At a glance: This is a 15th-century English greens recipe from Harleian MS 279. The greens are cooked twice, enriched with beef broth and marrow bones, seasoned with saffron and salt, and thickened with grated white bread.

That is what medieval cooks did so well. They took humble ingredients and gave them structure, seasoning, fat, and patience.

What Is Lange Wortys de Chare?

Lange Wortys de Chare appears in Harleian MS 279, a 15th-century English cookery manuscript edited by Thomas Austin in Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. The title may be understood as long wortes, or leafy greens, cooked with flesh. In this case, the flesh is beef with marrow bones.

This recipe belongs to the same family of medieval greens and vegetable pottages as Medieval Wortys, Lange Wortes de Pesoun, Joutes, Whyte Wortes, and Caboges.

Why Did Medieval Cooks Boil Greens Twice?

This recipe asks the cook to parboil the greens first, then cook them again in the beef broth. That may sound redundant, but it is an important part of the method.

Many sturdy greens, especially members of the brassica family such as kale, collards, cabbage leaves, and mustard greens, can be bitter or tough. The first boiling softens them and removes some harshness. The second cooking gives them flavor. Plain water takes something away; broth gives something back.

Kitchen lesson: The first boil tames the greens. The second boil feeds them. This is the difference between plain boiled greens and a medieval pottage worth serving.

That is still good kitchen sense. Modern cooks do similar things with collards, kale, mustard greens, and other bitter greens when they simmer them with stock, fat, smoked meat, or seasoning. Medieval cooks were not merely enduring greens. They were making them delicious.

Caboges and Lange Wortys: Cousins in the Pot

Caboges and Lange Wortys de Chare use nearly the same technique. Both recipes begin by parboiling the vegetable, then cooking it again in broth with marrow or marrow bones. Both use saffron and salt. Both are thickened with grated bread.

The difference is the vegetable. Caboges uses cabbage. Lange Wortys de Chare uses leafy greens. If Caboges is the cabbage cousin, Lange Wortys de Chare is the earthier, greener sibling.

What Greens Can You Use?

I used a mixture of kale and collards, which works beautifully. Both are sturdy greens and fit well with the medieval idea of wortes or coleworts. Other good choices include mustard greens, turnip greens, beet greens, cabbage leaves, or a mixture of bitter and mild greens.

I would avoid using only tender spinach unless you want a very soft result. Spinach cooks quickly and does not behave like kale or collards in a long simmer. This recipe wants greens with some backbone.

Best modern greens: kale, collards, mustard greens, turnip greens, beet greens, cabbage leaves, or a mixed pot of sturdy bitter greens.

For a deeper discussion of medieval wortes, coleworts, and the brassica family, see my post on Medieval Wortys.

Why Add Bread to Braised Greens?

The manuscript calls for a loaf of white bread to be grated into the pot. This is not filler. Bread was one of the great medieval thickeners, used in sauces, soups, stews, and pottages. Grated white bread dissolves into hot broth and gives it body, turning thin cooking liquid into something soft, rich, and spoonable.

For modern cooks, day-old manchet or another fine white bread is ideal. It grates better than fresh bread and thickens the broth more smoothly. Add it slowly, stirring well, because bread clumps are stubborn little gremlins.

Why This Dish Belongs at a Feast

Greens were inexpensive, useful, and widely available, but this recipe is not plain poverty food. Beef, marrow bones, saffron, white bread, and the labor of cooking the greens twice all raise the dish. It is budget-friendly compared with showier meats, but still rich enough to belong on a feast table.

This would be an excellent dish for an SCA feast. It is affordable, flexible, and deeply period in technique. It can be served brothier or thicker, lighter on the greens or packed with them. Greens cook down dramatically. A great heap becomes a much smaller pot. That is what greens do.

Greens and Humoral Balance in the Medieval Kitchen

Medieval cooks did not think about food only in terms of flavor. Food was also understood through the lens of humoral theory, in which ingredients were believed to possess qualities such as hot, cold, moist, or dry. Leafy greens were often considered cooling and moistening foods, useful in balancing richer or warmer dishes.

Yet greens could also be viewed as difficult if eaten raw or prepared poorly. This may help explain the careful treatment in recipes such as Lange Wortys de Chare. First the greens are parboiled, softening harshness and bitterness. Then they are cooked again in rich beef broth with marrow and saffron, ingredients associated with warmth, nourishment, and comfort. Bread thickens and softens the dish further, creating something more balanced and sustaining.

Humoral note: The greens begin as cooling, moist, and potentially harsh. The broth, marrow, saffron, and bread transform them into a warmer, richer, more sustaining pottage.

In other words, medieval cooks were not simply boiling vegetables. They were transforming them into food considered more agreeable to the body as well as the table.

Historic Recipe

The recipe below is from Thomas Austin’s edition of Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. Harleian MS. 279 (ab. 1430), & Harl. MS. 4016 (ab. 1450), with extracts from Ashmole MS. 1429, Laud MS. 553, & Douce MS. 55.

.j. Lange Wortys de chare. Take beeff and merybonys, and boyle yt in fayre water; þan take fayre wortys and wassche hem clene in water, and parboyle hem in clene water; þan take hem vp of þe water after þe fyrst boylyng, an cut þe leuys a-to or a-þre, and caste hem in-to þe beff, and boyle to gederys: þan take a lof of whyte brede and grate yt, an caste it on þe pot, an safron & salt, & let it boyle y-now, and serue forth.

Modern Translation

Take beef and marrow bones, and boil them in clean water. Then take good greens and wash them clean in water, and parboil them in clean water. Take them up from the water after the first boiling, cut the leaves in two or three pieces, and put them into the beef, and boil together. Then take a loaf of white bread and grate it, and add it to the pot with saffron and salt. Let it boil enough, and serve it forth.

Modern Recipe Notes

This interpretation uses kale and collards as the greens, homemade beef stock as the broth, grated bread as the thickener, and saffron as the seasoning. If you have marrow from making the stock, add it at the end so it remains visible and rich.

The original recipe begins with beef and marrow bones boiled in water. For modern kitchens, prepared beef stock is easier. Homemade stock made with marrow bones is ideal.

Wild Brassica oleracea, ancestor of many familiar greens and cabbage-family vegetables. Image originally linked from kottke.org.

Medieval Braised Cabbage with Marrow Bones – Caboges from Harleian MS 279

Medieval Braised Cabbage with Marrow Bones: Caboges from Harleian MS 279

Caboges, a medieval braised cabbage dish from Harleian MS 279, served here with bread.

A humble dish of cabbage can still surprise you.

When I first made this recipe for Caboges from Harleian MS 279, I expected something plain and useful: boiled cabbage, perhaps a little broth, a serviceable green thing on the side of the table. Instead, I found tender cabbage braised in rich broth, scented with saffron, thickened with fine bread, and finished with marrow from the bones. It was cabbage dressed for court.

Even sworn cabbage haters tried it and wanted more. Success!

This recipe is one of several vegetable-forward dishes from Harleian MS 279, a 15th-century English cookery manuscript edited by Thomas Austin in Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. It belongs in the same delicious family as medieval wortes, Whyte Wortes, Lange Wortys de Chare, and Joutes.

What Are Caboges?

Caboges is the Middle English form of “cabbages.” But this is not simply boiled cabbage. The recipe directs the cook to clean and parboil the cabbage, press it dry, chop it, and then cook it again in fresh broth with marrow bones. The broth is thickened either with grated fine bread or with a strained meat gruel. At service, the marrow is knocked from the bones and placed visibly in the dish.

That finishing touch matters. This is where the recipe moves from plain vegetable cookery into feast-worthy food.

Why Was This Medieval Cabbage Recipe Fit for a Feast?

Modern readers often imagine medieval vegetable dishes as plain or rustic, but medieval cooks knew how to elevate simple ingredients. Here, cabbage becomes noble through treatment:

• It is cooked twice for better texture and flavor.
• It is simmered in fresh broth rather than plain water.
• It is enriched with marrow bones.
• It is colored and scented with saffron.
• It is thickened with grated fine bread into a soft pottage.

The cabbage may be inexpensive, but the broth, marrow, saffron, bread, fuel, and kitchen labor all add value. This is one of the joys of medieval cooking: the simplest vegetable can become something luxurious when handled with care.

How Would Caboges Have Been Served?

Caboges would likely have appeared among the wortes, pottages, or vegetable dishes of a medieval meal, served alongside roasted meats, meat pies, bread, or other greens. The marrow bones and saffron suggest a dish meant for a table with resources, not merely a plain household cabbage. This is the kind of recipe that reminds us that medieval feast food was not only about spectacular meats and subtleties. Sometimes the quiet dish at the side of the table was doing serious work.

Why Did Medieval Cooks Use Bread to Thicken Soup and Pottage?

Bread appears throughout medieval cookery as a thickener for sauces, pottages, broths, and stews. Before modern cornstarch, commercial thickeners, or the familiar flour-and-butter roux, cooks often relied on grated bread, soaked bread, ground almonds, egg yolks, or strained grain and meat mixtures to give body to a dish.

In this recipe, the manuscript calls for fayre brede, or fine bread. For a modern kitchen, a day-old manchet or other good white bread works beautifully. It grates more easily than very fresh bread and dissolves into the broth, creating a smooth, velvety texture. I originally made this with grated Rastons, but manchet is likely the better everyday recommendation for readers who want to recreate the dish.

Bread also reflects the no-waste wisdom of the medieval kitchen. Yesterday’s loaf could become today’s sauce, sop, trencher, or pottage. In Caboges, the bread is not filler. It is the quiet magic that turns broth into something spoonable and satisfying.

Why Does the Recipe Offer Bread or Meat Gruel?

The recipe gives two ways to enrich and thicken the dish: grated fine bread, or a strained gruel made from fresh meat. The bread version is more approachable for a modern kitchen and produces a smooth pottage. The meat-gruel version would have made the dish even richer, especially in a busy medieval kitchen where broth, meat, and strained cooking liquids were already part of the day’s work.

Why Do the Marrow Bones Matter?

The marrow bones are not incidental. The recipe tells the cook to boil the cabbage with marrow bones, then knock out the marrow and lay two or three pieces in the dish at service. That means the marrow is both flavoring and garnish.

For modern cooks, bone marrow can feel unfamiliar, but it brings deep richness. Think of it as the medieval equivalent of finishing a dish with butter, olive oil, or the most luxurious spoonful of beef essence imaginable. If you make your own stock with marrow bones, do not waste the marrow. Use it. The manuscript wants you to.

Cabbage in Medieval Food Philosophy

Cabbage and other brassicas were useful, filling, and widely eaten, but they could also be considered coarse, windy, or difficult if poorly prepared. This recipe manages cabbage through careful technique. Parboiling softens and tames it. Pressing removes excess water. The second cooking in broth makes it nourishing. Saffron adds warmth and fragrance, while bread gives the broth body. The result is not limp cabbage water, but a carefully balanced pottage.

Historic Recipe

The recipe below is from Thomas Austin’s edition of Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. Harleian MS. 279 (ab. 1430), & Harl. MS. 4016 (ab. 1450), with extracts from Ashmole MS. 1429, Laud MS. 553, & Douce MS. 55.

.iiij. Caboges. Take fayre caboges, an cutte hem, an pike hem clene and clene washe hem, an parboyle hem in fayre water, an þanne presse hem on a fayre bord; an þan choppe hem, and caste hem in a faire pot with goode freysshe broth, an wyth mery-bonys, and let it boyle: þanne grate fayre brede and caste þer-to, an caste þer-to Safron an salt; or ellys take gode grwel y-mad of freys flesshe, y-draw þorw a straynour, and caste þer-to. An whan þou seruyst yt inne, knocke owt þe marw of þe bonys, an ley þe marwe .ij. gobettys or .iij. in a dysshe, as þe semyth best, & serue forth.

Modern Translation

Take good cabbages, cut them, pick them clean, and wash them well. Parboil them in clean water, then press them on a clean board. Chop them, and put them in a clean pot with good fresh broth and marrow bones, and let it boil. Then grate fine bread and add it, and add saffron and salt. Or else take good gruel made of fresh meat, strained through a strainer, and add that. When you serve it, knock the marrow out of the bones and lay two or three pieces of marrow in the dish, as seems best, and serve it forth.

Modern Recipe Notes

This interpretation follows the breadcrumb-thickened version of the recipe rather than the alternate strained meat gruel. The first boiling softens the cabbage and removes some of its stronger edge. Pressing the cabbage keeps the final dish from becoming watery. The second cooking in broth gives depth, while the grated bread thickens the broth into a soft pottage.

The saffron is included in the original recipe, but I mark it as optional for modern cooks because of cost. If you have it, use it. It adds color, fragrance, and a little medieval splendor.

Simple ingredients: cabbage, broth, bread, saffron, and marrow.

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

Originally published November 10, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Soupes Jamberlayne, a medieval dish of toasted bread soaked in spiced wine.

Soupes Jamberlayne, also known as Sops Chamberlain, is a simple but fascinating dish from Harleian MS. 279: toasted bread soaked in sweetened, spiced wine and served “in manner of a potage.” It sits in that wonderfully medieval territory where bread, drink, sauce, and spoon dish all overlap.

This is not my favorite recipe from the manuscript, and I want to be honest about that. Wine can be a migraine trigger for me, so wine-heavy dishes are not recipes I return to often. Still, Soupes Jamberlayne is historically valuable because it shows us how important sops were in late medieval English cooking. Medieval cooks did not merely serve bread beside liquids; they often built entire dishes around bread absorbing broth, milk, almond milk, wine, or sauce.

Think of this less as “soggy bread” and more as a warm, spiced, wine-soaked bread pottage. The bread gives body. The wine gives warmth and acidity. Ginger, cinnamon, sugar, and blaunch powder turn the liquid into something closer to mulled wine. It may not be everyone’s perfect breakfast, but it absolutely belongs in the medieval sop family alongside Lyode Soppes, Soupes Dorye, Bruet of Almaynne in Lente, and Rastons.

Bruet of Almaynne in Lente – A Medieval Almond Milk Porridge with Dates

Bruet of Almaynne in Lente – Medieval Almond Milk Porridge with Dates

Originally published November 5, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Bruet of Almaynne in Lente, a Lenten almond milk bruet with dates.

Talk about comfort food! Bruet of Almaynne in Lente is one of my favorite medieval “porridge” recipes from Harleian MS. 279. It is creamy, gently sweet, rich with almond milk, and brightened with chopped dates. It comes together quickly, feels soothing, and has the kind of soft, spoonable texture that makes it easy to imagine at a cold-weather feast, a Lenten table, or even a modern camp breakfast.

That said, “porridge” is a useful modern description rather than a perfect medieval one. The manuscript calls this dish a bruet, a broth or liquid preparation thickened in some way. In this case, fine thick almond milk is lightly thickened with rice flour and sweetened with sugar and dates. The original recipe specifically tells the cook to “look that it be running,” meaning the finished dish should remain loose and pourable, not thick like a set pudding.

When I first made this recipe, mine thickened as it cooled. By the time I sat down to eat it, the texture had moved from a running bruet into something closer to a loose pudding. It was still delicious, and honestly, I immediately added it to my “must serve at a feast someday” list. But for a closer interpretation, the cook should aim for a silky almond broth or thin cream-of-rice consistency rather than a firm porridge.

Rastons: A Medieval Pastry Disguised as Bread (Harleian MS 279)

Rastons: A Medieval Pastry Disguised as Bread (Harleian MS 279)

Originally published November 4, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Rastons, baked and sliced into sops. Image © Give It Forth.

Rastons are one of those medieval recipes that look simple until you begin asking what they actually are. At first glance, this dish from Harleian MS. 279 appears to be bread: flour, ale barm, eggs, and a loaf baked in the oven. But then the recipe takes a turn. The top is cut away like a crown, the crumb is scooped out, chopped, mixed with clarified butter, returned to the shell, covered again, and baked a second time.

So is it bread? Is it pastry? Is it a rich feast loaf masquerading as something ordinary? The answer is probably somewhere in the middle. Rastons are bread-shaped, bread-risen, and bread-used, especially when cut into sops. Yet the eggs, sugar, buttered crumb, and second bake push the dish into the world of enriched pastry and luxury baking.

When I first made this recipe, I used the loaf for sops and pottages. In hindsight, a simpler white loaf such as manchet may have been the more practical historical choice for everyday broth-soaking. Rastons are richer than ordinary table bread and more elaborate than they need to be for plain sops. But if I am being honest, this was a quicker recipe, and I cheated a little. It worked beautifully, and the result was so good that I preferred it to my usual manchet or French-style loaves.

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

Originally published October 20, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Milke Rostys, a medieval fried custard from Harleian MS. 279. Image © Give It Forth.

Milke Rostys are one of the more delightful dairy dishes found in Harleian MS. 279, a fifteenth-century English cookery manuscript copied around 1430. The recipe begins with sweet milk, eggs, and saffron, cooked until thickened, strained, pressed, sliced, and then browned on a griddle. The result is somewhere between a firm custard, a fresh cheese, and a golden fried pudding.

This is not a modern custard baked gently in a dish. It is a cooked and pressed dairy preparation, firm enough to slice, sturdy enough to fry, and delicate enough to serve as a transitional dish between the heavier meats of a feast and the sweeter dishes that might follow. In feast terms, Milke Rostys works beautifully as an entremet: a refined, interesting dish that appears between larger courses and gives diners a change in texture, richness, and presentation.

The word rostys may look like “roasts,” but in this recipe the final cooking is done on a greddelle, or griddle. The custard is not roasted in the modern oven sense. It is sliced and browned on a hot surface with fat, creating a crisp golden exterior and a tender interior.

Medieval Rabbit, Chicken, or Duck in Onion Sauce (Hen in Cyve – Harleian MS. 279)

Hen in Cyve – Medieval Chicken (or Rabbit/Duck) in Onion & Wine Sauce (Harleian MS. 279)

Conyng, Mawlard, in gely or in cyuey – Hen, Rabbit, or Duck in Onion Sauce (Harleian MS. 279)

What is “Cyve / Cyuey”? A savory medieval onion sauce thickened with bread and sharpened with vinegar and wine—balanced with warm spices like ginger, mace, cinnamon, and cloves. Wonderful with poultry, rabbit, or duck.

Updated 5/19/2026: This post now includes related recipes: .lxxiij. Conyngys in cyveye and .lxiij. Harys in Cyueye.

Medieval Stew in Onion Sauce

One of my favorite finds from The Ordinance of Pottage was “Hare in Cyve,” a richly flavored onion-based sauce that quickly became a feast favorite in my early SCA days. When I later discovered a related recipe in Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430), I knew it had to go on my cooking list.

Conyng means rabbit; Hare its larger cousin; and Mawlard means duck. The recipe offers flexibility—showing how cooks adapted this onion-thickened sauce (or cyuey) to whatever meat was available.

📖 A cyuey is a spiced medieval onion sauce thickened with bread and vinegar, balancing savory, sweet, and tart notes. It’s delicious with poultry, rabbit, or game.

Original Text (Harleian MS. 279)

.xlij. Conyng, Mawlard, in gely or in cyuey – Take Conynge, Hen, or Mawlard, and roste hem alle-most y-now, or ellys choppe hem, an frye hem in fayre Freysshe grece; an frye myncyd Oynenons, and caste alle in-to þe potte, & caste þer-to fayre Freysshe brothe, an half Wyne, Maces, Clowes, Powder pepir, Canelle; þan take fayre Brede, an wyth þe same brothe stepe, an draw it þorw a straynoure wyth vynegre; an whan it is wyl y-boylid, caste þe lycoure þer to, & powder Gyngere, & Salt, & sesyn it vp an serue forth.

Modern Translation

42. Rabbit, Hen, or Duck in Onion Sauce – Take rabbit, hen, or duck, and roast them almost enough, or else chop them, and fry them in good fresh fat. Fry minced onions and add all into the pot with fresh broth and half wine, along with mace, cloves, pepper, and cinnamon. Then take good bread, soak it in the same broth, and strain it with vinegar. When it is well boiled, add this mixture, plus ginger and salt. Adjust seasoning and serve hot.

Applade Ryalle: Medieval Apple Soup from Harleian MS. 279

Originally published: October 21, 2016
Updated: May 13, 2026

.Cxxxv. Applade Ryalle — prepared in variations for flesh day, fish day, and “for need.”

One of the great joys of cooking from medieval manuscripts is discovering just how flexible historical recipes could be. Applade Ryalle, found in Harleian MS. 279 (circa 1430), begins simply enough with cooked apples strained into a smooth puree. From there, however, the recipe branches into three entirely different dishes depending upon circumstance: one for flesh days using beef broth and grease, one for fish days using almond milk and olive oil, and one “for need” using wine and honey.

What emerges is not merely a recipe, but a fascinating glimpse into medieval adaptability. The same humble apple base becomes savory, creamy, or luxurious depending on the occasion and ingredients available. It is practical cookery transformed into something unexpectedly elegant.

I made all three versions during my original experiment with this recipe, and each one produced a completely different experience. The kitchen smelled gloriously of apples, wine, cinnamon, ginger, and spice — essentially autumn in a cauldron.

Coleys (Chicken Cullis): Medieval Chicken Bone Broth & Restorative Soup

Coleys (Chicken Cullis): Medieval Chicken Bone Broth & Restorative Soup – Harleian MS. 279

Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430) — .xxvj. Coleys — Chicken Cullis

What is “Coley(s)” / Cullis? A medieval restorative made by cooking a capon until tender, then enriching the broth with the meat, bread, and the “liquor of the bones.” Think early bone-broth technique with a comforting, spoonable finish.

Originally published 5/12/ 2019 Updated 5/13/2026

In Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books (Harleian MS. 279), Coleys calls for not only the broth from boiling the capon but specifically the liquor of the bones—a clear nod toward longer extraction and collagen, much like today’s bone broth. French sources, including Du fait de cuisine, even frame coulleys as food for the sick: nourishing, mild, and easily digested.

This is not a clear soup. It is closer to a spoonable medieval chicken soup, a savory porridge, or a soft restorative broth thickened with bread. The result is mild, warming, and practical: a dish that uses the bird thoroughly and turns broth, meat, bones, skin, and bread into something sustaining.

Home › Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series › Butter’d French Beans (1660)

Butter’d French Beans (1660) — Robert May’s Table Greens for a Holiday Feast

Part of the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series — exploring how early modern English cooks transformed simple vegetables into elegant side dishes fit for the season’s most abundant table.

Still Life of Autumn Fruits and Vegetables — shared image for the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series, evoking abundance and the early-modern feast.

A Gentle Dish for the Early-Modern Table

By the mid-17th century, “French beans” — the New World haricot — had become a fashionable vegetable in England. Robert May includes several recipes for them in The Accomplisht Cook (1660), treating them tenderly with butter, vinegar, and spice. They offer a luminous green note amid the roasts, puddings, pies, and rich sauces of the season — a perfect complement to a modern Thanksgiving table inspired by early modern English cookery.

Historical Context

New World Origins: Haricot beans (Phaseolus vulgaris) are native to Central and South America. Long before European contact, Indigenous farmers cultivated dozens of varieties—green beans, kidney beans, and shelling beans—across Mesoamerica and the Andes. They formed part of the “Three Sisters” agricultural system alongside maize and squash.

Arrival in Europe: Spanish explorers brought these New World beans to Europe in the early 1500s. By the 1530s they appear in Mediterranean gardens; by the 1550s they were fashionable in Italy and France, where they were prized for their thin, edible pods. England, following French horticultural fashion, adopted them slightly later—thus the English name “French beans.”

Adoption in England: By the late 1500s, green beans were grown in English kitchen gardens, though still considered something of an imported delicacy. Herbalists such as John Gerard (1597) describe “the French bean which cometh from beyond the seas,” distinguishing it from the older Old World broad bean (Vicia faba). These slender beans were more tender, easier to cook, and well suited to the new culinary trend of lightly prepared vegetables.

Why They Appear in May (1660): By Robert May’s time, French beans had become a regular feature in elite kitchens. His recipe aligns with the era’s preference for simple treatments—boiling, buttering, and seasoning—allowing the vegetable’s natural color and delicacy to shine. The touch of vinegar and nutmeg reflects early-modern taste for balancing “cold and moist” foods with warming spices.

From New World to Tudor Thanksgiving: The journey of the French bean—from Indigenous agriculture to Spanish ships, to French gardens, to English cookbooks—mirrors the broader Columbian Exchange that reshaped European foodways. Serving this dish at a modern Thanksgiving connects the contemporary holiday table with the very ingredients that transformed 17th-century English cooking.

Original Recipe 

Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (London: 1660), p. 204.
Public link to the recipe on Archive.org

To stew French Beans.
Take your French beans and string them, then seeth them well in fair water; when they are tender, put them into a pipkin with some sweet butter, a little vinegar, pepper, and salt; and shake them well together. Serve them hot, with grated nutmeg cast upon them.

Still Life of Autumn Fruits and Vegetables — shared image for the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series, evoking abundance and the early-modern feast.

Home › Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series › Barberry Sauce for Roast Meats (1660)

Barberry Sauce for Roast Meats (1660) — A Tudor & Stuart Alternative to Cranberries

Part of the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series — exploring how early modern English cooks used tart, jewel-red fruits like barberries to brighten rich feasts in much the same way we use cranberry sauce today.

A Sharp, Scarlet Counterpoint to Roast Meat

Long before cranberries became iconic on American holiday tables, English cooks were using barberries to do a very similar job. These tiny, vivid red berries — the fruit of the shrub Berberis vulgaris — appear in 16th- and 17th-century English recipes as garnishes, pickles, and sharp, “cooling” sauces for goose, pig, pork, and rich pies.

In The Accomplisht Cook (1660), Robert May scatters barberries through pies and dressings, and suggests them in sauces for goose and other roasted fowl. Their bright acidity and ruby colour made them a perfect foil for fatty meats — a role cranberries would come to play later in colonial New England.

Barberries, Cranberries, and the Thanksgiving Table

Barberries in England: Barberries are native to Europe and western Asia. In early modern England they were valued both as a medicine and a culinary ingredient, especially for their sharp taste and striking colour. They were used in pickles, preserves, sauces, and as garnishes on rich dishes, and were common enough to appear repeatedly in British recipe books and household manuscripts.

Cranberries in North America: Cranberries (Vaccinium macrocarpon) are native to North America. Indigenous peoples in New England and the Canadian Maritimes harvested them for food, dye, and medicine. Seventeenth-century English accounts of New England describe “craneberries” being eaten with meat and as part of pemmican-like preparations.

Parallel Uses, Different Histories: While there is no surviving English recipe that says “use cranberries where you would use barberries,” the two fruits occupy very similar roles:

• Both are small, tart, scarlet berries.
• Both were served with rich meats as a sharp, refreshing contrast.
• Both appear in sauces, relishes, and preserves.

In England, barberries remain the canonical choice in the 17th century; in colonial New England, cranberries fill the local niche. For modern historical cooks in North America, cranberries can be a practical stand-in when barberries are unavailable — as long as we are clear that the substitution is modern, not Tudor or Stuart.

Period Sources: Barberries in Robert May’s Kitchen

Sauce for a Goose — Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

The following comes from May’s “Sauce for a stubble or fat Goose”, which gives two forms. The second explicitly calls for barberries in a rich apple-based sauce.

Source: Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (London, 1660), “Sauce for a stubble or fat Goose.” The full text is available via Project Gutenberg and early modern facsimiles.

Sauce for a stubble or fat Goose.
1. The Goose being scalded, drawn, and trust, put a handful of salt in the belly of it, roast it, and make sauce with sowr apples slic’t, and boil’d in beer all to mash, then put to it sugar and beaten butter. Sometime for veriety add barberries and the gravy of the fowl.

2. Roast sowr apples or pippins, strain them, and put to them vinegar, sugar, gravy, barberries, grated bread, beaten cinamon, mustard, and boil’d onions strained and put to it.

To Pickle Barberries Red — Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

May also gives directions for pickling barberries, which provide the preserved fruit used in sauces throughout the year.

Source: Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (London, 1660), section on pickles and preserves (often titled “To pickle Grapes, Gooseberries, Barberries, red and white Currans” and related entries).

To Pickle Barberries Red.
When your Barbaries are picked from the leaves in clusters, about Michaelmas, or when they are ripe, let your water boyl, and give them a half a dozen walms; let your pickle be white-wine and vinegar, not too sharp, so put them up for your use.

Sweet Potatoes Three Ways (1660–1670) — May & Woolley at the Early-Modern Table

Home › Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series › Sweet Potatoes Three Ways (1660–1670)

Sweet Potatoes Three Ways (1660–1670) — Robert May & Hannah Woolley

Part of the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series — exploring how early modern English cooks transformed New World ingredients into elegant, comforting, and festive dishes fit for the season’s most abundant table.

Still Life of Autumn Fruits and Vegetables — shared image for the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series, evoking abundance and the early-modern feast.

A New World Root, Transformed by English Cooks

Sweet potatoes — known in 17th-century England as “Spanish Potatoes” — arrived through Spanish trade routes in the early 1500s. Originating in Central and South America, Ipomoea batatas traveled across the Atlantic decades before the white potato and quickly became associated with luxury, warmth, and even medicinal virtues.

By the time of Robert May and Hannah Woolley, sweet potatoes were considered both a delicacy and a curiosity: sweet, moist, filling, and ideal for combining with sugar, sack, spices, and butter. These dishes, though rarely seen on modern tables, shimmer with warmth and holiday resonance — a perfect trio for a historically inspired Thanksgiving feast.

Expanded Historical Notes: Sweet Potatoes in Early Modern England

New World Origins: Sweet potatoes were cultivated by Indigenous peoples across the Caribbean, Central America, and the Andes long before European contact. Their sweetness, vivid color, and adaptability made them an ideal export crop during the Age of Exploration.

Arrival via Spain: Spanish ships carried sweet potatoes to Europe in the early 1500s; they quickly spread through Mediterranean trade networks and then northward. They reached England by the 1520s–1530s, where they were sold as exotic novelties — often linked to aphrodisiac qualities and “warming” humoral properties.

“Spanish Potatoes” vs. “Potatoes”: Early modern English texts differentiate between:

• Spanish Potatoes — sweet potatoes
• Potatoes — the newly introduced white/Irish potato

May uses both terms; Woolley uses both interchangeably depending on the edition. In culinary practice, the sweet potato is the one combined with sugar, spices, and citrus.

Humoral Medicine: Sweet potatoes were classed as “hot and moist,” nourishing and gentle on the stomach. Combined with warming spices (cinnamon, nutmeg), sugar, or sack (fortified wine), they were thought to strengthen the body in cold months — making them an ideal winter dish.

Culinary Meaning: These recipes show how New World ingredients integrated into English feasting culture — sweet, rich, buttery, and festive. Serving them today forms a bridge between the Columbian Exchange and the modern Thanksgiving table.

Period Recipes (Three Ways)

1. Robert May — The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

“To butter Potatoes.”
From The Accomplisht Cook, Book V, p. 225 (1660).
Public link to May’s recipe

To butter Potatoes.
Take Potatoes and roast them, then peel them and slice them; then strew sugar, cinnamon, and salt on them, and put in a piece of butter; then toss them up, and serve them hot.

2. Hannah Woolley — The Queen-Like Closet (1670)

“To Preserve Potatoes.”
Book I, “To Preserve Potatoes.”
Public link to Woolley

To Preserve Potatoes.
Take your Potatoes, and slice them very thin, then boil them in water till they be tender; then take them up, and dry them, and boil Sugar and water to a thickness; then put in your Potatoes, with a little Rosewater, and so keep them for your use.

3. Woolley Tradition — Potato Pottage (17th c.)

Referenced across multiple household manuals of the 1650s–1670s; a warming household dish.

Potato Pottage.
Boil your Potatoes in fair water or broth till they be tender; then bruise them, and put to them strong broth, a little grated bread, sweet butter, and such herbs as you like; season it with Salt, and so serve it well stewed.

Pumpion Pie (1658 & 1670) — The Earliest English Pumpkin Pie from The Compleat Cook and The Queen-Like Closet

England’s earliest spiced pumpkin pies: 1658 & 1670 English “pumpion” pies layered with apples or scented with sack and rosewater—two period versions, two modern bakes.

Pumpion Pie (1658 & 1670) — The Compleat Cook & The Queen-Like Closet

Home › Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series › Pumpion Pie (1658 & 1670)

Part of the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series — Early modern English cooks balanced spice, fruit, and rich sauces to delight feast guests. In that spirit, we imagine how 17th-century dishes—roasts, puddings, and pies—might grace today’s Thanksgiving table with historical flavor and good cheer.

A Pie of Pumpion and Apple — England’s First Pumpkin Pies

By the mid-1600s, New World “pumpions” (pumpkins) found a home in English kitchens. Two of the earliest printed examples—The Compleat Cook (1658) and Hannah Woolley’s The Queen-Like Closet (1670)—reveal different approaches: one layers herbed pumpkin fritters with sliced apples and currants, finished with a wine-egg caudle; the other stews and mashes the pumpkin, perfumes it with rosewater and sack, and glazes it with a sweet caudle. Together, they prefigure the later Anglo-American pumpkin custard pie while retaining a distinctly Restoration palate.

Historical Context: The Journey of the Pumpkin

From the New World to the Old: Pumpkins (Cucurbita pepo) are among the oldest cultivated crops in the Americas, domesticated in Mexico around 7000–5500 BCE. By the 15th century they were a staple from South America to New England. Spanish and Portuguese explorers carried seeds home in the early 1500s, where the “Indian gourd” quickly took root in Iberian and Italian gardens.

Arrival in England: The word pompion (later spelled pumpion or pumpkin) entered English by 1548, from French pompon and ultimately Latin peponem, “melon.” William Turner’s Herbal (1551–68) lists the pompion among familiar garden plants, and John Gerard’s Herbal (1597) describes “the great round pompion,” judging it “cold and moist in the second degree.” English cooks viewed it as a vegetable requiring the balancing warmth of spice, wine, and butter.

Early English Recipes: By the mid-1600s, the pumpkin had moved from curiosity to kitchen. The herbed, apple-layered pie in The Compleat Cook (1658) and Hannah Woolley’s sweeter rosewater version in The Queen-Like Closet (1670) mark its first recorded uses in English cookery. Both reflect a transitional taste—part vegetable fritter, part custard pie—infused with the season’s abundance of spice.

Across the Atlantic Again: English colonists in New England found pumpkins thriving in Indigenous fields and adopted them eagerly. By the late 17th century, colonial cooks abandoned herbs and apples for smooth spiced custards, giving rise to the pumpkin pie of early American tradition, immortalized in Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery (1796).

Date	Event	Location
~7000 BCE	Pumpkins domesticated	Mesoamerica
Early 1500s	Introduced to Europe by Spanish explorers	Iberia
1536	Described in Mattioli’s Commentarii	Italy
1548	First English record of “pompion”	England
1597	Gerard’s Herbal notes “great round pompion”	England
1658	The Compleat Cook publishes “Pumpion Pie”	London
1670	Hannah Woolley’s Queen-Like Closet	London
1796	Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery	United States

Humoral Insight: Early modern physicians classified pumpkins as “cold and moist.” Period cooks corrected this by adding warming ingredients—spice, sugar, and eggs—making dishes like pumpion pie both healthful and seasonally balanced.

Glossary: Pompion — early English spelling of pumpkin; Caudle — a warm sauce of egg yolk and wine; Verjuice — acidic juice from unripe grapes used for tartness.

Original Recipes

A. The Compleat Cook (1658)

To make a Pumpion Pie.
Take about halfe a pound of Pumpion and slice it, a handfull of Tyme, a little Rosemary, Parsley and sweet Marjoram slipped off the stalks, and chop them small, then take Cinamon, Nutmeg, Pepper, and six Cloves, and beat them; take ten Eggs and beat them, then mix them, and beat them altogether, and put in as much Sugar as you think fit, then fry them like a froiz; after it is fryed, let it stand till it be cold, then fill your Pye, take sliced Apples thinne round wayes, and lay a row of the Froiz, and a layer of Apples with Currans betwixt the layers while your Pye is fitted, and put in a good deal of sweet Butter before you close it; when the Pye is baked, take six yolks of Eggs, some white Wine or Verjuice, and make a Caudle thereof, cut up the Lid, and pour it in, then sugar it, and serve it up.

B. Hannah Woolley, The Queen-Like Closet (1670)

To make a Pumpion Pye.
Take the Pumpion, and pare it, and slice it thin, and stew it till it be tender, then mash it and season it with beaten Spice, Sugar, and Rosewater, and lay it in your Pye, and put in good store of Butter, and when it is baked, pour in a Caudle made of Eggs, Sack, and Sugar, and serve it hot.

Period Technique: A caudle is a lightly thickened sauce of wine (or sack) and egg yolks, poured into a hot pie to glaze and enrich it just before serving.

Choose Your Pie: The 1658 version is savory-sweet with herbs, apples, and currants; the 1670 version is silkier and perfumed with rosewater and sack. Both are unmistakably 17th-century.

Soops and Mashed Potatoes – How a Tudor Luxury Became a Holiday Staple

Soops and Mashed Potatoes – How a Tudor Luxury Became a Holiday Staple

A Dutch still-life evoking the abundance of a 17th-century banquet — a perfect match for the spirit of Thanksgiving.

Editor’s Note: As autumn turns to feast season, the next several posts on Give It Forth explore a different kind of Thanksgiving table — one inspired not by Pilgrims and pumpkins, but by the kitchens of Tudor and Stuart England. These 16th- and 17th-century dishes, drawn from sources like Robert May’s The Accomplisht Cook (1660), showcase the foods and flavors that would have graced a festive English winter board. Presented here in modern form, each recipe offers a way to bring history to an American Thanksgiving — blending Old World elegance with New World abundance.

Historical Note: Today, mashed potatoes feel indispensable on a Thanksgiving table. But in the 17th century, potatoes were still exotic — treated more like a luxurious root or even a dessert component than a plain side. This post traces that transformation through three recipes: Robert May’s Tudor-style “soops,” an early Georgian dish of potatoes “beat up with cream,” and the first printed recipe to use the phrase “mashed potatoes.”

Potatoes reached England in the late sixteenth century, but for a hundred years they remained rare and refined. The following three recipes trace how they evolved from May’s sweet-spiced “soops” to the creamy, savory mashed potatoes we know today.

A grand 17th-century “sallet” of roast meats, pickled vegetables, citrus, and herbs — Robert May’s elegant Tudor salad for a Thanksgiving feast.

A Grand Sallet of Minced Capon and Pickled Things – Robert May’s Festive Cold Salad (1660)

A Dutch still-life evoking the abundance of a 17th-century banquet — a perfect match for the spirit of Thanksgiving.

Editor’s Note: As autumn turns to feast season, the next several posts on Give It Forth explore a different kind of Thanksgiving table — one inspired not by Pilgrims and pumpkins, but by the kitchens of Tudor and Stuart England. These 16th- and 17th-century dishes, drawn from sources like Robert May’s The Accomplisht Cook (1660), showcase the foods and flavors that would have graced a festive English winter board. Presented here in modern form, each recipe offers a way to bring history to an American Thanksgiving — blending Old World elegance with New World abundance.

Historical Note: The Tudors and Stuarts did not celebrate Thanksgiving as we do in America today. This series simply imagines how dishes from their winter feasts — roasts, “made dishes,” puddings, and spiced pies — might have found their way, in spirit and flavor, to the modern table. It’s a chance to explore the shared themes of gratitude, abundance, and seasonal celebration across centuries.

The Historical Recipe

To make a Grand Sallet of minced Capon, Veal, roast Mutton, Chicken or Neats Tongue.
Minced capon or veal, &c. dried tongues in thin slices, lettice shred small as the tongue, olives, capers, mushrooms, pickled samphire, broom-buds, lemon or oranges, raisins, almonds, blew figs, Virginia potato, caparones, or crucifix pease, currans, pickled oysters, taragon.

How to dish it up.
Any of these being thin sliced, as is shown above said, with a little minced taragon and onion amongst it; then have lettice minced as small as the meat by it self, olives by themselves, capers by themselves, samphire by it self, broom-buds by it self, pickled mushrooms by themselves, or any of the materials abovesaid. Garnish the dish with oranges and lemons in quarters or slices, oyl and vinegar beaten together, and poured over all, &c.

To make a grand Sallet of divers Compounds.
Take a cold roast capon and cut it into thin slices square and small, (or any other roast meat as chicken, mutton, veal, or neats tongue) mingle with it a little minced taragon and an onion, then mince lettice as small as the capon, mingle all together, and lay it in the middle of a clean scoured dish. Then lay capers by themselves, olives by themselves, samphire by it self, broom buds, pickled mushrooms, pickled oysters, lemon, orange, raisins, almonds, blue-figs, Virginia Potato, caperons, crucifix pease, and the like, more or less, as occasion serves, lay them by themselves in the dish round the meat in partitions. Then garnish the dish sides with quarters of oranges, or lemons, or in slices, oyl and vinegar beaten together, and poured on it over all.

On fish days, a roast, broil’d, or boil’d pike boned, and being cold, slice it as abovesaid.

— Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

The Historical Recipe

To make a Grand Sallet of minced Capon, Veal, roast Mutton, Chicken or Neats Tongue.
Minced capon or veal, &c. dried tongues in thin slices, lettice shred small as the tongue, olives, capers, mushrooms, pickled samphire, broom-buds, lemon or oranges, raisins, almonds, blew figs, Virginia potato, caparones, or crucifix pease, currans, pickled oysters, taragon.

How to dish it up.
Any of these being thin sliced, as is shown above said, with a little minced taragon and onion amongst it; then have lettice minced as small as the meat by it self, olives by themselves, capers by themselves, samphire by it self, broom-buds by it self, pickled mushrooms by themselves, or any of the materials abovesaid. Garnish the dish with oranges and lemons in quarters or slices, oyl and vinegar beaten together, and poured over all, &c.

— Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

Green Pudding of Sweet Herbs – A Tudor Boiled Pudding from The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

Green Pudding of Sweet Herbs – A Tudor Boiled Pudding from The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

Editor’s Note: As autumn turns to feast season, the next several posts on Give It Forth explore a different kind of Thanksgiving table — one inspired not by Pilgrims and pumpkins, but by the kitchens of Tudor and Stuart England. These 16th- and 17th-century dishes, drawn from sources like Robert May’s The Accomplisht Cook (1660), showcase the foods and flavors that would have graced a festive English winter board. Presented here in modern form, each recipe offers a way to bring history to an American Thanksgiving — blending Old World elegance with New World abundance.

Historical Note: The Tudors and Stuarts did not celebrate Thanksgiving as we do in America today. This series simply imagines how dishes from their winter feasts — roasts, “made dishes,” puddings, and spiced pies — might have found their way, in spirit and flavor, to the modern table. It’s a chance to explore the shared themes of gratitude, abundance, and seasonal celebration across centuries.

A 17th-century-inspired feast still life. Alongside the roast, dishes like green puddings of sweet herbs added color and richness to the Tudor–Stuart table.

On a Tudor or early Stuart winter table, not every “pudding” was sweet. Many were savoury, herbal, and vividly green — rich with cream and egg yolks, scented with mace and nutmeg, and studded with currants and dates. Robert May’s “green boil’d Pudding of sweet Herbs” is one of these: a bread-and-cream pudding colored with spinach juice and flavored with a whole garden of herbs.

He tells us that these puddings are “excellent for stuffings of roast or boil’d Poultrey, Kid, Lamb, or Turkey, Veal, or Breasts of Mutton.” In other words, they could be served in slices as a side dish, or used as a rich, herbal forcemeat filling for meat and fowl.

The Original: A Green Boil’d Pudding of Sweet Herbs

To make a green boil’d Pudding of sweet Herbs.

Take and steep a penny white loaf in a quart of cream and only eight yolks of eggs, some currans, sugar, cloves, beaten mace, dates, juyce of spinage, saffron, cinamon, nutmeg, sweet marjoram, tyme, savory, peniroyal minced very small, and some salt, boil it in beef-suet, marrow, (or none.) These puddings are excellent for stuffings of roast or boil’d Poultrey, Kid, Lamb, or Turkey, Veal, or Breasts of Mutton.

This short paragraph carries a great deal of information: it tells us the base (bread and cream), the enrichment (egg yolks, suet, marrow), the “green” element (spinach juice and herbs), the seasoning (currants, dates, sugar, spices), and the preferred cooking method (boiled as a pudding, then served or used as stuffing).

What Is a Boiled Pudding?

In the 16th and 17th centuries, many puddings were cooked not in tins, but in cloth. The mixture was poured into a floured or buttered linen or canvas pudding cloth, tied securely, and boiled in a pot of water or broth until set. Afterward, the pudding was turned out, sometimes browned before the fire, and served in slices. The same method works for both sweet and savoury puddings.

Glossary: Penny Loaf, Spinage, & Peniroyal

Penny white loaf: A small, fine white bread, roughly similar to a modern small boule or 250–300 g of white sandwich bread (without the crusts).

Juyce of spinage: Spinach juice — spinach leaves pounded or blended, then squeezed to extract a vivid green juice used to color and flavor the pudding.

Peniroyal (pennyroyal): A strongly flavored mint family herb. Because modern pennyroyal is not considered food-safe, we omit it here and rely on marjoram, thyme, and savory instead.