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Showing posts with label English. Show all posts
Showing posts with label English. Show all posts

Medieval Pork Meatballs in Almond Milk



Pumpes, medieval pork meatballs served in almond milk with edible flowers
Pumpes - Meatballs in Almond Milk

Originally published May 20, 2016. Updated June 2026.

Pumpes are among the prettiest dishes preserved in Harleian MS. 279: tender pork meatballs served beneath a smooth almond milk sauce, thickened with rice flour and finished with sugar, mace, and tiny red flowers. At first glance, the recipe looks simple. A good piece of pork is boiled, chopped very small with cloves, mace, and currants, rolled into small pellets, and served five to a dish beneath a pale almond milk pottage.

What makes this recipe so interesting is not simply that it is an early English meatball dish, but that it belongs to a much larger family of medieval shaped meat recipes. Across several English manuscripts we find related dishes called pomme dorry, powme dorrys, poumes, pumpes, pompys, and pomes. Some are boiled and roasted. Some are gilded with egg. Some are colored red or green with herbs or saffron. Some are served in broth, syrup, or almond milk. The meatball remains familiar. The sauce, color, and presentation change from manuscript to manuscript.

Here is another meatball recipe from Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books: Harleian MS. 279 (ab. 1430), and Harl. MS. 4016 (ab. 1450), with extracts from Ashmole MS. 1439, Laud MS. 553, and Douce MS. 55, edited by Thomas Austin. This is very pretty to look at, but without salt or pepper the dish is a bit on the bland side. My guess is that the majority of the seasoning would come from whatever seasonings might have been used in the pork when it was cooked. I used ground raw pork to make the meatballs, and would highly suggest that you add additional seasoning than just clove and mace. I did.


Why This Recipe Matters

Long before meatballs found their way into bowls of tomato sauce, cooks across Europe and the Mediterranean were shaping seasoned meat into elegant little portions fit for refined tables. Roman cooks prepared shaped meats in savory sauces. Medieval Arabic cooks pounded meat with spices, saffron, onion, murri, and egg. English cooks gilded meatballs with eggs, colored them with herbs, floated them in almond milk, and crowned them with flowers.

Pumpes preserves one branch of that long culinary story. It shows how a familiar cooking technique could become something delicate, decorative, and unmistakably medieval.


Recipe Lineage: A Medieval Family of Meatballs

Unlike many medieval recipes that survive in only a single manuscript, Pumpes belongs to a remarkable family of shaped meat dishes that can be traced across English cookery from at least the late fourteenth century into the later fifteenth century.

Earlier examples appear in Forme of Cury as Pomme Dorryle and Pommedorry. These recipes use raw pork or beef, spices, currants, and egg before the formed balls are boiled, roasted, and decorated with herbs or saffron. Liber Cure Cocorum preserves Powme Dorrys, again emphasizing raw pork, beaten eggs, boiling, roasting, and colorful gilding. A Noble Boke off Cookry continues the tradition with Pomes, showing that these decorative meatball dishes remained part of English culinary practice well into the fifteenth century.

The broader technique is older still. Roman cookery includes shaped meat preparations served in sauce, and the thirteenth-century Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook includes meatball dishes made from pounded meat, egg, spices, saffron, onion, oil, murri, and aromatic cooking liquids. These sources do not prove that English Pumpes descended directly from Roman or Andalusian recipes, but they do show that cooks across many centuries understood the same useful idea: finely chopped or pounded meat could be seasoned, shaped, cooked, and served as elegant individual portions.

What changes from manuscript to manuscript is not the meatball itself, but the finishing treatment. In some recipes the balls are boiled and then roasted. In others they are colored with herbs or saffron. In Harleian MS. 279, they are transformed by broth, almond milk, rice flour, sugar, mace, currants, and flowers. That makes Pumpes part of a living recipe family rather than a lonely curiosity in the manuscript.


Historical Background

The name of the dish is part of the story. Medieval English spelling was far from standardized, and related recipes appear under several forms: poumes, pumpes, pompys, pomes, and pomme dorry. The word likely points toward the idea of a rounded shape, recalling the Old French pomme, or apple. These were not pumpkin dishes, but little rounded morsels of meat, shaped like small apples or pellets.

The recipe itself gives one of the most useful clues about presentation: "ley .v. pompys in a dysshe." Five meatballs were to be placed in a dish and covered with the almond milk pottage. This suggests an individual or small shared serving rather than a vague quantity poured into a communal bowl. The optional flower garnish, sugar, and mace also indicate that appearance mattered. This was not merely a way to use chopped pork. It was a dish meant to be seen.

Did You Know?

Medieval cooks decorated savory dishes with flowers centuries before edible flowers returned to modern fine dining. In Pumpes, each meatball could be topped with a small red field flower before serving.

The Original Recipe

Original source note: The Middle English recipe appears in Thomas Austin's edition of Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. A modern transcription is also available through Medieval Cookery. Full source links are listed in the Sources section below.

.Cxxxviij. Pumpes. Take an sethe a gode gobet of Porke, & noȝt to lene, as tendyr as þou may; þan take hem vppe & choppe hem as smal as þou may; þan take clowes & Maces, & choppe forth with-alle, & Also choppe forth with Roysonys of coraunce; þan take hem & rolle hem as round as þou may, lyke to smale pelettys, a .ij. inches a-bowte, þan ley hem on a dysshe be hem selue; þan make a gode Almaunde mylke, & a lye it with floure of Rys, & lat it boyle wyl, but loke þat it be clene rennyng; & at þe dressoure, ley .v. pompys in a dysshe, & pore þin potage þer-on. An ȝif þou wolt, sette on euery pompe a flos campy*. [? field-flower. ] flour, & a-boue straw on Sugre y-now, & Maces: & serue hem forth. And sum men make þe pellettys of vele or Beeff, but porke ys beste & fayrest.

Translation

38. Pumpes - Take and boil a good piece of pork, and not too lean, as tender as you may; then take it up and chop it as small as you may; then take cloves and mace, and chop them together with it, and also chop in raisins of Corance; then take them and roll them as round as you may, like small pellets, about 2 inches around, then lay them on a dish by themselves; then make a good almond milk, and mix it with flour of rice, and let it boil well but look that it be clean running; and when you go to serve, lay five meatballs in a dish and pour your broth thereon. And if you will, set on every meatball a field flower, wild campion, a small red flower, and above strew on sugar enough and mace; and serve them forth. And some men make the pellets of veal or beef, but pork is best and fairest.


Flos Campi: A Flower Worth Remembering

One of the most delightful details in Pumpes appears in the final sentence of the recipe. After the meatballs have been placed in the almond milk pottage, the cook is invited to place a flos campi, literally a "flower of the field," upon each one before finishing the dish with sugar and mace. It is a reminder that medieval cooks valued presentation every bit as much as flavor.

The exact flower intended has been debated. The Middle English Dictionary describes it as:

"a special flour and hath that name for he groweth by himself in places that be nought tilled...and is a litil flour with a small stalk and the flour is reed as blood."

Many historians associate the description with wild campion or another small red field flower. For my reconstruction I chose red dianthus, known in period as the clove gillyflower, because it provides a similar appearance while remaining edible and readily available. Regardless of the exact species, the manuscript makes one thing clear: these meatballs were intended to be beautiful as well as delicious.

Red dianthus used as flos campi in the reconstruction of Pumpes

Ingredients in Context

Pork

The manuscript recommends pork over both beef and veal, concluding that "pork is best and fairest." The additional fat in pork helps produce tender meatballs after boiling while also creating a pleasing pale color beneath the white almond milk sauce. Although beef and veal were acceptable substitutions, pork clearly represented the preferred presentation.

Almond Milk

Modern readers often think of almond milk as a recent innovation, yet it appears throughout medieval English cookery. Almond milk was valued for its rich texture, delicate flavor, and brilliant white color. It also allowed cooks to prepare luxurious dishes during periods of religious fasting when animal milk was restricted. Harleian MS. 279 uses almond milk repeatedly, making it one of the defining ingredients of the manuscript.

Rice Flour

Rice was an imported luxury commodity in fifteenth-century England. Ground into flour, it created smooth sauces without overwhelming delicate flavors. The recipe specifically instructs the cook to make the sauce "clean running," suggesting that the finished pottage should lightly coat the meatballs rather than becoming a thick gravy.

Roysons of Coraunce

The manuscript specifies roysons of coraunce, small dried currants imported through Mediterranean trade. Medieval cooks frequently paired meat with dried fruit, producing the characteristic sweet-savory combinations found throughout aristocratic cuisine. These currants contribute gentle sweetness while balancing the warming spices of mace and cloves.


Household Context

Pumpes was likely prepared in the kitchens of prosperous households where imported almonds, rice, sugar, spices, and currants were readily available. Although the technique itself is straightforward, the ingredients speak of status. Individually plated portions, edible flowers, and imported luxuries suggest that this was intended for the tables of the gentry or nobility rather than as everyday fare.

The instruction to serve exactly five meatballs to a dish further suggests careful presentation rather than simple family dining. Like many recipes in Harleian MS. 279, the finished appearance was every bit as important as the flavor.


Feast Placement

Pumpes would have been especially appropriate during the opening courses of a medieval feast or as an elegant entremet served between larger meat courses. Its delicate almond milk sauce, decorative flowers, and imported ingredients made it visually impressive while remaining relatively light compared to the heavily roasted meats that often followed later in the meal.


Humoral Theory

Within medieval dietary theory, pork was generally regarded as nourishing and moist. The warming qualities of cloves and mace helped balance those characteristics, while almond milk softened the richness of the meat. Currants and sugar added gentle sweetness without overwhelming the savory nature of the dish. Together these ingredients produced what medieval physicians would likely have regarded as a carefully balanced first-course dish, intended to prepare the stomach for the remainder of the meal.


Reconstruction Notes

This reconstruction taught me an important lesson about medieval recipes. My first attempt followed the manuscript quite literally using fresh ground pork. Although the finished dish was attractive and remarkably easy to prepare, it lacked the depth of flavor I expected.

Looking more carefully at the manuscript, I suspect the answer lies in the opening instruction. The original recipe begins with a boiled piece of pork, not raw ground pork. That pork may already have been seasoned during its original preparation, something the medieval cook would simply have taken for granted. By beginning with fresh ground pork, I unintentionally omitted an entire layer of flavor.

Rather than altering the historical recipe itself, I chose to add additional seasoning for modern tastes. At the very least, salt and pepper greatly improve the final result. If I prepare this dish again, I would likely begin with leftover roasted or gently seasoned pork before chopping it finely, preserving both the spirit of the manuscript and the flavor the original cook may have expected.


Interpreted Recipe

Serves: 1 as a main dish, 2 as a side

1/4 pound ground pork
1/8 tsp. clove and mace
1 tbsp. raisins
1 cup almond milk
2 tbsp. rice flour
Small red flowers (I used red dianthus, known as clove gillyflower in period.)
Pinch of sugar and mace to garnish

Mix together the pork, clove, mace, raisins (and any additional seasoning you may wish), then shape into meatballs. I added one egg to bind the mixture together. Drop the meatballs into a pan of cool water and bring to a boil. Cook until thoroughly done.

While the meatballs are cooking, bring the almond milk and rice flour to a gentle boil until slightly thickened. I prefer a thicker sauce, so I used two tablespoons of rice flour. When the sauce has thickened and the meatballs are cooked, place them into a serving bowl, pour the almond milk over them, garnish with the flowers, and finish with a light sprinkle of sugar and mace. Add the flowers immediately before serving, as they wilt quickly.

As I noted in the original article, this was a very bland dish as reconstructed. Additional seasoning is required, at the very least salt and pepper, to better suit the modern palate. I suspect it would be especially successful using the same seasoning profile found in the lvj. Poumes recipe. Despite its mild flavor, this remains one of the prettiest dishes in Harleian MS. 279, and I would happily prepare it again for a future feast.


Kitchen Notes

  • Authenticity: The recipe has been intentionally left at its original tested yield. Medieval feast cooks can easily scale it using [The Steward's Table]
  • Seasoning: The manuscript assumes previously cooked pork. Modern ground pork benefits from additional seasoning, especially salt and pepper.
  • Almond Milk: Homemade almond milk produces the richest flavor, but an unsweetened commercial almond milk may also be used.
  • Currants: True currants are closer to the manuscript than modern raisins, although either produces an enjoyable result.
  • Flowers: Add edible flowers only at the moment of service. They wilt quickly in the warm almond milk.
  • Feast Preparation: The meatballs can be prepared a day ahead and gently reheated in the finished almond milk sauce before serving.

Kitchen Copy

Pumpes (Harleian MS. 279)

Yield:
1 main course or 2 side servings

Ingredients

1/4 pound ground pork
1/8 tsp ground cloves
1/8 tsp ground mace
1 tbsp currants (or raisins)
1 egg (optional for binding)
1 cup almond milk
2 tbsp rice flour
Pinch sugar
Pinch mace
Edible red flowers

Instructions

Mix pork, cloves, mace, currants and egg if using.
Form into small meatballs.

Poach until cooked through.

Heat almond milk and whisk in rice flour until lightly thickened.

Place five meatballs into each serving bowl.

Pour almond milk sauce over top.

Garnish with sugar, mace and edible flowers immediately before serving.

The Steward's Table

Preparing this recipe for a feast?

Copy the Kitchen Copy above and paste it into [The Steward's Table] to automatically:

  • Scale the recipe up or down
  • Create a working kitchen copy
  • Generate shopping quantities
  • Print a feast-ready version

The Steward's Table is designed specifically for historical cooks preparing anything from a family dinner to a large SCA feast.


Frequently Asked Questions

Why almond milk instead of dairy milk?

Almond milk was one of the defining ingredients of medieval English cookery. Besides producing a delicate white sauce, it was acceptable during many Church fast days when animal milk was prohibited.

Why are there flowers on the meatballs?

Decoration was an important part of elite medieval dining. Flowers, colored sauces, and bright garnishes demonstrated both wealth and the cook's skill while making the table more visually impressive.

Can I use beef or veal?

Yes. The manuscript specifically notes that some cooks prepared the pellets from beef or veal. However, it concludes that pork is "best and fairest."

Why does the recipe taste mild?

The original recipe begins with an already cooked piece of pork. That meat was probably seasoned during its initial preparation, something the medieval cook did not need to explain. Modern ground pork benefits from additional seasoning.


Continue Exploring Harleian MS. 279



Sources & Further Reading

If you'd like to explore the original manuscripts and related works, these sources provide the foundation for this reconstruction and are well worth reading.


Further Reading

One of the most enjoyable discoveries during the research for this article was realizing that Pumpes belongs to a much larger family of recipes spanning more than a thousand years. From Roman shaped meats served in savory sauces, through Arabic meatball dishes seasoned with saffron and murri, to the elegant English recipes of Forme of Cury, Liber Cure Cocorum, Harleian MS. 279, and A Noble Boke off Cookry, medieval meatballs tell a surprisingly rich story of culinary continuity and innovation.

AI Transparency

This article was originally published in 2016 and extensively expanded in 2026 using the original manuscript, comparative medieval cookbooks, historical food scholarship, and the author's tested reconstruction. The original recipe, photographs, observations, and reconstruction have been preserved while historical context has been expanded.

Vyolette: A 15th-Century Violet Almond Custard from Harleian MS. 279

Vyolette: A 15th-Century Violet Custard from Harleian MS. 279

Vyolette, a medieval violet custard made with almond milk and fresh March violets.

Vyolette, a delicate medieval custard celebrating one of spring's most cherished flowers.

First published: April 20, 2016
Updated: June 26, 2026

Among the first flowers to announce the return of spring, few were as admired by medieval gardeners, physicians, and cooks as the fragrant March Violet. Long before edible flowers became fashionable in modern kitchens, sweet violets were cultivated for their beauty, preserved in syrups and conserves, infused into oils and honey, and transformed into elegant dishes such as this remarkable custard from Harleian MS. 279.

Unlike many modern floral desserts that rely upon extracts or artificial flavorings, Vyolette asks the cook to work directly with fresh blossoms. The flowers are gently cooked, pressed, and blended into almond milk before being thickened into a silky custard. The result is subtle rather than perfumed, allowing the delicate fragrance of the violet itself to remain the centerpiece of the dish.

Historical Context

The flower called for in this recipe was almost certainly the Sweet or March Violet (Viola odorata), a plant prized throughout medieval Europe for both its fragrance and its versatility. Writing in A Nievve Herball (1554), Rembert Dodoens distinguished the richly scented garden violet from its weaker wild cousin, describing the cultivated flower as possessing a "very pleasant and amiable smell." He notes that these violets flowered in March and April, giving rise to the familiar English name "March Violet."

Woodcut of the Sweet or March Violet (Viola odorata) from Rembert Dodoens' A Nievve Herball (1554).

The Sweet or March Violet (Viola odorata) from Rembert Dodoens' A Nievve Herball (1554).

By the early seventeenth century, John Parkinson observed that generations of careful cultivation had produced garden violets that were "fairer in colour, and peradventure of a better scent than when they grew wild." His descriptions of single, double, white, and purple March Violets reveal that these flowers were not merely gathered from hedgerows but intentionally grown in gardens for both ornament and household use.

Our companion article, Of March Violets: Medicinal and Culinary Lore, explores the rich botanical, culinary, and medicinal history of this remarkable flower, including period herbals, violet syrup, violet honey, and additional historical recipes.

Household Context

Fresh violets were among the earliest gifts of spring, making them a naturally seasonal ingredient. Le Ménagier de Paris, the late fourteenth-century household guide known in English as The Good Wife's Guide, instructs gardeners to lift violet plants into pots before winter and shelter them in a cellar or protected place during severe frosts. During mild days the plants were carried back into the fresh air and watered carefully before being returned indoors. Such advice demonstrates that prosperous households deliberately cultivated violets rather than relying solely upon wild flowers.

The same household tradition also records violets decorating elegant dishes. One recipe for aspic jelly directs the cook to garnish each serving with white violets, pomegranate, bay leaves, and colorful dragées before presentation. These references remind us that medieval cooks valued flowers not only for their flavor but also for the beauty they brought to the feast table.

Luxury household accounts likewise record the purchase of violets alongside costly imported sugar, mastic, and spices, illustrating that fragrant flowers were considered worthy companions to some of the finest ingredients available to elite kitchens.

The Manuscript

This recipe appears as .Cxxv. Vyolette in Harleian MS. 279, one of the most important surviving collections of fifteenth-century English cookery. Unlike the manuscript's other recipe for Vyolette, which combines violets with dried fruits, warming spices, and saffron to create a substantial almond pottage, this version is remarkably restrained. It allows the flower itself to remain the principal flavor, supported only by almond milk, a starch thickener, and sugar or honey.

The manuscript also offers an interesting choice between almond milk and "good cow's milk," reminding us that medieval cooks readily adapted recipes to both the liturgical calendar and the resources available in their own kitchens. Almond milk was especially common during fasting periods, while fresh dairy was equally acceptable when dietary restrictions permitted.

The Original Recipe

.Cxxv. Vyolette. — Take Flourys of Vyolet, boyle hem, presse hem, bray hem smal, temper hem vppe with Almaunde mylke, or gode Cowe Mylke, a-lye it with Amyndoun or Flowre of Rys; take Sugre y-now, an putte þer-to, or hony in defaute; coloure it with þe same þat þe flowrys be on y-peyntid a-boue.

Translation

Take violet flowers, boil them, press them, and grind them finely. Mix them with almond milk or good cow's milk, then thicken the mixture with amidon or rice flour. Add enough sugar, or honey if sugar is unavailable. Color the finished dish to resemble the violet flowers themselves.

Smale Byrdys y-stwyde - Small Birds Stewed in Wine and Spices


Small Birds Stewed, a medieval poultry pottage from Harleian MS 279, reconstructed with chicken in wine and spices
Harleian MS 279, about 1430, Smale Byrdys y-stwyde - Small Birds Stewed

Originally published April 18, 2016. Updated June 2026.

Medieval cooks were practical cooks. A recipe did not always name a single bird, cut of meat, or exact modern equivalent because the medieval kitchen often worked with what the household, market, dovecote, poultry yard, or hunt provided. Smale Byrdys y-stwyde, or “Small Birds Stewed,” from Harleian MS 279 is one of those wonderfully flexible recipes.

The instruction is not for chicken alone, nor for one specific game bird. It is a method for preparing small birds in a richly seasoned wine sauce. The birds are first fried, then drained, then returned to a pot with onions, wine, cinnamon, cloves, mace, pepper, saffron, sugar, ginger, and salt. In modern terms, this is less a plain stew and more a medieval braise: browned meat finished gently in a fragrant cooking liquor.

This recipe belongs to the same family of sauced poultry dishes as several other recipes in Harleian MS 279, including Gelyne in Dubbatte - Chicken in Wine Sauce, Henne in Bokenade - Stewed Chicken in Sauce, Pertrich y-stwyde - Partridge Stewed, and Quystis Scun. What makes Smale Byrdys especially interesting is the breadth of the title. It assumes a kitchen familiar with many kinds of birds and gives a flexible method rather than a narrowly fixed recipe.

Brawn en Peuerade | Medieval Pork Pottage in Pepper Sauce (Harleian MS 279)

Brawn en Peuerade, a medieval pork pottage in pepper sauce from Harleian MS 279
Brawn en Peuerade, a medieval pork pottage in pepper sauce from Harleian MS 279.

Originally published March 11, 2016. Updated June 24, 2026 with expanded historical notes, seasonality discussion, pottage classification, internal links, and a copy-friendly modern reconstruction.

Brawn en Peuerade is a fifteenth-century English pork pottage from Harleian MS 279. The dish combines pork, wine, onions, vinegar, pepper, ginger, and warming spices into a sharply flavored pepper sauce that the manuscript tells us should be "as potage shulde be."

That phrase matters. Although the modern title may sound like a meat dish with sauce, the original recipe gives us a strong clue about its intended texture and service. It should be neither too thick nor too thin, but spoonable, saucy, and substantial. For that reason, this recipe belongs among Pottages & First Course Dishes rather than among dry roasted, fried, grilled, or baked meats.

Auter Brawn en Peuerade | Medieval Pork Pottage with Pepper Sauce (Harleian MS 279)

Medieval pork pottage with pepper sauce, Auter Brawn en Peuerade from Harleian MS 279
Auter Brawn en Peuerade, a medieval pork pottage with pepper sauce from Harleian MS 279.

Originally published March 14, 2016. Updated June 24, 2026 with expanded historical notes, feast placement discussion, color theory context, internal links, and a copy-friendly modern reconstruction.

Auter Brawn en Peuerade, or "another brawn in pepper sauce," is a fifteenth-century English pork pottage from Harleian MS 279. It combines pork, onions, broth, wine, vinegar, pepper, saffron, and warming spices into a richly colored dish that sits somewhere between a stew, a sauce, and a medieval pottage.

This recipe is especially useful because it appears alongside another version of Brawn en Peuerade. The earlier version is based more heavily on wine, while this "auter" version begins with a strong broth of beef or capon. Together, the two recipes show how medieval cooks could adapt the same flavor family to different ingredients, textures, and service styles.

Oyle Soppys (Oil Sops): Medieval Onion Soup Recipe with Ale | Harleian MS 279

Oyle Soppys, a medieval onion and ale soup from Harleian MS 279 served over toasted bread sops
Oyle Soppys, or Oil Sops, a medieval onion and ale soup from Harleian MS 279

Published: December 24, 2015
Updated: June 18, 2026

Few recipes in Harleian MS 279 demonstrate the ingenuity of medieval cooks quite as clearly as Oyle Soppys. Built from onions, ale, bread, oil, and a handful of seasonings, this fifteenth-century onion soup transforms simple household ingredients into a satisfying and economical first course.

When researching medieval pottages, two recipes immediately caught my attention: Soupes Dorroy and Oyle Soppys. Both recipes begin with onions, yet they produce remarkably different dishes. Soupes Dorroy relies upon wine and almond milk to create a rich golden broth, while Oyle Soppys turns instead to ale, producing a humbler but no less interesting soup.

At first glance, Oyle Soppys appears almost too simple to merit attention. There are no elaborate garnishes, expensive meats, or complex preparations. Yet recipes like this offer an important reminder that medieval cooks spent far more time preparing practical daily meals than creating the grand dishes that often dominate modern discussions of historical food.

The result is a medieval onion and ale soup that reveals not only what people ate, but how cooks stretched common ingredients into nourishing meals suitable for households, travelers, and large feasts.

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

Let Lory, a medieval English saffron milk curd dish from 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?

Anglo-Saxon inspired feast prepared for Ceilidh XVI in 2003
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


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?”


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.


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.


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.

Page from Bald's Leechbook Anglo-Saxon medical manuscript
Bald’s Leechbook, Book II, Chapter XII. Digestive remedies preserve combinations of mint, cumin, pepper, sour apples, and wine.

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.


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


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.


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.


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

Sources and Further Reading

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, toasted bread soaked in spiced medieval wine
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 medieval almond milk porridge with dates
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 loaf cut into sops for medieval pottage

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.