Context. This post expands on Gervase Markham’s early-17th-century candying method from The English Huswife (1623), part of his famous “banqueting-stuffe”—the delicate sugarwork served at the end of elite meals. Candying preserved seasonal produce for winter and created jewel-like sweets for feast courses and subtleties. Below you’ll find Markham’s original text and a carefully tested modern method I use for SCA feast work.
Originally Published 10/22/2019 - Updated 10/20/2025
In Japan, the turtle (kame) is a joyful emblem of longevity, wisdom, protection, and steady good fortune. It appears in courtly art, shrine lore, and folktales—from the patient, long-tailed minogame to the northern guardian Genbu (Black Tortoise). For our Muromachi-period Crown Tournament feast, turtle symbolism tied neatly to the suppon hot pot we served: a nourishing dish with deep historical roots.
During Japan’s Muromachi period (1336–1573), when Zen aesthetics and courtly rituals blended with warrior culture, symbolic animals often appeared in art and ceremonial meals. The turtle (kame), long associated with immortality and wisdom, represented the enduring stability of the shogunate and the virtues of patience and loyalty — qualities praised in poetry, calligraphy, and seasonal foods alike.
Originally published 8/30/2015 / Updated 10/2/2025
Can you imagine eating two to three pounds of bread a day? Or washing it down with a gallon of ale? During the late medieval and early modern period, that was the standard ration for households and garrisons alike. Bread wasn’t just food—it was the staple at every table. It appeared as trenchers, used as edible plates, or as the fine “table bread” known as pain de mayne or manchet.
The Menagier de Paris even instructs his wife that four-day-old trencher bread was best for entertaining, as it held its shape beneath sauced meats. From castle to cottage, bread marked rank: the nobility received pale white wheat bread, while darker maslin loaves went to servants. This post focuses on one of the most celebrated “white breads” of Elizabethan England: manchet.
Manchet was the “best” white household bread of the late Tudor and early Stuart period. These were small, hand-sized loaves or rolls made from double-bolted flour (finely sifted to remove bran and germ), yielding a pale crumb and firm crust.
Recipes call for a piece of old dough (sourdough-style leaven) opened with water and mixed with ale barm—brewer’s yeast skimmed from fermenting ale. In a modern kitchen, this is easily mimicked with commercial yeast and a splash of mild ale.
Deep dive: see my pillar post on White Bread in Early Modern England.
The following comes from The Good Huswifes Handmaide for the Kitchin (1594), under the title “The making of manchets after my Ladie Graies use.” It is one of the earliest printed bread recipes in English.
Take two peckes of fine flower, which must be twice boulted, if you will have your manchet verie faire: Then lay it in a place where ye doe use to lay your dowe for your bread, and make a litle hole in it, and put in that water as much leaven as a crab, or a pretie big apple, and as much white salt as will into an Egshell, and all to breake your leaven in the water, and put into your flower halfe a pinte of good Ale yeast, and so stir this liquor among a litle of your flower, so that ye must make it but thin at the first meeting, and then cover it with flowre, and if it be in the winter, ye must keepe it verie warm… Of one pecke of flower ye make ten caste of Manchets faire and good.
Please note this correction: gum arabic and gum tragacanth are not the same substance. I originally conflated them—mea culpa, and thank you to the reader who flagged it.
Comfits were often served at the end of a feast as a digestive, to perfume the breath, and to decorate subtlety dishes and table settings. Aromatic seeds such as anise, fennel, or caraway were built up with repeated coats of sugar syrup—sometimes tinted with beet, spinach, or saffron. Almonds, ginger, and cinnamon splinters appear in later sources as well. You can still buy descendants of these sweets today (think Jordan almonds and pastilles), but handmade comfits are more delicate and—yes—tastier.
Originally published: 2017 — Updated: 2025
Chawatteys is a late medieval pie blending pork or veal with dried fruit, saffron, eggs, and warm spices. The mix of sweet and savory, baked in a pastry shell, reflects the luxury tastes of fifteenth-century England. It comes to us from Harleian MS. 279, one of the great English cookbooks of the early 1400s.
The name Chawatteys (also spelled Chawettys or Chywettes) comes from the Middle English word chewet, meaning a small pie. The word is thought to derive from Old French chouette (“owl”), since early chewets were sometimes shaped to resemble little birds. Over time, chewet came to mean any small meat pie, often filled with minced pork, dried fruit, and spices.
Modern notes: Can’t find verjus? Substitute with a splash of wine vinegar. Veal may be replaced with pork, or even chicken. If you want a vegetarian option, mushrooms or eggplant can stand in for the meat (though this moves away from the medieval version). Zante currants and saffron are both available online if your local shop doesn’t stock them.
Chawatteys (Harlieian MS 279, c. 1430) Take buttys of Vele, and mynce hem smal, or Porke, and put on a potte; take Wyne, and caste þer-to pouder of Gyngere, Pepir, and Safroun, and Salt, and a lytel verjus, and do hem in a cofyn with yolks of Eyroun, and kutte Datys and Roysonys of Coraunce, Clowys, Maces, and þen ceuere þin cofyn, and lat it bake tyl it be y-now.
Canabeys/Canabens in Harleian MS. 279 refers to cooked beans, most often the broad/fava beans familiar to medieval cooks, prepared plainly in broth or enriched with dairy and sometimes served with bacon. Combined with lekys (leeks), you get a humble, comforting pottage that fits beautifully on a fifteenth-century table—and on ours.
🥕 Dietary badge: Vegetarian as written; easily vegan. Gluten-free.
In Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430), we are told to serve fish — especially eel — with Blawnche Perrye, much as venison was paired with furmenty. Eel was common in medieval England, but difficult to find (and costly) today. For this version, I substituted perch, though monkfish or mullet would be closer to the fatty, firm texture of eel.
This dish sits at the intersection of pottage cookery and fish service. It’s a reminder of the wide variety of fish eaten in the Middle Ages: herring, salmon, eel, cod, pike, turbot, perch, carp, trout, even porpoise and whale. Shellfish such as oysters, cockles, shrimps, crabs, and mussels were also common.
.xlv.—For to make Blawnche Perrye.
Take þe Whyte of the lekys, an seþe hem in a potte, an presse hem vp, & hacke hem smal on a bord. An nym gode Almaunde Mylke, an a lytil of Rys, an do alle þes to-gederys, an seþe an stere it wyl, an do þer-to Sugre or hony, an dresse it yn; þanne take powderd Elys, an seþe hem in fayre Water, and broyle hem, an kytte hem in long pecys. And ley .ij. or .iij. in a dysshe, and putte þin perrey in a-noþer dysshe, an serue þe to dysshys to-gederys as Venysoun with Furmenty.
Daniel Myers offers a modernized Middle English transcription on Medieval Cookery, and the recipe is also rendered in Austin’s edition of Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books.
Originally published 12/21/2016 - Updated 9/10/2025
Bruet/bruette in Middle English generally signals a sauce or broth thickened with bread and seasoned with warm spices. In Harleian MS. 279, this dish is a straightforward, feast-friendly pottage: gently boiled chicken, chopped, then simmered in its own broth with ale, pepper, ginger, and saffron, thickened with ground bread. A related stream of recipes (Forme of Cury, Liber cure cocorum, Noble Boke) adds pork and cumin; this post presents the Harleian-only version first and notes the pork-and-cumin variant below.
.lxxxxvij. Chykonys in bruette.
Take an Sethe Chykonys, & smyte hem to gobettys; þan take Pepir, Gyngere, an Brede y-grounde, & temper it vppe wyth þe self brothe, an with Ale; an coloure it with Safroun, an sethe an serue forth.
Gloss: Boil chickens; chop to gobbets. Grind pepper, ginger, and bread; temper (mix) with the same broth and ale; color with saffron; boil and serve.
Yield: 4 servings (pottage course) • Time: ~45 minutes
Cook’s Notes: Aim for a spoonable, saucy pottage—not a paste. If your ale is bitter, cut with more broth. For a silkier texture, sieve the sauce before adding the chicken.
Fyletes in Galentyne appears in Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430) and exemplifies a common medieval pairing: roasted or half-roasted meat finished in a rich, spiced sauce. The “galentyne” is thickened with bread and given depth either by blood (for savory richness) or by sanders (red sandalwood) to tint and flavor. Both are legitimate medieval options, so we present them side by side.
Note on interpretation: When this recipe was first published here on , I presented it as a stew — simmered pork and onions in a spiced broth. On closer reading, however, the text more clearly aligns with the medieval understanding of galentyne as a sauce for meat: roast pork finished with a thickened, spiced, colored sauce.
Both versions are plausible, so I’ve left my original interpretation here (Version A) and added the sauce-based version (Version B). The original post has been updated and republished on to reflect this correction.
Englishe:
“Take fayre porke of the fore quarter, and rost hit tyl hit be almost ynogh; then take and smyte hit in fayre pecys, and caste hit in a fayre potte; then take oynons and shredde hem small, and frie hem in fayre grece, and caste hem to the porke, and stew hit togydre; then take gode broth of beef or motton, and caste thereto; then take powder of peper and of gynger, and caste thereto; and take bred ystepid in vinegre, and strayne hit thorow a straynoure, and caste thereto; and colour hit with blode, or elles with sandres, and then lat hit boyle up wel, and serve it forth.”
Modern Translation:
Take good pork from the forequarter and roast it until nearly done; cut into pieces and place in a pot. Chop onions, fry them in fat, and add to the pork. Stew together with good beef or mutton broth. Add pepper and ginger. Take bread soaked in vinegar, strain it, and add. Color with blood—or else with red sandalwood—and let it boil well. Serve forth.
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Source: The Forme of Cury, c. 1390 (ed. Hieatt & Butler). Adapted in Redon et al., The Medieval Kitchen (1998).
Take Colyaundre, Caraway, garlec ygrounde, powdour fort, and salt, medle all this togyder and lay it on a fylett of pork al holes, and lay it to roste; when it is rosted enough, take vinegre and wyne and the juyce of the pork, medle hem togyder, and serve forth.
Take coriander, caraway, ground garlic, strong spice powder, and salt. Mix all this together and spread it over a fillet of pork, pricking it well. Roast it. When it is cooked enough, take vinegar, wine, and the juices of the pork, mix them together, and serve it forth.
Mushrooms were a popular ingredient in Renaissance Italy, eaten in fast-day dishes and served alongside roasted meats. This recipe for Fungi di Monte (“mushrooms of the mountain”) comes to us from Bartolomeo Scappi’s monumental 1570 Opera. Redon adapts it into a clean, modern version while preserving its essential spicing and method.
Per cuocere funghi di monte in più modi. Dopo che saranno ben nettati, si cuociano in acqua calda, & si lascino scolare; poi si facciano soffriggere con cipolla trita, olio, sale, pepe, canella, garofali, & altre buone spetiarie. Si possono anco cuocere con burro fresco, & cacio parmigiano, & similmente si possono friggere in pastello.
To cook mountain mushrooms in several ways. After they are well cleaned, cook them in hot water and let them drain; then fry them with chopped onion, oil, salt, pepper, cinnamon, cloves, and other good spices. They may also be cooked with fresh butter and Parmesan cheese, and likewise they may be fried in batter.
Une Vinaigrette appears in medieval French sources and was translated by Terence Scully (1998). The dish layers beef (or lamb) with onions and serves it in a sauce of red wine, broth, breadcrumbs, and warming spices—ginger, grains of paradise, pepper, saffron, and vinegar. The result is both hearty and sharp, showing the medieval palate for savory meats balanced with spice and sour notes.
In humoral theory, beef is heavy, hot, and dry, suited to those with strong digestions or balanced by moistening and cooling elements. The onions and wine add heat and sharpness, while the vinegar offers a cooling, cutting quality to aid digestion. The dish would have been considered appropriate in a main roast course, but could also appear earlier to stimulate appetite.
The recipe for Une Vinaigrette comes from Le Viandier, one of the most important medieval French cookbooks. Traditionally attributed to Guillaume Tirel (called Taillevent), master cook to King Charles V of France, the text survives in several manuscripts from the late 14th and 15th centuries. It reflects the refined cooking of the French court, where sauces of wine, vinegar, and warming spices balanced the heaviness of roasted meats. Terence Scully’s 1998 edition (The Viandier of Taillevent, University of Ottawa Press) provides a critical edition of the extant manuscripts and the English translation used here.
Une vinaigrette. Prenez buef ou mouton et coupez en pièces, puis mettez-les à rostir au gril. Prenez oignons et taillez par rondelles, et friez en sain de lart bien cuit. Puis prenez bon vin vermeil et bouillon de buef, et mettez du pain blanc tosté et broyé pour lier. Mettez gingembre, graine de paradis, poivre et saffran, et un petit de vinaigre. Couliez vostre sausse, et mettez vostre viande et oignons dedans; ou les servez à part, et la sausse en un autre plat.
This passage is the basis for Scully’s English rendering: beef or mutton, roasted with onions, served in a sauce of red wine, broth, breadcrumbs, ginger, grains of paradise, saffron, pepper, and vinegar.
| Original (Scully, 1998) | Modern Interpretation |
|---|---|
| Take beef or mutton and cut it in pieces, then put them to roast on the grill. Take onions and slice them into rounds, and fry them in grease until well cooked. Then take good red wine and beef stock, put therein white bread toasted and ground to thicken it, and season with ginger, grains of paradise, pepper and saffron, and a little vinegar. Strain the sauce and put the meat and onions therein; or serve the meat and onions separately, with the sauce in a dish. | Cut beef or lamb into chunks and roast or grill until done, but not overcooked. Slice onions into rounds and sauté them in butter, oil, or lard until golden. For the sauce, simmer red wine and beef broth with breadcrumbs until smooth. Add ginger, pepper, grains of paradise (or allspice), saffron, and a splash of vinegar. Strain the sauce and serve it either mixed with the meat and onions, or on the side as a dip. Excellent served on its own, or with rice or pasta. |
This delicate and fragrant dish of tortellini stuffed with sautéed greens, herbs, cheese, and sweet spices originates from Opera dell’Arte del Cucinare (1570), the monumental cookbook by Bartolomeo Scappi. Best known as the personal chef to Pope Pius V, Scappi was a master of both elaborate banquets and refined simplicity — and this recipe, nestled in Chapter 179 of his Secondo Libro, showcases the Lombard love of herbs, butter, and subtly sweet notes.
Bartolomeo Scappi’s Opera (1570) offers one of the most complete windows into the elite cuisine of late Renaissance Italy — and pasta plays a surprisingly prominent role. While modern perceptions associate early Italian cuisine with bread and stews, Scappi details dozens of pasta forms: tortelletti, tagliatelle, lasagne, gnocchi, and more. He provides both fast-day (Lenten) and meat-day variations, often using rich fillings, egg-based doughs, and flavored broths.
While Scappi is celebrated for cataloging pasta, his legacy goes well beyond noodles. He formalized kitchen hierarchy, seasonal menu planning, and equipment standards that echoed into the 18th century and beyond. His work documents early uses of parchment paper for baking, cooking with a bain-marie, and even proto-refrigeration techniques using snow. He preserved the culinary knowledge of late medieval traditions while also introducing innovations that bridged the gap to modernity. Scappi’s recipes emphasized not only taste but also visual elegance, hygiene, and timing — principles that continue to shape Italian fine dining today.
His chapter on pasta (including Cap. 177–179) reflects the growing popularity of filled pasta in elite households — a sign of culinary sophistication. Doughs were often perfumed with rose water or sugar, and pasta was sometimes served in sweetened broths or dusted with sugar and cinnamon. These dishes bridged the gap between savory and sweet, medicine and indulgence, humble vegetables, and luxurious presentation.
Domenico Romoli’s La Singolare Dottrina (“The Singular Doctrine”) outlines not only how to cook but also how to organize and serve elaborate banquets across the seasons. His January banquet — which inspired this feast — features carefully curated combinations of hot and cold, dry and moist, light and heavy, always with an eye toward harmony and digestion. Pasta dishes like tortelletti fit perfectly into this philosophy: gentle on the stomach, warming in the winter months, and suitable for both Lenten and meatless preparations, depending on the broth and sauce.
Romoli, like Scappi, reflects the culinary doctrine of the sixteenth-century Italian elite, where food was viewed as an art, a science, and a means to health, all served in silver.
Lombardy, located in northern Italy, was renowned throughout the Renaissance for its refined cuisine and affinity for dairy, herbs, and egg-rich dishes. Dishes like tortelletti d’herba reflect the region’s agricultural abundance and the influence of monastic gardens and courtly kitchens. These small-filled portions of pasta, cousins to ravioli and agnolotti, were considered both elegant and nourishing — ideal for feast days or Lenten fare when meat might be restricted, but the richness was not.
The inclusion of sweet spices like cinnamon and cloves, along with sugar and currants, reveals a broader Renaissance fascination with balancing flavors and creating contrasts on the palate — often underpinned by humoral theory. Warm spices helped balance the “cold” qualities of greens, while cheese and egg yolks added “moist” richness. In this way, tortelletti d’herba were more than delicious — they were medicinally appropriate.
The phrase herba alla Lombarda in Scappi's recipe refers to a familiar blend of leafy greens and aromatic herbs popular in northern Italy during the Renaissance. Common greens included bietole (chard or beet greens), spinaci (spinach), and sometimes cavolo nero (black cabbage). These were often combined with soft herbs like parsley, marjoram, mint, and savory — herbs prized for their digestive and warming properties, aligning with humoral dietary practices of the time. Regional cooks might adjust the balance of herbs depending on season and occasion: more mint and marjoram in summer, more parsley and chard in winter.
We featured this dish as part of the Arrosto course at our 12th Night 2024 feast, where it was served alongside roast beef, sweet mustard sauce, Turkish squash, and jewel-like Renaissance jelly bites. Helewyse de Birkestad adapted the recipe used in her event, Feste di San Martino, and offers a beautifully balanced winter pasta that pairs greens with Parmesan, currants, and spices.
Scappi, Opera (1570), Cap. CLXXIX, Secondo Libro
Take beet (chard) and spinach, chop very finely, wash in several waters, and wring dry. Fry them gently in fresh butter, and add a handful of odiferous herbs. Boil briefly, then drain and combine the mixture in a glazed earthen or tinned copper pot. Add grated Parmesan and soft cheese, with pepper, cinnamon, cloves, saffron, currants, and enough raw egg to bind. If too soft, add breadcrumbs; if too firm, more butter. Make pasta as described in Chapter 177, shape small or large tortelletti, boil in meat broth, and serve with cheese, sugar, and cinnamon on top.
Though Scappi’s version is firmly rooted in Lombardy, filled herb pastas appear across Italy with regional twists. In Emilia‑Romagna, tortelli di erbette are filled with greens and ricotta, often served with sage‑butter. Tuscany offers tortelli maremmani, sometimes incorporating wild greens and nutmeg. Liguria features pansoti made with preboggion (a traditional wild herb mix) and walnut sauce. Each variant celebrates local herbs and fillings while preserving the form’s essential comfort and seasonality.
At 12th Night 2024, these tortelletti were part of the Arrosto course with:
This recipe is just one part of our 12th Night 2024 Renaissance Feast, inspired by Scappi, Romoli, and the lavish January banquets of Renaissance Italy.
To see the full event menu and explore additional recipes as they’re released, visit the official feast page:
Flaming Gryphon 12th Night 2024 Feast Menu.
Looking for printable cards or a bundled feast pack? Support the project on Ko-fi and stay tuned for downloads!
This rich, onion-based pottage was a hit during a lunch fundraiser at a SCA Collegium event, where it helped raise funds for Arts & Sciences in celebration of the SCA's 50th anniversary. Easy to prepare, completely meatless, and packed with deep, savory flavor, it's a classic piece of "tavern fare" that works beautifully for both period events and modern autumn or winter meals. The original recipe hails from Robert May's The Accomplisht Cook (1660), a cornerstone text of early modern English cuisine.
"Fry good store of slic't onions, then have a pipkin of boiling liquor over the fire, when the liquor bils put in the fryed onions, butter and all, with pepper and salt: being well stewed together, serve in on sops of French bread."
— Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)
Ingredients:
Instructions:
This dish was one of several warm, filling options served during our Collegium fundraiser tavern lunch. As a vegetarian-friendly option, it was ideal for feeding a crowd. Easy to prepare in advance, it holds well when kept warm in a crockpot or kettle. Paired with rustic bread and cheese, it offers satisfying, stick-to-your-ribs nourishment.
Earlier Onion-Based Variations:
This recipe from The Accomplisht Cook reflects a later stage in the evolution of onion pottages; earlier forms also appear in medieval English manuscripts. For example, Harleian MS 279 (c. 1430) includes Soupe Dorroy, a richer onion soup thickened with egg yolks, and Oyle Soppys, a simpler version that uses oil and broth over toasted bread. These earlier dishes demonstrate how cooks adapted flavor, texture, and fat sources over time and across regions.
Robert May trained in the kitchens of English nobility during the late Tudor and early Stuart periods. Although The Accomplisht Cook was published just after the SCA's traditional 1600 cut-off, it remains an essential source for "period-adjacent" fare, especially for those exploring the evolving foodways of late-period England.
May's recipes straddle medieval and modern tastes, capturing a unique culinary crossroads. This pottage exemplifies those characteristics: hearty, rustic, and comforting, yet straightforward and adaptable for contemporary kitchens.
Many in the SCA community recognize this dish as a reliable choice for "late period" events, especially when authenticity is a priority. It showcases the shift in English cuisine from medieval traditions to more modern techniques, making it ideal for immersive experiences, educational demos, and fundraising taverns.
This onion pottage was served as the opening course of our Collegium Lunch Fundraiser Tavern, a midday meal designed for easy service, rich flavor, and historical ambiance. The full menu featured a balance of meat, vegetarian options, and accessible ingredients, suited to both reenactors and newcomers.
Menu Highlights Included:
– Pork Pie with Mustard
– Cold Roast Chicken with Garlic, Sage, or Must Sauce
– Cold Lentil Salad
– Roasted Root Vegetables
– Pickles & Olives
– Fresh Fruit (Apples, Grapes, Oranges)
– French Bread & Cheese
– Water & Soda
You can view the full event menu here.
Each dish was selected to reflect late-period culinary traditions while remaining practical for modern kitchen crews and feast planners.
Labels:
17th Century | Onion Dishes | Pottage | Robert May | Tavern Fare | SCA Fundraiser | Vegetarian Friendly
Hello friends and fellow food historians!
There’s a lot simmering in the Give It Forth kitchen these days, and I wanted to take a moment to share a few exciting updates, improvements, and sneak peeks of what’s cooking.
We’ve overhauled the site navigation to make it easier to browse recipes, feast planning resources, and historical FAQs. Look for the new sidebar Pages menu, where you’ll find links to:
Frequently Asked Questions
Ounce to Tablespoon Conversion Guide
Comfits and Historical Confections
...and more coming soon!
We’ve been busy hunting down outdated links, broken redirects, and dusty corners of the blog. Many posts are now refreshed with working links, better indexing, and improved discoverability (because even medieval mustard deserves the spotlight).
If you’ve ever stumbled across a 404 or an archived page — don’t worry, we’re on it.
The brand-new FAQ Page is live and loaded with answers to your most common questions:
Cooking conversions (dry vs liquid)
How to plan a medieval feast
What’s a dayboard?
Where I get my sources
And yes... how to make comfits without losing your mind!
Keep your eyes peeled — these historical recipes are headed your way in the next few weeks:
Gelo in bocconcini di piu colori
Jelly in small bites, of many colors – from Bartolomeo Scappi
Tortelletti d’herba alla Lombarda
Herb tortellini in the Lombard style – Scappi again!
Per far diverse minestre di zucche Turchesche
A variety of Turkish squash dishes (Cap CCXX, Secondo libro, Scappi)
Salsa di Mostardo amabile
Sweet mustard sauce – perfect for meats, roots, and the curious palate
If you’ve found joy, ideas, or research help here, consider supporting Give It Forth on Ko-fi:
☕ https://ko-fi.com/giveitforth
Thank you for being part of this delicious journey through the past. Stay tuned — and stay hungry!
Yours in herbs and humors,
Yonnie
Craving a taste of the Renaissance? Here's your ticket— piattelletti di maroni in bragia, or ember-roasted chestnuts, a Renaissance favorite brought to life using ancient cooking techniques for nuts preserved in historic manuscripts.. All it takes is a crackling fire, a bed of embers, and a dusting of sugar and salt. Simple, rustic, and surprisingly delicious.
Piattelletti di Maroni in Bragia, which charmingly translates to “little chestnut cakes in the embers,” comes from La Singolare Dottrina, penned in 1560 by Domenico Romoli—better known as Panunto. Don’t let the name fool you—it’s not a cake in the modern sense, but rather whole chestnuts nestled in hot ash or coals. And when finished with sugar, salt, and a hit of pepper? Absolute magic. You’ll be asking yourself how something so basic can taste so good.
A decade later, Bartolomeo Scappi featured a similar technique in his masterpiece Opera dell'arte del cucinare (1570)—a true treasure chest of culinary brilliance. Like Romoli, he was all about the ember-roasted chestnuts, but with an extra nudge of seasoning. Both men clearly understood that chestnuts, with just a little fire and flair, could steal the show.
Chestnuts were a staple in Italian kitchens during the 15th and 16th centuries, prized not just for their flavor but also for their versatility. Dishes ranged from sweet to savory, and cooks like Scappi and Romoli perfected techniques still worth learning today.
Romoli (1560) wrote of cooking chestnuts in embers to bring out their natural sweetness, while Scappi detailed "piattelletti", or small chestnut cakes, roasted or cooked directly in ashes or coals. These weren’t just rustic peasant fare—they were refined enough for noble tables during feast days and holidays.
“Maroni si cuociono nel bragia, et servano caldi sopra tovagliuoli bianchi.”
(Romoli, 1560)
“Chestnuts are cooked in embers and served warm on white linens.”
 |
| One of the many menu's featuring Chestnuts in Embers from La Singolare Dottrina |
Ingredients:
Fresh chestnuts
Embers or ash
Sugar
Salt
Pepper
Method:
Slice an X into the flat side of each chestnut. It’ll stop them from bursting and make peeling a lot easier.
Nestle them gently into warm embers—no direct flames, just cozy heat from the coals.
Let them roast 20–30 minutes, giving them a stir now and then for even cooking.
Pull them out and cool slightly. They're best peeled while still warm.
Sprinkle with sugar, salt, and cracked pepper while they’re still toasty.
That’s it. A smoky-sweet snack with just the right amount of warmth and rustic charm. It's a little time travel on a plate.
Ingredients:
1 lb fresh chestnuts
1 tbsp sugar
1/2 tsp kosher salt
1/4 tsp fresh black pepper
Optional: a drizzle of olive oil or melted butter
Method:
Heat your oven to 425°F (220°C).
Score each chestnut with an X on the flat side.
Roast on a baking sheet for 20–25 minutes, until the shells curl back at the X.
Let them cool enough to handle, then peel.
Toss warm chestnuts with sugar, salt, pepper—and maybe a little butter or oil, if you’re feeling fancy.
Serve them warm, maybe with a glass of wine or cider. They’re just as welcome on a winter snack board as they are straight from the oven.
Romoli’s La Singolare Dottrina was more than a cookbook—it was a guide for noble households, covering everything from seasonal menus to food and health advice. Scappi’s Opera, written just ten years later, was the work of a papal chef—six volumes packed with over a thousand recipes and drawings. Where Romoli wrote with a steward’s insight, Scappi brought the precision and flair of a true culinary artist.
Together, they remind us how humble ingredients—like the chestnut—can become something extraordinary with a bit of care and creativity.
Final Thoughts: A Flavor Worth Reviving
Piattelletti di maroni in bragia reminds us that even the simplest ingredients—chestnuts and embers—can create something beautiful and deeply nostalgic. Whether you're drawn to historic Italian chestnut recipes or simply crave traditional chestnut recipes for fall, this ancient treat deserves a comeback.
Would I make these again? Absolutely. There's something so satisfying about cracking into a warm, roasted chestnut and tasting that perfect sweet-savory balance. So next time you see chestnuts at the market, take the leap—you might just discover your new favorite fall treat.
If you love diving into the past like I do, I highly recommend exploring these Renaissance cookbooks:
📖 Scappi’s Opera (1570) – full digitized version on archive.org
📖 Romoli’s La Singolar Dottrina (1560) – archived scans and translations
These works offer a window into a time when cooking was equal parts sustenance and spectacle.
Sources:
La Singolare Dottrina di M. Domenico romoli Sopranominato Panonto dell’ufficio delle Scalco (no date) Google Books. Available at: https://www.google.com/books/edition/La_Singolare_Dottrina_di_M_Domenico_Romo/AiY6AAAAcAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1&bsq=Piattelletti+di+maroni+in+bragia+ (Accessed: 11 April 2025).
The opera of Bartolomeo Scappi (1570) (no date) Google Books. Available at: https://books.google.com/books?id=oF2jsqrWtEkC&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false (Accessed: 11 April 2025).
