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Showing posts with label Harleian MS 279. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harleian MS 279. 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.

Gelyne in Dubbatte: Medieval Chicken in Wine Sauce | Harleian MS 279 (c.1430)

Originally published January 23, 2016. Updated June 23, 2026.

This post has been updated as part of the 2026 Give It Forth recipe glow-up project, with expanded historical notes, revised feast placement discussion, improved formatting, internal links, and modern reconstruction guidance. AI-assisted editing was used for organization and clarity.

Gelyne in Dubatte, a medieval chicken dish in wine sauce from Harleian MS 279
Gelyne in Dubatte, a medieval chicken dish finished in wine, broth, spices, vinegar, and bread-thickened sauce.

Some medieval recipes look simple at first glance, then open like a trapdoor into a much larger kitchen. Gelyne in Dubatte, from Harleian MS 279, is one of those dishes.

At its most basic, this is chicken cooked in broth, wine, spices, vinegar, and bread. Yet the recipe sits at the crossroads of roast meat, pottage, and sauce-making. The chicken is first roasted almost done, then cut into pieces and finished in a seasoned liquid thickened with bread. The result may be served as a brothy pottage, a spoonable stew, or a richer sauced dish laid over sops of bread.

When I first interpreted this recipe in 2016, I leaned toward a brothier version. Revisiting the title, manuscript placement, and Thomas Austin's glossary has made me appreciate how flexible this dish may have been. The sauce is not an afterthought. It may be the heart of the recipe.

Papyns: Medieval Comfort Food for Breakfast, Babies, and the Infirm

Papyns: Medieval Custard for Breakfast, Babies, and the Infirm

First published January 4, 2016. Updated June 19, 2026.

Papyns with bread, a soft milk-and-egg pottage from Harleian MS 279.

Papyns is medieval comfort food: soft, warm, mild, and easy to eat. Found in Harleian MS 279, this fifteenth-century dish combines milk, flour, egg yolks, sugar, and salt into a smooth custard-like pottage served “rennyng,” or flowing.

Modern readers may think of it as a cross between custard, cream of wheat, and breakfast cereal. It is not flashy feast food. It is gentle food: the kind of dish that makes sense for children, elders, the sick, or anyone needing nourishment that does not ask too much of the teeth or stomach.

That simplicity is exactly what makes Papyns important. It gives us a glimpse of medieval food beyond roasts, pies, and elaborate subtleties. This is the food of care, recovery, and ordinary comfort.

Why this recipe matters: Papyns shows how medieval cooks made soft, nourishing foods for people who needed gentle meals. Its smooth texture and mild ingredients made it suitable for breakfast, children, the elderly, and the infirm.

Murrey: A Mulberry-Colored Medieval Pottage from Harleian MS 279

Murrey: A Mulberry-Colored Medieval Pottage from Harleian MS 279

First published February 7, 2016. Updated June 19, 2026.

Murrey served over sops of bread. The rich reddish-purple color appears to have been one of the defining characteristics of this family of medieval dishes.

Medieval cooks paid attention to color in ways that modern diners often overlook. Color was not merely decoration. It could signal status, season, symbolism, feast day, humor, or even the identity of a dish.

Murrey is a perfect example. At first glance, the Harleian MS 279 recipe looks like a thick meat preparation made from pork, veal, broth, bread, honey, ginger, galangal, and saunders. When I first reconstructed it in 2016, I described it as another meat sauce. Years later, with more manuscript evidence in hand, I think that interpretation was too narrow.

Murrey appears to belong to a wider medieval tradition of color-defined dishes. The word itself refers to a dark reddish-purple, mulberry-like color. Related recipes appear in several medieval sources, sometimes made with almonds and wine, sometimes with meat, sometimes with actual mulberries, and sometimes adapted for fish days or flesh days. What unites them is not a single ingredient list, but a color, a texture, and a culinary idea.

Why this recipe matters: Murrey is more than a medieval meat dish. It appears to be part of a family of mulberry-colored preparations that show how medieval cooks used color to define food. The Harleian version is best understood as a thick pottage rather than a modern sauce.

Cawdelle Ferry: A Medieval Wine Caudle from Harleian MS 279 (c. 1430)

Cawdelle Ferry: A Medieval Wine Caudle from Harleian MS 279

First published February 2, 2016. Updated June 19, 2026.

Cawdelle Ferry, a spiced wine caudle thickened with egg yolks.

Cawdelle Ferry is one of those medieval recipes that refuses to sit politely in a modern category. It is made from wine, egg yolks, sugar, saffron, and spices. It is warmed gently, stirred until thick, and served with white powder scattered over the top.

In the original version of this article, I described it as a wine pudding. That was not entirely wrong, but it was incomplete. Cawdelle Ferry is better understood as a medieval caudle: a warm, often restorative preparation that could range from drinkable to spoonable depending on how it was thickened.

What makes this recipe especially interesting is that it was not a one-off curiosity. Versions of Cawdelle Ferry appear across English culinary manuscripts for more than a century, using wine, sugar or honey, saffron, egg yolks, bread, almonds, starch, rice flour, raisins, and spices. This is not just a recipe. It is a recipe family.

Why this recipe matters: Cawdelle Ferry helps us understand the medieval caudle as something more complex than a hot drink. Across several manuscripts, it appears as a fortified wine preparation thickened into a rich, nourishing dish that sits somewhere between drink, pottage, custard, and pudding.

Lyode Soppes: One of England's Earliest Bread Puddings

Lyode Soppes: A 15th-Century Bread Pudding from Harleian MS 279

First published January 13, 2016. Updated June 19, 2026.

Lyode Soppes, a sweet custard pottage served over fine white bread.

If modern bread pudding has a medieval ancestor, Lyode Soppes is one of the strongest candidates I have found. Recorded in Harleian MS 279 around 1430, this dish combines rounds of fine white bread with a gently thickened custard of milk, egg yolks, sugar, and salt.

But is it truly bread pudding, or is it better understood as a sweet custard pottage? The answer is, deliciously, both. Lyode Soppes is not baked like modern bread pudding. The bread is cut into round sops, placed in a dish, and covered with warm custard. The manuscript itself tells us to serve it “for a potage.”

This has long been one of my favorite breakfast recipes from the manuscript. It is simple, comforting, and surprisingly familiar. Across nearly six centuries, bread, milk, eggs, and sugar still know how to sit together at the table.

Why this recipe matters: Lyode Soppes documents bread served with custard in a fifteenth-century English cookbook. It is best understood as a sweet custard pottage, but it also sits very close to what modern cooks would recognize as an early form of bread pudding.

Medieval almond milk toast with wine, saffron, and spices from Harleian MS 279. A golden fifteenth-century fasting dish.

Soupes Dorye, a medieval almond milk toast with wine, saffron, and sweet spices from Harleian MS 279
Soupes Dorye, or golden sops, made with almond milk, wine, saffron, toast, and sweet spices

Published: January 9, 2016
Updated: June 18, 2026

Soupes Dorye is one of those medieval recipes that looks simple at first glance and then quietly opens a door into an entire world of fifteenth-century cooking. At its most basic, it is toasted bread soaked with wine, covered in hot almond milk, colored with saffron, and finished with a sweet spice mixture of ginger, sugar, cinnamon, cloves, and mace.

That sounds humble. It is also golden, fragrant, warming, meatless, dairy-free, and carefully composed. This is not merely medieval milk toast. It is a fast-day pottage built from bread, wine, almonds, saffron, and spice, all arranged so that a plain dish becomes something bright enough for the table.

The recipe appears in Harleian MS 279, a fifteenth-century English culinary manuscript dated to about 1430 and printed in Thomas Austin's Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. Like many recipes in this collection, it offers only brief instructions. The medieval cook was expected to understand how to draw almond milk, how much wine to use, how wet the bread should be, and how heavily to season the finished dish.

For the modern cook, those silences are where the reconstruction work begins. How much wine is enough to flavor the almond milk without overwhelming it? Should the bread collapse into porridge or hold its shape? Should the spices be subtle or generous? These are the practical questions that turn a manuscript recipe into a dish someone can actually serve.

When I first prepared this recipe, one of my tasters walked into the kitchen and said, "It smells like Christmas in here." That reaction still feels like the right doorway into the dish. Soupes Dorye is warm, aromatic, and quietly festive, but it is also a useful reminder that medieval fasting food did not have to be dull.

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.

Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk | Whyte Wortes (Harleian MS 279, c.1430)

Originally published December 22, 2015. Updated June 12, 2026 with revised interpretation notes, manuscript-first cooking guidance, recipe schema, modern substitutions, and additional historical context.

AI-assisted formatting and editing note: This article was updated with the assistance of ChatGPT for organization, grammar, HTML formatting, and checklist review. Historical interpretation, recipe judgment, cooking experience, and final editorial decisions are my own.

Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk | Whyte Wortes

Whyte Wortes, from Harleian MS 279, is one of those medieval recipes that looks plain until it reaches the spoon.

At first glance, it sounds humble: greens boiled in water, pressed dry, chopped small, then cooked with almond milk, rice flour, saffron, honey, and salt. But the result is far more interesting than the ingredient list suggests. It is soft, rich, lightly sweet, gently aromatic, and much more elegant than “boiled greens” has any right to be.

When I first made this dish in 2015, I served it to my teenage non-SCA taste testers. Several were suspicious because they disliked cabbage and kale. After some coaxing, the verdict changed quickly:

“This is GOOD.”

One tester even wished their mother cooked cabbage this way.

That reaction still matters to me. Historical recipes can be fascinating on paper, but the real test is whether people want to eat them again. Whyte Wortes passed that test.

Whyte Wortes, medieval creamed greens with almond milk from Harleian MS 279
Whyte Wortes, a 15th-century greens pottage enriched with almond milk, rice flour, saffron, honey, and salt.

A Note from My 2015 Kitchen: My original version used cabbage and kale rather than a wider mixture of pot herbs. That was a practical choice based on what I had available, and it still works well. Reading the recipe now, I would describe this as a greens pottage or creamed greens dish rather than simply a vegetable side.

Like many Harleian recipes, it sits comfortably between modern categories.

The Original Recipe

The recipe appears in Thomas Austin’s edition of Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books, from Harleian MS 279, dated to about 1430.

.v. Whyte wortes.—Take of þe erbys lyke as þou dede for jouutes, and sethe hem in water tyl þey ben neyshe; þanne take hem vp, an bryse hem fayre on a bord, as drye as þow may; þan choppe hem smale, an caste hem on a potte, an ley hem with flowre of Rys; take mylke of almaundys, an cast þer-to, & hony, nowt to moche, þat it be nowt to swete, an safron & salt; an serue it forth ynne, ryȝth for a good potage.

A Working Translation

Take the herbs as you did for Joutes, and boil them in water until they are soft. Then take them up and bruise them well on a board, as dry as you can. Then chop them small and put them in a pot. Add rice flour. Take almond milk and add it, with honey, but not too much, so that it is not too sweet. Add saffron and salt, and serve it forth as a good pottage.

Manuscript Interpretation Note: This recipe is not simply greens boiled in almond milk. The greens are boiled first, pressed as dry as possible, chopped small, and then cooked again with rice flour, almond milk, honey, saffron, and salt. That first boiling removes harshness and excess moisture before the greens are enriched into a smooth pottage.

From Joutes to Whyte Wortes

One of the most useful clues in this recipe is that it does not begin by listing every green or herb. Instead, it points the cook backward:

“Take of þe erbys lyke as þou dede for jouutes…”

In other words:

Use the herbs and greens you prepared for Joutes.

This tells us something important about medieval kitchen practice. Cooks were not always beginning from scratch. They were working from familiar systems, repeated preparations, and shared kitchen knowledge. If Joutes represents a greens preparation built from available pot herbs, then Whyte Wortes feels like its richer, softer cousin: the same family of greens enriched with almond milk, thickened with rice flour, gently sweetened with honey, and perfumed with saffron.

That relationship also explains why the manuscript does not pause to give us an exact botanical list. The cook was expected to understand the broader greens preparation from the earlier recipe.

Pot Herbs, Wortes, and Medieval Kitchen Ingenuity

One of the things I increasingly admire about medieval cooking is its flexibility.

Whyte Wortes does not demand one perfect modern vegetable. Instead, it belongs to a world of pot herbs: leafy plants grown, gathered, or foraged for cooking. Depending on season, region, household garden, market access, and local taste, the mixture could change.

Modern cooks often want a recipe to say:

Use exactly this.

Medieval recipes often say something closer to:

Use what grows, what tastes good, and what you have enough of.

The Fromond List, published around 1525 under the title Herbys necessary for a gardyn, gives us a glimpse of the kinds of plants late medieval and early Tudor cooks valued for pottages and kitchen use. It includes familiar plants such as cabbage, beet, borage, chervil, chives, dill, fennel, leek, lettuce, marjoram, mint, onions, parsley, sage, spinach, thyme, and wood sorrel, along with plants less familiar in many modern kitchens, such as alexanders, Good King Henry, patience dock, hartstongue, orach, and sowthistle.

In other words, there was probably no single correct bowl of wortes.

In my original kitchen interpretation, I used cabbage and kale because they were available and held up beautifully to boiling, pressing, chopping, and reheating. Eleven years later, I still think that was a practical choice. But the spirit of the recipe comfortably allows the cook to work with a mixture of sturdy greens and herbs available in season.

Build Your Wortes: Choose one or two sturdy base greens such as cabbage, kale, collards, mustard greens, or turnip greens. Then add smaller amounts of flavorful greens or herbs such as parsley, sorrel, spinach, chard, beet greens, fennel fronds, or dill. The goal is not to recreate one fixed grocery list, but to build a useful medieval-style greens mixture.

What Makes These Wortes “White”?

The “white” in Whyte Wortes does not mean the greens themselves are white. The color comes from the almond milk and rice flour used to enrich and thicken the dish.

Medieval cooks often cared about color. White dishes could suggest refinement, smoothness, and careful preparation. Almond milk, rice, and pale sauces appear in many recipes where the finished dish is meant to feel gentle, rich, or elegant.

The saffron complicates the color slightly. It adds golden warmth rather than leaving the dish purely white, but medieval recipe titles often point toward the intended character of a dish rather than a perfect modern paint-chip description. Here, “white” likely signals the almond milk and rice-flour base more than a literal snow-white finished color.

Why Almond Milk Mattered

To a modern cook, almond milk in a medieval greens dish can feel unexpected. Yet almond milk appears constantly in medieval cookery, especially in pottages, sauces, and fasting dishes.

Part of the reason was practical. Fresh animal milk spoiled quickly without refrigeration and could vary in quality depending on season, storage, and household conditions. Almonds, by contrast, could be stored dry and transformed into milk when needed. That made almond milk flexible, reliable, and useful in both everyday kitchens and elite households.

Almond milk was also valuable during fasting periods, when dairy products might be restricted. But it was not merely a substitute for “real” milk. Medieval cooks appreciated almond milk for its own flavor, texture, and ability to enrich dishes gently without overwhelming other ingredients.

In Whyte Wortes, almond milk softens the sharper edges of boiled greens, while rice flour creates body and honey rounds the flavors just enough to keep the dish from becoming harsh.

If you would like to learn more about how almond milk functioned in historical kitchens, including fasting traditions and medieval culinary practice, see my article on the importance of almond milk in medieval cooking.

Modern Almond Milk Note: Homemade almond milk is usually richer and more historically useful than many boxed almond milks. If using store-bought almond milk, choose plain, unsweetened almond milk without vanilla. Avoid strongly flavored or sweetened versions.

Rice Flour, Honey, and Texture

Rice flour thickens the almond milk into a soft sauce. That matters because almond milk alone is fairly thin. The rice flour gives the pottage body, helping it cling to the chopped greens rather than pooling loosely beneath them.

The honey is equally important because the manuscript gives a warning:

“nowt to moche, þat it be nowt to swete”

Not too much, so that it is not too sweet.

That instruction tells us how the dish should behave. This is not a dessert. It is a savory greens pottage with just enough sweetness to soften the almond milk and greens. Too much honey would push it out of balance.

The final texture should be spoonable and rich. It can be loose enough to serve as a pottage, or thicker and more like creamed greens. If serving as part of a feast course, I prefer it thick enough to hold together on the plate without becoming stiff.

Texture Note: Medieval pottages were not always thin soups. This dish can be served as a soft pottage, a thickened greens dish, or a first-course accompaniment. The rice flour controls where it lands.

Why Boil the Greens First?

This step is easy to overlook, but it matters.

The manuscript tells the cook to boil the greens in water until soft, then bruise and dry them as much as possible before chopping. This removes some bitterness, softens tough leaves, and prevents the finished almond milk pottage from becoming watery.

That step also makes the final dish easier to control. Instead of trying to cook raw greens directly in almond milk, the cook begins with prepared greens and then enriches them. It is a practical medieval kitchen technique, and it still works.

Whyte Wortes: Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk

Serves: 8 as a first-course pottage or side dish

Ingredients

  • 1 1/2 pounds (680 g) sturdy greens such as kale, cabbage, collards, mustard greens, turnip greens, or mixed wortes
  • 2 to 3 cups (480 to 720 ml) plain unsweetened almond milk, preferably homemade or rich almond milk
  • 1 to 2 tablespoons rice flour, or up to 3 tablespoons for a thicker feast-service version
  • 1 to 2 teaspoons honey, or to taste
  • Pinch of saffron
  • Salt, to taste

Method

  1. Wash the greens well. Remove tough stems if needed.
  2. Bring a large pot of clean water to a boil. Add the greens and boil until they are soft, about 8 to 12 minutes depending on the greens used.
  3. Lift the greens from the water and drain well. Press them in a clean towel to remove as much water as possible.
  4. Bruise or press the drained greens on a board, then chop them small.
  5. Place the chopped greens in a clean pot and sprinkle with the rice flour. Stir to coat the greens evenly.
  6. Add the almond milk gradually, stirring well to prevent lumps. Start with 2 cups (480 ml) for a thicker dish and add more as needed for a softer pottage.
  7. Add the saffron, a small amount of honey, and salt.
  8. Cook gently over medium-low heat, stirring often, until the almond milk thickens and the greens are coated in a soft sauce.
  9. Taste and adjust salt and honey. The dish should be gently sweet, not dessert-sweet.
  10. Serve warm as a pottage or thickened greens dish.

Modern Kitchen Notes

For a manuscript-first texture: Use 1 to 2 tablespoons rice flour and enough almond milk to create a soft, spoonable pottage.

For a thicker feast-service dish: Use up to 3 tablespoons rice flour and cook gently until the almond milk thickens enough to coat the greens.

For a looser pottage: Use less rice flour or add more almond milk.

For a vegan version: Replace the honey with sugar or leave it out. The almond milk base is already dairy-free.

For a nut-free version: This recipe depends on almond milk, so a nut-free version is a modern adaptation rather than a manuscript-first reconstruction. Oat milk or rice milk can work as substitutes, though the flavor will change.

For feast service: The greens can be boiled, pressed, chopped, and refrigerated earlier in the day. Finish the dish with almond milk and rice flour shortly before service.

Why This Is a Good Feast Dish

One of the reasons I like Whyte Wortes for feast service is that it solves several practical problems at once. It is meatless, dairy-free, inexpensive, and surprisingly satisfying. The greens can be cooked and pressed ahead of time, while the almond milk and rice flour finish quickly before service.

It also offers a useful contrast on the table. Beside fish, bread, eggs, or sharper sauces, this dish brings softness and richness without relying on butter, cream, or cheese. That makes it especially useful for first courses, fasting menus, or mixed tables where some diners need meatless options.

How I Would Serve It

Whyte Wortes belongs beautifully in a first course. It is rich enough to feel satisfying, but not so heavy that it overwhelms the table. I would serve it with bread, fish, eggs, or other greens dishes from Harleian MS 279.

It would also work well beside tench prepared one of three ways, fresh bread, simple egg dishes, or a mild cheese.

Feast Planning Note: This is an excellent meatless dish for a feast. It is economical, scalable, and more appealing than many modern diners expect from cabbage or kale. The almond milk makes it feel rich without using dairy cream.

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

In medieval dietary thought, greens were often treated as cooling and moistening. Almonds were nourishing and rich, while rice flour helped bind and steady the dish. Saffron added warmth and fragrance. Honey softened bitterness but was used carefully so that the dish would not become too sweet.

Read this way, Whyte Wortes balances green, soft, moist ingredients with aromatic warmth and gentle sweetness. It is not simply cabbage in almond milk. It is a carefully managed pottage where texture, richness, and balance matter.

The first boiling of the greens helps tame bitterness and excess moisture. The almond milk then rebuilds the dish into something richer and more polished. That two-step movement, first plain water, then almond milk, is part of what makes the recipe work.

Frequently Asked Questions

What are Whyte Wortes?

Whyte Wortes are a 15th-century medieval greens pottage from Harleian MS 279. Greens are boiled, pressed dry, chopped, and cooked with almond milk, rice flour, honey, saffron, and salt.

Why are they called white wortes?

The “white” likely refers to the almond milk and rice flour base rather than the greens themselves. Saffron may tint the dish golden.

What greens should I use?

Use sturdy greens such as cabbage, kale, collards, mustard greens, turnip greens, or mixed pot herbs. Softer greens such as spinach, chard, sorrel, or parsley can be added in smaller amounts.

Is this recipe vegan?

The manuscript uses almond milk and no dairy or eggs. To make it vegan by modern standards, replace the honey with sugar or omit it.

Can I use store-bought almond milk?

Yes, but use plain unsweetened almond milk. Homemade almond milk or a richer almond milk gives a better texture and flavor.

Why does the recipe use almond milk instead of dairy milk?

Almond milk was common in medieval cooking because it was useful for fasting days, could be made from stored almonds, and enriched dishes without relying on fresh dairy. Fresh animal milk spoiled quickly without refrigeration, while almonds were easier to keep and prepare as needed.

Can I use spinach?

Yes, but spinach cooks down quickly and releases a lot of water. Sturdier greens such as kale, collards, cabbage, or mustard greens are closer to the spirit of the recipe.

Is this a pottage or a side dish?

It can be either. With more almond milk, it reads as a soft pottage. Cooked thicker, it becomes a creamed greens dish suitable as a side or first-course accompaniment.

Is this a Lenten dish?

It fits well with Lenten or fasting cookery because it uses almond milk rather than dairy milk and contains no meat or eggs. Replace the honey if following a stricter modern vegan interpretation.

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

Final Thought: I understand why my teenage taste testers were suspicious of this dish. Cabbage, kale, almond milk, and rice flour do not sound exciting to a modern audience. But this is one of those medieval recipes that proves how much good cooking can happen with humble ingredients. Boil the greens well, press them dry, thicken the almond milk gently, and the result is far better than expected.

Would you serve Whyte Wortes as a soft pottage, or as thick creamed greens beside the rest of the first course?

Hidden tags: Whyte Wortes, Whyte Wortys, Harleian MS 279, medieval greens recipe, medieval almond milk recipe, almond milk pottage, vegan medieval recipe, vegetarian medieval recipe, Lenten recipe, fasting food, wortes, wortys, pottage, medieval pottage, creamed greens, saffron, rice flour, almond milk, 15th century English cookery, manuscript cookery, pot herbs, Fromond List, historical food research

Medieval Braised Greens with Peas | Lange Wortys de Pesoun (Harleian MS 279, c.1430)

Originally published December 13, 2015. Updated June 12, 2026 with revised interpretation notes, manuscript-first cooking guidance, modern substitutions, recipe schema, and additional historical context.

AI-assisted formatting and editing note: This article was updated with the assistance of ChatGPT for organization, grammar, HTML formatting, and checklist review. Historical interpretation, recipe judgment, cooking experience, and final editorial decisions are my own.

Medieval Braised Greens with Peas | Lange Wortys de Pesoun

One of the unexpected gifts of keeping a historical cooking blog for many years is the chance to return to earlier work with better tools, more experience, and kinder eyes.

When I first interpreted Lange Wortys de Pesoun in 2015, I was still learning how slippery medieval recipe categories can be. If something was cooked in a pot, I tended to think of it as soup. That made sense at the time. Many medieval recipes do live somewhere near the broad family of pottages, broths, sewes, bruets, and spoonable dishes.

But after more years of cooking from manuscripts, I have learned that a pot does not always mean soup.

Sometimes it means a thick pottage. Sometimes it means a braised vegetable dish. Sometimes it means greens lightly coated in a drawn pea broth. Sometimes, wonderfully, it can be all of those things depending on how much liquid the cook chooses to leave in the pot.

Lange Wortys de Pesoun, from Harleian MS 279, is one of those flexible dishes. It can be served brothy as a first-course pottage, especially with bread, or cooked down into a softer braised greens dish to accompany fish, eggs, cheese, bread, or a larger medieval meal.

Either way, it is lovely.

Lange Wortys de Pesoun, medieval braised greens with peas from Harleian MS 279
Lange Wortys de Pesoun, a 15th-century dish of greens, peas, onion, saffron, and broth from Harleian MS 279.

A Note from My 2015 Kitchen: My first version of this dish used beef broth because that was what I had made and had available in the kitchen. Today, reading the manuscript more closely, I would treat oil or fresh fish broth as the manuscript-first choices. Vegetable stock also makes a useful modern substitution, especially for a vegan or vegetarian table.

That earlier version was still delicious, but this update brings the interpretation closer to the wording of the original recipe.

The Original Recipe

The recipe appears in Thomas Austin’s edition of Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books, from Harleian MS 279, dated to about 1430.

.ij. Lange Wortes de pesoun.—Take grene pesyn, an washe hem clene an caste hem on a potte, an boyle hem tyl þey breste, an þanne take hem vppe of þe potte, an put hem with brothe yn a-noþer potte, and lete hem kele; þan draw hem þorw a straynowre in-to a fayre potte, an þan take oynonys, and screde hem in to or þre, an take hole wortys and boyle hem in fayre water: and take hem vppe, an ley hem on a fayre bord, an cytte on .iij. or iiij., an ley hem to þe oynonys in þe potte, to þe drawyd pesyn; an let hem boyle tyl þey ben tendyr; an þanne tak fayre oyle and frye hem, or ellys sum fresche broþe of sum maner fresche fysshe, an caste þer-to, an Safron, an salt a quantyte, and serue it forth.

A Working Translation

Take green peas, wash them clean, and put them in a pot. Boil them until they burst. Then take them from the pot, put them with broth in another pot, and let them cool. Draw them through a strainer into a clean pot. Then take onions and cut them into two or three pieces. Take whole wortes and boil them in clean water. Lift them out, lay them on a clean board, and cut them into three or four pieces. Add them to the onions in the pot with the strained peas. Let them boil until tender. Then take good oil and fry them, or else add fresh broth from some kind of fresh fish. Add saffron and salt in quantity, and serve it forth.

Manuscript Interpretation Note: The recipe does not begin with chopped frozen vegetables and a modern stock cube. It begins with fresh green peas cooked until they burst, strained into a pea broth or purée, whole greens cooked separately, onions cut in large pieces, and a final enrichment with either good oil or fresh fish broth.

What Are Wortys?

Wortys, or wortes, refers broadly to edible greens, especially members of the cabbage and brassica family. For this recipe, kale, collards, cabbage leaves, mustard greens, or similar sturdy greens are more faithful choices than tender spinach or chard.

The manuscript tells the cook to boil the greens whole, lay them on a board, and cut them into three or four pieces. That suggests a dish with soft, recognizable pieces of greens rather than finely chopped greens dissolved into soup.

This is one of the reasons I now read the dish as sitting between pottage and braise.

Why So Many Greens?

Greens appear frequently in medieval cooking because they were practical, nourishing, and widely available. Cabbage-family plants, leafy greens, and garden herbs could fill out a meal without requiring expensive ingredients. They were useful in household cooking, feast kitchens, fasting meals, and first-course dishes.

They also gave medieval cooks enormous flexibility. Greens could be boiled, chopped, braised, strained, enriched with broth, dressed with oil, colored with saffron, sharpened with vinegar, or thickened into a pottage. In manuscript cookery, wortes are not merely background vegetables. They are part of a larger system of economical, seasonal, and adaptable cooking.

Peas in the Medieval Kitchen

Peas are among the oldest cultivated foods, and they were familiar in Europe long before Harleian MS 279 was copied. Roman cookery includes recipes for peas, and medieval cooks inherited a long tradition of using both fresh and dried legumes.

By the Middle Ages, peas were not exotic. They were useful food. Dried peas could be stored and cooked into thick pottages during leaner seasons, while fresh green peas belonged more naturally to spring and early summer tables. That matters for this recipe because the manuscript calls for grene pesyn, or green peas.

Modern readers may picture bright, sweet garden peas. Medieval peas were probably not exactly the same as the tender frozen peas in our grocery stores. Many period peas were field peas: starchier, earthier, and often better suited for drying, boiling, and thickening. Fresh peas were certainly known, but the sweetness and tenderness of many modern varieties are the result of later selection.

Modern Pea Note: Frozen English peas are the easiest modern substitute and work very well. Marrowfat peas give a starchier, earthier result that may feel closer to older field peas. Split peas can be used in a pinch, but they make a thicker pea pottage and change the texture of the dish.

Peas, Pottage, and Texture

The peas are not simply tossed into the pot as a vegetable. They are boiled until they burst, cooled with broth, and drawn through a strainer. This creates a soft pea base that thickens and flavors the dish.

Fresh peas would make this a natural spring or early summer dish. Dried peas could also be used, though they require longer soaking and cooking. Either way, the peas provide body, sweetness, and substance.

In 2015, I treated this as a soup, and it works beautifully that way. With extra liquid, Lange Wortys de Pesoun becomes a comforting first-course pottage. With less liquid, it becomes braised greens in a pea-rich sauce.

That flexibility is part of its charm.

Oil, Fish Broth, and Fasting Food

The final instruction gives two options: use good oil, or else add fresh broth made from fresh fish.

That detail matters. It places the recipe comfortably within the world of medieval fasting and fish-day cookery. It can be made without meat broth, without dairy, and without eggs. With oil, it becomes fully vegan by modern standards. With fish broth, it remains appropriate for many medieval fast-day tables while adding depth and savor.

Modern Kitchen Choice: For a manuscript-first version, use olive oil or a light fish broth. For a vegetarian or vegan version, use olive oil and vegetable stock. Beef broth or chicken broth will make a delicious dish, but those are modern substitutions rather than the strongest reading of this specific recipe.

Lange Wortys de Pesoun: Medieval Greens with Peas

Serves: 8 as a first-course pottage or side dish

Ingredients

  • 2 cups (280 g) fresh or frozen green peas
  • 2 cups (480 ml) light fish broth, vegetable stock, or water, plus more as needed
  • 1 large onion, peeled and cut into halves or thirds
  • 1 1/2 pounds (680 g) sturdy greens such as kale, collards, cabbage leaves, or mustard greens
  • 2 to 3 tablespoons olive oil, or additional fresh fish broth
  • Pinch of saffron
  • Salt, to taste

Method

  1. Place the peas in a pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook until the peas are very soft and beginning to burst.
  2. Drain the peas, then combine them with 1 cup (240 ml) of the broth, stock, or water. Let them cool slightly.
  3. Mash the peas well or blend briefly. Press them through a strainer for a smoother medieval-style drawn pea base.
  4. Bring a separate pot of clean water to a boil. Add the whole greens and cook until softened.
  5. Lift the greens from the water, drain well, and lay them on a board. Cut them into three or four large pieces.
  6. Place the strained peas in a clean pot. Add the onion pieces and enough broth, stock, or water to make a thick pottage or loose sauce.
  7. Add the cooked greens. Simmer until the onions and greens are tender.
  8. Stir in the olive oil, or add fresh fish broth if using that option. Add saffron and salt to taste.
  9. Serve warm. Leave it brothy for a pottage, or cook it down slightly for a braised greens dish.

Modern Kitchen Notes

For a brothy pottage: Add more liquid and serve with bread. This version works well as a first-course dish.

For braised greens: Use less liquid and cook the dish gently until the pea base lightly coats the greens.

For a vegan version: Use olive oil and vegetable stock or water.

For a fish-day version: Use a light fresh fish broth. Avoid a broth that is too strong or oily, since the greens and peas are delicate.

For dried peas: Soak dried green or marrowfat peas overnight, then cook until very soft before straining. The cooking time will be much longer than with fresh or frozen peas.

For softer greens: Spinach or chard may be used in a modern kitchen, but they cook down quickly and do not behave quite like sturdier medieval wortes.

How I Would Serve It

This dish belongs beautifully in a first course. It can sit beside bread, fish, eggs, or mild cheese. For a feast table, I would serve it in a broad dish with enough pea broth to keep it moist, but not so much that the greens disappear into soup.

For a spring-inspired first course, I can imagine Lange Wortys de Pesoun served with a light fish dish such as tench prepared one of three ways, fresh bread for sopping, simple egg dishes, and a mild cheese.

That gives the table variety without heaviness: greens, peas, fish, bread, eggs, and cheese. It is simple, seasonal, and very satisfying.

Feast Planning Note: This is an economical first-course dish. Peas and greens stretch well, the recipe can be made meatless, and the final texture can be adjusted depending on the rest of the menu. Serve it looser if the course needs a pottage, or thicker if you need a vegetable accompaniment.

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

Medieval medical and dietary thought often understood foods through qualities such as hot, cold, moist, and dry. Greens were often treated as cooling and moistening. Peas added substance and nourishment, but could also be considered heavy if not well cooked. Onion brought warmth. Saffron was warming and aromatic. Oil added richness and moisture, while fish broth made the dish more savory without turning it into a meat-day preparation.

Read this way, Lange Wortys de Pesoun is not merely greens and peas in a pot. It is a balanced preparation: green, soft, nourishing, lightly sweet, gently aromatic, and suitable for a fasting or first-course table.

The long cooking and straining of the peas also matters. It softens what might otherwise be a coarse legume and turns it into a gentle base for the greens. The saffron and onion lift the dish from plain boiled vegetables into something warmer, more fragrant, and more feast-worthy.

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Lange Wortys de Pesoun a soup?

It can be served as a soup-like pottage, especially if more broth is added. The manuscript also supports a thicker braised interpretation, where the strained peas coat the greens rather than surrounding them with liquid.

What does “wortys” mean?

Wortys, or wortes, refers to edible greens. In this recipe, sturdy brassica greens such as kale, collards, cabbage leaves, or mustard greens are good choices.

What kind of peas should I use?

Fresh peas are closest to the wording of the recipe, but frozen English peas are the easiest modern substitute. Marrowfat peas give a starchier result. Split peas can be used, but they will make the dish thicker and closer to pea pottage.

Should this recipe use beef broth?

The manuscript specifies good oil or fresh fish broth. Beef broth can make a tasty modern version, and I used it in my earlier interpretation because I had homemade beef broth available, but it is not the manuscript-first choice.

Can this be made vegan?

Yes. Use olive oil and vegetable stock or water. The oil option in the manuscript makes this one of the easier Harleian recipes to adapt for a vegan table.

Can I use frozen peas?

Yes. Frozen peas are an excellent modern substitute for fresh green peas. Cook them until soft, then mash or blend and strain them to create the pea base.

Is this a Lenten dish?

It fits comfortably with Lenten or fasting food because it can be made with oil or fish broth rather than meat broth, dairy, or eggs.

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

Final Thought: Revisiting this recipe reminded me why old posts are worth preserving and updating. My 2015 version captured the pleasure of the dish. My 2026 reading understands the manuscript more carefully. Between the two is the real work of historical cooking: learning, cooking, returning, and learning again.

Would you serve Lange Wortys de Pesoun as a brothy first-course pottage, or as braised greens beside the rest of the meal?

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