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

Medieval Braised Greens in Beef Broth - Lange Wortys de Chare

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

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

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

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

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

What Is Lange Wortys de Chare?

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

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

Why Did Medieval Cooks Boil Greens Twice?

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

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

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

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

Caboges and Lange Wortys: Cousins in the Pot

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

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

What Greens Can You Use?

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

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

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

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

Why Add Bread to Braised Greens?

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

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

Why This Dish Belongs at a Feast

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

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

Greens and Humoral Balance in the Medieval Kitchen

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

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

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

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

Historic Recipe

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

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

Modern Translation

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

Modern Recipe Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

A humble dish of cabbage can still surprise you.

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

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

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

What Are Caboges?

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

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

Why Was This Medieval Cabbage Recipe Fit for a Feast?

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

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

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

How Would Caboges Have Been Served?

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

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

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

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

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

Why Does the Recipe Offer Bread or Meat Gruel?

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

Why Do the Marrow Bones Matter?

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

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

Cabbage in Medieval Food Philosophy

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

Historic Recipe

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

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

Modern Translation

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

Modern Recipe Notes

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

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

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

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

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

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

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

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

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

Dent-de-Lion: Medieval Dandelion Recipes (Buttered Wortes & Joutes)

Dent-de-Lion: The Dandelion in Medieval Cuisine (Buttered Wortes & Joutes)

Dent-de-Lion: The Dandelion in Medieval Cuisine

“What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.”
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Originally published May 22, 2015 | Updated June 5, 2026

Updated 6/5/2026: This post has been expanded to current Give It Forth standards with additional historical context, medieval herb use, Harleian MS. 279 interpretation, foraging safety notes, humoral discussion, feast applications, FAQ, and structured recipe data.

Family: Asteraceae
Usage: Culinary, Medicinal
Common names: Dandelion, dent-de-lion, lion’s tooth, blowball, cankerwort, priest’s crown, wild endive

What is dent-de-lion? Dent-de-lion, “lion’s tooth,” is an old French name for the dandelion, referring to the toothed shape of its leaves. In medieval and early modern foodways, dandelion was valued as both a bitter spring green and a useful medicinal herb.

Before dandelions became lawn enemies, they were supper.

Medieval cooks gathered a far wider variety of greens than most of us eat today, and among them was the humble dandelion, known in French as dent-de-lion, or “lion’s tooth,” for the jagged shape of its leaves. Long before people cursed them in tidy lawns, dandelions were gathered deliberately for the kitchen, the physic garden, and the stillroom.

Whether called blowball, lion’s tooth, cankerwort, priest’s crown, or wild endive, the dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) appears in culinary and medicinal traditions stretching through Arabic, Greek, Welsh, French, and later English sources. Europeans intentionally carried dandelions to North America, likely as early as the colonial period, for use as a potherb, medicinal plant, and valuable forage for bees.

In medieval cookery, bitter greens mattered. After long winters and preserved foods, spring herbs and fresh leaves brought color, nourishment, and welcome sharpness back to the table. Dandelions, with their pleasantly bitter leaves and edible flowers, fit naturally into pottages, salads, herb mixtures, and cooked greens.

Dandelion as Food and Medicine

The boundary between food and medicine was not always firm in medieval and early modern households. A useful plant might appear as a salad herb, a boiled green, a tonic, a cooling preparation, or part of a compound medicine. Dandelion belongs in that overlap. Its leaves are edible, its flowers are useful, and its roots appear repeatedly in medicinal traditions.

Historical texts show the dandelion’s importance across several centuries:

• 1562 – Bullein’s Bulwarke: Dandelions mixed with roses and vinegar were described as cooling and useful against excess heat.
• 1587 – The Good Husvvifes Iewell: Dandelion roots appear in a preparation for tissick, or lung complaints.
• 1629 – Parkinson’s Paradisi in Sole: Dandelion is noted among plants used in compound medicines, especially those concerned with cleansing and liver complaints.

That medical reputation helps explain why the plant remained useful. Bitter herbs were valued not only for flavor, but also for what they were believed to do in the body. Dandelion’s bitterness made it part of the wider world of spring greens, cleansing herbs, and plants used to restore balance after winter’s heavier foods.

⚖️ Humoral note: Later medieval and early modern herbals often understood bitter greens through the language of cooling, cleansing, and correcting excess heat or heaviness. Dandelion’s sharp, bitter leaves fit comfortably into this logic, especially as a spring green eaten after the preserved and salted foods of winter.

Medieval Greens at the Table

Medieval people ate a much wider range of greens than many modern households. The word “wortes” could refer broadly to edible herbs, greens, and vegetable matter cooked together. A medieval cook did not need a single fixed mixture. The recipe depended on the season, garden, market, and what could be gathered.

Dandelion leaves are especially plausible in this world of flexible greens. Young leaves are tender and less bitter. Older leaves are stronger and better suited to cooking. Like sorrel, nettles, beet greens, cabbage leaves, leeks, parsley, and other potherbs, dandelion could be used where a recipe called for “good herbs” rather than a fixed list.

This matters because medieval recipes often assume a cook who already understands the kitchen. They do not always specify every plant, measurement, or timing. Instead, they offer a method: gather good greens, boil them, season them, enrich them, and serve them with bread.

Buttered Wortes from Harleian MS. 279

One of the best places to see this flexible medieval approach is Buttered Wortes from Harleian MS. 279, a fifteenth-century English cookery manuscript.

Original Recipe:
“Take al maner of good herbes that thou may gete... putte hem on fire with faire water; put þer-to clarefied buttur a grete quantite. Whan thei ben boyled ynogh, salt hem... Dise brede small in disshes, and powr on the wortes, and serue hem forth.”

The phrase “all manner of good herbs that thou may get” is the heart of the recipe. It gives the cook permission, and perhaps an expectation, to use what is available. Dandelion does not need to be named specifically to fit the dish. It belongs to the same family of edible, seasonal greens a medieval cook might gather, especially in spring.

The method is simple but effective. Greens are boiled in clean water, enriched with clarified butter, salted, and served with diced bread. The bread matters. It turns a pot of greens into a filling dish, catching the buttery cooking liquid and making the pottage more substantial.

🌿 Medieval kitchen note: Buttered Wortes is not a single-vegetable recipe. It is a method for seasonal greens. Dandelion can be one part of the mixture rather than the entire dish.

Welcome to Give It Forth – Medieval Cooking, Historical Recipes & Manuscript Interpretation

Welcome to Give It Forth – Medieval Cooking, Historical Recipes, and Manuscript Cookery

Originally published in 2015 | Updated June 2026

Welcome to Give It Forth. If you found your way here, I am guessing you have an interest in food, history, old recipes, feast tables, herbs, gardens, or some wonderful combination of all of those things. Pull up a chair. There is usually something simmering.

In the Society for Creative Anachronism, I am known as Mistress Bronwyn ni Mhathain. When this blog began, I was still finding my way through the recipes, feasts, and historical food questions that had captured my imagination. Since then, I have become a Laurel in Cooking Research in the SCA, and I host the Historic Cookery group on Facebook, where cooks, researchers, reenactors, and curious food-history people gather to ask questions, share sources, and puzzle through old recipes together.

Give It Forth began in 2015 as a place to keep track of what I was doing: experiments, feasts, almost-feasts, ideas, gardens, herblore, herbcraft, and my ongoing attempts to make historical recipes understandable for modern cooks. Over the years, it has grown into a long-running historical cookery project focused on medieval recipes, early historical foodways, manuscript interpretation, feast planning, redactions, and practical cooking for real kitchens and real events.

Where This Project Began

I learned to cook with my grandmother and my mom. That matters, because this project has always lived somewhere between the kitchen table and the manuscript page. It is research, yes, but it is also memory, practice, curiosity, and the stubborn belief that old recipes deserve to be cooked, tasted, questioned, and shared.

One of the central texts behind this blog is 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 book was the last book my mom gave to me before she passed. She had helped me when I was creating feasts in my earliest years in the SCA, and we had wanted to work through these recipes together. At the time, neither of us was able to interpret them confidently.

Give It Forth became, in part, my way of continuing that work.

Why the name Give It Forth? Historical recipes do not truly come alive until they are tested, tasted, shared, and discussed. This blog is about taking what survives in manuscripts and early printed books, working through it in a modern kitchen, and giving it forth again.

What You Will Find Here

This blog is not only a recipe collection. It is a working notebook, feast archive, research cabinet, kitchen diary, and historical rabbit hole with crumbs in the margins.

Here you will find:

• Medieval and early historical recipes translated, interpreted, and adapted for modern kitchens.
• Harleian MS 279 and other manuscript cookery projects with attention to wording, ingredients, method, and context.
• SCA feast planning and feast documentation including menus, service notes, scaling, and lessons learned.
• Ancient, medieval, Tudor, Renaissance, and early modern foodways explored through practical cooking.
• Herbs, gardens, and seasonal food preservation because the kitchen does not begin at the stove.
• Camp and event cooking notes for people trying to serve historical food under less-than-perfect conditions.

Research, Redaction, and Real Food

My goal is to make historical recipes approachable without flattening them into modern food with old-fashioned names. A good redaction should ask what the source says, what the words meant, what ingredients were likely intended, what techniques were available, and how a modern cook can responsibly bring that dish to the table.

Sometimes that means keeping a dish simple. Sometimes it means admitting uncertainty. Sometimes it means revisiting an older interpretation and saying, “I would do this differently now.” That is not failure. That is how living research works.

Historical cooking is full of small mysteries: a verb that could mean more than one thing, a spice mixture that shifts by source, a manuscript recipe with no measurements, a dish that makes sense only when placed back into its course or feast setting. Those are the puzzles I love.

📜 Manuscript cookery note: Many medieval recipes are instructions written for cooks who already knew the kitchen. They often omit quantities, temperatures, and detailed steps. The work of redaction is not just translation. It is interpretation, testing, and practical judgment.

For Cooks, Researchers, and the Historically Curious

Whether you are an SCA cook planning a feast, a home cook curious about medieval food, a reenactor looking for practical dishes, a gardener interested in herbs, or a researcher chasing down one stubborn ingredient, I hope you find something useful here.

I try to write for the person standing between a source text and a cutting board. That means I care about historical context, but I also care about whether the dish can be cooked, served, transported, scaled, and eaten by real people.

Some posts are polished recipes. Some are feast records. Some are experiments. Some are old posts being revisited with better tools, better sources, and a few more years of cooking behind me. The archive is part research trail, part kitchen road map, and part invitation.

A Note of Thanks

I am still pleasantly surprised by how this blog has grown. To those who have subscribed, shared interpretations, cooked from the recipes, asked questions, pointed me toward sources, or helped make this project better: thank you.

Give It Forth began as a personal project, but it has become a community-facing one. Every question, feast, class, conversation, correction, and kitchen experiment has helped shape it.

Here is to the next chapter, the next manuscript puzzle, the next feast table, and the next dish worth giving forth.

Enjoy!

Yonnie

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You may enjoy starting with these areas of the blog:

• Start Here: Historical Recipes for the Modern Cook
• Harleian MS. 279 (ab 1430)
• Browse Recipes by Era
• Feast Planning Resources and Downloads
• Historical Herbal and Culinary Resources

AI Assistance Disclosure: This updated introduction was revised with the help of AI tools for structure, clarity, formatting, and SEO support. The personal history, research direction, historical interpretation, and final editorial choices are by the author of Give It Forth.

Applade Ryalle: Medieval Apple Soup from Harleian MS. 279

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

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

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

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

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

Pork Custard (Charlette) – Medieval Meat-and-Milk Dish from Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430)

“.lvj. Charlette” – Pork Custard, Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430)Photo: Give It Forth

Originally published 1/16/2017 Updated 10/31/2025

Among the most puzzling entries in Harleian MS. 279 is “.lvj. Charlette” — a firm, sliceable custard of milk, pork or veal, eggs, and ale. It sits at the edge of pudding, cheese, and meat pie: a now-rare style sometimes dubbed a “hard custard.”

The name is often glossed as “meat-milk” (with char “flesh/meat” and –lette “milk”), and similar “milk-meat” recipes turn up in The Forme of Cury and A Noble Boke off Cookry. Medieval diners would have found it robust and nourishing; to modern eyes it can look… challenging. But as a piece of culinary archaeology, it’s priceless.

🥕 Dietary notes: contains meat & dairy; not vegetarian. Gluten-free if using GF ale. Try a mushroom variant for testing.

Lost Techniques Spotlight: Curds-by-Ale & the “Hard Custard” Family

• Ale-curdling, not sweet-setting: Here, hot milk is curdled by adding beaten eggs and a little ale as the acid; the eggs help bind fine curds around minced meat.
• Kin to egg-cheese & posset: The method sits between fresh cheese (acid + heat) and early egg-thickened drinks (posset). Pressing the curds overnight makes a sliceable loaf.
• Savory custards fade: By the 16th–17th c., European tastes shift toward sweet, cream-based, gently baked custards. Savory “hard custards” like charlette mostly vanish.
• Service tip: Medieval directions say to press the loaf and reheat slices in hot broth. This keeps texture tender and adds flavor.

Feast planning: Make a day ahead so it presses and chills fully. Slice cold; reheat in beef or capon broth at service.

Capon Farced – Medieval Chicken Stuffed with Sausage, Onions & Grapes (Harleian MS 279, 1430 | Baronial Twelfth Night Feast)

Twelfth Night Feast: Spatchcocked roast chicken with “farce” balls and giussel, plus pickled blueberries (a barberry stand-in).

Originally published 12/31/202 Updated 10/30/2025 

Capon Farced (stuffed capon) is a showpiece bird from Harleian MS. 279 (c. 1430): parsley and suet are parboiled, then mixed with hard-boiled egg, spices, and fruit (grapes “in time of year,” or onions), sometimes with minced pork, to stuff and roast the bird. For our Baronial Twelfth Night Feast, I adapted the recipe using a modern spatchcock roast and served the farce as sausage balls on the side for even cooking and speed at scale.

Feast Course	Companions on the Table
Second Course — Highlight	Capon Farced (this dish), Guissell, Pickle for the Mallard, Roasted Chestnuts, Turnips & Sage, Pickled Barberries

🌟 Explore the full menu: Baronial Twelfth Night Feast Hub

Humoral Balance & Kitchen Technique

In medieval dietetics, poultry was considered warm and moist—suitable to winter. Sweet fruit and fragrant spices (ginger, cinnamon, cloves—optionally saffron) moderated the richness of suet and meat. Historically, stuffing kept birds moist at a hearth; for modern feast service, spatchcocking (removing the backbone to flatten the bird) ensures fast, even roasting and crisp skin without drying the meat.

How to Spatchcock (Butterfly) a Chicken

With sturdy kitchen shears, cut along both sides of the backbone (around the “parson’s nose”) and remove it. Flip the bird breast-side up and press firmly over the breastbone until it lies flat. It’s easiest when slightly firmed from the chill; expect a few crunches—normal!

Gyngaudre – A Medieval Fish Liver Stew (Harleian MS. 279, c. 1430)

Gyngaudre – Medieval Fish Liver Stew from Harleian MS. 279 (c. 1430)

Originally published July 2015 · Updated October 28, 2025

Illustration from The Book of Wonders of the Age (St Andrews ms32).

Fish in the Medieval Diet: During the Middle Ages, fish was an essential protein for both the pious and the practical. Church fasting rules forbade meat from warm-blooded animals on Fridays, during Lent, and other holy seasons—amounting to nearly one-third of the year. Preserved and freshwater fish therefore became dietary staples across all social classes, and creative dishes like Gyngaudre ensured nothing was wasted.

Context & Historical Background

Gyngaudre (sometimes written Jingandre or Gyngawdre) is a rare entry in Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430), one of the great English culinary manuscripts of the 15th century. It appears alongside many Lenten and fasting-day recipes, where fish replaces red meat or poultry. The dish is a rich fish-liver stew, thickened and sharpened with wine, vinegar, saffron, and pepper.

Offal dishes—especially those made with liver and roe—were prized for their perceived nourishment and humoral warmth. According to medieval dietetic theory, liver was considered “hot and moist,” believed to restore vitality and promote sanguine balance. Fish livers, particularly from eel or cod, were thought especially rich in essence and restorative for those weakened by fasting.

Modern readers may balk at the idea of fish offal, but in its day this would have been a luxurious and economical dish—making use of every edible part of valuable seafood during Lent or “fish days.” Today, cod liver remains a delicacy in parts of Northern Europe, often canned in its own oil.

About the Source

Harleian MS. 279 is one of two major medieval English cookbooks compiled for upper households in the early 15th century (the other being Harleian MS. 4016). Its recipes show a transition between heavily spiced, sauce-rich medieval fare and the more refined early Tudor palate. “Gyngaudre” reflects that shift—spiced, fragrant, but comparatively simple.

What Is a “Fish Pouch”?

The manuscript calls for “the Pouches and the Lyuerys.” The term pouch may refer to the roe sac, as in “fish pouch of eggs,” or possibly a scribal error for “paunch”—meaning belly. Both interpretations fit a recipe focusing on rich internal organs. For modern cooks, roe or belly meat are both acceptable substitutes.

Modern Safety Note

While medieval cooks used offal liberally, modern dietary safety recommends avoiding fish livers from unknown sources due to possible toxin accumulation. If you wish to attempt this dish, use clean, cold-water species and ensure all organs come from a safe, traceable source. Alternatively, substitute filleted fish and roe for a milder and safer experience.

Bruet of Almayne (Spiced Wine Broth) — Harleian MS 279 (c. 1430)

Detail from the Banquet du Paon (Chroniques de Hainaut, c. 1447–48) — feasts like these inspired Russell’s Dynere of Flesche.

In John Russell’s Dynere of Flesche, a “pottage of spice and wine” appears beside Herbelade as part of the first course. The closest surviving analogue is Bruet of Almayne from Harleian MS 279 (c. 1430): a smooth, aromatic broth of wine, almond milk, and warming spice. Where Herbelade is cool and green, this dish is rich and golden — together balancing the table in taste and humor.

See the full reconstructed menu here: A Dynere of Flesche — John Russell’s 15th-Century Menu.

What “Bruet” means: from Old French bruir, “to boil” or “brew.” In medieval English cookery, a bruet was a seasoned sauce or broth — rich, spiced, and served as an early-course pottage or accompaniment to meats.

Why “of Almayne”? Almayne = Germany. Late-medieval English kitchens borrowed Central European taste for wine-forward, spice-laden sauces. This “German-style” bruet showcases almond milk, white wine, and warming spices (ginger, galingale, cinnamon, cloves, mace), yielding a golden, aromatic pottage.

Spice Note – Galingale vs. Ginger: Galingale (or galangal) was a favorite medieval spice imported from the East Indies, resembling ginger but sharper and more peppery. English cooks often paired the two — ginger for warmth, galingale for brightness — in “Almayne” and “Lombard” dishes influenced by continental taste. In modern kitchens, you can substitute extra ginger or a touch of cardamom for a similar aromatic lift.

Original Text — Harleian MS 279 (EETS 1888 p. 23)

Bruet of Almayne. Take Almonde mylke and Wyne, and drawe it with powder of Gyngere, of Galyngale, of Canelle, of Clowys, and of Maces, and let hit boyle; and take brawne of Capoun or Hennys, and small cutte, and cast therto; and when hit is boyled, then serve hit forth.

Modern English Rendering

Take almond milk and wine, and blend it with powders of ginger, galingale, cinnamon, cloves, and mace. Bring it to a boil. Add diced cooked capon or chicken, simmer briefly, and serve hot.

Modern Recipe (Tested Redaction)

Yield: 6–8 servings • Time: ~25 min

• 2 cups almond milk
• 1 cup white wine
• 1 ½ cups cooked chicken or capon, diced small (optional for pottage)
• ¼ tsp each ground ginger, cinnamon, cloves, galingale (or nutmeg), and mace
• Pinch saffron (optional for color)
• 1–2 tsp sugar (optional, period-accurate)
• Salt to taste

1. Heat almond milk and wine together over gentle flame.
2. Add spices, saffron, and sugar; stir well.
3. Add diced chicken if using; simmer 10–15 minutes until fragrant.
4. Season with salt and serve warm as a lightly thickened broth.

Flavor profile: warm, spiced, subtly sweet — the golden mirror to Herbelade’s green herb pottage.

Brawn of Swyne / Brawn with Mustard — Harleian MS 279 vs. Forme of Cury vs. Good Huswife’s Jewel

Period-inspired brawn served cold with sharp mustard — a fifteenth-century English favorite.

Brawn of Swyne / Brawn with Mustard

Last updated: October 10, 2025

This post compares the medieval dish Brawn of Swyne across three sources: Harleian MS 279 (c.1430), Forme of Cury (c.1390), and the late-Tudor The Good Huswife’s Jewel (1585/1596). You’ll find original texts, plain-English renderings, a contrast table, an authenticity explainer for new cooks, and a concise Harleian-leaning modern redaction.

TL;DR: All three sources agree: brawn (boar/pork) is served cold with strong mustard. Harleian 279 uniquely adds a brief wine soak. Forme of Cury is earlier but near-identical. Dawson’s Good Huswife’s Jewel shows the same dish living on in the 16th century.

1) Harleian MS 279 (c.1430) — “Brawn of Swyne”

Middle English: Brawn of Swyne. Take Brawn of Swyne, and seþe hit; and whan hit is y-sothe, pare hit and lay hit in wyne, and serue hit forth with mustard.

Modern rendering: Boil the pork brawn; when cooked, slice/trim it and lay it in wine; serve with mustard.

• Distinctive feature: the quick wine soak before service.
• Service: cold, thin slices with sharp mustard.
• Text: Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books (EETS 1888), p. 25.

2) Forme of Cury (c.1390) — “Brawne of Swyne”

Middle English (abridged): Brawne of Swyne... sethe it and serve it forth with Mustard.

Modern rendering: Boil pork brawn and serve it with mustard (no wine soak specified).

• Text: Forme of Cury (ed. Pegge), p. 95.

3) The Good Huswife’s Jewel (1585/1596) — “Brawn with Mustard”

See my late-Tudor descendant here: Brawn with Mustard (Dawson).

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Compare & Contrast at a Glance

Source	Date	Core Method	Unique Step	Mustard Note
Harleian MS 279	c.1430	Boil → slice → lay in wine → serve cold	Wine soak before service	Rustic wet mustard (seed + wine/vinegar + salt)
Forme of Cury	c.1390	Boil → slice → serve cold	—	Same condiment; simple instruction
Good Huswife’s Jewel	1585/1596	Boil/cure → slice → serve cold	Printed domestic tips; seasonings trend sweeter	Mustard with wine/vinegar; later sugar appears in print culture

What “brawn” really means — and how it was prepared

In period, brawn was cured pork or boar—typically shoulder, neck, or head—put up in salt during autumn for winter feasts. When Harleian says “Take brawn of swyne, and seþe hit,” it assumes the meat is already salted. Boiling softens and reheats the preserved meat for slicing; the wine soak perfumes it; mustard completes the service.

Household records mention both “brawn of boor salte and fresshe” in service. See the Household Ordinances of Edward IV and the Harleian text itself: Harleian MS 279, “Brawn of Swyne”; compare Forme of Cury, “Brawne of Swyne”. A late Tudor descendant appears in The Good Huswife’s Jewel (1585).

1) The basic medieval cure

Plain coarse salt (sometimes a little saltpetre) for a week or more, then gentle boiling and a brief wine soak before service.

2) Aromatic “luxury” cures

Noble kitchens sometimes added peppercorns, cloves, mace, sage, or bay, mirroring salted fish/venison methods: “To Salt Fresh Salmon” and “To Salt Venison” (Harleian MS 279).

3) Preparing brawn today

• If using cured meat: start with unsmoked salt pork, salt-cured ham, or brined shoulder; soak overnight to reduce salt before simmering gently.
• If using fresh pork: a simple brine for 3–5 days under refrigeration (per quart water: 1/4 cup coarse salt, a few peppercorns, 2–3 cloves, 1–2 bay leaves, splash of white wine or vinegar). Rinse, then simmer gently.
• To serve: slice thin, lay briefly in wine (Harleian), and serve cold with sharp mustard.

🕯️ “Lord’s Salt” (optional, elite cure): Some noble households kept a perfumed preserving mix called Lord’s Salt (sal domini): fine salt blended with a little saltpetre and warming spices (pepper, cloves, mace), sometimes with sage or bay. It yields rosy, aromatic brawn for display tables. Ordinary kitchens used plain salt. References: EETS intro (sal domini), Household Ordinances, Liber Cure Cocorum, Boke of Kervynge (1508).

Modern Redaction (Harleian-leaning)

Serves 10–12 as slices with mustard.

• 3–4 lb boneless pork shoulder (or unsmoked salt pork / salt-cured ham; see notes)
• Dry white wine (about 1 bottle; divided: 1 cup for simmering, remainder for brief soak)
• A few whole peppercorns or a pinch of powdour fort; a little salt to taste
• Mustard (period-style): 3 Tbsp mustard seed (coarsely ground), 2–3 Tbsp wine or wine vinegar, pinch of salt

1. If using fresh pork: brine 3–5 days (see explainer). Rinse before cooking.
2. Simmer: Cover meat with water and add 1 cup wine, pepper, and a little salt. Simmer gently until very tender (about 2–3 hours for shoulder; less for cured ham).
3. Chill: Cool and chill under light weight for neat slicing.
4. Slice & soak: Slice thin; lay in a shallow dish with enough wine to scent (10–20 minutes). Drain well.
5. Mustard: Grind mustard seed; wet with wine or vinegar and salt to a thick paste. (For a 16th-c. profile, whisk in a little sugar.)
6. Serve cold with mustard alongside.

🥕 Dietary notes: Naturally gluten-free if mustard ingredients are GF. Contains pork. Substitutions: cured ham or salted beef (period-plausible).

Humoral & Menu Placement

In meat-day first courses (like Russell’s), brawn is a hot & dry food offset by moist wine and mustard. It signals winter plenty and often appears at Christmas or Twelfth Night.

Sources & Editions

• Harleian MS 279 (c.1430), in Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books (EETS, 1888).
• The Forme of Cury (c.1390), ed. Pegge.
• Thomas Dawson, The Good Huswife’s Jewel (1585/1596), Internet Archive.

Labels: Appetizer, Medieval Finger Food, Pork, Feast Planning, Period Techniques, Medieval, Harleian MS 279, Forme of Cury

Balloke Brothe – Medieval Eel Broth (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Balloke Brothe – Medieval Eel Broth (Harleian MS. 279, ab. 1430)

                                 Eel from the 13th-century  Ashmole Bestiary

Source: Harleian MS. 279, ab. 1430, recipe xxv.

📜 Original Recipe

xxv - Balloke Brothe. Take Elys and fle hem, an kytte hem in gobouns, an caste hem in-to a fayre potte with fayre water; than take Percely and Oynonys, an schrede hem to-gederys nowt to smal; take Clowes, Maces, an powder Pepyr, an caste ther-to a gode porcyon of wyne; then take 3est of New ale an caste ther-to, an let boyle: an when the Elys byn wyl y-boylid, take fayre stokfysshe, an do a-way the skyn, an caste ther-to, an let boyle a whyle; then take Safroun and Salt, an a lytil Venegre, an caste ther-to, an serue forth.

Medieval Rapeye (Harleian MS. 279) — Apple, Date & Almond Pudding Recipe

Harleian MS. 279 (ab 1430) — .Liiij. Rapeye — Date & Apple Pudding

Rapeye (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430) — Apple, Date & Almond “Pudding”

Originally published 3/26/2017 / Updated 10/1/2025

What is “Rapeye”?

The name can sound jarring to modern ears, but in Middle English it had an entirely different meaning. You’ll find it spelled rapeye, rapy, rape, or rapé across manuscripts like Harleian MS. 279, Forme of Cury, Liber cure cocorum, and A Noble Boke off Cookry. The most likely origin is the Old French rapé (“grated” or “rasped”), from the verb raper (“to grate, scrape”). This makes sense: most recipes called for grated or pounded dried fruit, thickened with rice flour or bread.

In practice, Rapeye could mean either a sauce or a fruit paste/pudding. Some versions are clearly sauces for meat or fish; others, like this one, stand as thick fruit dishes in their own right. The Forme of Cury has a “Rape” made of figs and raisins strained with wine; the Liber cure cocorum “Rape” is a raisin sauce sharpened with vinegar. Our apple–date Rapeye is more of a spoon dish or pudding, but the common thread is fruit grated or mashed, spiced, sweetened, and thickened until “chargeaunt” (stout or substantial).

Parallels exist in other European traditions: Latin glossaries sometimes link rapa (turnip) to grated preparations; Italian rappigliare means “to curdle or thicken.” While etymologies vary, the consensus is that Rapeye signified a grated fruit preparation that could flex between sauce, sweetmeat, or pudding depending on context.

Rapeye shows up multiple times in fifteenth-century English cookbooks and seems to be a flexible category—sometimes a sauce, sometimes a fruit paste, sometimes (like this one) a spoonable “pudding.” In Harleian MS. 279 the fourth Rapeye (.Liiij.) combines almond milk with minced dates and raw apples, thickened with rice flour and perfumed with ginger, cinnamon, maces, cloves, sugar, and a touch of saffron or sanders (sandalwood) for color. It’s comforting, gently spiced, and—per my taste testers—popular even with folks who “don’t like dates.”

Original Recipe & Translation

Middle English (Austin, UMich)

.Liiij. Rapeye.—Take almaundys, an draw a gode mylke þer-of, and take Datys an mynce hem smal, an put þer-on y-now; take Raw Appelys, an pare hem and stampe hem, an drawe hem vppe with wyne, or with draf of Almaundys, or boþe; þan caste pouder of Gyngere, Canel, Maces, Clowes, & caste þer-on Sugre y-now; þan take a quantyte of flowre of Rys, an þrowe þer-on, & make it chargeaunt, an coloure it wyth Safroun, an with Saunderys, an serue forth; an strawe Canel a-boue.

Modern-English 

Make a good almond milk. Mince dates finely and add plenty to the milk. Peel raw apples, pound them, and strain with wine or with the almond “draff” (the pressed solids), or both. Add ginger, cinnamon, mace, cloves, and enough sugar. Sprinkle in rice flour to thicken (make it chargeant), and color with saffron and sandalwood. Serve, strewing cinnamon on top.

Seasonal Note: With apples at their peak in autumn and the warming spices of ginger, cinnamon, mace, and cloves, this Rapeye fits naturally into a fall table. In the medieval calendar, it would have been equally at home during cooler seasons and fasting days when almond milk stood in for dairy. Today, it makes a wonderful harvest-time pudding.

Menu Placement

• Fish/fasting days (Lent-friendly): Made with almond milk (no dairy), fruit, rice flour, and spices—ideal as a pottage or spoon course.
• Entremet / Subtle “pudding”: Served warm and “standing thick,” dusted with cinnamon—works between savory courses or as a gentle sweet near the end.
• Breakfast tavern / camping: Holds well and reheats; can be made ahead and served warm or room temperature.

Humoral Notes

Medieval diners balanced dishes by qualities (hot/cold, dry/moist). Almonds were often classed as warming & drying; dates generally warming & moistening; apples tending cooling & drying. The spicing (ginger, cinnamon, mace, cloves) nudges the dish warmer; almond milk and gentle cooking temper dryness; rice flour adds drying/“binding.” Likely seen as moderately warm and tending moist—comfortable fare for cooler seasons.

See also: Rapeye of Fleysshe and Rapeye (.Liij.).

Comfits of Anise and Fennel – Medieval Candied Spices & Seeds (A Sweet Treat from the Past)

Comfits—candied spices & seeds—served as sweet digestives and table decoration in late medieval & Renaissance feasts.

Comfits – Medieval Candied Spices & Seeds (How to Make Historic Comfits)

Originally published 9/15/15 / updated 10/1/2025

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.

Baronial 12th Night Comfits

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.

Chawatteys – Medieval Pork & Veal Pie with Fruit and Spice (Harleian MS. 279, c. 1430)

Chawatteys (Harleian MS. 279, c. 1430)

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.

Did You Know?

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.

The Original Recipe

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 with Lekys — A Medieval Bean and Leek Pottage (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Canabeys with Lekys — Harleian MS. 279 (c. 1430)

Originally published 3/30/2015, Updated 9/17/2025

What is “Canabeys (Canabens) with Lekys”?

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.

Blawnche Perrye – Creamed Leeks with Rice and Fish (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430) – For to make Blawnche Perrye – Creamed Leeks with Rice

Originally published 3/30/2017 Updated 9/10/2025

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.

The Original Recipe

.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.

Modern Recipe