🍊 Oranges after the Portugal Fashion - Candied Renaissance Oranges (Sir Hugh Plat, 1609)

Originally published 1/18/2015 - Updated 9/10/2025 - Refreshed 5/27/2026

Imagine being served what appears to be a glossy orange at a Renaissance banquet, only to discover that it has been boiled, candied in sugar syrup, filled with marmalade, and sliced open like a jewel-bright hard-boiled egg. Sir Hugh Plat’s Delights for Ladies (1609) preserves exactly that kind of culinary theater in his recipe “To preserve Orenges after the Portugall fashion.”

This is not a simple orange preserve. It is edible display. Whole oranges are softened, sweetened, filled with a stiff orange marmalade made from their own pulp, returned to syrup, and then served in slices. Plat promises that the finished fruit “will cut like an hard egge,” which is one of those historical recipe instructions that sounds impossible until you see it happen on the plate.

I have served these at feast, and one of the best things about them was that people thought they were table decorations. They sat on the table looking so bright, polished, and ornamental that diners did not immediately realize they were meant to be eaten. The servers had to explain that yes, the oranges were part of the menu. That moment is exactly why this recipe matters. It shows how Renaissance sweets could blur the line between food, decoration, luxury, and conversation piece.

Best historical choice: use Seville or bitter oranges if you can find them. I first made this recipe with ordinary sweet oranges, which worked, but later a generous member of the historical food community sent me bitter oranges and helped refine the quantities. I wish I could remember whether it was Ken Albala or David Friedman, but I remain deeply grateful for the opportunity. The bitter orange version was, to my taste, far better: more balanced, less cloying, firmer in set, and much closer to what Plat seems to describe.

Whole oranges simmering in sugar syrup. Plat’s method creates both candied fruit and marmalade in one showpiece.

Why This Recipe Matters

Plat’s preserved oranges are a perfect example of early modern English banquet culture. By the late 16th and early 17th centuries, elite tables used sugar, preserved fruits, marchpane, comfits, and molded sweets to display wealth and skill. These foods were often served in a banquet course, not necessarily as the main meal, but as a refined display of delicacy, hospitality, and status.

The phrase “after the Portugall fashion” is especially interesting. Portugal was strongly associated with citrus, sugar, maritime trade, and fashionable imported luxuries. Sweet oranges were sometimes linked with Portuguese trade and cultivation, while bitter oranges remained especially useful in preserves and marmalades because of their peel, acidity, bitterness, and natural pectin. In a recipe like this, the name signals more than geography. It suggests refinement, foreign fashion, and an expensive style of sweetmaking.

It is also worth remembering that “marmalade” did not always mean the soft breakfast spread we know today. Early marmalades were often stiff fruit pastes, closer to quince paste or fruit cheese. Plat’s instruction that the oranges should slice “like a hard egg” makes much more sense when we imagine a firm, sliceable citrus paste tucked inside the candied peel.

Historical Recipe

To preſerue Orenges after the Portugall faſhion. Take Orenges & coare them on the ſide and lay them in water, then boile them in fair water til they be tender, ſhift them in the boyling to take away their bitterneſſe, then take ſugar and boyle it to the height of ſirup as much as will couer them, and ſo put your Orenges into it, and that will make them take ſugar. If you haue 24. Orenges, beate 8. of them till they come to a paſte with a pounde of fine ſugar, then fill euery one of the other Orenges with the ſame, and ſo boile them again in your ſirup: then there will be marmelade of orenges with your orenges, & it will cut like an hard egge.

- Sir Hugh Plat, Delights for Ladies (1609)

Modernized Transcription

To preserve oranges after the Portugal fashion: core each orange on the side and soak them in water. Boil them in clean water until they are tender, changing the water during boiling to reduce their bitterness. Then boil sugar to a syrup, enough to cover the oranges, and put the oranges into it so they take sugar. If you have 24 oranges, beat 8 of them to a paste with a pound of fine sugar, then fill each of the remaining oranges with that paste. Boil them again in the syrup. Then there will be marmalade of oranges within your oranges, and it will cut like a hard egg.

Bitter Oranges vs. Sweet Oranges

If you can find them, Seville oranges, also sold as bitter oranges, sour oranges, marmalade oranges, or sometimes naranja agria, are the best choice for this recipe. They are more bitter than supermarket navel or Valencia oranges, but that bitterness is exactly what makes the preserve work. The sharpness balances the sugar and gives the finished confection a much more complex flavor.

Bitter oranges also behave better in the kitchen. Their peel is well suited to candying, and their higher pectin helps the marmalade filling set firmly. Sweet oranges can certainly be used, and I include a sweet-orange adaptation below, but they tend to produce a softer, juicier filling unless the pulp is drained and cooked down.

Factor	Seville / Bitter Oranges	Sweet Oranges
Historical fit	Best choice	Modern adaptation
Flavor	Bittersweet, complex, aromatic	Milder and sweeter
Pectin	Higher, firmer set	Lower, softer filling
Best use	Historical recreation and feast display	Accessible home version

Where to look: Seville or sour oranges are often seasonal, usually appearing in winter. Try Latin American groceries, Mediterranean or Middle Eastern markets, specialty produce shops, or online citrus growers. If you see “marmalade oranges,” those are usually exactly what you want.

Humoral and Feast Notes

In early modern food theory, oranges were often understood as cooling and drying, with bitter or sour oranges especially valued for cutting richness and stimulating appetite. This makes them a sensible banquet sweet after heavy meats, sauces, and rich dishes. The sugar, while luxurious, was also treated as useful in preservation and digestion, not merely as indulgence.

For a feast table, these oranges work beautifully as an entremet, subtlety, or banquet-course confection. They can sit among marchpane, comfits, candied peels, preserved fruits, wafers, or hippocras. They are especially effective because they do not immediately announce themselves as food. They invite the diner to ask: “Is that decoration?” And then the feast begins to talk back.

Cold Roasted Crane (Chicken Adaptation) – Domenico Romoli’s Carnivale Feast (1560)

Cold Roasted Crane (Chicken Adaptation) – Pollo Arrosto alla Maniera di Gru

Cold Roasted Crane, adapted with chicken: a period-style reconstruction for the Primo servitio posto in tavola from Domenico Romoli’s 1560 Carnivale banquet.

Originally prepared for the Carnivale Feast project. This dish belongs to the Primo servitio posto in tavola, the first service set upon the table in Domenico Romoli’s 1560 banquet plan. In the printed menu, the dish appears as grue arrosta fredda, or cold roasted crane. Since crane is neither practical nor appropriate for a modern kitchen, this version uses chicken while preserving the table logic, method, and service style of a large roasted bird served cool or cold as part of a Renaissance first course.

At first glance, “cold roasted crane” may sound like the sort of ingredient that sends modern cooks quietly backing away from the recipe. Yet that strangeness is part of its value. Crane was not everyday food. It belonged to the same world as swan, peacock, heron, capon, and other impressive birds that appeared on elite tables as signs of wealth, access, skill, and spectacle. A bird like crane was food, certainly, but it was also theater. It told the guests that this was not a household supper. This was a table laid for display.

For this reconstruction I used chicken, not because chicken is identical to crane, but because it allows the modern cook to reproduce the structure of the dish: a large bird, briefly boiled, roasted, cut into pieces, dressed with a saffron-colored onion and wine sauce, and served over softened bread. In that sense, the dish is not merely “roast chicken.” It is roast chicken wearing crane’s court clothes.

Why Crane?

Crane appears in medieval and Renaissance dining as one of the large birds associated with noble or courtly service. It was a prestige item, not a humble barnyard bird. Even where a full prescriptive Italian recipe has not been found in the sources I have available, the culinary treatment is not mysterious. Large birds were boiled, roasted, sauced, carved, and served according to the same family of techniques used for other game and domestic fowl.

This matters because historical cooking often requires us to distinguish between an exact ingredient and a period method. The crane is the prestigious ingredient. The method is the recoverable part: parboil, roast, sauce, cut, arrange, serve. Chicken cannot replicate the social status of crane, but it can preserve the practical and culinary logic of the dish.

How Was a Crane Carved?

One of the clearest reminders that crane belonged to formal table service comes not from an Italian recipe, but from an English carving manual. The Boke of Kervynge, printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1508, gives specific instructions for carving crane:

“A crane syse the wynges fyrst & beware of the trumpe of his brest.”

In modern terms, the carver was instructed to take the wings first and to take care around the “trump” or central breast structure. This sort of instruction reminds us that large birds were not simply cut apart in the kitchen and carried out anonymously. They could be part of formal service, handled with specialized knowledge and presented in ways that showed refinement. The full text of The Boke of Kervynge may be read at Wikisource, and a digitized copy is also available through the Cambridge Digital Library.

Although this is an English source, not an Italian one, it is useful comparative evidence for late medieval and early Renaissance table culture. It shows that crane occupied a recognizable place among ceremonial birds, and that diners and servers understood it as something requiring proper handling.

The First Service: Cold Meat, Sharp Flavors, and Display

The Primo servitio posto in tavola was not a random scattering of dishes. It was a carefully arranged opening act, designed to delight the eye, stimulate the appetite, and set the tone for the feast to follow. Cold meats made sense in this setting. They could be prepared ahead, arranged attractively, and served alongside salads, relishes, preserved foods, sauces, and breads.

In this Carnivale first service, the cold roasted bird sits among bitter chicory salad, sweet-sour carrot salad, dressed citron, capers, cold pork testa, capon in sopromenti, and Bolognese sausages. The logic is beautifully balanced: bitter, sharp, rich, aromatic, salty, and sweet. The chicken provides a familiar savory center, while the onion, wine, saffron, and bread connect it to the more formal sauce-and-sop traditions of period dining.

That bread is important. To modern diners, sauce-soaked bread often reads as “soggy bread.” To a period diner, it could be part of the point. Bread was not just a side item. It absorbed broth, fat, wine, and spice. It became the edible foundation of the dish. In medieval and Renaissance cookery, sops were a well-established way to carry flavor and make sauce substantial.

Period-Style Reconstruction

I was unable to locate a prescriptive crane recipe in the 14th to 16th-century Italian culinary sources available to me. This reconstruction is therefore style-faithful rather than a direct transcription from Romoli. The method is based on period Italian culinary practice and service conventions for large birds: brief boiling, roasting, cutting into portions, simmering briefly in sauce, and arranging the meat with bread and sauce for service.

The source menu comes from Domenico Romoli’s La singolare dottrina, first printed in 1560. Digitized copies of Romoli’s work are available through Google Books and the Bayerische StaatsBibliothek.

📜 Period Italian, Style-Faithful Reconstruction

Italian

English Translation

Pollo arrosto alla maniera di gru Togli un pollo grande ben mondo, et fallo bollire alquanto in una pignatta grande. Poi mettilo allo spiedo, et rostiscilo bene, ma non ripieno. Togli una cipolla, et tagliala minuta, et friggila bene in sugna, et colorala con zafferano. Abbi pane tagliato et alquanto tostato, et vino bono, et fa’ bollire il vino con la cipolla. Taglia il pollo a pezzi, et fallo bollire brevemente nel detto vino. Nel brodo magro della salsa ammorbidisci il pane. In un tagliere grande ordina la salsa, le spezie et la carne con ordine, et alla fine metti sopra un poco del grasso della salsa, et servi.

Roast Chicken in the Manner of Crane Take a large chicken, well cleaned, and boil it briefly in a large pot. Then put it on the spit and roast it well, but not stuffed. Take an onion and cut it small, and fry it well in lard, coloring it with saffron. Have bread sliced and lightly toasted, and good wine; boil the wine with the onion. Cut the chicken into pieces and boil it briefly in the said wine. In the lean broth of the sauce soften the bread. On a large trencher arrange the sauce, spices, and meat in good order, and at the end put over some of the fat from the sauce, and serve.

Humoral and Dietary Context

From a period dietary perspective, this dish is more balanced than it first appears. Chicken was often treated as a gentler, more digestible meat than heavier red meats or strongly flavored game. Wine, onion, and saffron add warmth and aroma. The saffron also gives the sauce a golden color, making the dish visually richer and more appropriate for a feast table.

Served cold or cool, the roasted bird would not have felt as heavy as a hot roast brought straight from the fire. The wine and onion sauce stimulates the appetite, while the bread carries the liquid and fat. In the larger first service, this dish sits between richer meats and sharper accompaniments, helping explain why Romoli’s opening table feels so carefully composed rather than merely abundant.

At Our Table

This dish was good, but it was not the star of our table. I suspect that in period, a cold roasted crane would have been one of the prestige dishes of the service: visually impressive, formally carved, and understood as an elite bird. In our modern recreation, the chicken was pleasant and familiar, but it was overshadowed by the more exciting dishes around it. The capon in sopromenti was more interesting, and the Bolognese sausages were the dish people fought over.

The sops were the hardest sell. Sauce-soaked bread is not something most modern diners are used to eating, although I remember “gravy bread” as a treat when I was younger. For this feast, I used a rustic Italian loaf that I baked in the oven. Everyone tried the bread beneath the chicken, but the reaction was unanimous: to modern palates, it read as “just soggy bread.” This is useful information, not a failure. It shows one of the places where period texture expectations and modern preferences diverge sharply.

The onion sauce was also received as “just okay” at first. I prepared it simply, with onion, saffron, and wine, and did not add additional seasoning beyond the historical flavor base. Diners added their own salt and pepper and liked it better. I also reduced the sauce because it was initially too brothy to cling to the chicken, but the reduction made the flavor more intense. In the future, I might use a slightly different wine, season the sauce more confidently, or add a very small touch of sugar to soften the onion and wine. For my own portion, I used a mixture of lemon juice, water, and a small splash of white wine vinegar instead of the wine sauce.

That is one of the joys of recreating a feast rather than merely reading one. The menu may suggest that this dish should command attention, but the table decides for itself. In this case, the cold crane-style chicken served its role as a familiar anchor, but the surrounding dishes stole the applause.

Testa di Ruffolatto Fredda – Cold Pressed Young Boar in Gelée (Carnivale Feast)

Published: May 21, 2026

Testa di Ruffolatto Fredda - Cold Pressed Young Boar in Gelée (Carnivale Feast)

Testa di Ruffolatto Fredda, or cold young boar head meat, was one of the most surprising dishes served during the Carnivale Feast. It appeared on the table cold, sliced, and set in its own natural jelly. For many modern diners, the texture was unfamiliar at first. The flavor, however, won them over completely.

This was not a dish most of us eat regularly. Cold meat suspended in savory gelée can feel strange to modern palates accustomed to sliced deli meats, pâtés, or pulled pork. Yet by the end of the feast, there was none left. The turning point came when someone spread a slice onto warm bread, allowing the natural jelly to melt into it. Then someone else added capers. After that, everyone had to try it.

Testa di Ruffolatto Fredda served alongside caponi sopramenti pinwheels during the Carnivale Feast. Though unfamiliar in texture to many modern diners, the rich flavor quickly won people over.

The Original Source

This reconstruction draws on an Italian jelly-meat recipe from Libro di cucina / Libro per cuoco, a 14th/15th-century Italian culinary text translated by Louise Smithson. The recipe is not a modern head cheese recipe, but it gives us a clear period method for producing a meat jelly from collagen-rich cuts and spiced broth.

XXXI - Jelly of whatever meat. If you want to make a good jelly of any meat: of meat of pork of the woods (boar), take ears and feet and each thing, and capons and partridge, and thrush, and hare, and roebuck (venison), and pheasant, take these things and put these to the fire in part water and part vinegar and when they are boiled and well skimmed, put spices and pepper and cinnamon and ginger and saffron not beaten together, that you choose is enough with the meat. And when the meat it is enough cooked pull it out, until remains the ears and the feet until it is of enough substance. When it is pulled all these things from, pulverize all the meat and spices, and take the jelly from the fire and let it stand, and take saffron and temper with jelly and place the meat into a vessel that you want that is lined with bay leaves and put over this jelly and strain the jelly and saffron with wool (through a cloth). When it is strained over the meat, take sweet spices and mix with this same jelly and pour it above, it should be colored and good yellow, and put with to boil from that which is come together, and it will be a good jelly.

The method is wonderfully practical: cook collagen-rich meats in water and vinegar, skim carefully, season with spices, strain the broth, arrange the meat in a vessel, and allow the natural jelly to set. The result is a cold, sliceable meat dish suitable for display and service.

What Is a Ruffolatto?

At first, the word ruffolatto raised questions. It can look obscure to a modern reader, and it is easy to confuse this dish with other animal-head preparations from the same feast. However, the Grande Dizionario della Lingua Italiana identifies rufalotto, ruffolatto, and rufolatto as a young wild boar, specifically a cinghiale di pochi mesi, or a wild boar of only a few months.

This matters. The dish is not goat. It is associated with young wild boar, a prestigious game animal and an appropriate choice for a lavish Carnival banquet before the restrictions of Lent. Young boar would have offered tender meat, rich flavor, and excellent natural gelatin.

Because young wild boar is difficult to source for a modern kitchen, this feast reconstruction used country-style pork ribs. They were inexpensive, available, flavorful, and, most importantly, produced an excellent natural jelly without added gelatin.

A Cold Dish for a Banquet Table

Modern diners often imagine historical feasts as a parade of hot dishes brought steaming from the kitchen. In reality, many Renaissance banquet foods were served cool, cold, or temperate. Salads, preserved fruits, sliced meats, cured meats, jellied preparations, and composed dishes could be prepared ahead, arranged carefully, and served from the sideboard or brought to the table as part of a larger service.

Testa di Ruffolatto Fredda fits that logic beautifully. It was not a hurried dish. It required time, patience, careful skimming, cooling, and setting. Once prepared, it could be sliced and arranged neatly for the table, making it ideal for a feast with many dishes served together.

Nose-to-Tail Cooking and Banquet Luxury

To modern ears, head meat and jellied pork may sound humble or even intimidating. In historical kitchens, however, collagen-rich cuts were valuable. Feet, ears, heads, skin, bones, and joints were not waste. They were the source of texture, body, richness, and natural gelée.

This was not merely survival food. In an elite context, a well-made meat jelly showed skill. The broth needed to be skimmed cleanly, the meat cooked until tender, the seasoning balanced, and the final dish set firmly enough to slice. It was thrift and luxury at the same time, the sort of kitchen alchemy historical cooks understood deeply.

Why All the Skimming?

One of the least glamorous but most important parts of the process was skimming the pot during the first stage of cooking. As the pork slowly heated, foam rose to the surface. This is normal. It is made up of coagulated proteins and impurities released from the meat.

Removing that foam helped produce a cleaner broth and a clearer finished jelly. The original recipe specifically calls for the meat to be “well skimmed,” and this turned out to be excellent advice. For a cold sliced dish, appearance matters. A well-skimmed broth gives the finished gelée a cleaner flavor and a better look.

Why It Set Without Gelatin

One of the surprises of this reconstruction was that no added gelatin was needed. The country-style ribs produced enough natural collagen to set the broth firmly on their own.

The process was simple but slow. The pork was cooked low and slow until the meat fell from the bones. The meat was strained from the broth, then the broth was allowed to rest overnight so the fat could rise and harden. Once the fat cap was removed, the broth was reheated until it melted, poured over the shredded meat in a loaf pan, and chilled until firm.

This is the heart of traditional aspic cookery: collagen, time, and cooling. No packet of gelatin. No modern shortcut. Just patient cooking and a broth rich enough to become its own structure.

The French Connection

If you have eaten French charcuterie, this dish may feel more familiar than it first sounds. It belongs to the same broad family as fromage de tête, English brawn, German Sülze, and other European jellied or pressed meats. These dishes differ by region and seasoning, but they share the same essential idea: tender cooked meat held together by a savory natural gel.

That comparison helped me understand the dish at table. The sliced testa was not strange once treated as charcuterie. It wanted bread. It wanted something sharp. It wanted the capers that were already part of the first service.

The Surprise of the Table

I will admit that I was surprised by how well this dish was received. This is not something most of us normally eat, and the mouthfeel was unfamiliar to several diners. Served cold, the gelée gives the meat a texture somewhere between terrine, aspic, and rich pork spread.

The flavor, however, was excellent: deeply porky, gently spiced, savory, and comforting. Once someone spread it on warm bread and the gel melted into the crumb, the dish suddenly made sense. Then someone added capers, bringing salt and acidity to the rich pork, and everyone wanted to try it.

Bread had been baked for the sops beneath the crane, represented at feast by chicken, rather than specifically for the testa. Serving warm bread with the cold meat was not the strictest interpretation of the original service. Still, fresh bread had been baked, and refusing to serve it while its ghost lingered through the hall would have been a very naughty thing indeed.

By the end of the feast, there was none left. For a dish many diners approached with caution, that felt like high praise.

How Would This Have Been Eaten?

A dish like this would most likely have been served cold and sliced, as it was at the feast. Diners could cut small portions with a knife and eat them alongside other dishes from the same service. In a banquet setting, foods were not always experienced in isolation. A bite of rich meat might be followed by capers, bitter greens, preserved citron, bread, or another contrasting flavor from the table.

The capers were not written into the testa recipe, but they were present in the same service and made excellent sense. Sharp, salty, acidic foods balance rich meats beautifully. In that sense, the diners who added capers were participating in the same flavor logic that made Renaissance banquet tables so compelling.

Humoral Notes

In humoral thinking, rich meats and gelatinous broths were often associated with nourishment and strength. A dish like this would have been substantial, warming, and sustaining, especially when made from a young animal and served as part of a lavish pre-Lenten feast.

The vinegar in the cooking liquid and the sharpness of accompaniments such as capers helped balance the richness of the meat. That balance between fat and acid, rich and sharp, soft and bright, is part of why the dish worked so well for modern diners too.

Symbolism of the Turtle (Kame) — Longevity, Wisdom & Protection in Muromachi Japan

Urashima Tarō carried by a turtle to the Dragon Palace (Ryūgū-jō). Image via Kyuhoshi.

Originally Published 10/22/2019 - Updated 10/20/2025

In Japan, the turtle (kame) is a joyful emblem of longevity, wisdom, protection, and steady good fortune. It appears in courtly art, shrine lore, and folktales—from the patient, long-tailed minogame to the northern guardian Genbu (Black Tortoise). For our Muromachi-period Crown Tournament feast, turtle symbolism tied neatly to the suppon hot pot we served: a nourishing dish with deep historical roots.

During Japan’s Muromachi period (1336–1573), when Zen aesthetics and courtly rituals blended with warrior culture, symbolic animals often appeared in art and ceremonial meals. The turtle (kame), long associated with immortality and wisdom, represented the enduring stability of the shogunate and the virtues of patience and loyalty — qualities praised in poetry, calligraphy, and seasonal foods alike.

Okashi – Anmitsu and Japanese Sweet Traditions (Muromachi Feast Recreation)

Jasmine green tea ice cream on agar (kanten), surrounded by red bean paste and a drizzle of black sugar syrup.

Imagine my surprise when I realized I’d never published the final tray of the feast! This course—built around Anmitsu—was my nod to banquet finales that closed with fruit and confections. My interpretation layers agar jelly, fresh fruit, shiratama mochi, sweet red bean paste (anko), black sugar syrup (kuromitsu), and jasmine green tea ice cream.

Historical Frame: Okashi in Context

In the Muromachi period (1336–1573), formal banquet cuisine (honzen ryori) treated sweets as refined, seasonal endings rather than everyday fare. Sugar was scarce and costly; sweetness often came from beans, grains, or fruit. As long-distance trade expanded, imported sugars and new tools elevated confectionery into an art closely linked with tea culture—favoring elegance and balance over intense sweetness.

Seasonal Aesthetics: Confections mirrored the time of year—spring blossoms, summer greens, autumn leaves, winter snows. Their fleeting forms encouraged contemplation of impermanence and gratitude at table.

Trade, Technique, and Evolution

Maritime trade in the 16th century brought refined sugar and new implements that influenced sweet-making. Hybrid sweets (like castella sponge) arose from cultural exchange. Meanwhile, temple kitchens and courtly households continued to favor plant-based textures and subtle flavors, keeping okashi aligned with ideals of restraint.

Cross-Cultural Parallels

Just as medieval Europe prized marchpane and sugar plate as status-laden table art, Japan refined bean- and rice-based sweets into edible miniatures of the natural world. In both traditions, confectionery served as display, diplomacy, and delight.

• Heian → Kamakura: fruits, nuts, lightly sweetened treats
• Muromachi: codified banquets; sweet courses as refined finales
• Edo: wagashi artistry flourishes with broader sugar access

Ingredient Insights

Agar (kanten): a seaweed-derived gelling agent long valued in Buddhist vegetarian cooking and later central to clear, delicate jellies in confectionery.

Anko (red bean paste): sweetened adzuki paste that underpins many classic sweets. Texture ranges from smooth to rustic and chunky.

Kuromitsu (black sugar syrup): made from unrefined brown sugars—deeper, rounder, and more mineral than modern white sugar syrups.

Almond Milk in the Middle Ages — History, Humors & Culinary Uses

Ground almonds mixed with water – the basis of almond milk, a medieval staple.

Almond Milk in the Middle Ages — History, Humors & Uses

Originally Published 11/10/2015 / Updated 10/1/2025

“The more things change, the more they remain the same.” That phrase feels especially true when we look at almond milk. Today, we reach for it as a dairy-free alternative in lattes or smoothies. In the Middle Ages, cooks turned to it for many of the same reasons: dietary restrictions, health, and versatility.

Almond milk appears in nearly every major medieval cookbook — from the English Forme of Cury (c. 1390) to French texts like Le Viandier. Whether thickened into custards, stirred into pottages, or sweetened for desserts, it was a foundational ingredient in European kitchens from the 13th–15th centuries. Understanding almond milk helps unlock a whole category of medieval recipes.

Origins & Spread of Almonds

The almond tree (Prunus dulcis) is native to the regions of modern-day Iran and Central Asia. Cultivation spread westward along trade networks into Persia and the Mediterranean by the first millennium BCE. The Greeks and Romans knew almonds well — Roman authors like Pliny the Elder mention them, and they were commonly served at banquets.

Through Roman expansion and later Arab influence in Spain and Sicily, almonds became established throughout southern Europe. By the 9th–10th centuries, almond-based dishes appear in Arabic medical and culinary texts, praised both for flavor and for their gentle, “cooling” effect in humoral medicine.

Almonds on the Move: From Orchard to Feast Table

• Italy & France: Almonds were cultivated in Mediterranean orchards and imported inland. French and Italian manuscripts from the 13th–14th centuries make frequent use of almond milk in sauces, custards, and pottages.
• England & Germany: By the late Middle Ages, almonds were arriving in northern ports like London, Lübeck, and Hamburg. They were expensive imports, sometimes listed alongside spices and sugar in customs rolls. Their cost gave them a dual role: practical (for fast days) but also a marker of wealth and status when used lavishly in feasts.
• Monastic & noble kitchens: Monasteries, bound by fasting rules, relied heavily on almond milk. Nobles embraced it for both practical and prestigious reasons, often specifying “thick” almond milk in their cookery books.

In this way, the humble almond traveled thousands of miles — from Asian orchards to English feasting halls — and almond milk became one of the most common “dairy substitutes” in medieval Europe.

Why Almond Milk Was Essential

• Religious fasting: Animal milk was prohibited on fast days. Almond milk allowed cooks to create “dairy-like” dishes during Lent and other observances.
• Shelf life: Fresh cow’s milk spoiled quickly. Almonds, stored dry, could be turned into fresh milk on demand.
• Status & luxury: Almonds were imported and costly, signaling refinement at noble tables.
• Versatility: Used in both savory and sweet contexts — soups, sauces, blancmange, custards, even beverages.

Almonds & Humoral Theory

In Galenic medicine, almonds were considered “hot and moist.” Almond milk, tempered with water, was thought gentler on the stomach than cow’s milk and was prescribed for the sick or those with delicate digestion. This idea echoes modern perceptions of almond milk as “lighter” and easier to digest.

How It Was Made

Medieval almond milk was made almost exactly as we do today:

1. Soak whole almonds, then grind them to a paste with a mortar and pestle.
2. Mix with warm water, wine, or broth depending on the recipe.
3. Strain through cloth to produce a smooth liquid.

The ratio determined the thickness. Recipes often call for “thick” almond milk when a rich base was needed, or a thinner version for soups and sauces. Sweetening with sugar, honey, or rosewater was common, while savory versions might use broth or even wine.

Uses in Medieval Cookery

• Savory: In sauces like Rapeye, in fish pottages, or as the base for meatless soups.
• Sweet: In blancmange, rice puddings, and custards.
• Feasts: Almond milk was prepared in large quantities ahead of service — much like we buy cartons today.

Then & Now

The parallels are striking:

• Medieval: fasting, shelf-stable, luxury, versatile.
• Modern: vegan/dairy-free, shelf-stable cartons, premium organic blends, versatile in cooking.

What was once a Lenten necessity has become a café staple.

A Dynere of Flesche — John Russell’s Medieval Feast and the Logic of Digestion

Roasted peacock served “re-plumed,” a classic showpiece in late-medieval banquets. Source: Wikimedia Commons.

Introduction

In the mid-fifteenth century, court official John Russell compiled the Boke of Nurture (Harley MS 4011), a manual of etiquette, service, and feasting. Among its most intriguing passages is “A Dynere of Flesche”—a model feast for a flesh day. At first glance it reads like excess: swan, peacock, venison, custards, jellies, fritters, sotelties. But beneath the display lies clear order, guided by humoral theory and the theory of digestion.

• Humoral theory:

• Foods are classified hot/cold, moist/dry.
• The goal was balance — so heavy/dry meats might be paired with moist/sweet sauces, or cooling jellies follow heating roasts.

The Ideal Temperament

Humoral theory didn’t just classify food — it also described people. The ideal man, according to Galenic medicine, was hot and moist: warm in spirit, strong in digestion, balanced in humors. Too much heat could cause choler (anger, fevers); too much cold led to melancholy. Feasts like Russell’s were arranged to steer everyone—young, old, male, female—toward this balanced, “ideal” state after eating.

• Theory of Digestion (stomach as a fireplace model):

  • Light, quick-digesting foods first (whet the appetite, “open the stomach”).

  • Heavy meats mid-meal (need the appetite at full flame).

  • Cooling or binding foods at the end (to “close the stomach” and aid digestion).

  • Spices and hippocras (spiced wine) seal the stomach and prevent putrefaction.

Feasting, Status, and Seasonality

Russell’s menu was a model feast—aspirational and didactic. It reflected both status and medical order:

• Luxury foods: swan, peacock, crane, bustard, sea bream inland, imported sugar, almonds, and rice.
• Sotelties: allegorical sugar or pastry sculptures, more about piety and performance than eating.
• Hierarchy: the high table saw the full spread; lower tables ate simpler portions.
• Seasonality: autumn/winter hunting game + preserved foods (brawn, baked quinces, hippocras). Likely a winter festival setting—Christmas or Twelfth Night.

The Logic of the Courses

How Many Did This Feed?

Russell never specifies numbers. Most scholars agree that menus like this modeled an ideal high-table feast, not the full hall of 200+ diners. Lower tables would have received simpler fare, with servants plainer still. The “Dynere of Flesche” was about display and order at the top table, not uniform abundance.

First Course: Awakening the Appetite

The feast begins with brawn of boar with mustard. Preserved brawn (salted/pressed) was hot/dry, paired with mustard (also hot/dry) to stimulate appetite. Then came pottages of herbs, spice, and wine (warm, moist, aromatic), followed by staples—beef and mutton, heavy and dry but softened by sauces. Showpieces—pheasant and swan with chawdron sauce, capons, pig, venison bake—balanced humors by variety. The course lifted with leches and fritters, hot/oily appetite stimulants, and paused with a sotelty of the Annunciation.

Why pork first?

Not a roast, but salted/pressed boar. Preservation shifted its qualities hotter/drier. With mustard, it worked as an appetite-opener and prestige symbol.

Beef & mutton early?

Normally heavy, but softened in pottage. Their presence early also reinforced abundance—English tables expected them as staples.

Swan with chawdron

Swan was tough and hot/dry. Prestige demanded its early appearance. Chawdron (entrails sauce) moistened and balanced the dish.

Second Course: Heaviest Roasts & Entremets

The second course starts gently with blancmanger (chicken and almond, moist and white) and jellies (cooling, clarifying). Then came the heaviest fare: venison, kid, fawn, coney, bustard, stork, crane, peacock, heron. These were dry/hot meats, demanding the stomach’s “strongest fire.”

Between them: entremets—custards, pastries, sweet leches—moist refreshers, palate cleansers, and spectacles. A fritter revived appetite, and an angelic sotelty provided allegory and pause.

What are Entremets?

“Between-dishes” that lighten the palate after heavy roasts. Could be custards, jellies, fritters, or allegories. They refreshed digestion and dazzled guests.

Sea bream among roasts?

Fish are cooling and moist, but sea bream inland was a rarity. Its placement showed luxury and variety, more than medical logic.

Fritters everywhere

Appearing in every course, fritters weren’t just sweets. Fried foods (hot/dry) re-stimulated appetite, acting like edible palate cleansers.

Third Course: Stepping Down

Cream of almonds and mawmany were restorative and nourishing. Smaller roasts—curlews, snipes, quails, sparrows—replaced great birds. Moist/cooling dishes returned: perch in jelly, crayfish. Quinces baked (astringent) helped close digestion, alongside sage fritters and spiced leches. A Magi sotelty provided solemn close.

Quinces as Closers

Medieval medical texts praised quinces for their astringency. Baked or stewed, they were thought to “bind the stomach” and prevent excess humors. Their placement late in Russell’s menu follows regimen advice: astringent fruit near the end ensured the feast ended in balance.

Finale: Issue & Sendoff

The issue de table included pippins (apples) with caraway comfits, custard (blaunderelle), wafers, and hippocras. Apples (cold/dry) restrained excess; caraway (hot/dry) dispelled wind; hippocras (spiced wine) “sealed” the stomach.

Apples & Caraway

Bartholomaeus Anglicus: apples “close the stomach and make good digestion.” Andrew Boorde: “rawe apples do stoppe the bely, and do coole a man.” Gerard: caraway comfits “are taken for the winde, and against the collick.” Together: a classic period pairing, served raw with candied spice.

Sotelties

These edible allegories (Annunciation, angels, Magi) weren’t about digestion. They refreshed the spirit and gave rhythm between heavy dishes.

Costly Showpieces

Some dishes weren’t about flavor at all. Peacock and swan were tough and gamey, yet served re-feathered as symbols of prestige. Sea bream inland was a logistical feat, showing the household’s reach. Sugar jellies and sotelties consumed expensive imports, functioning as edible theater. These dishes were declarations of wealth and power as much as food.

Overall Temperament by Course

Hot Cold Moist Dry Astringent

Course / Stage	Overall Temperament	Why this net effect?
First Course	Hot Dry (+Moist from pottages)	Opens with mustard & preserved brawn (hot/dry stimulants), then warm/moist pottages; heavy meats appear early but are sauced. Net effect = warming/activating with a slight dry edge to “open the stomach.”
Second Course	Hot Dry (+ moderated by Moist entremets)	Heaviest roasts (venison, crane, peacock) are hot/dry at peak digestion; custards/jellies (entremets) punctuate to moisten/refresh. Net effect = the feast’s hottest/driest point, tempered between platters.
Third Course	Moist Cool (+ Astringent close)	Steps down with smaller birds and moist/cooling fish in jelly; baked quinces add astringency to begin closure; sage fritters give brief warmth without flipping the net trend.
Finale (Issue & Boute-hors)	Cool Dry → sealed by HotDry (hippocras)	Raw apples + caraway comfits = cool/dry & wind-dispelling; wafers are light/dry. Final seal with hippocras (hot/dry) “closes the stomach” and guards against putrefaction.

Show SCA stages with temperament

SCA Stage	Temperament	Notes
On Table / Entrance	HotDry	Mustard & brawn stimulate and announce status.
Pottages & Gentle Dishes	MoistWarm	Opens and soothes the stomach.
Great Roasts	HotDry	Peak heat/dryness; serve when digestion is strongest.
Entremets	MoistCool	Palate/digestion refreshers between roasts.
Lighter Birds & Fish	MoistCool	Step-down phase toward closure.
Dessert / Fruit	Astringent	Begins the “binding” close (quinces, etc.).
Issue	CoolDry	Raw apples + comfits; wafers light and crisp.
Boute-hors	HotDry	Hippocras seals the stomach.

Feast Planning with Russell’s Menu

For SCA feast planners, Russell’s feast maps neatly into modern service frameworks:

Downloadable Resources:

• Russell’s Feast Framework (Filled Example)
• Blank Feast Planning Template

Stage	Dishes from Russell’s Menu	Digestive Role
On Table / Entrance	Mustard & brawn	Stimulates appetite, prestige
Pottages	Pottage, blancmanger, jellies	Gentle starters, open stomach
Great Roasts	Beef, mutton, venison, swan, peacock, bustard, crane, etc.	Heaviest, driest meats; mid-digestion
Entremets	Custards, pastries, fritters, sotelties	Palate refreshers, visual allegories
Lighter Birds & Fish	Curlew, quail, perch in jelly, crayfish	Moist/cooling, easier to digest
Dessert / Fruit	Quinces baked, sage fritters	Astringent closure, sharpen digestion
Issue	Apples with caraway, wafers	Refresh and bind, dispel wind
Boute-hors	Hippocras	Spiced wine to seal digestion

Mythbusting Russell’s Feast

• “Feasts were chaotic.” ❌ They followed medical choreography.
• “Everyone ate the same food.” ❌ Hierarchy dictated portions.
• “Peacock and swan were delicacies.” ❌ They were tough; value lay in spectacle.
• “Sugar was common.” ❌ It was a costly luxury spice.
• “Fritters were desserts only.” ❌ They appear in every course as stimulants.
• “Fruit was always cooked.” ❌ The pippins at issue were raw, paired with comfits.

✅ Dos & ❌ Don’ts by Course

• First Course
  ✅ Pair heavy meats with moist dishes (pottage, sauce)
  ❌ Don’t open with multiple cold/moist foods — they dull appetite
• Second Course
  ✅ Interleave entremets between heavy roasts
  ❌ Don’t serve only hot/dry roasts back-to-back — digestion overload
• Third Course
  ✅ Use cooling/moist dishes (fish, almond cream) to “calm the stomach”
  ❌ Don’t drop in new hot/dry meats here — it reverses the descent
• Finale
  ✅ Always end with an astringent fruit + spiced closer
  ❌ Don’t pile sweets without balance — needs closure to “seal digestion”

Conclusion

Russell’s Dynere of Flesche shows that medieval dining was deliberate: humoral balance, digestive order, spectacle, and hierarchy all interlaced. What seems like excess was careful choreography. For modern readers—and especially SCA feast stewards—it offers both inspiration and a reminder: a medieval feast was an art of health and performance.

Why this matters today: Russell’s feast reminds us that medieval banquets were not chaotic indulgence, but carefully balanced systems of health, status, and art. It’s a reminder that food has always been about more than eating—it shapes identity, power, and performance at the table.

Glossary: a few terms

• Chawdron: rich sauce of entrails/offal.
• Entremets: “between-dishes” (light/spectacular interludes).
• Sotelty: edible allegory/sculpture, more for the eyes than the stomach.
• Issue de table: light closing bites after courses.
• Boute-hors: sendoff drink(s), e.g., hippocras.

Source: John Russell, Boke of Nurture, Harleian MS 4011, fol. 171 (c. 1460).

Further reading

• Flandrin & Montanari (eds.), Food: A Culinary History — feast structure.
• Hieatt & Butler (eds.), Curye on Inglysch — Middle English recipes.
• Adamson, Food in Medieval Times — ingredients, trade, status.

From Sauce to Aspic – The 500-Year Journey of Galentyne → Galantine

From hot medieval sauce to elegant cold aspic — the shifting identity of galentyne/galantine.

What’s in a name? Few dishes illustrate the transformations of European cuisine as vividly as galentyne. In the 14th century, it meant a spiced, bread-thickened sauce for meats or fish. By the 19th century, galantine had become a boned, stuffed, aspic-set cold dish — a centerpiece of French haute cuisine. Here we trace that remarkable journey across 500 years, with original recipes and modern adaptations.

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Medieval Origins (14th–15th c.)

Harleian MS. 279 (England, c.1430): Fyletes in Galentyne is one of the best known. Pork is roasted, cut up, and stewed with onions, pepper, ginger, bread, and vinegar, finished with blood or sanders for color.

“Take fayre porke of the fore quarter, and rost hit tyl hit be almost ynogh; … and colour hit with blode, or elles with sandres, and then lat hit boyle up wel, and serve it forth.”

See the full recipe in our updated Fyletes in Galentyne post.

Entremets — The Forgotten Medieval Course

Entremets — The Forgotten Medieval Course Between Pottage and Roast

Paolo Veronese, The Feast in the House of Levi (1573), Gallerie dell'Accademia, Venice. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons.

Updated: 2025-09-11 · Labels: Entremet · Feast Planning · Historical Cooking · Medieval · Renaissance

Modern feast menus often jump from a pottage or soup straight to roasts. Historically, diners expected something between. The entremet (Old French: “between-dish”) served as a bridge between heavy services, offering refreshment, surprise, and sometimes outright spectacle. This post explains the term’s origins, how it functioned, where it went, and practical ways to revive it in today’s feasts.

Etymology & Early References

Entremet derives from Old French (entre + mettre/mettre “to place/send in between”), literally a dish interposed between services. The concept appears prominently in 14th‑century French sources such as Le Viandier and later in Le Ménagier de Paris; in English material (e.g., Harleian MS. 279, c.1430) you find dishes that likely filled the same role, even when not labeled “entremet.”

Function of the Entremet

• Pacing & Palate Reset: a light interlude after dense pottages or fish and before the roasts.
• Spectacle & Surprise: color shifts, unusual textures, disguised forms, molded shapes.
• Status & Seasonality: ingredients like saffron, sugar, almonds signal wealth and trade access; colors and motifs reflect seasonal/religious themes.

Entremet vs. Soteltie (Subtlety)

Aspect	Entremet	Soteltie / Subtlety
Purpose	Culinary surprise between services; light refreshment	Edible (or semi‑edible) display; allegory, heraldry, pageant
Form	Real dishes: rice, fritters, jellies, fruit, delicate pottages	Sculpted pastry/sugar/marzipan; sometimes inedible components
Placement	Between major courses (e.g., after fish/pottage, before roasts)	Also between courses, but primarily ceremonial/representational
Examples	Blawnche Perrye; colored rice; almond jelly; small fritters	Heraldic beasts; castles; motto banners; sugar tableaux

Historical Examples

• Blawnche Perrye — a light, pale pottage; visually striking early in a feast.
• Colored rice — saffron‑gold, parsley‑green, or spiced rice for contrast.
• Fritters — rice or fruit fritters served in small bites.
• Jellies — molded almond or wine jellies; multicolored effects.
• Disguised dishes — meats/fish presented in altered forms for surprise.

Regional Variations of the Entremet

While the entremet began in French courtly dining, the idea of a “between dish” spread widely. Each region adapted the form to local tastes, ingredients, and cultural priorities.

France

In sources such as Le Viandier and Le Ménagier de Paris (14th c.), entremets often took spectacular form — multicolored jellies, stuffed or disguised animals, and occasional allegorical displays.

England

English manuscripts like Harleian MS. 279 (~1430) present plainer entremets: light pottages (e.g., Blawnche Perrye), spiced rice, or oyster dishes — emphasizing humoral balance over pageantry.

Italy

Italian masters (Maestro Martino, Scappi) blurred entremets with refined lighter courses: almond milk dishes, sugared rice, small pasta or vegetable preparations with elegant presentation.

Spain & Catalonia

Texts such as Llibre de Coch (1520) show sweet‑leaning entremets — almond pastes, candied fruits, spiced rice — foreshadowing dessert traditions.

Germany

German Speisebücher and later works (e.g., Anna Wecker, 1598) feature Zwischenspeisen (“between‑dishes”): saffron or parsley‑colored rice, Sülze (bright fish/meat jellies), and fritters like Krapfen or Strauben — practical, colorful, and texturally contrasting.

Comparison at a Glance

Region	Style	Typical Entremets
France	Spectacle & allegory	Multicolored jellies; disguised animals; displays
England	Plain & balancing	Light pottages; Blawnche Perrye; spiced rice; oysters
Italy	Refined & sweet‑leaning	Almond milk dishes; sugared rice; elegant vegetables/pasta
Spain	Sweet & aromatic	Candied fruit; almond pastes; sweet rice
Germany	Practical & colorful	Saffron/parsley rice; Sülze; fritters (Krapfen, Strauben)

Cultural Implications of the Entremet

• Status & Wealth: saffron, sugar, and almonds advertised trade connections and prosperity.
• Hospitality & Generosity: an “extra” dish beyond necessity signaled refined care for guests.
• Symbolism & Allegory: colors, shapes, and motifs could project heraldry, virtues, or politics.
• Religious Context: on fast days, almond/fish/rice entremets expressed piety while keeping celebration.
• Urban vs. Rural: princely or guild feasts layered multiple entremets; smaller households scaled with fruit or fritters.

Techniques & Ingredients for Recreating Historical Entremets Today

Coloring & Flavoring

• Saffron for gold; spinach/parsley juice for green; beet/red wine for red‑purple.
• Pouder douce/forte-inspired spice mixes (cinnamon, ginger, grains of paradise/pepper, clove) for warming balance.

Texture & Setting

• Gelatin sheets as a modern stand‑in for isinglass; almond milk (unsweetened) for dairy‑free jellies/pottages; rice flour for smooth thickening.
• Use silicone molds or small ramekins for easy unmolding and portion control.

Service & Plating

• Keep portions amuse‑bouche to tasting‑spoon size.
• Serve on trenchers or small plates for visual “in‑between” cues.
• Contrast color/temperature with adjacent courses (e.g., warm saffron rice after a cool fish pottage).

How Preparation & Serving Evolved Across Cultures

• France: 14th‑c. courtly showpieces; by 17th‑c. service à la française, “entremets” shifts toward plated side dishes (vegetables/sweets).
• England: lighter, balancing dishes early on; later, subtleties dominate the between‑course spectacle while “entremet” as a named category fades.
• Italy: refined palate‑cleansers in Martino/Scappi; drift toward sweet course traditions.
• Germany: practical Zwischenspeisen (colored rice, Sülze, fritters) persist as pacing devices; concept echoes into modern zwischenmahlzeiten (snacks).
• Spain/Catalonia: sweet, aromatic dishes bridge to the rise of post‑meal desserts.

Social & Political Implications of Elaborate Entremets

• Political messaging: allegorical colors/figures could reinforce heraldry, dynastic claims, or alliances.
• Diplomatic theatre: multiple entremets broadcast wealth and organizational prowess to envoys/guests.
• Religious signalling: fast‑day almond/rice/fish displays piety + generosity.
• Guild identity: urban companies used entremets to rival noble display and celebrate craft prosperity.
• Class contrast: layering “extras” underlined hierarchy where common tables had few courses.

Modern Feast Planning: Reviving the Entremet

• Pick one small, high‑impact dish (colored rice, fritter, molded jelly).
• Plate for contrast (color/temperature/texture) and keep portions small.
• Mind humoral balance: pair cold‑moist (oysters, almond milk) with warming spices (ginger, pepper).
• Leverage dietary wins: many entremets are naturally GF/DF; offer a vegan variant where sensible.

🍽️ Entremet Examples on Give it Forth

• Orenges after the Portugall Fashion – preserved and stuffed citrus
• Gelo in Bocconcini di più Colori – jewel-like multi-colored jellies
• Bolas (Poached Pears in Plum Sauce) – fruit course with sauce
• Spanish Wedges – elegant 17th-c. sweet entremet
• Blawnche Perrye – creamy almond & fish dish, often served between courses

FAQ: Does a Modern Galantine Count as an Entremet?

Sometimes. If served as a small, decorative “between” dish (rather than as part of the roast service), a galantine can function as an entremet. Keep portions modest and presentation striking; otherwise it reads as a main meat course.

Sources & Further Reading

• Le Viandier (14th c.) — early entremet references.
• Le Ménagier de Paris (c. 1393) — household menus with entremet-like items.
• Harleian MS. 279 (c. 1430) — English recipes including light pottages and oysters.
• Maestro Martino, The Art of Cooking — refined Italian inter-course dishes.
• Bartolomeo Scappi, Opera — elegant entremet examples in Renaissance service.
• Anna Wecker, Ein Köstlich new Kochbuch (1598) — German Zwischenspeisen.
• Llibre de Coch (1520, Catalonia) — sweet/aromatic entremet traditions.

Potash & Pearl Ash: The Alkaline Origins of American Baking

Front cover and title page scans from Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery (1796)

From Ash to Rise: Potash, Pearl Ash, and the First American Chemical Leaveners

Before commercial baking powder revolutionized the kitchen, early bakers reached for something far more rustic: ashes. Specifically, they utilized the lye-rich remnants of burned hardwood to produce potash and, later, its refined cousin, pearl ash. These alkaline salts, when combined with acidic ingredients, acted as the first chemical leaveners of early American and European baking.

What is Potash?

Potash, or potassium carbonate, is derived from the ashes of burned hardwood. Traditionally, early cooks would soak wood ash in water, extract the resulting lye, and boil off the liquid to concentrate the alkaline residue.  The name "pot ash" originates from the iron pots historically used during this production process. 

Pearl Ash: The Cleaner Leavener

Pearl ash is a purified form of potash.  The refinement process involved dissolving crude potash in water, allowing the insoluble sediment to settle, then filtering and gently evaporating the solution until white crystals formed. This process created a cleaner, more consistent leavening agent preferred for baking cakes and biscuits.

How Alkaline Leavening Works

Neither potash nor pearl ash works alone. They need an acidic partner to trigger a chemical reaction that produces carbon dioxide gas. This gas forms bubbles in batters and doughs, helping them rise and achieve a light texture. 

• Potash: Stronger, more caustic, less refined — best used with caution or in soapmaking.
• Pearl Ash: More purified, milder, and food safe —  suitable for cakes, biscuits, and cookies.

How Does It Compare to Hartshorn?

Hartshorn, or ammonium carbonate, differs in that it does not require an acid to activate.  It's ideal for crisp cookies like Springerle, where dryness is key.  In contrast, potash-based leaveners must be carefully balanced with acidic components, or the resulting bake may carry an unpleasant alkaline flavor.  Potash typically found its place in softer quick breads and early cakes. 

📚 Curious about hartshorn? Click here to explore how bakers used ammonium carbonate before baking soda became common.

Refining Potash into Pearl Ash

Pearl ash isn’t just cleaner potash—it’s the result of a deliberate purification process. Historically, makers dissolved crude potash in water, allowed insoluble impurities to settle out, then filtered and gently evaporated the liquid until white crystals formed. This recrystallized form offered better predictability and reduced off-flavors in baked goods.

Common Acidic Pairings in Historical Recipes

• Buttermilk or clabbered milk
• Molasses (commonly used in gingerbreads)
• Vinegar or sour wine
• Apple cider or citrus juice

Historical Note: Gingerbread with Pearl Ash

The earliest American-published cookbook, American Cookery by Amelia Simmons (1796), includes several recipes calling for pearl ash as a leavening agent. One gingerbread variant reads:

“Gingerbread Cakes” – One quart of molasses, one pound of sugar, three quarters of a pound of shortening, one cup of sour milk, four teaspoons pearl ash, four tablespoons ginger, cinnamon and cloves to taste, and as much flour as will make it roll out.

— Amelia Simmons, American Cookery (1796)

Where to Find Potash or Pearl Ash Today

• Potash: You can make it at home from hardwood ashes, but for safety and consistency, it's best sourced as food-grade potassium carbonate from specialty chemical suppliers or soapmaking shops (e.g., Bulk Apothecary, The Lye Guy).
• Pearl Ash: Much harder to find today, but chemically similar results can be achieved with food-grade potassium carbonate or by using baking soda (sodium bicarbonate) in a modern adaptation.

Example: Gingerbread with Pearl Ash (1796)

Amelia Simmons’s American Cookery (1796) features several gingerbread cookie recipes that call for pearl ash—a purified form of potash—dissolved in milk or water. This marks one of the earliest printed uses of a chemical leavener in American baking. 🧁

View the original 1796 scans, or check the Smithsonian & American Heritage notes on Simmons's innovations :contentReference[oaicite:2]{index=2}.

Historical Example: Gingerbread with Pearl Ash

Adapted from late 18th-century sources:

• 2 cups flour
• 1 cup molasses
• 1/4 cup butter, melted
• 1 tsp pearl ash dissolved in 1 tbsp vinegar
• 1 tsp ginger
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• Optional: cloves or nutmeg

1. Mix molasses, butter, and spices.
2. Add pearl ash mixture.
3. Stir in flour gradually to form a dough.
4. Drop by spoonful or roll and cut into rounds.
5. Bake at 350°F for 10–12 minutes.

📜 Want to learn more about potash and pearl ash? Click here to explore how ashes became America’s first chemical leaveners.

The Rise of Baking Powder

The arrival of commercial baking powder made baking more accessible. Unlike potash or pearl ash, it included both alkaline and acidic components, eliminating the guesswork. Home cooks no longer needed to rely on tricky ratios or worry about acidic pairings—baking became easier, faster, and more reliable. This convenience marked the end of Pearl Ash’s reign in the kitchen.

Other Forgotten Leaveners

Before modern yeast and chemical leaveners, a variety of traditional techniques helped baked goods to rise 

• Ale barm: Foam from fermenting beer, used in breads and cakes before commercial yeast.
• Egg leavening: Beaten egg whites or whole eggs incorporated air, helping cakes and sponges rise naturally.
• Sack starters: Fermented mixtures using sack (fortified wine) and flour as makeshift yeast.

Quick Comparison: Forgotten Alkaline Leaveners

Leavener	Source	Needs Acid?	Best Used In
Potash	Boiled wood ash	Yes	Quick breads, early cakes
Pearl Ash	Purified potash	Yes	Gingerbread, sponge cake
Hartshorn	Distilled antlers or hooves	No	Crisp cookies, Springerle

Further Reading & Recipes to Explore

• Hartshorn in Historical Cookies
• Wikipedia: Potash
• Wikipedia: Pearl Ash
• Amelia Simmons’ American Cookery (1796)

🧾 Coming Soon: This post is part of the Forgotten Leaveners series. Watch for the downloadable bundle, including:

• Comparison chart of early leaveners
• Printable recipe cards
• Bonus bakes: potash cakes, Springerle, and more

💾 Follow me on Ko-fi to get updates when it's live!

The Importance of Color in the Middle Ages

A medieval banquet scene from an illuminated manuscript, where rich colors—red, blue, green, and gold—signaled wealth, virtue, and festal meaning.

The Importance of Color in the Medieval and Renaissance World

Color in the medieval and Renaissance world wasn’t decoration—it was language. Every hue carried meaning, from the virtues on a knight’s shield to the foods on a feast table. This article explores the rich symbolism of color across heraldry, religion, humoral medicine, and banqueting, with a case study of the tawny-hued drink Tannye from Harleian MS. 279. Discover how cooks used spices, herbs, blood, and even saffron to dye their dishes with purpose, and how diners read those colors as signs of faith, fortune, and health.