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Showing posts with label Pottages & First Course Dishes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pottages & First Course Dishes. Show all posts

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


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

Originally published April 18, 2016. Updated June 2026.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cawdelle Ferry: A Medieval Wine Caudle from Harleian MS 279

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lyode Soppes: One of England's Earliest Bread Puddings

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creme Boylede – A Luxurious Medieval Boiled Custard from Harleian MS 279

Creme Boylede, a medieval boiled custard garnished with pomegranate seeds
Creme Boylede garnished with pomegranate seeds

Originally published January 11, 2016. Updated June 2026.

Creme Boylede is a rich medieval boiled custard made from cream or milk, bread, egg yolks, butter, sugar, and salt. It appears in Harleian MS 279, a fifteenth-century English cookery manuscript dated to about 1430, and it is one of those recipes that looks simple until you begin asking what kind of dish it actually was.

Modern diners are likely to read the ingredients and think “dessert.” A medieval cook may have understood it differently. The recipe appears among the pottages, but it also instructs the cook to serve the finished custard “in manner of mortrewys,” linking it to a style of thick, carefully prepared dishes that could function as special dishes or entremets. That makes Creme Boylede a beautiful little category-goblin: part custard, part pottage, part feast-table luxury.

It is also delicious. The bread is soaked in cream or milk, warmed, strained, and then enriched with egg yolks, butter, sugar, and salt. The result is smooth, sweet, and comforting, with the texture of a soft custard and the thrift of a medieval kitchen hiding under all that cream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk | Whyte Wortes

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

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

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

“This is GOOD.”

One tester even wished their mother cooked cabbage this way.

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

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

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

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

The Original Recipe

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

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

A Working Translation

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

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

From Joutes to Whyte Wortes

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

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

In other words:

Use the herbs and greens you prepared for Joutes.

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

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

Pot Herbs, Wortes, and Medieval Kitchen Ingenuity

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

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

Modern cooks often want a recipe to say:

Use exactly this.

Medieval recipes often say something closer to:

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

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

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

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

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

What Makes These Wortes “White”?

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

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

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

Why Almond Milk Mattered

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rice Flour, Honey, and Texture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why Boil the Greens First?

This step is easy to overlook, but it matters.

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

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

Whyte Wortes: Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk

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

Ingredients

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

Method

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

Modern Kitchen Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why This Is a Good Feast Dish

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

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

How I Would Serve It

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

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

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

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

What are Whyte Wortes?

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

Why are they called white wortes?

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

What greens should I use?

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

Is this recipe vegan?

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

Can I use store-bought almond milk?

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

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

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

Can I use spinach?

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

Is this a pottage or a side dish?

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

Is this a Lenten dish?

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

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval Braised Greens with Peas | Lange Wortys de Pesoun

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, it is lovely.

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

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

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

The Original Recipe

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

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

A Working Translation

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

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

What Are Wortys?

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

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

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

Why So Many Greens?

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

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

Peas in the Medieval Kitchen

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

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

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

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

Peas, Pottage, and Texture

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

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

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

That flexibility is part of its charm.

Oil, Fish Broth, and Fasting Food

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

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

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

Lange Wortys de Pesoun: Medieval Greens with Peas

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

Ingredients

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

Method

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

Modern Kitchen Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

How I Would Serve It

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

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

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

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

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Lange Wortys de Pesoun a soup?

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

What does “wortys” mean?

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

What kind of peas should I use?

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

Should this recipe use beef broth?

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

Can this be made vegan?

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

Can I use frozen peas?

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

Is this a Lenten dish?

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

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

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

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

Hidden tags: Lange Wortys de Pesoun, Lange Wortes de Pesoun, Harleian MS 279, medieval greens recipe, medieval peas recipe, wortes, wortys, pottage, medieval pottage, braised greens, Lenten recipe, fasting food, vegan medieval recipe, vegetarian medieval recipe, saffron, onion, beans and legumes, 15th century English cookery, manuscript cookery, medieval vegetables, historical food research, medieval peas, field peas, marrowfat peas, first course medieval meal

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
Dandelion plant with yellow flowers and toothed green leaves

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.

Applade Ryalle: Medieval Apple Soup from Harleian MS. 279

Applade Ryalle: Medieval Apple Soup from Harleian MS. 279

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

Applade Ryalle medieval apple soup prepared in three historical variations
.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.

Golden Fritters of the Renaissance – Scappi’s Fritelli di Riso

Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum historiale, France ca. 1294-1297 Boulogne-sur-Mer, Bibliothèque municipale, ms. 130II, fol. 87v.


Fritelli di Riso – Sweet Rice Fritters (Scappi, 1570)

Rice fritters may not sound exciting on paper—but let me tell you, these were the bombdiggity. I originally planned to test a savory version (I thought it might better suit modern palates), but after one sweet trial? Sold. The almond milk and sugar were perfect. Even better, the flavors made a lovely foundation for the  fricassee of rabbit and black broth it was served with. This dish punched way above its weight in the Alesso Course lineup.

Roman Smoked Pork with Must Cakes – Petaso paro Mustacei

Petaso paro Mustacei – Smoked Pork with Sweet Wine Cakes

Course: Mensa Prima (First Course)
Origin: Ancient Rome
Served: Warm
Event: Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast

Historical Background

Petaso, or pork, was widely enjoyed in Ancient Rome. In this dish, it is sweetened with honey and figs and served alongside mustacei—wine cakes traditionally baked atop bay leaves for flavor. These cakes were often served at celebrations, symbolizing hospitality and indulgence. Recipes for mustacei appear in Cato the Elder's De Agri Cultura, one of the oldest surviving Latin texts.

Did You Know?
Mustaceum comes from "mustum"—fresh grape must—used to flavor celebratory cakes in Roman weddings and feasts.

Modern Interpretation

Ingredients – Pork & Broth

  • 2 pounds smoked ham
  • 2 ½ cups pearl barley
  • 10 dried figs
  • 1 celery stalk
  • 10 peppercorns
  • 1 cup honey

Instructions

  1. Soak ham overnight. Discard water.
  2. In a pot, cover ham with fresh water. Add barley, figs, celery, peppercorns, and ½ cup honey.
  3. Boil, skim, and simmer for 1 hour. Remove meat and reserve broth. Cool, then glaze with remaining ½ cup honey.

Sweet Wine Sauce

  • 1 ¼ cups red wine
  • 1 ¼ cups raisin wine (or substitute sweet red wine)
  • ½ tsp ground black pepper
  1. Simmer wines and pepper until reduced slightly. Serve as sauce with pork.

Sweet Wine Cakes (Mustacei)

  • 2 cups flour
  • 2 tbsp lard
  • 2 oz grated cheese
  • 1 tsp ground cumin
  • 1 tsp aniseed
  • 3–4 tbsp red wine
  • Bay leaves
  • ½ tsp dried yeast
  1. Rub lard into flour. Mix in cheese, cumin, and aniseed.
  2. Dissolve yeast in wine with bay leaf. Remove bay leaf and mix into flour.
  3. Knead dough, divide into 8, shape into buns. Place on greased tray. Cover and let rise 1½ hrs.
  4. Bake at 375°F for 25–30 minutes until golden.

Serving Suggestions

Slice glazed pork and serve with the wine reduction sauce and a warm mustaceum. Ideal paired with olives or soft cheese for a full Roman plate.

Sources