Can you imagine eating two to three pounds of bread a day—and washing it down with ale? In late medieval and early modern kitchens, bread was the staple, from four-day-old trencher loaves to fine white table bread. This overview compares two elite white breads I bake often: manchet “after my Ladie Graies use” (1594) and Robert May’s “French bread” (1685).
Originally published 1/2/2015 / updated 10/1/2025
For roughly a third of the medieval calendar—Lent and other fast days—cooks avoided meat, dairy, and eggs. Far from the stereotype of endless roasts, elite kitchens leaned on almond milk as a flexible stand-in for dairy: it could be drawn “thick” or “thin,” seasoned sweet or savory, and tailored to the dish at hand.
Because every trained cook knew how to make it, many manuscripts don’t bother giving a basic recipe. When they do spell it out, we learn that medieval almond milk could be drawn with plain water, sugar-water (white or “black”/brownish sugar), or tempered with honey—and in practice, cooks also drew it with broth for savory dishes, or wine for rich Lenten fare and sweets. Below are period texts with clean translations, followed by kitchen-ready modern methods for each variant.
xj. Froyde almoundys. Take blake sugre, an cold water, an do hem to in a fayre potte, an let hem boyle to-gedere, an salt it an skeme it clene, an let it kele; j^an take almaundys, an blawnche hem clene, an stampe hem, an draw hem, with fe sugre water thikke y-now, in-to a fayre vessel: an [yf] fe mylke be nojt swete y-now, take whyte sugre an caste fer-to.
11. Cold Almond Milk. Take black sugar and cold water and put them in a pot; let them boil together, salt and skim clean, and let it cool. Then take almonds, blanch them, and grind them; draw them with the sugar-water thick enough into a fair vessel. If the milk is not sweet enough, add white sugar.
Source: Austin, Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books, Harl. MS 279.
Froyte de almondes. Take blak sugur and cold water, and caste the sugur and þe water in a potte; and lete hem boile togidre, and salt, and skeme hem clene, and let hit kele; And þen take Almoundes, and blanche hem clene, and stampe hem in a morter al smal, and drawe hem thik ynowe thorgh a streyner with sugur water… And serue hit forth in maner of potage, And namely in lenton tyme.
Cold Almond Milk. Boil black sugar with water, salt and skim clean, let cool. Blanch and grind almonds very fine; draw them thick enough through a strainer with the sugar-water… Serve it as a kind of pottage, particularly in Lent.
Source: Austin, Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery Books, Harl. MS 4016.
Take brokyn sugure or for fawte ther of take claryfied hony and put hit into fayre water And set hit on the fyre and boyle hit and skymme hit clene and set hit be syde the fyre and let hit cole and then blanche thy almondys cast them yn a morter and bray them small temper hem up with þe same water.
Take crushed sugar—or, if lacking that, clarified honey—and put it in fair water. Set it on the fire, boil and skim clean; set aside and let cool. Then blanch almonds and grind them small; temper them with the same water.
Source: MS Pepys 1047 (transcription at OldCookery.com).
Notes: These texts show the core technique (blanch → grind → draw/strain) and clearly attest to sugar-water and honey-water variants. In practice, medieval recipes also direct cooks to “draw with broth” for savory pottages and sauces, or with wine for certain feast dishes and sweets. “Thick” vs. “thin” is a matter of almond-to-liquid ratio.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Medieval almond milk was made almost exactly as we do today:
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.
The parallels are striking:
What was once a Lenten necessity has become a café staple.
Originally published: October 2, 2017 • Updated: September 19, 2025
Rose conserve — also called conserva rosarum — is a perfumed paste of fresh rose petals pounded with sugar. It sits right on the border of food and medicine: sweet enough for the banquet table, soothing enough to appear in apothecary lists. Cool, fragrant, and very old-fashioned in the best way.
Source: The Accomplisht Cook, c. 1660 (Robert May).
Originally published 10/29/2017. Updated 9/19/2025.
This shrimp dish comes from Robert May’s The Accomplisht Cook, one of the most influential English cookbooks of the seventeenth century. First published in 1660, May’s work reflects both medieval traditions and the growing influence of Continental cuisine, especially French and Italian. His recipes were intended for professional cooks serving aristocratic and gentry households, showcasing both practicality and elegance.
Stewed shellfish such as shrimp, cockles, and prawns appear often in May’s book. They were common at English tables, especially in the second course of a banquet or feast, where lighter, more refined dishes were expected after heavier meats. The use of capers, wine, and butter in this recipe signals a clear French influence, blending sharp and savory flavors into a delicate sauce.
Dishes like To Stew Shrimps would likely appear in the second course of a formal meal, accompanying poultry, lighter meats, and vegetable preparations. Served on toast, it could also function as a transitional dish between heavier roasts and sweet entremets.
According to Galenic humoral theory still in use during May’s time, shellfish such as shrimp were considered cold and moist. To balance this, cooks paired them with warming, dry ingredients like mace, garlic, pepper, and toasted bread. The addition of vinegar and wine also sharpened and “opened” the dish, believed to aid digestion of the otherwise heavy shellfish.
Wash them well with vinegar, broil or broth them before you take them out of the shells, then put them in a dish with a little claret, vinegar, a handful of capers, mace, pepper, a little grated bread, minced tyme, salt, and the yolks of two or three hard eggs minced, stew all together till you think them enough; then put in a good piece of butter, shake them well together, heat the dish, rub it with a clove of garlick, and put two or three toasts of white bread in the bottom, laying the meat on them. Craw-fish, prawns, or shrimps, are excellent good the same way being taken out of their shells, and make variety of garnish with the shells.
In late 17th-century English cookery, “meat” can simply mean food/dish, not specifically animal flesh. This recipe from The Whole Body of Cookery Dissected (1682) makes quick, delicate apple-and-curd pancakes scented with rosewater, sack (fortified wine), cinnamon, and nutmeg. It’s a natural fit for a brunch or as a sweet course between heavier roasts. I originally made these for our Curia Regis Brunch set—now updated to my modern format.
Source: The Whole Body of Cookery Dissected (1682) — “A Fryed Meate (Pancakes) in Haste for the Second Course.”
Take a pint of curds made tender of morning milk, pressed clean from the Whey, put to them one handful of flour, six eggs, casting away three whites, a little rosewater, sack, cinnamon, nutmeg, sugar, salt, and two pippins minced small, beat this all together into a thick batter, so that it may not run abroad; if you want wherewith to temper it add cream; when they are fried, scrape on sugar and send them up; if this curd be made with sack, as it may as well as with rennet, you may make a pudding with the whey thereof.
Notes: “Pippins” = firm cooking apples. “Sack” ≈ fortified white wine (e.g., dry sherry). “Curds” today map neatly to drained cottage cheese or farmer’s cheese.
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.
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.
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| Paolo Veronese, The Feast in the House of Levi (1573), Gallerie dell'Accademia, Venice. Public domain via Wikimedia Commons. |
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.”
| 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 |
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.
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.
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.
Italian masters (Maestro Martino, Scappi) blurred entremets with refined lighter courses: almond milk dishes, sugared rice, small pasta or vegetable preparations with elegant presentation.
Texts such as Llibre de Coch (1520) show sweet‑leaning entremets — almond pastes, candied fruits, spiced rice — foreshadowing dessert traditions.
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.
| 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) |
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.
Description. This dazzling Renaissance confection comes from Sir Hugh Plat’s Delights for Ladies (1609). “To preserve Orenges after the Portugall fashion” describes a labor-intensive but show-stopping sweet: whole oranges boiled to temper bitterness, candied in syrup, then stuffed with marmalade made from their own pulp. Once finished, they’re sliced like hard-boiled eggs—revealing a jewel-bright center.
Note: Period cooks likely used Seville (bitter) oranges. Sweet oranges make a gentler, less astringent modern result; either works with the method below.
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)
To preserve oranges after the Portugal fashion: core each orange on the side and soak in water. Boil in fair water until tender, changing the water to reduce bitterness. Boil sugar to a syrup sufficient to cover and put the oranges in so they take sugar. Of 24 oranges, beat 8 to a paste with a pound of fine sugar and fill the remaining oranges. Boil again in the syrup: you’ll have marmalade of oranges within the oranges, and it will cut like a hard egg.
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Torta bianca (“white tart”) was a dish of status and symbolism. Appearing in Maestro Martino’s Libro de arte coquinaria (c. 1465), it used fresh white cheese, egg whites, sugar, butter, and milk — baked gently, then perfumed with rosewater and sprinkled with sugar. In Renaissance Italy, white foods carried associations of purity, refinement, and health. By Scappi’s time (1570), torte bianche included versions with provatura (fresh stretched-curd cheese) or ricotta blended with Parmigiano.
Below: (a) Martino’s original Italian text, (b) a literal English translation, (c) Redon’s modern adaptation summary, then a modern tested recipe. Afterward you’ll find 🥕 dietary notes, 📖 menu placement, substitutions, historical notes, cross-links, sources, labels, schema, and ⚖ humoral theory.
Per fare torta biancha. Togli del bono cascio frescho, et biancho, et pistalo molto bene nel mortaro, et metigli del zuccaro, et qualche quarta parte di butiro; et se vi mettessi un poco di lardo tanto meglio serà; poi mettivi alquanti chiari d’ova, et un poco di latte; et mettile sopra lo fuoco piano, et mescola spesso col cocchiaro. Et quando sarà ben mescolato, impastalo con fior di farina, et fa’ la torta cum lo crusto di sopra et di sotto. Et ponila a cocere in lo testo, o al forno, cum fuoco lento di sopra et di sotto; et quando serà cotta, gettagli di sopra un poco di zuccaro et acqua rosata; et serà bona.
To make a white tart. Take good fresh white cheese and pound it very well in a mortar; add sugar and about a quarter part of butter (a little lard is even better); then some egg whites and a little milk. Set it over a gentle fire, stirring often. When well mixed, work it with fine flour, and make the tart with a crust above and below. Bake with gentle heat above and below; when cooked, sprinkle with sugar and rosewater, and it will be good.
A baked pie shell filled with a mixture of cream cheese, egg whites, sugar, butter, and milk. Baked until pale, finished with sugar, rosewater, and candied cherries.
Maestro Martino da Como (c. 1465) was one of the most influential cooks of the Renaissance. His Libro de arte Coquinaria includes Diriola, a delicate custard tart scented with cinnamon and rosewater. The dish straddles the line between medieval spiced creams and the refined Renaissance custards we’d recognize today. Redon, Sabban, and Serventi’s The Medieval Kitchen (1998) provides a modern adaptation faithful to Martino’s cues.
“…un poca d’acqua rosata, et volta bene collo cocchiaro. Et quando sarà fornita di prendere, sera cotta. Et nota che non vole cocere troppo et vole tremare como una ionchata.
Per la Quadragesima: Habbi del lacte de le amandole con del zuccharo, et dell’acqua rosata, et de la canella. Et per fare che si prenda gli mettirai un pocha di farina d’amitto, observando in le altre cose l’ordine del capitolo sopra ditto.”
“…add a little rosewater and stir it well with a spoon. When it begins to set, it is cooked. Note that it should not be over-baked; it should quiver like a junket.
For Lent: take almond milk with sugar, rosewater, and cinnamon. To make it set, add a little starch flour, following the same method as above.”
Context: De la insaleggiata di cipolle is a medieval-to-Renaissance Italian onion “salad.” Onions are roasted in embers or a hot oven until sweet and soft, then sliced and dressed with wine vinegar, oil, and spezie forti (strong spices). These sharp, spiced starters were common on Italian banquet tables as appetite-whetting openers or vegetable accompaniments in the early courses.
Italian (Zambrini ed., 1863):
“Togli cipolle; cuocile sotto la bragia, e poi le monda, e tagliale per traverso longhette e sottili: mettili alquanto d’aceto, sale, oglio e spezie, e dà a mangiare.”
English (faithful translation):
“Take onions; cook them under the embers; then peel them, and cut them across into long, thin slices; put on a little vinegar, salt, oil, and spices, and serve.”
“Roast onions in the fire until blackened. Peel, slice finely, and season with salt, vinegar, oil, and spices.”
This dish reaches us in three layers: the terse 14th-century text, Redon’s Renaissance-informed paraphrase, and the modern tested adaptation below.
| Source | Text / Notes |
|---|---|
| Libro della cucina (14th c.) | “Cook under embers; peel; slice long and thin; dress with a little vinegar, salt, oil, and spices; serve.” |
| Redon (1998) | “Roast in the fire until blackened; peel; slice finely; season with salt, vinegar, oil, and spices.” |
| Modern (tested) | Gives exact quantities, 500°F oven option, spice blend measure, substitutions, and serving notes. |
Fava fresche con brodo di carne is a rustic Renaissance preparation: fresh spring fava beans briefly simmered in meat broth, enriched with a little cured pork, and finished with parsley and mint. The technique keeps the beans tender while letting a few split to lightly thicken the broth.
Seasonality & status: Fava beans were among the first fresh foods after Lent and signaled the turn from winter storage fare to spring produce. Courtly kitchens “elevated” this staple through refined broth, measured cooking, and aromatic herbs—much as spices elevate simple noodles in De lasanis.
Broth choice: Chicken broth reads lighter and more restorative for warmer weather; beef broth is heartier and “strengthening.” Either appears in period practice depending on the season and desired effect.
Fava beans: generally cold & moist.
Pork: fresh pork was classed as cold & moist and heavy; salted/cured pork (pancetta, salt belly) was thought to gain warming/drying qualities from salt and smoke—still rich, but more balancing when used sparingly.
Herbs: parsley and mint are warming/aromatic correctives.
Broth: chicken leans lighter; beef leans more warming/fortifying.
Thus this dish pairs a cold/moist base (beans) with modest warming elements (cured pork, hot broth, herbs) to arrive at a comfortable middle course—similar to how spices balanced the cheese-and-pasta profile in De lasanis.
Ingredients: 2 cups beef or chicken broth (or mix), 4½ lb fresh fava beans, 4 oz salt pork belly or pancetta, 1 Tbsp chopped parsley & mint; salt.
Method: Shell beans; blanch briefly (5 seconds), refresh, peel. Dice pork. Simmer broth, beans, and pork ~10 minutes until beans begin to break. Add herbs; return to a brief boil. Salt to taste and serve.
Per far minestra di Piselli & Fave fresche:
Piglinosi i piselli o baccelli, sgraninosi, & ponganosi in un uaso con oglio d’oliue, sale, & pepe, & faccianosi soffriggere pian piano, aggiungendovi tanta acqua tinta di zafferano, che stiano coperti di due dita, & come saranno poco men che cotti, pestisene una parte nel mortaro, e stemperisi con il medesimo brodo, & mettasi nel uaso con una branchata d’herbuccie battute, e faccianosi levare il bollo, e servanosi caldi.
Translation (modern English):
“Take peas or broad beans, shell them, and put them in a pot with olive oil, salt, and pepper. Let them sauté gently, adding in enough water, colored with saffron, to cover them by about two fingers. When they are a little less than cooked, pound part of them in a mortar and dilute that with the same broth; return it to the pot with a handful of chopped herbs, bring it all to a boil, and serve it hot.”Serves: 4 • Active: 20 min • Total: ~30 min
Del brodo saracenico appears in medieval Italian sources and in modern redaction by Odile Redon et al. (1998). It marries roasted capon or chicken with wine, tart “acid juices,” toasted bread, almonds, dates, raisins, and a gentle spice blend—classic agrodolce (sweet-tart) Renaissance vibes with an evident Mediterranean/Arabic influence.
Latin (Liber de Coquina, late 13th c.)
De brodio sarracenio: pro brodio sarraceno, accipe capones assatos et ficatella eorum cum speciebus et pane assato tere bene, distemperando cum bono vino et succis agris. Tunc frange membratim dictos capones et cum predictis mite ad bulliendum in olla, suppositis dactilis, uvis grecis siccis, amigdalis integris mondatis et lardo sufficienti. Colora sicut placet.
English (modern translation)
“Saracenic broth: to make Saracenic broth, take roasted capons and their livers with spices and toasted bread, pound them well, diluting with good wine and acidic juices. Then cut the capons into pieces and cook in a pot with the ingredients mentioned before, placing on top dates, Greek raisins, whole peeled almonds, and sufficient lardo. Color as you like.”
Note: Source and translation discussion in the references below.
Mushrooms were a popular ingredient in Renaissance Italy, eaten in fast-day dishes and served alongside roasted meats. This recipe for Fungi di Monte (“mushrooms of the mountain”) comes to us from Bartolomeo Scappi’s monumental 1570 Opera. Redon adapts it into a clean, modern version while preserving its essential spicing and method.
Per cuocere funghi di monte in più modi. Dopo che saranno ben nettati, si cuociano in acqua calda, & si lascino scolare; poi si facciano soffriggere con cipolla trita, olio, sale, pepe, canella, garofali, & altre buone spetiarie. Si possono anco cuocere con burro fresco, & cacio parmigiano, & similmente si possono friggere in pastello.
To cook mountain mushrooms in several ways. After they are well cleaned, cook them in hot water and let them drain; then fry them with chopped onion, oil, salt, pepper, cinnamon, cloves, and other good spices. They may also be cooked with fresh butter and Parmesan cheese, and likewise they may be fried in batter.
Italian Renaissance • Savory Pie • Feast-Friendly
This savory pie highlights gentled garlic — blanched to soften its sharpness, then blended with fresh cheese, butter, and warming spices. Adapted from Martino’s 15th-century Libro de arte coquinaria, the dish balances flavors in line with Renaissance cooking theory and humoral practice.
🥕 Dietary Notes: Vegetarian & gluten-free adaptations included.
“The Royal Feast” by Alonso Sánchez Coello (1531–1588), oil on canvas, public domain. A sumptuous Renaissance banquet scene that captures the richness and communal spirit of salumi, fruit, and condiments on the table.
Plates of cured meats, cheeses, olives, fresh and dried fruit, and mustard — listed on our 12th Night 2024 menu and served during the Primo seruitio posto in Tavola (first service on the table, antipasti). Charcuterie is a modern framing; the Italian period lens is salumi with fruit, bread, olives, and a sweet-hot mostarda. Prepared and plated by Dan Parker, the board leaned rustic and abundant—grapes spilling over, glossy olives, rosemary releasing aroma as diners reached in.
While “charcuterie” is a French term, the Italian table has long featured salumi—prosciutto, pancetta, lardo, coppa, and regional salami—paired with breads, olives, grapes, and preserved fruits. Renaissance sources also describe mostarda (sweet fruit with mustard heat). Bartolomeo Scappi (1570) includes a Mostarda amabile that blends cooked quince and apple with sugar, candied citrus, and mustard essence.
Scappi, Opera (1570), Libro II, cap. 276 — “Per far Mostarda amabile”
Quince and apples cooked with wine & sugar, worked with candied citrus and spiced with mustard—pounded to a smooth, sweet-hot sauce.
For this feast I used a modern, chutney-style mostarda for ease and flavor balance (link below), which sits comfortably in the same family even if the texture and acidity are more contemporary.
| Aspect | Period (Scappi, 1570) | Modern Chutney Used | Practical Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
| Fruits | Quince & apples; candied citrus peels | Apples & pears; dried cherries/cranberries | Both seasonal & flexible; quince gives classic perfume |
| Sweet/acid | Sugar + wine + grape must | Sugar + white wine + cider vinegar | Modern reads more “chutney” from vinegar |
| Heat | Mustard essence/seed | Mustard seed + ground mustard + cayenne | Adjust heat post-cook to taste |
| Texture | Smooth, pounded sauce | Chunky, spoonable conserve | Either pairs well with salumi & cheese |
| Make-ahead? | Yes — improves with rest | Yes — 3–4 weeks refrigerated | Ideal for feast workflow |
Two Renaissance dishes: Scappi’s braised onions and the Anonimo Veneziano’s Florentine walnut sauce—perfect for Lenten tables and historical menus.
Renaissance Italian cooks excelled at creating rich, satisfying dishes even during Lenten fasting, when meat, dairy, and animal fats were forbidden. This post brings together two such dishes from different, yet overlapping culinary traditions: Braised Whole Onions from Bartolomeo Scappi’s monumental Opera dell’arte del cucinare (1570) and Savor di Noci alla Fiorentina (Florentine Walnut Sauce) from the Libro di cucina/ Libro per cuoco (Anonimo Veneziano, 14th–15th century). While separated by time, both recipes reflect the ingenuity of cooks in crafting full-flavored fare from vegetables, nuts, and spices.
Bartolomeo Scappi (c. 1500–1577), personal chef to several popes, authored one of the most detailed Renaissance cookbooks. His onion preparations show how texture (parboil, then gentle frying/braising) and small finishings (sugar & cinnamon, or savory sauces) elevate humble ingredients. The Libro di cucina/ Libro per cuoco (Anonimo Veneziano) is a late medieval Italian collection that bridges regional tastes and techniques; its Savor di Noci builds body with bread and nuts and layers in “sweet and strong” spices—an enduring Mediterranean profile that pairs beautifully with vegetables and fish.
Takeaway: These dishes aren’t “making do”—they’re deliberate, technique-driven plates that display Renaissance taste, texture, and balance within the constraints of the liturgical calendar.
| Original (summary from Scappi) | Modern Translation |
|---|---|
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Parboil onions, drain well, and prick so excess water escapes. Fry or braise in olive oil until tender and golden. Serve sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon, or dress with a savory sauce (garlic, green sauce, or the walnut sauce below). Stuffed versions use a spiced nut-herb filling and are finished with verjuice and aromatics. |
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Animal detail from medieval illuminated manuscript, British Library Harley MS 3244, 1236-c 1250, f47r |
Arrosta — the grand roast course of a Renaissance feast — was far more than just meat on a spit. In Bartolomeo Scappi’s Opera (1570), the arrosta included an impressive variety: spit-roasted meats, braised vegetables, elegant sauces, pasta, and even colorful jellies. This was the third course of our 12th Night 2024 feast, following the Alesso course. It showcased the depth of Italian Renaissance cooking, balancing hearty dishes with refined accompaniments.
For this feast, we adapted Scappi’s recipes for a modern feast kitchen, using brisket in place of a full rack of beef ribs, seasonal vegetables, and accessible modern cooking methods — without losing the rich flavors of the originals.
Bartolomeo Scappi, personal chef to several Popes, published his monumental cookbook in 1570. His work captures both grand courtly dining and practical Lenten fare. The arrosta course was often the centerpiece of a meal, designed to impress guests with skill, abundance, and variety. Alongside the expected roasts, Scappi included vegetable dishes, pasta, and desserts, showing the Renaissance love for balanced and abundant tables.
In Renaissance banquet tradition, the arrosta — literally “roast” — was more than a single dish. It was a set course, positioned after the boiled meats (al lesso) and before the final sweets, and served as a showcase for the host’s wealth, skill, and access to prime ingredients. In Italian and broader European practice, this course could include not only spit-roasted meats, but also fried, grilled, and baked dishes, as well as richly sauced accompaniments.
The Renaissance kitchen did not operate solely on taste — it was deeply influenced by the Galenic theory of digestion. According to this model, digestion happened in stages, with foods progressing from lighter and moister to heavier and drier as the meal went on. Roasted meats were considered among the “drier” preparations, especially when spit-roasted over open flame, which was thought to reduce their innate moisture. Without correction, such dishes were believed to tax the body and cause imbalance in the humors, particularly in those of “dry” constitution.
To make these roasts more healthful and digestible, period cooks paired them with moistening sauces — sweet, tart, or spiced — that counterbalanced dryness. This is why Renaissance cookbooks, including Bartolomeo Scappi’s monumental Opera (1570), often present roast recipes alongside multiple sauce preparations. In our feast, this principle is reflected in the Salsa di Mostardo amabile (sweet mustard sauce) and the walnut-garlic sauce served with the beef.
While the name suggests a single cooking method, the arrosta could include:
This variety allowed the cook to display mastery over multiple techniques while still keeping within the course’s “dry” category in humoral terms.
Our beef for this course followed a process rooted in Renaissance preservation methods. Salting was one of the most important means of keeping meat edible beyond the immediate slaughtering period, especially before reliable cold storage. Coarse salt (often mixed with aromatics like fennel, coriander, or garlic) was rubbed into meat to draw out moisture through osmosis, inhibiting bacterial growth. In larger households and urban kitchens, salted meats allowed for advance preparation and easier provisioning — vital for feast service where dozens or even hundreds of guests might be served.
In Scappi’s recipes, salting could be brief — just hours — for seasoning and texture, or extended over several days for preservation. The salted pressed beef method we adapted for our brisket echoes both preservation and seasoning traditions, ensuring flavorful meat that holds its structure through long, slow cooking. In feast context, the ability to produce such meat out of season or far from slaughter was a mark of logistical skill and kitchen sophistication.
Social & Political Implications of Elaborate Entremets