Auter Brawn en Peuerade | Medieval Pork Pottage with Pepper Sauce (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.

Æppla Syfling: Following the Trail of an Anglo-Saxon Apple Butter

Æppla Syfling: Following the Trail of an Anglo-Saxon Apple Butter

Sometimes revisiting an old recipe does not reveal mistakes. Sometimes it reveals how much care went into the reconstruction in the first place.

A few weeks ago, while revisiting an Anglo-Saxon feast I originally prepared in 2003, I found myself in a strange place: ten pages deep into Google searching for Æppla Syfling.

The odd thing?

Most of the results led right back to me.

Or rather, to a much younger version of myself.

Back in 2003, for Ceilidh XVI, I prepared an Anglo-Saxon inspired feast using recipes from Mary Savelli’s Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England. Like many historical cooks of my generation, I trusted her work because she attempted something genuinely difficult: taking fragmentary evidence and transforming it into dishes that modern cooks could understand, discuss, and place on the table.

One of those dishes was Æppla Syfling, translated simply as apple butter.

At the time, the recipe felt entirely reasonable. Apples, cider, honey, mint, cumin, and black pepper cooked into a soft accompaniment to bread or the feast table. I made it, served it, enjoyed it, and moved on.

More than twenty years later, curiosity got the better of me.

What exactly had Mary seen in this recipe?

And perhaps more importantly:

What did Anglo-Saxons mean by the word syfling?

Ceilidh XVI, March 29, 2003. The original Anglo-Saxon inspired feast where Æppla Syfling first appeared on my table.

Original Feast Context: Æppla Syfling was originally prepared for Ceilidh XVI, an Anglo-Saxon inspired feast held on March 29, 2003.

📜 Read the original feast record:
Ceilidh XVI – March 29, 2003

🍏 Explore the updated feast research:
Reconstructing an Anglo-Saxon Feast: Ceilidh XVI Revisited

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The Value of Revisiting Old Recipes

One of the gifts of maintaining a long-running historical cooking blog is that older work remains visible. That is not always comfortable. Old recipes can show what sources were available, what assumptions were common, and what questions had not yet been asked.

But older work also preserves something precious: the moment when a cook took the evidence available and made it practical.

That matters especially for Anglo-Saxon food. Unlike later medieval English cookery, we do not have a large collection of household recipe books telling us exactly how these dishes were made. Instead, we work from scattered clues: medical texts, glossaries, archaeology, food rents, monastic rules, comparative sources, and later culinary habits.

In 2003, that work was harder than it is today. Searchable manuscript databases, digitized medieval texts, OCR search tools, online dictionaries, and high-resolution scans from major libraries were not sitting one click away.

Most historical cooks worked from the books they owned, interlibrary loans, photocopies, conference notes, handwritten bibliographies, and the generosity of other researchers.

A Note on Mary Savelli’s Work: This revisit is not an attempt to correct Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England. If anything, it has deepened my appreciation for it. Mary Savelli was doing something genuinely useful: building practical bridges between fragmentary Anglo-Saxon evidence and modern kitchens.

That is the spirit in which I returned to Æppla Syfling.

Not to ask, “Was Mary wrong?”

But to ask, “What was Mary seeing?”

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What Does Syfling Mean?

That question led me somewhere unexpected.

Not first to a recipe.

Not even to a manuscript.

It led me to a dictionary.

According to the Bosworth–Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, the Old English word syfling refers broadly to a food eaten with bread, an accompaniment, or something supplemental served alongside a staple food. Even more intriguingly, the dictionary glosses æppla syfling as apple sauce.

That stopped me for a moment.

Had I misunderstood the recipe all these years?

The longer I sat with the idea, the more I found myself circling back to Mary Savelli’s original interpretation with fresh appreciation.

If syfling means an accompaniment eaten with bread, then translating Æppla Syfling as apple butter begins to make practical sense. Historical cooks often choose familiar language to help modern readers understand unfamiliar ideas, and “apple butter” immediately communicates an apple-based preparation meant to accompany bread or a meal.

English speakers have long used the word butter for soft fruit preparations:

• Apple butter
• Pear butter
• Pumpkin butter

Not dairy butter, but soft, spoonable fruit accompaniments.

Seen through that lens, Mary’s choice feels less like a literal translation and more like an interpretive bridge between Anglo-Saxon foodways and a modern kitchen.

Language Note: Syfling does not need to mean “butter” in the dairy sense. It points toward an accompaniment eaten with bread. That makes “apple butter” a surprisingly sensible modern way to describe a soft apple preparation served at table.

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Following the Flavor Trail

If the word syfling started making more sense, the next question became flavor.

Why mint? Why cumin? Why pepper?

At first glance, these seem unusual companions to apples. Yet the deeper I looked into Anglo-Saxon medicine and comparative culinary traditions, the more thoughtful Mary Savelli’s reconstruction began to feel.

What I expected to find, if I am being honest, was evidence that I might reinterpret the recipe dramatically.

Instead, I found evidence that Mary may already have understood more than I first realized.

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Bald’s Leechbook, Digestion, and Familiar Flavors

Bald’s Leechbook is not a cookbook. It is a 10th-century Old English medical manuscript, deeply influenced by earlier Mediterranean medical traditions inherited through Greek, Roman, and Byzantine learning.

That matters because Anglo-Saxon medical texts often preserve familiar kitchen ingredients in practical use: apples, herbs, honey, vinegar, butter, milk, ale, grains, and warming spices.

While revisiting Mary Savelli’s reconstruction, I found something in Bald’s Leechbook that stopped me in my tracks.

In Book II, Chapter XII, a digestive remedy “for spewing, and in case that a man’s meat will not keep down” combines several ingredients that felt immediately familiar:

• Mint
• Pepper
• Cumin
• Sour apples
• Wine

“For spewing, and in case that a mans meat will not keep down… take one ounce of seed of dill, four of pepper, three of cumin… put into water in which mint has been sodden and sour apples… if the man be not in a fever, eke it with wine.”

Thomas Oswald Cockayne, Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, Vol. II, Book II, Ch. XII.

That does not prove Æppla Syfling exactly. Historical evidence rarely works so neatly.

But it demonstrates something important:

Anglo-Saxon medicine already understood apples, mint, pepper, cumin, and wine as ingredients that belonged together.

Even more fascinating, Cockayne notes that this remedy partly reflects the medical writings of Alexander of Tralles, a Byzantine physician whose work helped transmit older Mediterranean medical traditions into medieval Europe.

In other words:

Anglo-Saxon medicine did not emerge in isolation.

It inherited centuries of medical thinking in which foods, herbs, and spices were understood to warm, cool, stimulate digestion, soothe discomfort, and support bodily balance.

Bald’s Leechbook, Book II, Chapter XII. Digestive remedies preserve combinations of mint, cumin, pepper, sour apples, and wine.

Primary Source Trail

• Bosworth–Toller Dictionary Entry for Syfling
• View Bald’s Leechbook in the British Library Manuscript Viewer
• Cockayne Translation: Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, Vol. II
• Explore Apicius Online

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Ann Hagen, Fruit Sauces, and Digestion

Ann Hagen’s work on Anglo-Saxon foodways provides another fascinating clue.

Hagen notes that fruit sauces were traditionally served with meat and fish dishes and could help “cut the fat,” making richer foods easier to digest.

Even more intriguingly, she points out that Anglo-Saxon leechdoms mention sauces of vinegar, honey, and herbs, observing that there is little reason to suppose these belonged only to medicine.

In one discussion, Hagen references:

“sweet apples, marinaded in wine, then stewed and sweetened with honey and peppered.”

That combination immediately caught my attention.

Not because it proves Æppla Syfling exactly, but because it demonstrates something important:

apples, honey, pepper, herbs, and sharp liquids already belonged together in Anglo-Saxon thinking.

Apples provide tartness and body. Honey softens the edge. Mint brightens. Pepper and cumin warm.

Seen this way, Æppla Syfling begins to feel less like an odd reconstruction and more like a very plausible accompaniment for richer foods on an Anglo-Saxon table.

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Roman Echoes: Apicius

Mary also pointed toward Apicius, the Roman cookbook tradition.

This does not mean Anglo-Saxons were cooking Roman recipes unchanged. Rather, it suggests that flavor families survived and evolved across centuries.

In John Edwards’ The Roman Cookery of Apicius, a cumin sauce for oysters combines:

• Pepper
• Mint
• Cumin
• Honey
• Sharp liquids such as vinegar

No apples, of course.

But the flavor logic feels strikingly familiar.

Sweet. Sharp. Herbal. Peppery.

Modern cooks sometimes find these combinations surprising. Ancient and medieval cooks clearly did not.

Explore Apicius Online:
Roman Cookery of Apicius

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Mary Savelli’s Original Reconstruction

One of the things I expected to find while revisiting this recipe was evidence that I might want to reinterpret it more dramatically. Instead, revisiting Mary Savelli’s original instructions revealed something surprising:

She was closer to an Anglo-Saxon interpretation than many may have recognized.

Her recipe does not resemble the thick, heavily reduced modern apple butter many of us imagine today.

Instead, it produces something softer, brighter, and far more sauce-like.

Æppla Syfling – Apple Butter
Makes 1½ cups

• 2 medium apples, peeled and finely chopped
• 1 cup apple cider (or apple juice)
• 2 tbsp honey
• ⅛ tsp ground black pepper
• ¼ tsp each dried mint and cumin leaves

Method:
Boil the apples in the cider for 30 minutes or until soft; purée. Thoroughly mix the remaining ingredients into the apple purée and cool.

Recipe adapted from Mary Savelli, Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England.

At first, I thought I might reinterpret this dish as something looser and more relish-like.

Looking back at Mary’s original instructions, however, I realized she may already have been aiming for exactly that.

What changed for me was not the recipe itself.

It was understanding the historical logic behind it.

My 2026 Interpretation: I would keep the heart of Mary’s recipe and its soft, sauce-like texture. If anything, I would be careful not to reduce it too far. I would aim for a tart, herbal apple accompaniment eaten with bread or served beside richer foods.

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Æppla Syfling: A Modern Historical Reconstruction

Serves 8

Ingredients

• 6 medium tart apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
• 1 cup apple cider or unsweetened apple juice
• 1 to 2 tablespoons honey, or to taste
• 1 tablespoon fresh mint, finely chopped, or 1 teaspoon dried mint
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
• 1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
• Pinch of salt, optional
• 1 to 2 teaspoons cider vinegar, optional, if your apples are not tart

Method

1. Place the chopped apples and cider in a saucepan over medium heat.
2. Bring to a gentle simmer, then reduce the heat and cook until the apples are soft, stirring occasionally.
3. Mash the apples with a spoon or potato masher. For a smoother sauce, press through a sieve or use an immersion blender briefly.
4. Stir in the honey, mint, cumin, pepper, and salt if using.
5. Taste. If the sauce is too sweet or flat, add a small splash of cider vinegar.
6. Continue cooking only until the mixture is soft and spoonable. Do not reduce it into a dense preserve unless you prefer a more modern apple butter texture.
7. Serve warm or at room temperature.

To Serve

Serve Æppla Syfling with warm bread, oatcakes, roast pork, sausage, fish, sharp cheese, or as part of an Anglo-Saxon inspired feast board.

Cook’s Note: For a version closer to modern apple butter, continue cooking the mixture over low heat until thick and deeply reduced. For my current interpretation, I prefer to leave it looser and more sauce-like, preserving the tartness of the apples and the brightness of the mint.

2003 Version vs. 2026 Interpretation

In 2003, I understood this dish primarily through the modern phrase apple butter. In 2026, I still think that phrase is useful, but I understand it more broadly.

A syfling was an accompaniment. Something eaten with bread. Something that made the staple more flavorful, nourishing, or pleasant.

So yes, Æppla Syfling can still be understood as apple butter.

But perhaps not only as the thick sweet preserve many of us grew up with.

It may also be apple sauce. Apple relish. Apple accompaniment. A tart, herbal spoonful of something bright beside bread and meat.

And in that sense, Mary’s original translation may have been doing exactly what good reconstruction often does: giving modern cooks a doorway into a much older kitchen.

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Frequently Asked Questions

What does Æppla Syfling mean?

Æppla means apples. Syfling refers broadly to a food eaten with bread or an accompaniment. Bosworth–Toller glosses æppla syfling as apple sauce.

Is Æppla Syfling really apple butter?

It can reasonably be understood that way if “apple butter” is used broadly to mean a soft apple accompaniment served with bread or at table. It may not have resembled the thick, heavily reduced sweet preserve many modern cooks associate with apple butter.

Why does the recipe include cumin and pepper?

Cumin and pepper may seem surprising with apples today, but they make sense in a historical context where sharp, sweet, herbal, and warming flavors often appeared together. Bald’s Leechbook, Ann Hagen, and Apicius all help contextualize this flavor family.

Would this have been eaten with meat?

Possibly. Ann Hagen notes that fruit sauces could accompany meat and fish dishes and help cut richness. Æppla Syfling would make sense with sausage, pork, beef, fish, cheese, or bread.

Was Anglo-Saxon food medicinal?

Food and medicine overlapped in Anglo-Saxon culture. Medical texts regularly used common kitchen ingredients, including fruits, herbs, honey, vinegar, dairy, and grains. This does not mean every dish was medicinal, but it does show that food and bodily comfort were closely connected.

More Like This

• Ceilidh XVI – March 29, 2003: Original Feast Record
• Reconstructing an Anglo-Saxon Feast: Ceilidh XVI Revisited
• Medieval Cooking Basics: Spice Powders
• Five Medieval Breakfast Dishes Worth Waking Up For

Sources and Further Reading

• Mary Savelli, Tastes of Anglo-Saxon England. Anglo-Saxon Books, 2002.
• Ann Hagen, Anglo-Saxon Food: Processing and Consumption. University College London, 1992.
• Bosworth–Toller Anglo-Saxon Dictionary, entry for syfling.
• Thomas Oswald Cockayne, ed., Leechdoms, Wortcunning, and Starcraft of Early England, Vol. II.
• Bald’s Leechbook, British Library Manuscript Viewer.
• Apicius, The Roman Cookery of Apicius, translated and adapted by John Edwards, 1984.
• Apicius Online, LacusCurtius.

Final Thought: Revisiting this recipe made me appreciate Mary Savelli’s work more. With modern tools, digitized sources, and twenty years of additional cooking experience, I understand Æppla Syfling differently today. But the trail she followed still feels thoughtful, plausible, and very much worth tasting.

Would you serve Æppla Syfling with warm bread, or beside sausage and roast pork?

Moretum Recipe – Ancient Roman Herbed Cheese Spread

Moretum – Ancient Roman Herbed Cheese Spread (Roman Feast Recipe)

This dish was served as part of the Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast.

Originally published: June 29, 2025 | Updated: June 5, 2026

Updated 6/5/2026: This post has been expanded to current Give It Forth standards with additional historical background, Roman dining context, feast and camp service notes, a recipe scaled for 8 diners, dietary notes, FAQ, internal feast links, and structured recipe data.

What is Moretum? Moretum is an ancient Roman herbed cheese spread made by pounding cheese, garlic, herbs, vinegar, and olive oil together in a mortar. It is pungent, salty, green, sharp, and excellent with bread as part of a Roman gustum, or appetizer course.

Moretum – Roman Herbed Cheese Spread

Course: Gustum (Appetizer)
Origin: Ancient Rome
Served: Cold or Room Temperature
Event: Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast

Moretum is one of those ancient dishes that feels startlingly immediate. Garlic, salty cheese, fresh herbs, vinegar, and olive oil are pounded together until they become a spread strong enough to wake the appetite and simple enough to serve with bread. It is not delicate food. It is rustic, fragrant, sharp, and lively, the kind of dish that makes a table feel inhabited rather than merely decorated.

For a Roman feast, Moretum works beautifully as a first taste. A small spoonful spread onto flatbread gives diners salt, fat, acid, herb, and heat all at once. It is also deeply practical for modern feast cooks: no stove is required, it can be made ahead, and it travels well if kept cold. That makes it especially useful for camping events, dayboards, and Pennsic-style service, where flavor, safety, and simplicity all have to sit at the same table.

Historical Background

Moretum was a common Roman dish combining fresh herbs, garlic, cheese, vinegar, and olive oil. The recipe appears in a short Latin poem once attributed to Virgil, describing a farmer preparing this flavorful spread as part of his daily breakfast. Its name likely comes from the mortar used to pound and mix the ingredients.

Did You Know?
The Moretum poem details the rustic preparation of this dish and includes an ode to garlic. It offers a vivid look into the humble meals of rural Romans.

For an English translation of the Moretum poem, see the Poetry in Translation version here.

The poem gives us more than a list of ingredients. It preserves a small domestic scene: a farmer rising early, grinding garlic and herbs, mixing cheese with oil and vinegar, and eating the finished spread with bread before beginning his work. That makes moretum especially useful for interpretation. It is not an elite showpiece dish, but a practical food with strong flavors, simple ingredients, and deep roots in everyday Roman eating.

This is part of what makes Moretum so valuable for historical cooking. Many surviving Roman recipes are associated with elite households, banquet culture, or the literary world of refined dining. Moretum, by contrast, feels close to ordinary life. It belongs to bread, work, garden herbs, dairy, and the mortar. It reminds us that historical food is not only peacocks, sauces, and spectacle. Sometimes it is a bowl of cheese and garlic eaten before a long day begins.

Garlic, Mortars, and the Roman Table

The name moretum is generally connected to the mortar, or mortarium, used to pound the ingredients together. This matters because texture is part of the dish. Moretum is not meant to be a delicate modern dip whipped into perfect smoothness. It is a pounded spread: coarse enough to show herbs and cheese, but unified by olive oil and vinegar into something that can be scooped up with bread.

A mortar changes how the ingredients behave. Garlic becomes softer, stronger, and more aromatic as it is crushed. Herbs bruise and release their oils. Cheese breaks down and absorbs the sharper flavors. Vinegar brightens the mixture, while olive oil softens the edges and helps bind everything together. A food processor is very useful for feast preparation, but the mortar helps explain the original character of the dish.

The flavor should be bold. Garlic gives the dish its heat. Cheese provides salt and body. Herbs bring freshness and color. Vinegar keeps the spread from becoming heavy. Served beside flatbread, olives, cucumbers, sausages, vegetables, and wine, Moretum makes a Roman appetizer board feel complete.

🏛️ Roman feast note: Moretum works beautifully as the flavorful center of a Roman dayboard. A small amount goes a long way, especially when paired with Piadina, olives, cucumbers, sausages, and other gustum dishes.

Moretum in the Gustum Course

In a Roman meal, the gustum served as the opening course, meant to wake the appetite and prepare diners for what followed. Dishes in this part of the meal might include eggs, olives, salads, cucumbers, small sausages, fish sauces, herbs, and bread. Moretum fits beautifully here because it is assertive without being heavy.

For modern diners, it also has an advantage: it is familiar enough to invite tasting, but different enough to feel historical. People understand bread and cheese. The surprise comes from the intensity of the garlic, the green herbs, and the vinegar. That balance makes Moretum a useful teaching dish. It lets the cook introduce Roman food through something approachable while still preserving a flavor profile that feels older than a modern cheese ball or party dip.

At the Push for Pennsic Roman feast, Moretum helped establish the tone of the meal. It gave the table a rustic, herbal, communal beginning and worked well beside the other opening dishes. Diners could take a little, spread it on bread, taste it with olives, or use it as a sharp counterpoint to richer foods. That is exactly where this dish shines.

Modern Interpretation

This version uses pecorino romano and fresh herbs like coriander and celery leaf to evoke the original blend. It is simple, pungent, and perfect with bread.

Pecorino romano is salty and assertive, which makes it a good modern choice for this dish. Fresh coriander, or cilantro, gives the spread a bright green herbal quality, while celery leaves echo the bitter-green flavors often found in older herb mixtures. If cilantro is not liked by your diners, parsley may be substituted, though the flavor will be milder.

The goal is a spread that tastes alive: garlicky, salty, herbal, tangy, and rich. If it tastes flat, add a little more vinegar. If it feels too harsh, add olive oil or a bit more cheese. If the garlic seems overwhelming, let the spread rest overnight. The flavors will settle and knit together, though the garlic will still remain the herald at the gate.

⚖️ Humoral note: In later medieval dietary theory, garlic was considered strongly heating and drying, while cheese could be heavy and moist depending on age and type. Vinegar and fresh herbs help sharpen and balance the dish. Although Moretum is Roman rather than medieval, the practical flavor balance is clear: rich cheese, hot garlic, bright herbs, sharp vinegar, and smoothing olive oil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why Crane?

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

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

How Was a Crane Carved?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Period-Style Reconstruction

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

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

📜 Period Italian, Style-Faithful Reconstruction

Italian

English Translation

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

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

Humoral and Dietary Context

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

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

At Our Table

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

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

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

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

Still Life of Autumn Fruits and Vegetables — shared image for the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series, evoking abundance and the early-modern feast.

Home › Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series › Barberry Sauce for Roast Meats (1660)

Barberry Sauce for Roast Meats (1660) — A Tudor & Stuart Alternative to Cranberries

Part of the Tudor & Stuart Thanksgiving Series — exploring how early modern English cooks used tart, jewel-red fruits like barberries to brighten rich feasts in much the same way we use cranberry sauce today.

A Sharp, Scarlet Counterpoint to Roast Meat

Long before cranberries became iconic on American holiday tables, English cooks were using barberries to do a very similar job. These tiny, vivid red berries — the fruit of the shrub Berberis vulgaris — appear in 16th- and 17th-century English recipes as garnishes, pickles, and sharp, “cooling” sauces for goose, pig, pork, and rich pies.

In The Accomplisht Cook (1660), Robert May scatters barberries through pies and dressings, and suggests them in sauces for goose and other roasted fowl. Their bright acidity and ruby colour made them a perfect foil for fatty meats — a role cranberries would come to play later in colonial New England.

Barberries, Cranberries, and the Thanksgiving Table

Barberries in England: Barberries are native to Europe and western Asia. In early modern England they were valued both as a medicine and a culinary ingredient, especially for their sharp taste and striking colour. They were used in pickles, preserves, sauces, and as garnishes on rich dishes, and were common enough to appear repeatedly in British recipe books and household manuscripts.

Cranberries in North America: Cranberries (Vaccinium macrocarpon) are native to North America. Indigenous peoples in New England and the Canadian Maritimes harvested them for food, dye, and medicine. Seventeenth-century English accounts of New England describe “craneberries” being eaten with meat and as part of pemmican-like preparations.

Parallel Uses, Different Histories: While there is no surviving English recipe that says “use cranberries where you would use barberries,” the two fruits occupy very similar roles:

• Both are small, tart, scarlet berries.
• Both were served with rich meats as a sharp, refreshing contrast.
• Both appear in sauces, relishes, and preserves.

In England, barberries remain the canonical choice in the 17th century; in colonial New England, cranberries fill the local niche. For modern historical cooks in North America, cranberries can be a practical stand-in when barberries are unavailable — as long as we are clear that the substitution is modern, not Tudor or Stuart.

Period Sources: Barberries in Robert May’s Kitchen

Sauce for a Goose — Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

The following comes from May’s “Sauce for a stubble or fat Goose”, which gives two forms. The second explicitly calls for barberries in a rich apple-based sauce.

Source: Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (London, 1660), “Sauce for a stubble or fat Goose.” The full text is available via Project Gutenberg and early modern facsimiles.

Sauce for a stubble or fat Goose.
1. The Goose being scalded, drawn, and trust, put a handful of salt in the belly of it, roast it, and make sauce with sowr apples slic’t, and boil’d in beer all to mash, then put to it sugar and beaten butter. Sometime for veriety add barberries and the gravy of the fowl.

2. Roast sowr apples or pippins, strain them, and put to them vinegar, sugar, gravy, barberries, grated bread, beaten cinamon, mustard, and boil’d onions strained and put to it.

To Pickle Barberries Red — Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (1660)

May also gives directions for pickling barberries, which provide the preserved fruit used in sauces throughout the year.

Source: Robert May, The Accomplisht Cook (London, 1660), section on pickles and preserves (often titled “To pickle Grapes, Gooseberries, Barberries, red and white Currans” and related entries).

To Pickle Barberries Red.
When your Barbaries are picked from the leaves in clusters, about Michaelmas, or when they are ripe, let your water boyl, and give them a half a dozen walms; let your pickle be white-wine and vinegar, not too sharp, so put them up for your use.

AI assistance disclosure: This post used AI to help with HTML formatting, SEO/meta, image creation, internal linking, and clarity edits. All recipes, testing, historical framing, and final edits are by the author.

Furikake rice seasoning – made from kombu, bonito, sesame, and seaweed.
Image generated by ChatGPT (© 2025, used with permission).

Basic Recipe – Furikake (Rice Seasoning from Kombu & Bonito)

Context: This simple, fragrant seasoning captures the essence of Japanese umami cooking. Furikake transforms what might otherwise be kitchen scraps—kombu and bonito from dashi-making—into a savory, nutritious topping for rice or vegetables. It’s a perfect example of resourceful cooking in both medieval and modern kitchens.

Kohaku-namasu (Daikon and Carrot Salad)

Kitchen Adventures – Crown Tournament 2019: Kohaku-namasu (Daikon and Carrot Salad)

Kohaku-namasu (Daikon and Carrot Salad)
Photo © Cooking with Dog, used under CC BY-NC 4.0.

Originally published 11/25/2019 Updated 11/6/2025

A symbolic red-and-white salad of daikon and carrot lightly pickled in sweetened vinegar — a bright accent to the first tray of the Muromachi-period Honzen Ryori feast.

Kohaku-namasu represents more than flavor: the colors themselves are auspicious. Red symbolizes joy and protection from evil; white represents purity and celebration. The dish was introduced from China during the Nara period and became a central feature of Osechi Ryori — the traditional New Year’s cuisine of the Heian court.

Crown Tournament 10/19/2019 Mikawa ae (Miso & Sesame Cucumber Pickles)

Crown Tournament 2019: Mikawa ae (Miso and Sesame Cucumber Pickles)

From the Muromachi-period Honzen Ryori menu served at Crown Tournament (October 19, 2019): crisp cucumbers dressed in a miso–sesame emulsion, bright with rice vinegar and shiso.

Mikawa ae — Photo courtesy of Avelyn Grene (Kristen Lynn)

Originally published 11/25/2019 Updated 11/6/2025

This beautifully simple dish was a standout on the first tray. The balance of salt, sweetness, and umami offered a refreshing counterpoint to the grilled and simmered items. The redaction draws on Sengoku Daimyo’s Redactions of Japanese Dishes, aligning with techniques seen in late medieval Japan.

Fukujinzuke – “Seven Lucky Gods” Pickles for Japanese Curry

Fukujinzuke (red pickles for curry) 福神漬け
Photo courtesy of Avelyn Grene (Kristen Lynn)

Originallypublished 10/29/2029 Updated 10/31/2025

Fukujinzuke (福神漬け) is a sweet–salty soy-pickled relish traditionally served with Japanese curry rice (kare-raisu). Its name honors the Shichi Fukujin—the Seven Lucky Gods—each symbolizing a different virtue. A classic preparation uses seven vegetables such as daikon, lotus root, cucumber, eggplant, carrot, shiitake, and burdock.

Though curry and fukujinzuke date from Japan’s Meiji era (1868–1912), these pickles trace their roots to far older preservation arts. Including them in the Crown Tournament Feast provided guests with a glimpse of how Japanese foodways evolved from the Muromachi period’s elegant honzen ryōri to later, modern tastes.

Tsukemono—Japanese pickles—form an essential part of nearly every meal. They cleanse the palate, add color and texture, and reflect regional produce and technique. Methods range from simple salt cures (shiozuke) and vinegar brines (amasuzuke) to soy-based (shoyuzuke), miso (misozuke), rice-bran (nukazuke), and sake-lees (kasuzuke) fermentations.

Our fukujinzuke is a shoyuzuke: vegetables simmered briefly in a soy–sugar–vinegar brine for a glossy, gently candied finish. Commercial versions are often tinted red; traditional homespun ones remain soy-brown. A sliver of beet can replace the food dye for color if desired.

🥕 Dietary Notes: Vegan & vegetarian. Contains soy. For gluten-free, use tamari. Omit candied ginger for low-sugar or allium-free adaptation.

Homemade Vegetable Stock Powder – DIY Bouillon with Historical Tips

Homemade Vegetable Stock Powder – DIY Bouillon & Historical Tips

Learn how to make vegetable stock powder, vegetable stock, and homemade bouillon from scratch. Perfect for medieval-inspired cooking, camp meals, and budget-friendly feasts.

Originally published: 8/9/2025  |  Updated: 10/30/2025

Dietary Notes 🥕: Vegan • Vegetarian • Gluten-Free. Low-sodium: see tips below. Allergen-friendly: no nuts, dairy, soy; skip nutritional yeast if sensitive and sub mushroom powder.

Savoury Tostyde – Digby’s 17th-Century Cheese Toasts (The Closet, 1669)

Savoury Tostyde – Digby’s 17th-Century Cheese Toasts (Curia Lunch)

Savoury Tostyde – Digby’s 17th-Century Cheese Toasts (The Closet, 1669)

Kenelm Digby’s The Closet of the Eminently Learned Sir Kenelme Digbie, Kt., Opened (1669) is a treasure of early-modern foodways—wines, remedies, and practical dishes gathered on his travels. “Savoury Tostyde” reads less like a fixed recipe and more like a method for luxurious cheese toasts: melt “quick, fat, rich, well-tasted” cheese into used, seasoned butter (from cooking asparagus, peas, or meat gravies), optionally fold in asparagus, bacon, onions, chives, or anchovies, and serve molten over white-bread toasts; scorch the top for drama.

Original Text (Digby, 1669)

Cut pieces of quick, fat, rich, well tasted cheese, (as the best of Brye, Cheshire, &c. or sharp thick Cream-Cheese) into a dish of thick beaten melted Butter, that hath served for Sparages or the like, or pease, or other boiled Sallet, or ragout of meat, or gravy of Mutton: and, if you will, Chop some of the Asparages among it, or slices of Gambon of Bacon, or fresh-collops, or Onions, or Sibboulets, or Anchovis, and set all this to melt upon a Chafing-dish of Coals, and stir all well together, to Incorporate them; and when all is of an equal consistence, strew some gross White-Pepper on it, and eat it with tosts or crusts of White-bread. You may scorch it at the top with a hot Fire-Shovel.

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

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

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

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Medieval Origins (14th–15th c.)

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

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

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

Fylettys en Galentyne - Pork in Spiced Onion Sauce (Stew & Sauce Interpretations, Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Fylettys en Galentyne – Pork in Spiced Onion Sauce (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Kitchen test photo from the original 2016 post, showing the stew interpretation of Fyletes in Galentyne.

Fyletes in Galentyne appears in Harleian MS. 279 (c.1430) and exemplifies a common medieval pairing: roasted or half-roasted meat finished in a rich, spiced sauce. The “galentyne” is thickened with bread and given depth either by blood (for savory richness) or by sanders (red sandalwood) to tint and flavor. Both are legitimate medieval options, so we present them side by side.

Note on interpretation: When this recipe was first published here on February 11, 2016, I presented it as a stew — simmered pork and onions in a spiced broth. On closer reading, however, the text more clearly aligns with the medieval understanding of galentyne as a sauce for meat: roast pork finished with a thickened, spiced, colored sauce. 

Both versions are plausible, so I’ve left my original interpretation here (Version A) and added the sauce-based version (Version B). The original post has been updated and republished on September 10, 2025 to reflect this correction.

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Original Recipe (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Englishe:
“Take fayre porke of the fore quarter, and rost hit tyl hit be almost ynogh; then take and smyte hit in fayre pecys, and caste hit in a fayre potte; then take oynons and shredde hem small, and frie hem in fayre grece, and caste hem to the porke, and stew hit togydre; then take gode broth of beef or motton, and caste thereto; then take powder of peper and of gynger, and caste thereto; and take bred ystepid in vinegre, and strayne hit thorow a straynoure, and caste thereto; and colour hit with blode, or elles with sandres, and then lat hit boyle up wel, and serve it forth.”

Modern Translation:
Take good pork from the forequarter and roast it until nearly done; cut into pieces and place in a pot. Chop onions, fry them in fat, and add to the pork. Stew together with good beef or mutton broth. Add pepper and ginger. Take bread soaked in vinegar, strain it, and add. Color with blood—or else with red sandalwood—and let it boil well. Serve forth.

Medieval French Cooking: Une Vinaigrette (Beef & Onions in Spiced Wine Sauce)

Une Vinaigrette (Beef & Onions with Wine-Ginger Sauce)

“The Feast in the House of Levi” (detail), Paolo Veronese. Used here as period context for a Renaissance savory pie.

Context

Une Vinaigrette appears in medieval French sources and was translated by Terence Scully (1998). The dish layers beef (or lamb) with onions and serves it in a sauce of red wine, broth, breadcrumbs, and warming spices—ginger, grains of paradise, pepper, saffron, and vinegar. The result is both hearty and sharp, showing the medieval palate for savory meats balanced with spice and sour notes.

Humoral Qualities

In humoral theory, beef is heavy, hot, and dry, suited to those with strong digestions or balanced by moistening and cooling elements. The onions and wine add heat and sharpness, while the vinegar offers a cooling, cutting quality to aid digestion. The dish would have been considered appropriate in a main roast course, but could also appear earlier to stimulate appetite.

Provenance

The recipe for Une Vinaigrette comes from Le Viandier, one of the most important medieval French cookbooks. Traditionally attributed to Guillaume Tirel (called Taillevent), master cook to King Charles V of France, the text survives in several manuscripts from the late 14th and 15th centuries. It reflects the refined cooking of the French court, where sauces of wine, vinegar, and warming spices balanced the heaviness of roasted meats. Terence Scully’s 1998 edition (The Viandier of Taillevent, University of Ottawa Press) provides a critical edition of the extant manuscripts and the English translation used here.

Original French

Une vinaigrette. Prenez buef ou mouton et coupez en pièces, puis mettez-les à rostir au gril. Prenez oignons et taillez par rondelles, et friez en sain de lart bien cuit. Puis prenez bon vin vermeil et bouillon de buef, et mettez du pain blanc tosté et broyé pour lier. Mettez gingembre, graine de paradis, poivre et saffran, et un petit de vinaigre. Couliez vostre sausse, et mettez vostre viande et oignons dedans; ou les servez à part, et la sausse en un autre plat.

This passage is the basis for Scully’s English rendering: beef or mutton, roasted with onions, served in a sauce of red wine, broth, breadcrumbs, ginger, grains of paradise, saffron, pepper, and vinegar.

Original Text & Modern Translation

Original (Scully, 1998)

Modern Interpretation

Take beef or mutton and cut it in pieces, then put them to roast on the grill. Take onions and slice them into rounds, and fry them in grease until well cooked. Then take good red wine and beef stock, put therein white bread toasted and ground to thicken it, and season with ginger, grains of paradise, pepper and saffron, and a little vinegar. Strain the sauce and put the meat and onions therein; or serve the meat and onions separately, with the sauce in a dish.

Cut beef or lamb into chunks and roast or grill until done, but not overcooked. Slice onions into rounds and sauté them in butter, oil, or lard until golden. For the sauce, simmer red wine and beef broth with breadcrumbs until smooth. Add ginger, pepper, grains of paradise (or allspice), saffron, and a splash of vinegar. Strain the sauce and serve it either mixed with the meat and onions, or on the side as a dip. Excellent served on its own, or with rice or pasta.

Sauce Sarsoun (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430) – Medieval Almond, Sugar & Pomegranate Sauce

Sauce Sarsoun – Almond, Sugar, and Pomegranate Sauce (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Originally recorded in Harleian MS. 279, c.1430

Medieval cooks used jewel-like pomegranate seeds to decorate sauces and meats.

Serving note: For a period-forward table setting, consider this handmade red clay tableware set. (affiliate)

In fifteenth-century English kitchens, sauces were not mere accompaniments but important markers of taste and refinement. Sauce Sarsoun from Harleian MS. 279 is a striking example: a rich blend of almonds, almond milk, wine, and sugar, finished with the jewel-like brilliance of pomegranate seeds. It demonstrates the medieval love of almond-based cookery, the expensive allure of sugar, and the symbolic flourish of garnishes drawn from distant lands.

Capoun in Consewe – Medieval Chicken in Almond Broth (Harleian MS. 279)

Capoun in Consewe (Harleian MS. 279, c.1430)

Capoun in Consewe – a luxurious, restorative pottage of chicken in almond broth.

Serving note: For a period-forward table setting, consider this handmade red clay tableware set featured in the image above. (affiliate)

Capoun in Consewe appears as recipe no. lxiiij in Harleian MS. 279 (c. 1430). The word consewe likely draws on Old French roots with the sense of “to comfort/strengthen,” which suits the dish: a nourishing chicken pottage scented with parsley and savory, enriched with almonds (or egg yolks), and finished with sugar.

A capon (a castrated rooster) signaled luxury; almonds and sugar were costly imports. Together they elevate a simple boiled fowl into something fit for feast tables and restorative cookery. In humoral terms, parsley and savory (hot & dry) balance the warm, moist qualities of chicken and almond milk—this is flavor and medicine in tandem.

Herbs in Context

Parsley was praised for aiding digestion and “opening the stomach.” Savory brought a peppery sharpness and was used to correct heaviness and “wind.” Their pairing keeps the dish lively and balanced.

🍲 Did You Know?

Capoun in Consewe functioned much like modern chicken soup: gentle enough for the sick or weak, yet refined enough for feast service—especially with the luxury of almonds and sugar.

⚖️ Ingredients in Humoral Balance

• Capon / Chicken – Warm & moist; gentle, nourishing flesh.
• Parsley – Hot & dry; aids digestion, “opens the stomach.”
• Savory – Hot & dry; sharp corrective for heaviness/wind.
• Almonds / Almond milk – Warm & moist; luxurious richness, easily digested.
• Egg yolks – Hot & moist; fortifying thickener (optional).
• Sugar – Warm & moist; balancing sweetness, a mark of elite dining.
• Salt – Cold & dry; flavor enhancer and practical preservative.

Together these create a restorative, balanced pottage—truly medieval “chicken soup for the soul.”

Side-by-Side Recipe

Original (Middle English)

.lxiiij. Capoun in consewe.—Take a Capoun, & make hem clene, & sethe hym in Water, percely, Sauereye & Salt; & whan he his y-now, quarter hym; þan grynde Almaundys. & temper vppe wyth þat brothe of þe Capoun; or ellys take þe ȝolkys of Eyroun, & make it chargeaunt, & strayne þe Almaundys & boyle it; take Sugre a goode porcyoun, & do þer-yn; & when it ys y-boylid, ley þe Capoun in þe dysshe, & put þat Sew a-boue, & strawe þer-vppe-on Sugre, & send it yn with alman̛.

Modern Translation

Take a capon and clean it well. Boil it in water with parsley, savory, and salt. When it is cooked, cut it into quarters. Grind almonds and mix them with the broth from the capon (or else thicken the broth with egg yolks). Strain the almond mixture and boil it. Add a good portion of sugar. When boiled, place the capon in a dish and pour the sauce over. Strew sugar on top and serve it with almonds.

Modern Recipe

Tacuinum Sanitatis, Casanatense 4182 (14th c.): roasting meat at the hearth. Public domain. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons / Biblioteca Casanatense.

Two Italian Sauces for Roasted Meat: Walnut & Green Herb (Medieval to Renaissance)

Updated with historical context & interlinks to the 2024 Tournament of the Arts lunch menu.

For the Tournament of the Arts (2024) lunch, I wanted condimenti that traveled well, didn’t need reheating, and made simple roast or cold meats sing. These two Italian sauces do exactly that: a nutty, velvety Savor di Noci alla Fiorentina (Walnut & Garlic) and a sharp, herb-forward Salsa viridis (Green Sauce). Think of them as a historical alternative to mustard—great for camp kitchens, feasts, and picnic trays.

Flavor contrast at a glance: Walnut sauce = rich & earthy · Green sauce = bright & piquant. Serve both so diners can choose their adventure.

Italian Renaissance Spit Roasted Beef made with Salted Brisket & Served with Sweet Mustard Sauce from Scappi

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.

Historical Context: The Arrosta in Renaissance Dining

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.

Theory of Digestion and Humoral Balance

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.

Variety Within the Roast Course

While the name suggests a single cooking method, the arrosta could include:

• Spit-roasted meats — large joints of beef, lamb, game birds.
• Grilled dishes — chops, skewers, or offal.
• Fried items — fritters, pastries, and delicate morsels.
• Baked pies and pasties — often with meat or cheese fillings.

This variety allowed the cook to display mastery over multiple techniques while still keeping within the course’s “dry” category in humoral terms.

Salting as a Preservation Technique

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.

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Menu

1. Per arrostire allo spiedo un carré di costolette di manzo – To spit-roast a rack of beef ribs (Brisket substitution) 
2. Per brasare le cipolle intere in quaresima – To braise whole onions in Lent 
3. Salsa di noci e aglio – Walnut and Garlic Sauce 
4. Salsa di Mostardo amabile – Sweet Mustard Sauce 
5. Per far diverse minestre di zucche Turchesche – Turkish Squash 
6. Tortelletti d’herba alla Lombarda – Herb tortellini in the Lombard Style 
7. Gelo in bocconcini di piu colori piatti – Jelly in small bites, of many colors