Vyolette: A 15th-Century Violet Almond Custard from Harleian MS. 279

Vyolette: A 15th-Century Violet Custard from Harleian MS. 279

Vyolette, a delicate medieval custard celebrating one of spring's most cherished flowers.

First published: April 20, 2016
Updated: June 26, 2026

Among the first flowers to announce the return of spring, few were as admired by medieval gardeners, physicians, and cooks as the fragrant March Violet. Long before edible flowers became fashionable in modern kitchens, sweet violets were cultivated for their beauty, preserved in syrups and conserves, infused into oils and honey, and transformed into elegant dishes such as this remarkable custard from Harleian MS. 279.

Unlike many modern floral desserts that rely upon extracts or artificial flavorings, Vyolette asks the cook to work directly with fresh blossoms. The flowers are gently cooked, pressed, and blended into almond milk before being thickened into a silky custard. The result is subtle rather than perfumed, allowing the delicate fragrance of the violet itself to remain the centerpiece of the dish.

Historical Context

The flower called for in this recipe was almost certainly the Sweet or March Violet (Viola odorata), a plant prized throughout medieval Europe for both its fragrance and its versatility. Writing in A Nievve Herball (1554), Rembert Dodoens distinguished the richly scented garden violet from its weaker wild cousin, describing the cultivated flower as possessing a "very pleasant and amiable smell." He notes that these violets flowered in March and April, giving rise to the familiar English name "March Violet."

The Sweet or March Violet (Viola odorata) from Rembert Dodoens' A Nievve Herball (1554).

By the early seventeenth century, John Parkinson observed that generations of careful cultivation had produced garden violets that were "fairer in colour, and peradventure of a better scent than when they grew wild." His descriptions of single, double, white, and purple March Violets reveal that these flowers were not merely gathered from hedgerows but intentionally grown in gardens for both ornament and household use.

Our companion article, Of March Violets: Medicinal and Culinary Lore, explores the rich botanical, culinary, and medicinal history of this remarkable flower, including period herbals, violet syrup, violet honey, and additional historical recipes.

Household Context

Fresh violets were among the earliest gifts of spring, making them a naturally seasonal ingredient. Le Ménagier de Paris, the late fourteenth-century household guide known in English as The Good Wife's Guide, instructs gardeners to lift violet plants into pots before winter and shelter them in a cellar or protected place during severe frosts. During mild days the plants were carried back into the fresh air and watered carefully before being returned indoors. Such advice demonstrates that prosperous households deliberately cultivated violets rather than relying solely upon wild flowers.

The same household tradition also records violets decorating elegant dishes. One recipe for aspic jelly directs the cook to garnish each serving with white violets, pomegranate, bay leaves, and colorful dragées before presentation. These references remind us that medieval cooks valued flowers not only for their flavor but also for the beauty they brought to the feast table.

Luxury household accounts likewise record the purchase of violets alongside costly imported sugar, mastic, and spices, illustrating that fragrant flowers were considered worthy companions to some of the finest ingredients available to elite kitchens.

The Manuscript

This recipe appears as .Cxxv. Vyolette in Harleian MS. 279, one of the most important surviving collections of fifteenth-century English cookery. Unlike the manuscript's other recipe for Vyolette, which combines violets with dried fruits, warming spices, and saffron to create a substantial almond pottage, this version is remarkably restrained. It allows the flower itself to remain the principal flavor, supported only by almond milk, a starch thickener, and sugar or honey.

The manuscript also offers an interesting choice between almond milk and "good cow's milk," reminding us that medieval cooks readily adapted recipes to both the liturgical calendar and the resources available in their own kitchens. Almond milk was especially common during fasting periods, while fresh dairy was equally acceptable when dietary restrictions permitted.

The Original Recipe

.Cxxv. Vyolette. — Take Flourys of Vyolet, boyle hem, presse hem, bray hem smal, temper hem vppe with Almaunde mylke, or gode Cowe Mylke, a-lye it with Amyndoun or Flowre of Rys; take Sugre y-now, an putte þer-to, or hony in defaute; coloure it with þe same þat þe flowrys be on y-peyntid a-boue.

Translation

Take violet flowers, boil them, press them, and grind them finely. Mix them with almond milk or good cow's milk, then thicken the mixture with amidon or rice flour. Add enough sugar, or honey if sugar is unavailable. Color the finished dish to resemble the violet flowers themselves.

Caules Wyrtmete: Reconstructing an Anglo-Saxon Cabbage Salad from Medical Texts

Originally served at Ceilidh XVI on March 29, 2003. Updated and expanded with additional historical research in 2026.

Caules Wyrtmete: Reconstructing an Anglo-Saxon Cabbage Salad from Medical Texts

When I reconstructed the menu for Ceilidh XVI in 2003, one of the simplest dishes on the table was a cabbage salad called Caules Wyrtmete. Made with cabbage, peas, leeks, vinegar, oil, and cheese, it seemed a practical addition to an Anglo-Saxon feast. Yet revisiting the sources revealed something far more interesting: the strongest evidence for this dish was not a cookbook, but a medical manuscript.

Rather than a direct copy of a surviving Anglo-Saxon recipe, Caules Wyrtmete explores the space where food, medicine, garden produce, and feast reconstruction meet. The result is a dish that asks one of the most interesting questions in historical cookery: can a feast dish be responsibly reconstructed from a remedy?

What began as a simple cabbage salad eventually led through Anglo-Saxon medicine, Roman dietary theory, and a remedy for dysentery preserved in one of England's most important medical manuscripts. The deeper the investigation went, the less the dish resembled a salad at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cawdelle Ferry: A Medieval Wine Caudle from Harleian MS 279

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Creme Boylede garnished with pomegranate seeds

Originally published January 11, 2016. Updated June 2026.

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

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

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

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

Oyle Soppys, or Oil Sops, a medieval onion and ale soup from Harleian MS 279

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk | Whyte Wortes

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

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

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

“This is GOOD.”

One tester even wished their mother cooked cabbage this way.

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

Whyte Wortes, a 15th-century greens pottage enriched with almond milk, rice flour, saffron, honey, and salt.

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

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

The Original Recipe

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

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

A Working Translation

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

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

From Joutes to Whyte Wortes

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

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

In other words:

Use the herbs and greens you prepared for Joutes.

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

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

Pot Herbs, Wortes, and Medieval Kitchen Ingenuity

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

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

Modern cooks often want a recipe to say:

Use exactly this.

Medieval recipes often say something closer to:

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

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

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

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

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

What Makes These Wortes “White”?

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

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

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

Why Almond Milk Mattered

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rice Flour, Honey, and Texture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why Boil the Greens First?

This step is easy to overlook, but it matters.

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

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

Whyte Wortes: Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk

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

Ingredients

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

Method

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

Modern Kitchen Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why This Is a Good Feast Dish

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

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

How I Would Serve It

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

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

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

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

What are Whyte Wortes?

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

Why are they called white wortes?

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

What greens should I use?

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

Is this recipe vegan?

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

Can I use store-bought almond milk?

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

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

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

Can I use spinach?

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

Is this a pottage or a side dish?

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

Is this a Lenten dish?

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

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

• Medieval Wortys: A Harleian MS 279 Greens Recipe Hub
• Lange Wortys de Chare: Medieval Greens in Broth
• Joutes: Braised Greens from Harleian MS 279
• Lange Wortys de Pesoun: Medieval Greens with Peas
• Browse More Greens Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

• Thomas Austin, ed., Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books, Harleian MS 279 and Harleian MS 4016.
• Harleian MS 279, c.1430.
• Quick Homemade Almond Milk Recipe.
• Medieval Cooking Basics: The Importance of Almond Milk in Medieval Cooking.
• Additional interpretation based on practical cooking experience with medieval pottages, greens, almond milk, and manuscript cookery.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval Braised Greens with Peas | Lange Wortys de Pesoun

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, it is lovely.

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

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

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

The Original Recipe

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

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

A Working Translation

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

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

What Are Wortys?

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

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

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

Why So Many Greens?

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

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

Peas in the Medieval Kitchen

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

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

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

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

Peas, Pottage, and Texture

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

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

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

That flexibility is part of its charm.

Oil, Fish Broth, and Fasting Food

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

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

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

Lange Wortys de Pesoun: Medieval Greens with Peas

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

Ingredients

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

Method

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

Modern Kitchen Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

How I Would Serve It

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

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

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

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

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Lange Wortys de Pesoun a soup?

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

What does “wortys” mean?

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

What kind of peas should I use?

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

Should this recipe use beef broth?

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

Can this be made vegan?

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

Can I use frozen peas?

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

Is this a Lenten dish?

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

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

• Medieval Wortys: A Harleian MS 279 Greens Recipe Hub
• Lange Wortys de Chare: Medieval Greens in Broth
• Whyte Wortes: White Greens from Harleian MS 279
• Joutes: Braised Greens from Harleian MS 279
• Browse More Greens Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

• Thomas Austin, ed., Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books, Harleian MS 279 and Harleian MS 4016.
• Harleian MS 279, c.1430.
• Additional interpretation based on practical cooking experience with medieval pottages, sewes, bruets, greens, and drawn dishes.

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

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

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

Let Lory (Larded Milk): Medieval English Custard Recipe | Harleian MS 279

Let Lory, also called larded milk, from Harleian MS 279

First Published: February 8, 2017
Updated: June 2026

Few medieval dishes feel as curious and unexpected to modern diners as Let Lory, sometimes called larded milk. Found in Harleian MS 279, dated to about 1430, this unusual English dish sits somewhere between a soft custard, a fresh cheese, and a delicate entremet. Milk scented with saffron is gently curdled with eggs, drained, and dressed with a warm sauce of sweetened yolks and warming spices.

To modern eyes, Let Lory may appear unusual, yet medieval cooks seem to have delighted in dishes of curdled milk and eggs. Similar preparations appear across Europe, from the English Forme of Cury recipe for Letelorye to French recipes for larded milk. These dishes blurred the line between custard, cheese, and composed delicacy.

Rather than a hearty pottage or broth of the first course, Let Lory feels especially at home among the entremets, the often-overlooked dishes served between courses to delight guests and shift the rhythm of the feast. Soft, rich, and lightly perfumed with saffron and spice, it makes an excellent conversation piece for historical dinners, reenactment feasts, or anyone curious about the stranger corners of medieval cookery.

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

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

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

A humble dish of cabbage can still surprise you.

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

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

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

What Are Caboges?

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

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

Why Was This Medieval Cabbage Recipe Fit for a Feast?

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

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

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

How Would Caboges Have Been Served?

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

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

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

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

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

Why Does the Recipe Offer Bread or Meat Gruel?

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

Why Do the Marrow Bones Matter?

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

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

Cabbage in Medieval Food Philosophy

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

Historic Recipe

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

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

Modern Translation

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

Modern Recipe Notes

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

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

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

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

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

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

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

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

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

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

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

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

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

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

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

🌸 Suger Plate - Medieval Sugar Candy with Flowers

Originally published 5/10/2015 - Updated 5/27/2026

Sugar plate looks simple at first glance: sugar, rosewater, a little water, and flowers. In practice, it is a small master class in medieval sugarwork. It asks the cook to understand heat, texture, timing, humidity, and the mysterious moment when syrup becomes candy.

When I first made this recipe, I worked from the version in Pleyn Delit. I originally associated it with Harleian MS. 279, but while revisiting the recipe for this update I traced the attribution more carefully. In the second edition of Pleyn Delit, the recipe is identified as GK13, which points to Goud Kokery, recipe 13, preserved in Harleian MS. 2378 and printed in Curye on Inglysch.

That discovery changed the way I read the recipe. The original Middle English text does not describe a modern hard candy in thermometer language. Instead, it tells the cook to test the sugar between the fingers, remove it from the fire, stir it, work it, and make the “plate.” That suggests a softer, worked confection may be closer to the historical method, though the hard-crack version is still beautiful for feast display.

Violet petals preserved in sugar plate. The clearer amber candy was cooked to hard crack; the paler version was cooked lower and beaten.

What Is Sugar Plate?

Sugar plate is a medieval confection made by cooking clarified sugar, flavoring it, and forming it into a sheet or slab. The word “plate” here does not mean a dinner plate. It means a flat piece, layer, or formed sheet of sugar.

This is different from sugar paste. Sugar paste is usually a kneadable mixture used for molded or sculpted sugarwork, often involving a binder such as gum tragacanth. Sugar plate, by contrast, begins as cooked sugar and is poured or worked into a flat confection.

In a medieval feast setting, sugar plate belonged to the same elegant world as comfits, preserved fruits, marchpane, wafers, and subtlety work. It was sweet, scented, decorative, and expensive enough to make a statement. A small dish of rose-scented sugar with flowers would have been both dessert and table ornament.

The Source Trail: From Pleyn Delit Back to Goud Kokery

This recipe began for me with Pleyn Delit, but the revised edition gives the source as GK13. That abbreviation refers to Goud Kokery, one of the Middle English recipe collections included in Curye on Inglysch. The printed source identifies the recipe as Suger plate, from Harleian MS. 2378.

Finding the original mattered because it changed how I interpreted the cooking process. The modern recipe gives a practical adaptation, but the Middle English instructions are more revealing about texture and technique.

Original source: Suger plate, GK13, from Goud Kokery in Curye on Inglysch, Harleian MS. 2378.

Modern interpretation: The Pleyn Delit version used for my original kitchen testing.

You can explore the digitized source here: Curye on Inglysch, page 152, “Suger Plate” .

What the Original Recipe Tells Us

The original recipe gives several clues that are important for a modern cook:

• It begins with clarified sugar.
• The sugar is tested between the fingers, not with a thermometer.
• The cook is told to avoid letting it become too stiff.
• The sugar is removed from the fire and stirred.
• Rosewater is added after cooking.
• The sugar is worked or formed into a “plate.”

This makes me think the historical preparation was probably not a clear, glassy hard-crack candy in the modern lollipop sense. It seems more likely to have been a worked sugar confection, cooked to a stage where it could still be stirred, handled, flavored, and formed.

That does not make the hard-crack version wrong as a modern feast interpretation. It is beautiful, dramatic, and useful for display. But if I were choosing the version that feels closest to the manuscript process, I would choose the softer worked sugar plate.

Medieval Sugar Stages for Modern Cooks

Modern candy recipes usually give temperatures. Medieval recipes usually do not. Instead, cooks judged sugar by appearance, texture, behavior, and touch. That is why older confectionery language includes terms such as thread, pearl, feather, ball, and crack.

The exact temperatures below are modern approximations. They are useful for home cooks, but historical cooks would have relied on experience and physical tests.

Stage	Approx. Temp.	What It Does	Modern Use
Thread	223–235°F	Forms thin threads from spoon or fingers	Syrups, preserves
Pearl / Blow	230–240°F	Thick syrup, bubbles, stronger strands	Candied fruits, soft sugarwork
Soft Ball	235–240°F	Forms a soft ball in cold water	Fondant, fudge-like candies
Firm Ball	245–250°F	Forms a firmer but pliable ball	Caramels, chewy candies
Hard Ball	250–265°F	Holds shape but remains chewy	Nougat, divinity-style candies
Soft Crack	270–290°F	Forms flexible brittle threads	Taffy, butterscotch
Hard Crack	300–310°F	Sets hard and glass-like	Lollipops, brittle, clear candy
Caramel	320°F and above	Sugar browns and develops caramel flavor	Caramelized sugar

For this recipe, the manuscript clues point most strongly toward the thread, pearl, or soft-ball range rather than hard crack. In testing, about 230°F produced a softer, paler sugar plate that could be beaten and worked before setting.

Humoral Notes: Sugar, Rosewater, and Flowers

Medieval sweets often lived at the border between food and medicine. Sugar was valued not only for sweetness, but also for its usefulness in medicinal preparations, preserves, and digestive confections.

Rosewater adds another layer. Roses were associated with cooling and comforting properties, especially for the heart and stomach. Violets were also often understood as cooling and soothing. A rose-scented sugar confection served at the end of a meal therefore made sense as both pleasure and digestive finish.

For a modern cook, this helps explain why such a small sweet could matter. Sugar plate was not meant to be eaten by the handful. It was a fragrant, elegant closing bite: sweet, floral, and showy enough to belong on a banquet table.

Modern Recipe: Sugar Plate with Edible Flowers

I am including two modern approaches below. The softer worked version is the one I now think is closest to the manuscript process. The hard-crack version is a useful feast-table adaptation when you want clear, dramatic candy with flowers suspended inside.

Ingredients

• 2 cups sugar
• Enough water to thoroughly wet the sugar
• 2 tablespoons rosewater
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice, optional, to help reduce crystallization
• Edible flowers or petals, such as violets, roses, pinks, calendula, borage, or lavender
• Confectioner’s sugar, rice flour, or lightly oiled parchment for preventing sticking

Equipment

• Heavy-bottomed saucepan
• Reliable candy thermometer, preferably digital
• Heat-safe spatula
• Parchment paper or a marble slab
• Rimmed baking sheet or shallow candy molds

Safety note: Hot sugar syrup is dangerous. It sticks to skin and burns deeply. Keep children and pets away from the stove, use care while pouring, and do not taste until fully cooled.

Version 1: Softer Worked Sugar Plate

This is the version I now favor as the more historically plausible interpretation. It produces a pale, opaque, rose-scented sugar confection rather than a clear hard candy.

Method

1. Prepare your work surface. Line a baking sheet with parchment, or prepare a clean marble slab. Dust very lightly with rice flour or confectioner’s sugar if needed.
2. Prepare the flowers. Use only edible, unsprayed flowers. Remove stems and green parts. Petals are easier to use than whole blossoms.
3. Dissolve the sugar. Place the sugar in a heavy saucepan with just enough water to wet it thoroughly. Add lemon juice if using. Heat gently, stirring until the sugar dissolves.
4. Cook the syrup. Increase the heat and cook to about 230°F. This is in the thread to soft-ball neighborhood, not hard crack.
5. Remove from heat. Let the syrup cool slightly, then stir in the rosewater carefully. It may steam or bubble.
6. Beat and work the sugar. Stir with a heat-safe spatula as it cools. The sugar will begin to thicken and turn paler.
7. Add flowers. When the sugar is no longer violently hot but still workable, fold in the petals.
8. Form the plate. Pour or spread the sugar onto the prepared surface before it becomes too stiff.
9. Cool and serve. Let set fully, then cut or break into small pieces.

The result is softer and more delicate than modern hard candy. It is also more sensitive to humidity, so store it carefully between layers of parchment in an airtight container.

Version 2: Clear Hard-Crack Sugar Plate

This version is less likely to be the exact historical method for GK13, but it is beautiful and practical if you want a dramatic display candy. Flowers suspended in clear amber sugar look like tiny stained-glass windows.

Method

1. Line a rimmed baking sheet with lightly oiled parchment.
2. Scatter edible petals across the parchment, or have them ready to add just before pouring.
3. Cook the sugar syrup to 300°F.
4. Do not stir once the sugar has dissolved, as stirring can encourage crystallization.
5. Pour quickly over the petals or into molds.
6. Let cool completely before breaking into pieces.

This version sets rapidly. Work quickly, and do not try to handle the sugar while it is hot.

Kitchen Testing Notes

My first two attempts at hard-crack sugar plate were unsuccessful. I tested using the cold-water method, but both batches resulted in a soft, gummy candy. After that, I bought a digital thermometer, and the third attempt finally produced the clear amber candy I had been trying to make.

The lesson was immediate: sugarwork rewards accuracy. Humidity, pan size, water amount, heat level, and thermometer reliability all affect the finished candy. Medieval cooks would have learned these stages by experience. Modern cooks can absolutely learn the same skills, but a thermometer makes the learning curve less sticky.

I also tested the lower-temperature version because the manuscript wording seemed to suggest a pourable but not overly stiff candy. That batch was cooked to about 230°F and beaten as it cooled. I added petals of violets and pinks after the sugar began to turn pale.

Both versions were beautiful, and both were approved by my team of test teenagers. I had dim hope there would be leftovers based on the amount consumed by the test subjects. There were not many leftovers. This is, in my opinion, a successful sign.

Which Version Should You Make?

If you are making sugar plate for the first time, I recommend starting with the softer worked version. It is closer to the manuscript clues and gives you a better sense of how medieval sugar cookery worked by texture.

If you are making this for a feast display, a dessert board, or a dramatic final-course sweet, the hard-crack version is lovely. It may be less historically exact, but it creates a beautiful edible decoration.

Version	Temperature	Result	Best Use
Worked sugar plate	About 230°F	Pale, softer, opaque	Historical reconstruction, small sweets
Hard-crack flower candy	300°F	Clear, amber, brittle	Feast display, decorative shards

Flowers for Sugar Plate

Edible flowers turn sugar plate from simple candy into feast art. Use only flowers that are safe to eat and have not been sprayed with pesticides or florist preservatives.

Good Choices

• Violets
• Rose petals
• Pinks or dianthus petals
• Calendula petals
• Borage flowers
• Lavender blossoms, used sparingly

Delicate petals may discolor in very hot sugar, so add them late. For the hard-candy version, scattering petals onto parchment and pouring the syrup over them may preserve their shape better than stirring them into the pot.

For SCA Feasts, Classes, and Historical Demonstrations

Sugar plate is a useful recipe for teaching historical cooking because it shows how much older recipes depend on observation. The original does not give a thermometer reading. It gives behavior: test the sugar, watch the texture, stir it, and do not let it become too stiff.

• For a class: Make both versions and let people compare texture.
• For feast service: Serve small pieces with wafers, comfits, preserved fruit, or marchpane.
• For display: Use the hard-crack version for dramatic translucent shards.
• For historical discussion: Use the softer version to talk about sugar stages before thermometers.
• For transport: Pack pieces between parchment and keep dry.
• For humid weather: Store airtight and avoid leaving the candy uncovered for long periods.

Dietary Notes 🥕

• Vegetarian: Yes
• Vegan: Yes, assuming vegan sugar is used
• Gluten-Free: Yes
• Dairy-Free: Yes
• Egg-Free: Yes
• Common Allergens: None inherent, but confirm flower safety and possible cross-contact

Serving Suggestions

• Serve as part of a banquet or final course with comfits, wafers, marchpane, and preserved fruits.
• Break hard-crack sugar plate into irregular shards and arrange them on a small plate.
• Cut or mold the softer worked version into small pieces once it has set.
• Use rose petals for a romantic final-course sweet, or violets for a spring feast.
• Package small pieces in paper twists or tiny dishes for an event treat.

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Sources

• Hieatt, Constance B. Pleyn Delit: Medieval Cookery for Modern Cooks. 2nd ed. University of Toronto Press, 1996. See “Sugar Plate,” p. 175, attributed to GK13.
• Hieatt, Constance B., and Sharon Butler, eds. Curye on Inglysch. Early English Text Society, 1985. “Suger Plate,” GK13, from Goud Kokery, Harleian MS. 2378.
• Internet Archive record for Curye on Inglysch

AI Assistance Disclosure

AI Assistance Disclosure: Historical transcription, formatting, and redaction support were provided with the help of AI tools for research and editing. Some images were created or edited with AI tools. All historical interpretation and final text are curated and verified by the editor of Give It Forth.