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?

Bruet of Almaynne in Lente – A Medieval Almond Milk Porridge with Dates

Bruet of Almaynne in Lente – Medieval Almond Milk Porridge with Dates

Originally published November 5, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Bruet of Almaynne in Lente, a Lenten almond milk bruet with dates.

Talk about comfort food! Bruet of Almaynne in Lente is one of my favorite medieval “porridge” recipes from Harleian MS. 279. It is creamy, gently sweet, rich with almond milk, and brightened with chopped dates. It comes together quickly, feels soothing, and has the kind of soft, spoonable texture that makes it easy to imagine at a cold-weather feast, a Lenten table, or even a modern camp breakfast.

That said, “porridge” is a useful modern description rather than a perfect medieval one. The manuscript calls this dish a bruet, a broth or liquid preparation thickened in some way. In this case, fine thick almond milk is lightly thickened with rice flour and sweetened with sugar and dates. The original recipe specifically tells the cook to “look that it be running,” meaning the finished dish should remain loose and pourable, not thick like a set pudding.

When I first made this recipe, mine thickened as it cooled. By the time I sat down to eat it, the texture had moved from a running bruet into something closer to a loose pudding. It was still delicious, and honestly, I immediately added it to my “must serve at a feast someday” list. But for a closer interpretation, the cook should aim for a silky almond broth or thin cream-of-rice consistency rather than a firm porridge.

Sekanjabin: Medieval Persian Mint Drink (Sweet & Sour Sharbat Recipe)

Sekanjabin: Medieval Persian Mint Drink

Originally published September 14, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Sekanjabin, also spelled sikanjabin, sekanjubin, or sikandjabin, is one of those wonderfully practical historic drinks that still makes perfect sense in a modern kitchen. At its simplest, it is a sweet-and-sour syrup made from vinegar and sugar or honey, then diluted with water before serving. Add mint, and the result is sharp, refreshing, fragrant, and very welcome on a hot day.

This is a drink many people first encounter at SCA events, camping weekends, and outdoor feasts. It is inexpensive, easy to make in quantity, and simple to transport as a syrup. The concentrate can be diluted as needed, which makes it especially useful for camp cooking or feast service. Vinegar in a drink may sound surprising at first, but when balanced with sugar and water, it becomes bright and cooling rather than harsh.

The recipe below is adapted from An Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook of the 13th Century, translated by David Friedman. The historic recipe is for a simple sikanjabîn syrup, also called an oxymel, made from vinegar and sugar or honey. The mint version commonly served today is a modern adaptation inspired by this family of medieval sweetened vinegar drinks.

Medieval Spiced Pomegranate Drink (Historical Pomegranate Syrup Recipe)

Medieval Spiced Pomegranate Drink (Historical Pomegranate Syrup Recipe)

When people think of medieval beverages, the first things that often come to mind are ale, beer, mead, and wine. Those drinks certainly belonged at many medieval tables, but they were not the whole story. Medieval cooks also prepared fruit syrups, herbal drinks, spiced waters, medicinal beverages, and cooling drinks that could be diluted with water when needed. These are the drinks that fascinate me as a feast cook, because they solve so many modern event problems while remaining beautifully rooted in historical practice.

This medieval spiced pomegranate drink is one of my favorite syrups to serve at feast. It is bright, tart, lightly spiced, beautifully colored, and always well received. It gives guests a festive non-alcoholic option that feels intentional rather than like an afterthought.

Feast Cook Wisdom: I love syrups for feast because they are inexpensive to make, easy to transport, and can be added to water to taste. A small bottle can flavor a surprising amount of beverage, and guests can decide whether they want a delicate hint of fruit or a stronger, richer drink.

This recipe is based on a pomegranate syrup from An Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook of the 13th Century. The syrup is very similar in concept to grenadine, though homemade pomegranate syrup has a deeper, more complex flavor than most commercial grenadine available today. Where modern grenadine is often very sweet and brightly colored, this syrup keeps the tart edge of pomegranate and balances it with sugar and, in my version, a little warm spice.

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.

Roman Chickpeas with Saffron (Erebinthoi Knakosymmigeis) – Ancient Roman Recipe

Roman Chickpeas with Saffron – Erebinthoi Knakosymmigeis

Course: Mensa Prima (Main Course / Legume Side)

Origin: Ancient Rome
Served: Warm
Event: Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast

Originally published: June 29, 2025 | Updated: June 3, 2026

Updated 6/3/2026: This post has been refreshed to current Give It Forth standards with expanded historical context, clearer recipe formatting, feast service notes, dietary notes, FAQ, internal links to the Roman feast series, and updated structured recipe data.

What are Erebinthoi Knakosymmigeis? Erebinthoi are chickpeas, and this Roman-inspired preparation simmers them simply with saffron and salt. The dish is warm, fragrant, filling, and useful as a legume-based side in an Early Roman feast.

Erebinthoi Knakosymmigeis in the Roman Feast

These saffron chickpeas were served as part of the Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast. They belong naturally in the mensa prima, the more substantial part of the meal, where legumes, cooked vegetables, and meats helped anchor the feast after the opening gustum.

Chickpeas are practical feast food. They are inexpensive, filling, easy to scale, and able to hold flavor without needing complicated service. For a primitive or outdoor event, a warm legume dish can be especially useful because it brings substance to the table without relying on fragile last-minute plating.

This recipe is intentionally simple. The chickpeas are soaked, simmered, seasoned with salt, and colored and perfumed with saffron. The result is not a heavily sauced dish. It is a minimalist preparation that lets the creamy texture of the chickpeas and the fragrance of saffron stand forward.

🏛️ Roman feast note: Erebinthoi Knakosymmigeis pairs especially well with Krambe, Lucanicae, and Petaso paro Mustacei. It gives the meal a sturdy legume component and balances richer meat dishes.

Historical Background

Chickpeas, known in Greek as erebinthoi, were a familiar food in the ancient Mediterranean. They could be eaten in a variety of ways: boiled, roasted, seasoned, used in porridges, or served as part of broader vegetable and legume dishes.

Roman and Greek medical writers discussed legumes in terms of digestion, nourishment, and bodily effect. Authors such as Galen and Celsus refer to foods not only as ingredients, but as part of a wider understanding of health and diet. Chickpeas, like other legumes, were valued because they were sustaining, accessible, and substantial.

The addition of saffron makes this otherwise humble dish feel more refined. Saffron was an expensive aromatic spice, valued for its color, fragrance, and association with luxury. In the Roman world, saffron could appear in food, scent, ceremony, and elite display. Even a small pinch changes the dish: the chickpeas take on a golden hue and a warm, floral aroma.

Did You Know?
Saffron was so precious in Roman times that it was sometimes used as perfume, scattered in public spaces, or associated with elite entertainments. In this dish, it elevates a humble legume into something suitable for a feast table.

This contrast between ordinary chickpeas and costly saffron is part of the appeal. The dish remains simple and nourishing, but the saffron adds a small golden flourish, turning a basic legume into a feast-worthy side.

⚖️ Humoral note: Later medieval dietary theory often treated legumes as substantial and sometimes difficult to digest if poorly prepared. Soaking, simmering until tender, and serving warm would all make practical sense. Although this is a Roman-inspired recipe rather than a medieval one, the concern for digestibility and balance carries forward into later food writing.

Itria – Sesame Seed Biscuit & Basyniai – Fig and Walnut Cakes: Ancient Roman Sweets

Course: Mensa Secunda (Final Course / Dessert)
Origin: Ancient Rome
Served: Itria cooled; Basyniai warm
Event: Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast

Originally published: June 29, 2025 | Updated: June 3, 2026

Updated 6/3/2026: This post has been refreshed to current Give It Forth standards with expanded historical context, clearer recipe formatting, feast service notes, dietary notes, FAQ, internal links to the Roman feast series, and structured recipe data.

What are Itria and Basyniai? These two Roman-inspired sweets were served as part of the mensa secunda, the final course of the feast. Itria is interpreted here as a honeyed sesame-and-nut sweet, while Basyniai are small fig-and-walnut pastries fried in oil and finished with warm honey.

Itria and Basyniai in the Roman Feast

The final course of a Roman-style meal was not always a modern dessert course in the strict sense. Roman diners enjoyed fresh fruit, dried fruit, nuts, honeyed sweets, cakes, and small confections, but sweet and savory flavors could appear throughout the meal. A final course might refresh the palate rather than act as a heavy sugary ending.

For the Push for Pennsic 2004 – Early Roman Feast, these two sweets were served alongside assorted fresh and dried fruit and sugared nuts. Together, they offered the kind of small, rich, portable treats that work beautifully at the end of a large feast.

Both recipes are practical for event cooking. The sesame sweet can be made ahead, portioned into small bites, and served cooled. The fig-and-walnut pastries are best warm, but the filling and dough can be prepared in advance, making final service easier.

🏛️ Roman feast note: These sweets were part of the mensa secunda, served after the more substantial dishes of the feast. They pair especially well with fruit, nuts, grape juice, apple juice, lemonade, or other light beverages for a modern event table.

Historical Background

Sesame and honey confections were beloved across the ancient Mediterranean. Greek and Roman foodways both made use of small sweets made from seeds, nuts, dried fruits, and honey. These were compact, rich, and easy to portion, making them especially useful for feast service.

The Greek pasteli and Roman iritia or itria bear some resemblance to seed-and-honey sweets, although ancient food terms can shift in meaning depending on source, period, and context. For this feast, Itria was interpreted as a honey-bound sesame-and-nut confection: simple, fragrant, and portioned as small bites for the end of the meal.

Basyniai reflects another familiar ancient pattern: fruit and nuts enclosed in simple dough, fried in oil, and finished with honey. Figs, walnuts, olive oil, and honey were all well-suited to Roman-style sweets. The result is rustic rather than delicate, but rich, memorable, and feast-friendly.

These sweets also help modern diners understand that Roman final courses were not necessarily the same as modern desserts. A Roman-inspired ending could include fruit, nuts, honeyed cakes, fried pastries, and small confections rather than a single large cake or pudding.

⚖️ Humoral note: Later medieval dietary theory often treated nuts as rich and substantial, dried fruits as warming and nourishing, and honey as warming and drying. Although these are Roman-inspired sweets rather than medieval recipes, the practical balance is clear: dense nuts and figs are lifted by crisp pastry, toasted sesame, and warm honey.

Fette di Cedro Condite – Citron with Rose Vinegar, Sugar & Cinnamon (Carnivale Feast, Romoli 1560)

A Renaissance Citrus Dish from the Carnivale First Service

Published: May 22, 2026

A modern Carnivale feast interpretation of fette di cedro condite con aceto rosato, adapted with blood oranges, rosewater, lemon juice, sugar, cinnamon, dates, and chocolate mint.

At first glance, fette di cedro condite con aceto rosato, zuccaro & cannella seems almost too simple to hold its own on a Renaissance feast table. Slices of citron. A little rose vinegar. Sugar. Cinnamon. Let it stand, then serve it in the first course.

And yet this small dish may be one of the quiet keys to understanding the whole opening service.

The Primo servitio posto in tavola, the first service placed on the table, was not shy. It included bitter salads, carrot salad, shredded prosciutto, cold testa, cold roast crane, capers, seasoned capons, and Bolognese sausages. In other words, it was rich, salty, fatty, spiced, and deeply meat-forward. A dish of perfumed citrus was not an afterthought. It was relief. It was contrast. It was brightness set deliberately among abundance.

The Carnivale Menu Context

Insalata di cicoria bianca, insalata di carote, prosciutto sfilato, testa di ruffolatto fredda, fette di cedro condite con aceto rosato, zuccaro & cannella, grue arrosta fredda, capperini, capponi salpamentati & salsiccioni bolognesi.

In English, this first service included white chicory salad, carrot salad, shredded prosciutto, cold testa, citron slices dressed with rose vinegar, sugar, and cinnamon, cold roast crane, capers, seasoned capons, and Bolognese sausages.

This is exactly where the citron belongs. It sits between the heavy and the sharp, the fatty and the fragrant. The service already contains several balancing elements: bitter chicory, sweet carrots, capers, rose vinegar, citrus, and lemon used elsewhere on the table. Renaissance menu design was not merely a parade of impressive dishes. It was culinary architecture. The cook built contrast into the meal so diners could keep eating, keep tasting, and keep being delighted.

That matters because a feast is not only a list of foods. It is pacing. A slice of perfumed citrus after pork, sausage, or cold capon wakes the mouth back up. It clears the palate without removing the sense of luxury. In this case, the citron dish acts almost like a bright little window cracked open in a room full of roasted, salted, and spiced meats.

Why Citrus Appeared on Renaissance Tables

Citrus fruits carried prestige in Renaissance food culture. They were tied to Mediterranean trade, elite gardens, medicinal use, and the pleasure of aroma as much as flavor. Modern cooks often think of citrus primarily as juice, but period cooks valued perfume, rind, bitterness, acidity, and visual drama.

Citron, or cedro, was especially prized. It is one of the older cultivated citrus fruits, with a thick aromatic rind and relatively little juice compared with modern oranges or lemons. It is not the same thing as the diced candied citron many people know from fruitcake, though that candied peel tradition comes from the same broad appreciation for citron’s fragrant rind.

On an elite table, citron brought more than flavor. It signaled access. It suggested refinement. It also offered a sensory contrast to rich meats, heavy sauces, and preserved foods. When dressed with rose vinegar, sugar, and cinnamon, citron became sweet, sharp, floral, and warm all at once.

What Is Rose Vinegar?

Rose vinegar is exactly the sort of ingredient that reminds us how differently historical cooks thought about flavor. It combines acidity with perfume. Rather than simply making a dish sour, it adds fragrance and elegance. In a period kitchen, roses belonged not only in gardens and perfumes, but also in syrups, waters, vinegars, conserves, and medicinal preparations.

In this recipe, rose vinegar gives the citron a floral sharpness. It would have softened the fruit’s bitterness, lifted its aroma, and made the dish feel more refined. The sugar moderates the acidity, while cinnamon adds warmth and spice.

For my feast, I did not use wine vinegar. Wine and wine vinegar can trigger migraines for me, so I made a practical substitution: rosewater with a splash of lemon juice. This preserved the two most important features of rose vinegar, floral fragrance and acidity, while making the dish something I could safely eat myself. Historical cooking is most meaningful when the table includes the cook, too.

Source Text

Original Italian	English Translation
Togli cedri maturi, et mondali bene della scorza grossa et dell’amaro. Tagliali in fette sottili. Metti sopra aceto rosato in poca quantità, zucchero quanto basta, et un poco di cannella pesta. Lasciali stare alquanto tempo, et servili nel primo servizio.	Take ripe citrons and clean them well of the thick peel and bitterness. Cut them into thin slices. Put over them a little rose vinegar, sugar as needed, and a little ground cinnamon. Let them stand for a short while, and serve them in the first service.

Authentic Recipe vs. Feast Adaptation

The period recipe calls for citron, rose vinegar, sugar, and cinnamon. That is the historical anchor of this post. It is the dish named in the Carnivale menu, and it belongs exactly where the menu places it: in the first service, among dishes that need brightness and contrast.

My modern Carnivale version used blood oranges because citron was not available. If I had been able to source citron, pomelo, or Oroblanco grapefruit easily, I would have considered those as substitutes because their structure is closer to citron. Blood oranges are juicier and softer than citron, but they were available, beautiful, and very effective in the same culinary role.

The goal was not to pretend that blood orange is citron. It is not. The goal was to preserve the function of the dish: bright citrus, floral acidity, sweetness, warm spice, and visual contrast in a meat-heavy first service.

For the feast, I used blood oranges with rosewater, a splash of lemon juice, sugar, a light sprinkle of cinnamon, dates, and a sprig of chocolate mint. The cinnamon softened into the blood orange juices rather than sitting harshly on top. The dates added a little richness, while the mint lifted the whole dish back into freshness.

The result landed somewhere between fruit salad, palate cleanser, and tiny jeweled luxury. Against a table of cold meats, capers, sausage, capon, and testa, it punched far above its weight.

What to Use When Citron Is Unavailable

Citron can be difficult to find in modern grocery stores. For a closer texture, I would look first for pomelo or Oroblanco grapefruit. Both offer a thicker structure and a less aggressively juicy character than oranges. A thick-peeled lemon can work in a small amount if the pith is carefully removed, though it will be sharper and more intense.

Blood oranges are not the closest historical substitute, but they are a beautiful feast adaptation. Their color alone makes them worthwhile on a banquet table. In this service, where visual contrast mattered, the deep red-orange slices looked dramatic beside pale meats, greens, and capers.

Applade Ryalle: Medieval Apple Soup from Harleian MS. 279

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

.Cxxxv. Applade Ryalle — prepared in variations for flesh day, fish day, and “for need.”

One of the great joys of cooking from medieval manuscripts is discovering just how flexible historical recipes could be. Applade Ryalle, found in Harleian MS. 279 (circa 1430), begins simply enough with cooked apples strained into a smooth puree. From there, however, the recipe branches into three entirely different dishes depending upon circumstance: one for flesh days using beef broth and grease, one for fish days using almond milk and olive oil, and one “for need” using wine and honey.

What emerges is not merely a recipe, but a fascinating glimpse into medieval adaptability. The same humble apple base becomes savory, creamy, or luxurious depending on the occasion and ingredients available. It is practical cookery transformed into something unexpectedly elegant.

I made all three versions during my original experiment with this recipe, and each one produced a completely different experience. The kitchen smelled gloriously of apples, wine, cinnamon, ginger, and spice — essentially autumn in a cauldron.

Herbelade (Herb Pottage) — Harleian MS 4016 & Forme of Curye

Herbelade (Herb Pottage) — Harleian MS 4016 (c. 1450) & Forme of Curye (1390)

Detail from the Banquet du Paon (Chroniques de Hainaut, c. 1447–48) — the kind of noble feast where Herbelade might open the first course.

John Russell’s Boke of Nurture lists a “pottage of herbs, spice, and wine” in the first course of his Dynere of Flesche. See the full reconstructed menu here: A Dynere of Flesche — John Russell’s 15th-Century Menu. . Among surviving 15th-century recipes, the Herbelade from Harleian MS 4016 (c. 1450) matches that description exactly — a delicate, green, wine-scented broth thickened with bread and perfumed with gentle spice.

What “pottage” means here: a smooth herb-based soup or light stew served early in the meal — modestly thickened with bread or almond milk, spiced with ginger and saffron, and occasionally enriched with wine.

Original Text — Harleian MS 4016 (EETS 1888 p. 89)

Herbelade. Take persel, sawge, ysope, saveray, and tansey, and other gode herbys that ye may gete, and do hem in a potte; sethe hem; take brede y-grated, and temper it with broth, and do thereto, and sethe it, and serue it forth.

Modern English Rendering

Take parsley, sage, hyssop, savory, tansy, and any other good herbs you can find, and put them in a pot; boil them. Mix grated bread with broth (or wine), add it to the herbs, and simmer; then serve it forth.

Modern Recipe (Tested Redaction)

Yield: 6–8 servings • Time: ~20 min

• 3 cups mixed herbs – parsley, sage, savory, hyssop (or thyme), tansy (optional)
• 2 cups vegetable or chicken broth – replace up to 1 cup with white wine
• ½ cup breadcrumbs (or 2 Tbsp ground almonds for richer version)
• Pinch ginger, few threads saffron, and a little sugar (optional)
• Salt to taste

1. Blanch herbs 30 sec, chop fine.
2. Heat broth + wine; add herbs.
3. Stir in breadcrumbs (or almond flour) to thicken.
4. Season with ginger, saffron, pinch sugar, and salt.
5. Simmer 5–10 min until lightly thickened. Serve hot.

Flavor profile: fresh herbal green, gently spiced, and light on the palate — ideal first-course fare.

About Tansy: Tansy (Tanacetum vulgare) was a common medieval herb with a strong, aromatic, slightly bitter flavor. Though best known for Lenten or Easter “tansy” dishes, it also appeared in savory contexts like Herbelade, valued for its warming, cleansing properties. Medieval herbalists classed it as “hot and dry,” balancing the “cold and moist” nature of green herbs, and believed it aided digestion after rich meats.

• Flavor: Bitter–spiced, similar to a cross of rosemary and sage; use sparingly in modern redactions.
• Availability: A hardy perennial, typically dried for winter use.
• Modern caution: Tansy contains thujone, a volatile compound that is both neurotoxic and abortifacient in high doses. Historically, tansy was used medicinally to induce menstruation or miscarriage — so it’s absolutely contraindicated during pregnancy. and should be omitted entirely, or used in the smallest of quantities; mild substitutes include thyme or a pinch of rosemary.

Crostata di funghi per un giorno in prestito - To prepare a crostata of mushrooms

Preparare una crostata di funghi per un giorno in prestito – To prepare a crostata of mushrooms for a day in Lent
— Domenico Romoli, La Singolare Dottrina, c. 1560

Translation Note: The phrase “in prestito” literally means “on loan” or “borrowed.” In Renaissance Italian culinary texts, it often referred to fast days — especially during Lent — when meat was forbidden and meals were offered in spiritual observance. A “giorno in prestito” was thus a day “loaned to God,” requiring dietary restraint but still calling for skilled, satisfying cookery.

Note: Scappi’s crostata method (likely recipes 221–222) typically included soft cheese and eggs. Though recipe 223 is titled “for a fast day,” it references that base without explicitly removing dairy, leading some modern interpretations (like this one) to keep the cheese. Historically, a true Lenten version would omit cheese and use dairy-free alternatives such as almond-based fillings.

In the heart of an Italian Renaissance kitchen, a crostata wasn’t just a pastry — it was a vehicle for showcasing the season’s best ingredients, shaped by time, place, and religious calendar. This particular recipe, Preparare una crostata di funghi per un giorno in prestito, comes from Domenico Romoli’s La Singolare Dottrina (mid-16th century) and was written specifically for a “day in Lent” — when meat and animal fats were forbidden, but richly savory dishes were still expected at noble tables.

🍄 What Mushrooms Did Renaissance Cooks Use?

The original recipe refers to morels and to "the mushroom that grows at the foot of chestnut trees and briar bushes," which was described as firm and orange-tinted. This likely refers to chanterelles or possibly Caesar’s mushrooms (Amanita caesarea), both highly prized in the Italian Renaissance for their flavor and availability in oak or chestnut woodlands.

Mushrooms were considered acceptable fare on Lenten days because they were "neither fish nor flesh" and grew from the earth like vegetables. However, because mushroom poisoning was a genuine concern, most cookery books urged boiling wild mushrooms before use—even if it dulled their flavor.

Modern Substitutions

If fresh morels or chanterelles are not available, a good blend of cremini, oyster, shiitake, or portobello mushrooms works well. Mixing mushroom varieties provides depth and richness that mimics wild foraged flavors. Dried morels or porcini reconstituted in warm water are also excellent for layering in that "woodland" taste.

Tip: Avoid standard white button mushrooms for this dish—they lack the earthiness that Renaissance cooks prized in their “funghi di bosco.”

Renaissance Herbs and Flavor Pairings

Herbs were not simply seasoning — they were medicinal, seasonal, and intentionally paired with ingredients based on their humoral qualities. Mushrooms were considered “cold and moist” in Galenic terms, so cooks balanced them with “warm and dry” herbs like parsley, thyme, marjoram, mint, or sage. In Lenten cookery, the brightness of lemon and the lift of fresh herbs helped transform otherwise heavy or plain components into elegant, aromatic fare.

Lent Across Renaissance Europe

Italian Renaissance kitchens handled Lenten restrictions with creativity and abundance. Meat and animal fats were forbidden, but olive oil, vegetables, herbs, and often fish or shellfish remained fair game. Dishes like this crostata show how satisfying “meatless” cuisine could be — rich in umami, layered with textures, and full of complexity.

Compared to northern regions like England or the Low Countries, where fasting meant salt fish, ale pottage, or butter-thickened gruel, Italian cooks had a Mediterranean bounty to draw from. Almond milk, pine nuts, mushrooms, and wild greens allowed even the most devout households to enjoy sumptuous meals — legally and liturgically.

What Does “Crostata” Mean?

The word crostata comes from the Italian root crosta, meaning “crust”, which itself derives from the Latin crusta, meaning “hard outer shell” or “rind.” Related terms in Latin include crustulum (a little cake or pastry — root of the word crustulum/crustule, used in medieval Latin cookery). 

By the 15th–16th centuries, crostata in Italy referred broadly to: 

• Open-faced baked tarts (savory or sweet), made with a pastry base and visible fillings 
• Savory pies (enclosed or partially enclosed) 
• In some regional or culinary contexts: toasted bread or “crusted” slices used as a base or vehicle for toppings — particularly in fast-day preparations 

This broader use was recognized by: 

• Romoli’s La Singolare Dottrina (mid-16th c.), where crostata is used interchangeably with “pan ghiotto” (gourmand bread) 
• Scappi’s Opera (1570), where crostate appear throughout menus as both rich tarts and layered bread dishes 

In both cases, the "crust" or "base" was essential — whether that meant baked pastry or well-toasted slices of bread, depending on ingredients, season, and occasion..

Both Domenico Romoli in his La Singolare Dottrina (mid-16th c.) and Bartolomeo Scappi in his monumental Opera dell’arte del cucinare (1570) include dozens of crostate — some encased in pastry, others built upon slices of bread or served open-faced in pans. For instance, Scappi describes crostate of vegetables, meat, cheese, or fish that are either baked in crusts or arranged on slices of toasted bread (Scappi, Book II, recipes 211–225).

In this recipe, the crostata is described as “pan ghiotto” — gourmand or luxurious bread — layered with savory toppings. The base is toasted or crusted bread, not pastry, aligning with Romoli's phrasing and period practice.  This usage parallels the French term “croûte” (as in en croûte), meaning food served on or enclsed in crusted bread or pastry.  All descend from the same Latin root - crusta - and highlight the central role of crust in both structure and flavor. 

While we might associate “crostata” today with sweet fruit tarts, its Renaissance meaning was far more versatile, often bridging the line between pastry and hearty antipasto.

It was served as part of the Second Service of Kitchen Antipasti (Secundo Servito – Antipasti di cucina) at the Baronial 12th Night 2024 feast, a transitional course featuring hot, savory appetizers. This crostata balances rustic simplicity with complex flavor: mushrooms sautéed with herbs and garlic, layered atop crisp bread and soft cheese. Its inspiration comes directly from the forest floor — a celebration of the humble mushroom elevated to banquet fare.

Preparare una crostata di funghi per un giorno in prestito – Mushroom Crostata for a Lenten Day

Courtesy of Jennifer Bishop | Baronial 12th Night 2024 – Secundo Servito, Antipasti di Cucina

This savory mushroom crostata was one of four composed appetizers served during the Second Service of Kitchen Antipasti (Secundo Servito – Antipasti di cucina) at the Baronial 12th Night 2024 Feast. The dish draws on Italian Renaissance sources like Domenico Romoli's La Singolare Dottrina, and is noted specifically as appropriate “per un giorno in prestito” – for a Lenten day. It’s vegetarian, full of woodland flavor, and easily adapted to suit modern dietary needs.

Feast Context

This antipasti course served as a flavorful bridge between cold pantry items and heavier meat dishes in a formal Italian Renaissance banquet. The mushroom crostata was served alongside:

• Per far crostate cioè pan ghiotto con barbaglia de porco, o presciutto – Gourmand bread with pork jowl or prosciutto – by Jennifer Bishop & Dan Parker
• Insalata di Cicorea Bianca – White chicory salad with raisins and shallots
• Uva in Salamoia – Pickled grapes

Plated antipasti course with crostate, salad, and pickled grapes – 12th Night 2024

Original Text

223. Get morels or else the mushroom that grows in the woods at the foot of chestnut trees and briar bushes, which is round and firm and tends toward an orange colour. The safest thing is to bring them to a boil in water, though they are much more flavorful raw. In any case, whether raw or cooked, peel them carefully, beat them small with a knife and saute them in oil. Then get those ingredients used in recipe 222, adding in beaten and sauteed spring onions or else a small clove of garlic. Make up a torte with them in the way outlined in the above recipe.

Modern Interpretation – Serves 8

Ingredients

• 1 12-inch baguette, sliced into ¾-inch diagonal slices
• Olive oil (for drizzling and sautéing)
• 1 lb mushrooms (cremini or wild, sliced)
• 2 green onions, thinly sliced
• 2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
• 2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
• 1 tsp chopped fresh thyme
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh parsley
• ½ lb ricotta or other soft cheese
• Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

1. Toast baguette slices until golden. Drizzle with olive oil.
2. In a skillet, heat more olive oil and sauté mushrooms, green onions, and garlic until tender.
3. Stir in lemon juice, thyme, and parsley. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Spread ricotta onto each toast slice. Top with mushroom mixture.
5. Drizzle with additional olive oil. Cut each toast in half and serve warm.

Humoral Theory and Fasting Cuisine

Renaissance cooks operated under the framework of Galenic dietetics, which held that all foods had qualities — hot, cold, moist, dry — that affected the body’s balance of humors. Mushrooms were considered cold and moist, and thus could dampen digestion or cause melancholy if consumed without proper balance. To counteract this, recipes often paired them with warming, drying herbs like thyme, pepper, or mint, and used cooking methods like sautéing in oil to adjust their temperament. Even Lenten dishes like this crostata were not just about following rules — they were about preserving harmony in the body, especially during seasonal transitions and spiritual observances.

Notes and Substitutions

This is a rustic dish, originally made with wild mushrooms like morels or chestnut woodland varieties. The method is straightforward—chop, sauté, and season well. The addition of ricotta is a nod to Renaissance *torte* fillings, even though the Lenten version may have omitted it. 

Dietary Suggestions:

• Vegetarian: ✔️
• Vegan Option: Substitute vegan ricotta or herbed cashew cheese
• Gluten-Free Option: Use gluten-free toast or polenta rounds

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Serving Suggestions

While Renaissance cooks didn’t serve crostate with “sides” as we think of them today, dishes like this were part of a richly varied course of hot antipasti. To replicate the experience, consider pairing with:

• Insalata di cicorea – bitter chicory greens with raisins and shallots
• Uva in salamoia – pickled grapes to offset the fat and salt
• Another crostata, such as mushrooms in pastry for variety
• Soft cheese with herbs or small fried cheese fritters
• Savory eggs or bite-sized sausages
• Fried bread with sugar and cinnamon as a bridging flavor

This crostata is best served hot, but does well at room temperature. Ideally it would be served as part of a shared platter or buffet-style second service of antipasti di cucina.

🍽️ Explore the Full Antipasti Course

• Gourmand Bread with Pork Jowl or Prosciutto
• White Chicory Salad with Raisins and Shallots
• Pickled Grapes

📘 Historical References

• Domenico Romoli, La Singolare Dottrina (Venice, 1560s) – Culinary guide for household stewards. Referenced crostata of mushrooms and "pan ghiotto".
• Bartolomeo Scappi, Opera dell’arte del cucinare (1570) – Comprehensive Renaissance cookbook. See: Book II (Crostate Recipes).
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Ancient Roman Braised Cucumbers – Apicius Recipe (Cucumeres)

Cucumeres – Braised Cucumbers

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

Cucumeres – Braised Cucumbers

Ingredients:

• 1 large cucumber
• 3 tbsp. white wine vinegar
• 3 tbsp. olive oil
• 1 tbsp. clear honey
• Salt to taste

Part of the Push for Pennsic Roman Feast Series!
This recipe was originally served as part of the Early Roman Feast at Push for Pennsic, July 9–11, 2004. Explore the full menu and other Roman recipes from this event.

Instructions:
Peel and cut the cucumber into thick slices. Pour the vinegar, olive oil, and honey into a heavy pan and cook the slices of cucumber gently in the sauce until tender, shaking the pan occasionally to redistribute the cucumber slices and ensure even cooking.

Note: Best served at room temperature.

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🌿 A Note on Ancient Cucurbits

The word cucumeres in Latin is commonly translated as “cucumbers,” but Roman references to cucurbits were broader than our modern definitions. Roman cooks had access to a wide variety of cucurbit species, including:

• Old World cucumbers (Cucumis sativus): Likely thinner, with more bitterness than modern varieties.
• Melons and gourds (Cucumis melo, Lagenaria spp.): Young melons or gourds were used like vegetables.
• Bottle gourds (Lagenaria siceraria): Also used for food when harvested young.
• Snake melon/Armenian cucumber (Cucumis melo var. flexuosus): Treated culinarily as a cucumber.

If you're cooking this dish today, any firm, mild cucumber will work. For historical flavor and texture, the following heirloom varieties are excellent options:

• Suyo Long – A crisp, curling cucumber with tender skin.
• Armenian cucumber – Technically a melon, but ideal for cucumber-like preparations.
• True Lemon cucumber – A round, yellow heirloom closer to older Mediterranean cultivars.
• Bottle gourd – Available from specialty grocers or heirloom seed sources.

Where to Source Seeds:
- Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds
- Seed Savers Exchange
- Monticello Heritage Seeds

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🍷 Want more recipes from this feast?

Explore the other dishes served at the Early Roman Feast – Push for Pennsic, July 9–11, 2004:

• Lucanicae (Grilled Sausages)
• Moretum (Herbed Cheese Spread)
• Epityrum (Olives)
• Piadina (Flatbread)
• Petaso paro Mustacei (Smoked Ham with Sweet Wine Cakes)
• Erebinthoi Knakosymmigeis (Chickpeas with Saffron)
• Krambe (Roman Cabbage)
• Itria (Sesame Seed Biscuit)
• Basyniai (Fig and Walnut Cakes)

Vegetarian & Vegan Pie Crusts for Historical Recipes: A Practical Guide

 Vegetarian & Vegan Pie Crusts for Historical Recipes: A Practical Guide

Whether you're preparing a Lenten feast, accommodating modern dietary restrictions, or simply looking for a period-adjacent alternative to lard and suet, this guide offers reliable crust options for historical pies and tarts. While medieval and early modern sources often rely on animal fat for pastry coffins, cooks would have adapted as needed—especially on no-flesh days. These vegetarian and vegan-friendly options draw inspiration from that adaptability while meeting modern expectations for taste, texture, and practicality.

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🕯️ Pastry in Period: What the Sources Say

In medieval and Renaissance cookery, the pie crust—often referred to as a "coffin"—served multiple roles: cooking vessel, storage container, and edible wrapping. Crusts could be thick and structural (especially for meat pies), or more refined and flaky for sweet dishes and subtlety presentations.

While many crusts were made using lard, suet, or animal drippings, there are examples of simpler pastes using oil, butter, or no fat at all—especially in dishes served during Lent or on Fridays, when meat (and by extension, animal products) was restricted. Butter-based pastes are more common in late period and early printed cookbooks, such as Robert May’s The Accomplisht Cook (1660).

Unfortunately, few cookbooks from the SCA period (pre-1600) offer detailed pastry ratios. Recipes tend to say things like “make paste of fine flour and water” or “take butter and yolks to make a tender crust.” This vagueness gives us flexibility—but also calls for informed interpretation.

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🥧 Option 1: Ovo-Lacto Vegetarian Pie Paste

Suitable for late period recipes, meatless feasts, and sweet or savory pies.

Ingredients:

• 2½ cups flour (unbleached all-purpose or a blend with spelt for a nuttier flavor)

• ½ tsp salt

• ½ cup cold butter, cut into cubes

• ¼–½ cup cold water

• Optional: 1 tsp cider vinegar or rosewater/orange flower water for structure and aroma

Method:

1. Mix flour and salt in a bowl.

2. Cut in cold butter until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs.

3. Slowly add water (and optional flavoring) until dough comes together.

4. Chill for 30 minutes before rolling out.

Notes:

• This crust bakes to a tender, slightly flaky finish.

• Ideal for fruit pies, herb tarts, and vegetarian coffins.

• Can be egg-enriched (common in late Tudor and early Stuart crusts).

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🌱 Option 2: Vegan-Friendly Oil-Based Crust

Inspired by fasting-day pastes and Mediterranean-style doughs.

Ingredients:

• 2½ cups flour

• ½ tsp salt

• ½ cup neutral oil (sunflower, light olive oil, or refined coconut oil)

• ¼–½ cup cold water

Method:

1. Combine flour and salt in a large bowl.

2. Add oil and stir until evenly coated.

3. Gradually add water until the dough just comes together.

4. Form into a ball, wrap, and chill before use.

Notes:

• Produces a firm, short pastry—excellent for hand pies or savory coffins.

• Less flaky than butter crusts but still satisfying and historically plausible.

• Can be flavored with herbs, wine, or citrus zest.

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🧾 When to Use These Crusts

Use these pastry options when:

• You’re serving a Friday or Lenten menu

• Cooking for vegetarians or vegans at an SCA event

• Making fruit pies, greens tarts, or dairy-based fillings without meat

• Looking for a make-ahead crust that holds well at room temperature

These crusts are particularly well-suited to dishes like:

• Fridayes Pye

• Fruit or nut tarts

• Cheese and herb galettes

• Root vegetable pies or savory Lenten coffins

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🧁 Sample Recipes & Pairings

These crusts work beautifully in a wide range of dishes. Here are a few examples where you can put them to delicious use:

• Medieval Dessert Trio of Tarts: Apple, cherry, and almond tarts ideal for a final course or sweet subtlety.

• Fridayes Pye: A no-flesh tart with apples, greens, and raisins—a perfect Friday or Lent-friendly offering.

• To Make a Peasecod Dish in Puff Paste Two Ways: A sweet almond-based pastry dish, styled like peasecods—perfect for recreating late period subtleties or dessert courses.

🏺 Period-Inspired Flavor Variations

If you'd like to add a little extra flair that feels appropriate to the time:

• Use orange flower water or rosewater in place of some water

• Blend in a little ground almond for richer pastes

• Sprinkle the crust with sugar and cinnamon for fruit pies

• Add saffron-infused water for a golden hue

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