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Showing posts with label Vegetarian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vegetarian. Show all posts

Medieval Fig Pottage in Three Colors | Harley MS 279 Fygeye

Medieval Fig Pottage in Three Colors | Harley MS 279 Fygeye

.Ciij. Fygeye | Harley MS 279, 1430s | New reconstruction, August 2026

I nearly missed the best part of this recipe.

When I added .Ciij. Fygeye to an older Rapeye post in 2021, I treated it as one more fig dish: figs, ale, bread, pine nuts, cinnamon, saffron, saunders. Useful, certainly. Interesting, yes.

But I had flattened the ending into an ingredient list, and the ending is where the cook has some fun.

The base is wonderfully simple. Figs are boiled until soft, pounded, mixed with ale, thickened with grated bread, and studded with whole pine nuts. Cinnamon is scattered over it at the dresser. Then comes the flourish:

if you want, color it in three ways.

One portion can remain the natural deep brown-purple of the figs. One can be colored red with saunders. One can be turned gold with saffron.

Suddenly this is not merely a bowl of cooked figs. It is a tiny lesson in medieval table color, presentation, and the delight cooks took in making familiar ingredients look surprising.

And unlike its sweeter Rapeye cousins, this recipe asks for no added sugar at all. The figs do that work themselves.

Jump to the Modern Reconstruction

Medieval Fig & Pear Rapeye with Almond Milk | Harley MS 279

Medieval Fig & Pear Rapeye with Almond Milk | Harley MS 279

.Cxxj. Rapeye | Harley MS 279, 1430s | New reconstruction, August 2026

This poor recipe has been living in the margins of Give It Forth since 2021.

I found it while revisiting my old .Liij. Rapeye post, where I had tucked it underneath the recipe I actually cooked and given it a short ingredient list followed by the cheerful instruction, “Prepare as above.”

Except it is not prepared as above.

Not really.

The first Rapeye cooks figs and raisins in wine, pounds and strains them, then adds currants, pine nuts, sugar, and spices until the mixture is thick enough to stand. This one takes another road entirely. The figs and raisins are ground with almond milk and strained through cloth. Pears are boiled separately, peeled, cored, and pounded. The two fruit mixtures meet in the pot with wine and either dark sugar or honey, and then, just before the dish goes to the table, mace, cloves, cubebs, and grains of paradise are scattered over the top.

That is not a variation worth hiding under “prepare as above.” That is a recipe with a personality of its own.

So, eleven years after I first started wandering through Harley MS 279 and five years after I tucked this Rapeye into somebody else’s article, it finally gets its own kitchen adventure.

Jump to the Modern Reconstruction

Medieval Fig & Raisin Rapeye | Harley MS 279 Recipe

.Liij. Rapeye – Medieval Fig, Raisin, Currant & Pine Nut Pottage

Harley MS 279, 1430s | Originally published March 16, 2017 | Fully revised August 2026

Some old recipes grow when you revisit them. This one multiplied.

I first made .Liij. Rapeye in 2017: figs and raisins cooked in wine, pounded smooth, enriched with currants and pine nuts, sweetened, spiced, and served thick enough to stand. In 2021 I returned to the post and tucked two more Harley MS 279 recipes underneath it, .Cxxj. Rapeye and .Ciij. Fygeye, because they also contained figs and seemed closely related.

That was useful for comparison, but not especially kind to the recipes.

They are not three versions of the same fig sauce. One is a thick wine-and-dried-fruit pottage with pine nuts. One combines figs and raisins with almond milk and cooked pear, then finishes with an extravagant scattering of spices. The third cooks figs in ale with bread and pine nuts and can be presented in three different colors.

So in this revision I am giving them back their individual identities. This article returns to the recipe I actually cooked in 2017: .Liij. Rapeye. The pear-and-almond Rapeye and the three-colored Fygeye are becoming reconstructions of their own.

And this first Rapeye is more interesting than I gave it credit for.

Jump to the Modern Reconstruction

Eyron en Poche: Poached Eggs in Sweet Ginger-Saffron Milk Sauce from Harleian MS 279 (c. 1430)

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Eyron en Poche: Poached Eggs in Sweet Ginger-Saffron Milk Sauce from Harleian MS 279

Eyron en Poche, medieval poached eggs with sweet ginger-saffron milk sauce from Harleian MS 279
Eyron en Poche reconstructed from Harleian MS 279. Original 2017 kitchen photograph retained.

I learned to poach eggs from my grandmother. Her method used a swirl of water and a little vinegar to help the white gather around the yolk, and when I first reconstructed Eyron en Poche in 2017, that familiar kitchen habit came with me.

The medieval recipe itself is even simpler. Break eggs into hot water, cook them, and lift them out as whole as possible. Then make a sweetened milk sauce thickened with flour, warm it with ginger, color it with saffron, pour it over the eggs, and finish the dish with spice powder. The result is one of those wonderful medieval combinations that looks familiar until the first bite: tender poached egg under a golden sauce that is gently sweet, aromatic, and warming.

I originally presented this as a medieval breakfast dish. It certainly makes an excellent breakfast today, but the manuscript does not identify it that way. Harleian MS 279 places Eyron en Poche among its Potages dyuers, so this revision treats it first as a medieval pottage and egg dish, with breakfast moved to modern serving rather than historical classification.

Why You Will Love This Recipe

  • The ingredient list is short but unexpectedly elegant: eggs, milk, flour, sugar or honey, ginger, saffron, and spice powder.
  • The poaching technique is plainly described in the fifteenth-century source.
  • The sauce walks the medieval sweet-savory line without becoming dessert-like.
  • Saffron turns an otherwise pale dish golden, while ginger and blanche powder add warmth.
  • It works beautifully as a first-course dish, luncheon, dayboard item, or modern historical breakfast.
Historical Integrity Statement: Harleian MS 279 explicitly gives eggs cooked in hot water; a sauce of flour and milk sweetened with sugar or honey; powdered ginger; saffron; and a finishing spice powder, with blanche powder preferred. The manuscript does not specify quantities, egg doneness, milk type, flour proportion, sweetness, saffron quantity, or the proportions of the finishing spice blend. Vinegar, whirlpool poaching, salt, and pepper belong to the original 2017 modern adaptation and are not part of the manuscript-led reconstruction below.

A Potage of Roysons: Medieval Apple and Raisin Rice Porridge from Harleian MS 279

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A Potage of Roysons, a medieval apple and raisin pottage from Harleian MS 279
Cxxxvj. A Potage of Roysons – apple, raisin, almond milk, rice flour, ginger, and galangal

A Potage of Roysons – Medieval Apple and Raisin Rice Porridge

There are recipes that sweep into the medieval kitchen wearing gilt and peacock feathers, and then there are recipes like A Potage of Roysons. This one arrives quietly with apples, raisins, almond milk, rice flour, ginger, and galangal. It sounds simple. It is simple. But it is not nearly as plain as it first appears.

The original recipe is only a few lines long, yet those few lines give us several excellent little mysteries. Why do the raisins have “kernels”? What does the cook mean by temper? How thick is clene chargeaunt? And why, after all that careful instruction, does no one actually tell us to put the pot over the fire?

I first made this pottage in 2016 and served it at an SCA breakfast. It went over well, although one of the kinder verdicts was, “Tasty, but not delicious.” Honestly? Fair. I have made similar dishes with more sparkle, and I have never been a devoted member of the raisin fan club. Still, there was enough here to make me curious, and curiosity is usually where the good cooking begins.

Apple Moyle: A Sweet Medieval Apple Porridge from Harleian MS 279

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A bowl of Apple Moyle, a medieval apple and almond rice pottage reconstructed from Harleian MS 279
Apple Moyle, a warm apple and almond rice pottage reconstructed from Harleian MS 279, c. 1430

Apple Moyle: A Sweet Medieval Apple Porridge from Harleian MS 279

Apple Moyle is the sort of dish that makes a medieval manuscript feel suddenly close enough to touch. Ground rice and almond milk cook into a soft, creamy pottage; small pieces of apple settle into it; sugar, saffron, and sweet spices turn an armful of familiar ingredients into something warm, golden, and unmistakably fifteenth-century.

It is comforting without being plain and rich without being heavy. The apples are not puréed away. They remain as tender little morsels inside the smooth rice-thickened base, giving each spoonful a bit of orchard brightness. My testers liked this one enough that the final serving inspired what can only be described as a very polite spoon duel.

Why You Will Love This Recipe

  • It is warm, gently spiced, and deeply comforting.
  • The ingredient list is short and naturally dairy-free.
  • It works beautifully as a modern camp breakfast or a small pottage course.
  • The rice flour thickens the almond milk without eggs, butter, or wheat.
  • It reheats well with a small splash of almond milk.
Historical Integrity Statement: The manuscript clearly names rice, almond milk, apples, sugar, saffron, and “good powder,” and it preserves the basic order of preparation. It does not provide quantities, cooking times, a final consistency, or the composition of the spice powder. The measurements below are my tested reconstruction. Fine rice flour replaces rice freshly ground in a mortar, Powder Douce is my interpretation of “good powder,” and salt is an optional modern addition.

Apple Muse: Medieval Apple Purée with Almond Milk from Harleian MS. 279

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Apple Muse: A Medieval Apple Pottage from Harleian MS 279

A bowl of Apple Muse, a medieval apple pottage reconstructed from Harleian MS 279
Apple Muse reconstructed from Harleian MS 279, c. 1430

At first glance, Apple Muse looks almost too simple to hide a mystery. Apples are boiled and pushed through a sieve. Almond milk, honey, grated bread, saffron, saunders, and a little salt follow them into the pot. The cook stirs, lets the mixture simmer, and sends it to the table.

Yet this short recipe opens a remarkably wide door into the medieval kitchen. It shows us how familiar fruit could be transformed through texture, color, spice, and careful thickening. It also leaves us with one stubborn little question: how, exactly, did the medieval cook use the saunders?

The finished dish is not a modern mousse and it is not ordinary applesauce. It is a warm, smooth fruit pottage, gently sweetened with honey, enriched with almond milk, and given body with bread. It is humble in its ingredients but elegant in its handling, the sort of recipe that rewards patience more than spectacle.

Why You May Love This Recipe

  • It turns everyday apples into a distinctly medieval dish.
  • It is naturally dairy-free and vegetarian as written.
  • It introduces bread thickening, one of the quiet workhorses of the medieval kitchen.
  • It can be prepared ahead for a feast and reheated gently.
  • It gives us a chance to taste texture, color, and seasoning working together in a fifteenth-century pottage.
Historical Integrity Statement

The manuscript gives the ingredients and the order of work, but it does not give quantities, temperatures, cooking times, or the final consistency. The proportions below are my tested reconstruction. Saunders remains the least certain part of the dish because the source names it without explaining how it was prepared or added.

Furmenty (Frumenty): Medieval Creamy Wheat Dish from Harleian MS 279

Furmenty (Frumenty): A Medieval Creamy Wheat Dish from Harleian MS 279

Furmenty, now more often written frumenty, is a wheat dish cooked until the grain becomes tender, swollen, and creamy. In Harleian MS 279, the wheat is cleaned, dampened, pounded, winnowed, boiled until it breaks, enriched with fresh milk, colored with saffron, and seasoned with salt.

It is a simple recipe, but not an insignificant one. Harleian MS 279 is a selected culinary collection, and furmenty was important enough to receive a distinct receipt and a defined method. Its inclusion beside venison reminds us that the grand medieval table did not rest upon spectacular meats and costly spices alone. It also depended upon cooks who understood grain, heat, texture, and timing.

When I first reconstructed this dish in 2016, I used Kamut-brand khorasan wheat. Its large grains produced a substantial, pleasantly nutty dish rather than a smooth modern breakfast cereal. Returning to the manuscript years later changed how I explain the recipe and where I place the saffron, but it did not change my conviction that furmenty deserves to be understood as a preparation in its own right.

Why You Will Love This Recipe

  • It uses a short ingredient list to create a rich and satisfying historical dish.
  • It preserves the texture of softened, broken wheat rather than turning the recipe into instant cereal.
  • It explains why a basic grain preparation mattered in a fifteenth-century culinary collection.
  • It can be served with venison, beef, fish, or another savory medieval dish.
  • It includes both the manuscript method and a clearly labeled practical reconstruction.

Jump to the Modern Recipe

Historical Integrity: The manuscript evidence, historical interpretation, tested modern reconstruction, and practical substitutions are identified separately. The main household recipe uses soaking as a practical substitute for the manuscript's labor-intensive pounding and winnowing process.

Wardonys in Syryp: Medieval Pears in Spiced Wine Syrup

Wardonys in Syryp

Medieval Pears in Spiced Wine Syrup from Harleian MS 279 (c. 1430)

Wardonys in Syryp, a fifteenth-century dish of pears simmered in a spiced red wine syrup until both poynaunt and dowcet: pleasantly sharp and sweet.

Wardonys in Syryp is a medieval pear dish from Harleian MS 279, a fifteenth-century English culinary manuscript preserved in Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. Firm cooking pears are first softened, then simmered in red wine with cinnamon, sugar, ginger, vinegar, and saffron.

Today, we might recognize the dish as a poached pear in red wine, but the manuscript asks for something more carefully judged than a modern dessert. The syrup is not meant to be merely sweet. Its final flavor should be both poynaunt and dowcet, sharp enough to awaken the palate and sweet enough to round the wine and spice.

This is not a modern poached pear wearing a medieval cloak. It is a historical reconstruction built from the surviving manuscript, comparison with related fifteenth-century pear recipes, the original kitchen testing behind this article, and the practical question that guides my work: What is the cook doing between the written lines?

The result is wine-dark, fragrant, warmly spiced, and brightened with vinegar. The pear becomes tender without losing its shape, while the syrup gathers cinnamon, ginger, saffron, sugar, wine, and acidity into something far more complex than the short ingredient list suggests.

Why You’ll Love This Recipe

  • It is an approachable reconstruction from Harleian MS 279.
  • It uses familiar ingredients while preserving a distinctly medieval sweet-sour flavor.
  • It introduces the period idea of a dish being both poynaunt and dowcet.
  • It can be served as a pottage or first-course fruit dish, or as part of a banquet and final course.
  • It may be prepared ahead, making it practical for a feast, class, dayboard, or modern dinner.

Jump to the Modern Recipe

Historical Integrity

The main recipe below is my historical reconstruction. Modern substitutions and dietary accommodations appear afterward and are clearly labeled, allowing readers to distinguish the manuscript-based dish from later adaptations.

Rede Rose: A Medieval Rose Custard (Medieval Rose Pudding) from Harleian MS 279

Rede Rose: A Medieval Rose Custard from Harleian MS 279

Rede Rose is a delicate rose custard from Harleian MS 279, a fifteenth-century English culinary manuscript preserved in Two Fifteenth-Century Cookery-Books. It belongs to a small family of medieval flower pottages made with almond milk, blossoms, sugar, and gentle thickeners.

Today, many readers would recognize Rede Rose as a medieval rose pudding or medieval rose custard, although the fifteenth-century manuscript simply calls the dish Rede Rose.

This is not simply a modern rose pudding with a medieval name pinned to its apron. It is a historical reconstruction built from a very short manuscript instruction, comparison with the related recipe for Vyolet, and repeated kitchen testing.

When I reconstruct a medieval recipe, I try to read the manuscript as though I am standing beside an experienced cook while another person records only the details worth remembering. Instead of asking, "What instructions are missing?", I ask, "What is the cook doing between the written lines?"

The result is velvety, lightly sweet, and fragrant without being overwhelming. Three taste testers and I fought over this custard, which is always a good sign that the medieval kitchen has sent us something worth keeping.

Why You'll Love This Recipe

  • It is a short, approachable recipe from Harleian MS 279.
  • It uses only four ingredients in the historical reconstruction.
  • It introduces medieval flower cookery without requiring rare equipment.
  • It can be served warm, chilled, or slightly loose as a sauce over berries.
  • It shows how a brief medieval recipe can become a confident, cookable reconstruction.

Jump to Modern Recipe

Historical Integrity: The main recipe below is the historical reconstruction. Modern adaptations are placed afterward and clearly marked, so readers can see what remains historically faithful, what is historically inspired, and what is a modern accommodation for allergies, dietary needs, or ingredient availability.

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

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

Vyolette, a medieval violet custard made with almond milk and fresh March violets.

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."

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

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

Originally published January 11, 2016. Updated June 2026.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk | Whyte Wortes

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

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

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

“This is GOOD.”

One tester even wished their mother cooked cabbage this way.

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

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

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

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

The Original Recipe

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

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

A Working Translation

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

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

From Joutes to Whyte Wortes

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

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

In other words:

Use the herbs and greens you prepared for Joutes.

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

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

Pot Herbs, Wortes, and Medieval Kitchen Ingenuity

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

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

Modern cooks often want a recipe to say:

Use exactly this.

Medieval recipes often say something closer to:

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

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

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

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

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

What Makes These Wortes “White”?

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

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

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

Why Almond Milk Mattered

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rice Flour, Honey, and Texture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why Boil the Greens First?

This step is easy to overlook, but it matters.

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

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

Whyte Wortes: Medieval Creamed Greens with Almond Milk

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

Ingredients

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

Method

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

Modern Kitchen Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why This Is a Good Feast Dish

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

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

How I Would Serve It

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

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

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

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

What are Whyte Wortes?

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

Why are they called white wortes?

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

What greens should I use?

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

Is this recipe vegan?

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

Can I use store-bought almond milk?

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

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

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

Can I use spinach?

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

Is this a pottage or a side dish?

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

Is this a Lenten dish?

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

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval Braised Greens with Peas | Lange Wortys de Pesoun

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

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

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

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

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

Either way, it is lovely.

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

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

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

The Original Recipe

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

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

A Working Translation

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

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

What Are Wortys?

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

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

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

Why So Many Greens?

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

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

Peas in the Medieval Kitchen

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

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

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

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

Peas, Pottage, and Texture

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

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

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

That flexibility is part of its charm.

Oil, Fish Broth, and Fasting Food

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

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

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

Lange Wortys de Pesoun: Medieval Greens with Peas

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

Ingredients

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

Method

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

Modern Kitchen Notes

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

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

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

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

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

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

How I Would Serve It

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

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

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

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

Humoral and Historical Flavor Notes

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

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

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

Frequently Asked Questions

Is Lange Wortys de Pesoun a soup?

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

What does “wortys” mean?

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

What kind of peas should I use?

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

Should this recipe use beef broth?

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

Can this be made vegan?

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

Can I use frozen peas?

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

Is this a Lenten dish?

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

More Medieval Greens and Wortys Recipes

Sources and Further Reading

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

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

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