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

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

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

A humble dish of cabbage can still surprise you.

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

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

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

What Are Caboges?

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

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

Why Was This Medieval Cabbage Recipe Fit for a Feast?

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

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

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

How Would Caboges Have Been Served?

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

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

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

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

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

Why Does the Recipe Offer Bread or Meat Gruel?

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

Why Do the Marrow Bones Matter?

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

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

Cabbage in Medieval Food Philosophy

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

Historic Recipe

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

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

Modern Translation

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

Modern Recipe Notes

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

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

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

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

Soupes Jamberlayne – Sops of Bread in Mulled Wine

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

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

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

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

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

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 medieval almond milk porridge with dates
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.

Rastons: A Medieval Pastry Disguised as Bread (Harleian MS 279)

Rastons: A Medieval Pastry Disguised as Bread (Harleian MS 279)

Originally published November 4, 2015. Updated June 7, 2026.

Rastons loaf cut into sops for medieval pottage

Rastons, baked and sliced into sops. Image © Give It Forth.

Rastons are one of those medieval recipes that look simple until you begin asking what they actually are. At first glance, this dish from Harleian MS. 279 appears to be bread: flour, ale barm, eggs, and a loaf baked in the oven. But then the recipe takes a turn. The top is cut away like a crown, the crumb is scooped out, chopped, mixed with clarified butter, returned to the shell, covered again, and baked a second time.

So is it bread? Is it pastry? Is it a rich feast loaf masquerading as something ordinary? The answer is probably somewhere in the middle. Rastons are bread-shaped, bread-risen, and bread-used, especially when cut into sops. Yet the eggs, sugar, buttered crumb, and second bake push the dish into the world of enriched pastry and luxury baking.

When I first made this recipe, I used the loaf for sops and pottages. In hindsight, a simpler white loaf such as manchet may have been the more practical historical choice for everyday broth-soaking. Rastons are richer than ordinary table bread and more elaborate than they need to be for plain sops. But if I am being honest, this was a quicker recipe, and I cheated a little. It worked beautifully, and the result was so good that I preferred it to my usual manchet or French-style loaves.

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

Milke Rostys – Medieval Fried Custard

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

Golden slices of medieval fried custard called Milke Rostys on a plate
Milke Rostys, a medieval fried custard from Harleian MS. 279. Image © Give It Forth.

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

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

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