I am at a camping weekend with my Viking recreation group (http://www.darkcompany.ca/). It has been lots of fun. Some of the gang did a smelt based on the find at Hals, Iceland. They got a huge 9+ kg bloom. Others did sand casting, enamelling over an open fire using the instructions from Theophilus, and dyeing with lichen (it turned pink and then a lovely blue). I spent much of the afternoon learning how to work iron. My inspiration was this article, describing Viking age and medieval crampons: https://sagy.vikingove.cz/scandinavian-crampons/?fbclid=IwAR0zFq2kiA5ZHMO8O6sx5iVgauZsgGh5kMyh4nluqv9fZjNOq99eatWCPK0
It took hours! I am far too tentative about hammering. And there was a fair bit to learn. My friend Darrell took over at the very end because I was getting tired and impatient – not a good thing when dealing with hot metal. The nicer one is Darrell’s work, made as he demonstrated the different steps.
The next step will be to experiment with different leather straps to see the best way to secure them on my feet.
Recently, a fun Youtube video on this recipe was making the rounds, so I thought I should do my own redaction. I had a copy of an English translation of Ruperto de Nola’s book, but no original, so I dug around the internet until I found a facsimile. I was pleased to discover that the translation was very accurate, so I will make more use of the cookbook in future.
According to Wikipedia, Ruperto de Nola, also known by pseudonym Mestre Robert, was a Spanish chef who authored the first printed cookbook in the Catalan language, Llibre del Coch (Catalan for Cook’s Book). This cookbook borrowed from the Llibre de Sent Sovi, an anonymous text written in Catalan in 1324. He served as cook to Ferdinand I, the King of Naples. Llibre del Coch was first printed in the city of Barcelona in Catalan in 1520, and a Castilian Spanish translation was published in Toledo in 1525. The version I used was the 1529 Castilian translation, which the English translator considers to be the most complete version.
Tomar una gallina que sea mas de medio cozida y cortala toda como hazer platos; y tomar bien tocido que sea gordo; y soffreyrlo con una poca de cebolla. Y despues soffreyz la gallina corta da coello. Y tomar almendras tostadas: y majar las: y mesclar conellos membrillos o peras que sean cozidas en miel y tomar los higados delas gallinas: y assarlos en las brazas. Y desque esten bien assados ponlos enel mortero d’las almendras: y majar lo as todo junto: y despues toma un migajon de pan tostado y remojado en vinagre blanco/majar lo as enel mortero conlo otro. Y despues de bien majado destemplalo con caldo de gallinas que este bueno de sal: y passar lo todo por un sedaço: y echarlo en su olla: y echar tambien la gallina: y echarle de todas salsas finas. Y buena cantidad de açucar. Y esta salsa quiereser algun tanta agrilla. Y desque sea cozida la salsa echarle as un poco de perexil dentro desho jado menudo. Y hazer sus escudillas. Y despues sobre ellas açucar y canela.
Pottage of Chicken in Sauce, Called Janete de Gallinas (Libro de Cozina: The Libro de Cozina of Master Ruperto de Nola 1529 Edition, full English translation with commentary by Vincent F Cuenca, self-published, 2001)
Take a chicken that has been half-cooked and cut it as if to prepare plates; and take good fat bacon, and fry it with a little onion; then fry the chicken along with it: and take toasted almonds, and grind them, and mix in quinces or pears cooked in honey and take the livers of the chicken and roast them in the coals; and when they are well-roasted put them in the mortar with the almonds; and grind them all together; and then take a large piece of toasted bread and soak it in white vinegar, then grind it in the mortar with the rest; and when it is all ground thin it with salted chicken stock; and pass it through a sieve and put it in a pot; and put the chicken in as well, and add some fine spices, and a good amount of sugar, and this sauce should be somewhat bitter; and once the sauce is cooked add a little finely chopped parsley; and prepare the dishes; and scatter sugar and cinnamon over it all.
My modern redaction:
Ingredients
One whole chicken (mine was a about 1.5 kg)
4 slices bacon, chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1/2 c almonds (you can buy toasted or raw)
1 pear (either cook it in honey beforehand, or simply use a pear canned in syrup)
3 chicken livers
1 large slice of bread (I used whole wheat but any sort of artisanal or sourdough bread would work well)
white vinegar (about 1/4 cup)
salted chicken broth
1 tsp poudre douce or a mix of cinnamon, ginger, cloves and grains of paradise
1 tsp sugar
3/4 c chopped parsley
extra cinnamon and sugar to sprinkle on the finished dish
Boil the chicken in a pot of water for half an hour or so. Meanwhile,, cook bacon and onion in a frying pan. Remove the chicken from the pot, cut it into pieces. then add to the bacon and onion mixture and continue cooking.
Roast 1/2 c of almonds in a dry pan, then grind them in a mortar and pestle (or a food processor if you prefer). Add pear and mash together. Roast three chicken livers (I did them in a dry frying pan on the stovetop, but you could roast in the oven or over a fire), and add them to the almonds and mash. Toast a large piece of bread, then soak it in white vinegar (just enough so that the bread softens again), then add the bread to the mortar and mash. Add 1 cup or two of salted chicken broth (you can use the cooking broth from boiling the chicken and add salt to taste). Continue mashing until you have as smooth a paste as possible, then press it through a sieve into a pot. Add the chicken, onion and bacon, poudre spice and sugar. Cook the mixture until the sauce is thick. Serve on a plate, sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar.
The dish has a pleasant sweet and sour flavour, and would work well over rice or another grain.
I have been struggling to DO things lately, though I have been reading lots. I read Children of Ash and Elm from cover to cover. It was my first glimpse into a new way of doing archaeology that is much more team-based and attempts to address modern questions. I loved every bit of it. Currently, I am reading The Valkyries’ Loom, on the archaeology of cloth production in the North Atlantic areas colonized by the Vikings, and what it can tell us about gender. I expected it to be a bit dry because it really is an academic text, but I am fascinated by what Michelle Hayeur-Smith has to say. Just last night, I started The Staffordshire Hoard, by Chris Fern, after having heard him give a presentation on the Hoard. Anglo-Saxon isn’t really my area of interest, but the concept of the lifecycle of objects alone was enough to pique my interest. So far, I am not disappointed.
What does this have to do with oats and herring? Nothing at all, really, except that I love interdisciplinary archaeology work. A fine example of this is An Early Meal, an excellent cookbook that uses archaeological food finds, carefully organized by site, along with sagas and other food production-related materials as the basis for its recipes. When someone posted up their version of Herring and Oats this morning, I decided I needed to make some too.
Mine uses sorrel instead of kale, because I have plenty in the garden outside my front door (the kale is growing in my community garden plot 1 km away). Sorrel (dock) is not listed among the plant remains found in Viking period sites, but wood sorrel is and dock appears to be native from the Mediterranean to northern Scandinavia so it is plausible. I used canned smoked sardines because that is what is available here. Since they are quite moist, I didn’t add extra butter as recommended in the original recipe. It made quite a satisfying lunch, and I am happy to have done something with my hands for a change.
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