Recipe for Trenchers

It's been a while since I've featured a medieval recipe. I was thinking about trenchers the other day (an insight into just how convoluted my mind actually is). Trenchers were commonly used during medieval times and you can think of them as the modern-day equivalent of bread bowls. Most commonly used by the uber-wealthy in medieval times, apparently they saved the kitchen staff from washing a whole-lotta dishes after a feast. The uneaten trenchers, usually stale, were then distributed to the poor after a big shindig. Guess I know what I'd be eating back then...someone's used, moldy trencher.


On the bright side, when I saw this medieval recipe over at Nemeton, for some reason I thought how good this would be holding a big serving of cream of potato soup (maybe it's just that winter is arriving?). Regardless, if you have culinary inclinations, here's the recipe and I've done the conversions for you:

3 1/2 cups stone-ground wholemeal bread (get creative with this; no need to grind your own wheat)
2 Tbsp sugar
About a cup of warm water
2 tsp active dry yeast
1/2 tsp salt

Dissolve the sugar in the warm water then stir-in the yeast and allow to stand for 15 minutes. The yeast should activate and bubbles will froth to the surface. Mix the flour and salt into a bowl, add the yeast and mix to form a dough. Add more water or flour, as necessary, until the dough is of the correct consistency.

Tip onto a floured surface and knead enthusiastically for at least 20 minutes, or until the dough becomes soft and elastic. Cut the dough into three equal pieces and roll into ovals about 4cm thick. Transfer onto a greased baking tray, pinch the edges of the bread so that you create a raised lip all the way around. Make a deep slash about 3/4 of the way along the center of the loaf and gently part the lips of the slash. This forms the 'trench' from which the bread gets its name.

Cover the bread with a damp cloth and place in a warm spot until the loaves double in size (this can take up to 2 hours). Place the bread in an oven pre-heated to 350 degrees and bake for about 45 minutes or until the bread is nicely browned and sounds hollow when tapped on the base.

Fall is upon us...

The arrival of fall (for much of the Northern Hemisphere, anyway) equates to the arrival of serious reading weather. After all, what's better than curling up with a good book and a roaring fire when it's cold and blustery outside? Well I'll tell you what: curling up with a good book, a roaring fire and a tasty mug of hippocras.

Since I've received no reports of anyone sickening or, heaven forbid, dying as a direct result (notice I said 'direct') of trying my recent recipe for Lamb's Wool, I'll go out on a limb and offer you some vague directions on making hippocras.

Historical Fiction fanatics, such as myself, are used to reading references to hippocras in just about every medieval dining scene. But for those who have never heard of such a thing, let me assure you that no actual hippos are harmed in the making of this beverage. (Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

Hippocras was a cordial made from wine and spices and could be served either hot or cold. The word itself means "wine of Hippocrates," who is considered the father of medicine. So we know the drink was floating around Ancient Greece. The spices used in the drink were very expensive and hard to come by in Medieval Europe, so the drink was pretty much limited to the royal and wealthy.

The following recipe is the most commonly reprinted these days and comes from The English Housewife, a book written by Gervase Markham and first published in 1615 (!). Here the recipe - notes in margins are mine, of course:

1 Gallon of Wine 4 oz Ginger
1 1/2 oz Cracked, Whole Nutmeg (nutmeg is often substituted for mace...the spice mace, not the spray. Ha.)
1/4 oz Cracked, Whole Cloves 4 lbs of Sugar (I'm laughing as I'm typing this...4 lbs...seriously?)

"Take a gallon of claret or white wine , and put therein four ounces of ginger, an ounce and a half of nutmegs, of cloves one quarter, of sugar four pound; let all this stand together in a pot at least twelve hours, and put it into a clean bag made for this purpose, so that the wine may come with good leisure from the spices."

The bag they are referring to, by the way, is just clean cloth for filtering out the chunks of spices.

So if anyone is willing brave sugar poisoning and try this one out, report back and let us know how it tastes. I thought it sounded a bit like grog, which I made the mistake of trying while I was in Prague and just about lost my lunch with the vile, vile taste of it. But I don't recall grog having any sweetness, so perhaps this is quite different.

To your health!

Lamb's Wool

Over the years, I've read many historical fiction novels that have their characters imbibing the popular medieval cocktail called hippocras. But today, whilst enjoying Time and Chance (Sharon Kay Penman), I ran across a reference to a beverage called Lamb's Wool. Never having heard of this one, I had to investigate further.

Turns out, Lamb's Wool was a apple and cider drink traditionally served in celebration of Twelfth Night, derived from the old custom of blessing apple trees by pouring cider on them. I've even managed to dig up a recipe for Lamb's Wool for anyone brave enough to try it:

6 Apples, cored and peeled
2 Tbsp Brown Sugar (possibly up to 1/2 cup, depending on your taste buds)
2 Quarts of cider, or a mixture of cider and ale
1/8 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground ginger

Boil the apples until they become soft and flaky. In a separate sauce pan, dissolve the brown sugar, 1 Tbsp at a time, into the cider/ale until you reach a sweetness you like. Add the spices. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 15 minutes. Place an apple in a large mug and pour the cider/ale mix over it.

(recipe courtesy of Flora)