Gravlaks Cured Salmon with Mustard Sauce

Thor News

Gravlaks served with red onion, lemon, rye bread, crackle bread, potato tortillas, mustard sauce and a small glass of aquavit. (Photo: Adam Liaw, Destination Flavor Scandinavia / SBS Food)

Curing salmon is an easy way to make a really tasty meal, and the preservation method has probably been used all the way back to the Viking Age. Cured salmon is known as gravlaks in Norwegian and regarded a delicacy.

Ingredients
(Starter, snack, serves 8)
1 kg (2.2 lbs) of salmon fillet (about a whole side), with skin, without bones
75 grams (2.6 oz) of sugar
75 grams (2.6 oz) of salt
1 teaspoon of ground pepper
1/2 cup finely chopped dill
Aquavit / brandy

Mustard Sauce
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons of sugar
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1/4 cup finely chopped dill
80 milliliters (1/3 cup) grape seed oil

You do not have to see the salmon produced here in the Namdalen valley, Central Norway, to understand that the quality is superb. (Photo: SinkabergHansen AS)

Method

Cured salmon
Divide the fish fillet crosswise into two so that there are two approximately equal parts. Place both sides with the skin side down on a large piece of plastic film.

Mix together sugar, salt and pepper and pour the mixture over the fish in a thick layer and sprinkle with dill. Pour over some drops of aquavit (see below) or brandy.

Place one part over the other so that the two skin sides face outwards. The narrow ends shall point in the same direction. Wrap the fish tightly in at least three layers of plastic film. Gently press when wrapping to get out as much air as possible. Place the fish on a dish and put it in the refrigerator for 48 hours.

Turn the fish every twelve hours.

Mustard Sauce
Whisk the ingredients together, except the grape seed oil, until they are well mixed. Continue to whisk when you little by little add some oil until the sauce has got the right consistency.

Gravlaks with Mustard Sauce
Take the fish out of the plastic and put it on a cutting board. Wipe the fish gently with damp kitchen paper to remove the remains of sugar and salt. Wipe again with dry kitchen paper. Cut thin slices of the salmon with a large, sharp knife.

Cured salmon is served with mustard sauce, lemon boats, red onion rings, rye bread and potato tortillas – or be creative and try out other types of bread, however, mustard and red onion are a must.

Aquavit Facts

Aquavit is Scandinavian spirit that has roots back to the fourteenth century. It gets distilled with herbs and spices like moth, fennel and dill. If you do not have aquavit, a good brandy can also be used.

Kleppmelk – A Viking Recipe

Thor News

Traditional dinner: Kleppmelk served with sugar and cinnamon. (Photo: renmat.no)

Kleppmelk (klepp milk) is a soup commonly used in the Trøndelag region and in Northern Norway. It consists of thick pancake batter formed into bowls simmered in milk.

It is reasonable to believe that the dish is very old since the word klepp stems from Old Norse kleppr meaning pile, a naked rock or a large stone.

However, Klepp has many definitions, including a hand tool shaped like a fishhook on a shaft (fishing gaff), a municipality in Rogaland County, and Kleppr is a Norse boy´s name.

Kleppmelk is also known as bollemelk (bun milk) and kleppsuppe (klepp soup).

 Ingredients (Serves 4)
 2 eggs
10 cups (2.5 l) milk
1.6 – 2.5 cups (4-6 dl) flour, wheat and barley
4 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt

Method
Dough
Mix eggs and sugar with 2.1 cups (5 deciliters) milk. Blend in the flour until it becomes a firm dough. You can use only wheat flour, but it is recommended to replace 1/4 of the flour with barley.

Soup
Mix salt and the rest of the milk. Bring to boiling point. (Pay close attention when you heat the milk – it may bubble over)

Using a tablespoon, make small bowls out of the dough, and place them in the hot milk. Let them simmer for about 10 minutes.

Serve with sugar and cinnamon and a glass of cold (!) milk.

Text by: Anette Broteng Christiansen, ThorNews

Exploring the world of colourful medieval cuisine

MedievalistsNet

BY NATALIE ANDERSON

Colour often has a great influence on how we perceive the food we eat. It can make food appear more appetising, or even warn that something is wrong. This was just as true for diners in the Middle Ages as it is for modern consumers. From the Queen Mary Psalter, British Museum image: Royal 2 B VII f. 168v.

Chris Woolgar’s recent article, ‘Medieval food and colour’, deals with this topic while examining how medieval people understood the role of colour in the preparation and presentation of food. In it, Woolgar explores the ways in which colour served as an indicator of a food’s essential characteristics, both physical and moral, and also the technical details of the creation of colour in food.

Woolgar establishes that medieval people perceived colour in a way markedly different from how we do today. For instance, when speaking about the quality of lustre or shine, Woolgar says, ‘Contemporary science teaches that objects that shine reflect light, but medieval people saw these objects as the source of light, and the divine qualities of light made them virtuous in their own right.‘

One prime example of the way in which medieval people attributed these broader characteristics to colour may be found in humoral theory. Different colours of wine, for instance, were believed to have different effects on the body, and thus certain wines were better suited to the specific needs of individuals. Along the same lines, similar visual characteristics of different items were thought to denote a connection; i.e. red meat and red wine were good for the blood. Colour was also linked to morality, particularly when it came to the widely recognised opposition of black and white.

All of this led to a medieval debate about whether the colour of food should be changed or altered. Woolgar points out that it is easier to analyse how this question was viewed with the appearance of cookbooks across Europe from about 1300: ‘Cookbooks from across Europe describe the creation of colour and provide a good deal of evidence about the contexts in which coloured food was consumed,’ Woolgar states. The influence of the Middle East and Arab cookery, for example, play a critical role in many of these more colourful recipes. Surviving cookbooks also shed light on trends such as coloured sauces and broths, how to create different colours, and even the layout of medieval kitchens.

While medieval cookbooks may reveal the specific instructions for incorporating colour into food, Woolgar turns to household accounts to discover how often this sort of cooking was actually undertaken. The purchase of spices such as ginger, saffron, and cinnamon, colourful herbs such as parsley, and even sheets of gold or silver leaf reveal how colour was incorporated into cooking on a regular basis. These accounts also clearly show that colour in cooking was utilised most frequently by elite households. Indeed, colour was very important when it came to the combination of food and spectacle in elite households. Items like entremets, elaborate dishes which were served between principal courses, were created purely for spectacle.

By examining colour’s association with food in the Middle Ages through these various lenses, Woolgar highlights the importance of colour in medieval cooking; colour could signify humoral or even moral qualities, it could allow one food to mimic another, it could indicate status and allow for the creation of spectacle. ‘In most cases,’ Woolgar concludes, ‘what has been demonstrated is that these links were far from systematic. Colour systems were not usually a driving force, and meanings inevitably changed over time – but delight in colour and fancy were, in the elite cuisine of later medieval Europe, a major feature. Colour in food is a fleeting concept, but it can nonetheless offer us perspectives on the aspirations of cooks and consumers in the late medieval world.’

Woolgar’s article ‘Medieval food and colour’ appears in the Journal of Medieval History, Volume 44, Number 1 (2018)

Wartime Christmas: 5 First World War recipes

History Extra

Christmas was a challenge for the wartime chef on the home front, with food shortages and high prices, even for basic ingredients. So how did Britain feast during the First World War? Hannah Scally, senior historian at illustratedfirstworldwar.com, presents five recipes from the wartime Christmas kitchen

Christmas is today the biggest food event of the year, and things were little different in the 1910s, when abundant courses and elaborate French cuisine were de rigeur. But wartime from 1914 made things tricky, and put a new moral emphasis on economy.

Imports were restricted by naval warfare, and food producers were fighting at the front. Shortages soon appeared, and the Ministry of Food Control was set up in 1916. Initially advocating voluntary rationing, it was forced to introduce compulsory rationing in the last year of the war.

From popular magazine The Bystander, here are some of the Christmas recipes Britain enjoyed during the First World War.

Oyster soufflé
Oysters were eaten in astounding quantities during the 19th century: supplies were bountiful, and they were known as a cheap meat alternative for the poor. They were so popular in fact, that by the end of the 19th century oyster stocks had collapsed, and native oyster beds became exhausted.

 By the 20th century oysters had become an expensive delicacy, as this wartime recipe from December 1914 shows. This festive starter, a delicate ‘oyster soufflé’ calls for six oysters:

Put 4 oz. of whiting or sole through a sieve. Make a panada of 1 oz. of butter, 1 oz. of flour, and a quarter of a pint of milk. Stir into this two yolks of eggs and the fish. Beat the whites very lightly, and stir well. Add half a pint of fish stock (made from the bones), one tablespoonful of cream, and six oysters cut up, steam slowly for one and a half hours. Turn over very carefully, pour a rich white sauce round, and decorate the top with a sprinkling of red pepper.

'Panada' was a paste made of flour, breadcrumbs or another starchy ingredient, mixed with liquid.

'White sauce' was defined as a plain sauce based on melted butter, whisked with flour. Milk is slowly added over a low heat until the sauce becomes thick and creamy.

Celery a la Parmesan
This would be a side dish on modern tables, but during the First World War it formed its own course, emulating the French style of table service. Creamy baked celery with a cheesy crust was a rich platter, worthy of the Christmas occasion, and the ingredients were still relatively affordable. This recipe from December 1914 reads:

Stew some celery in milk till tender, then make a white sauce, into which grated Parmesan should be stirred, and then place the celery in the dish it is to be served in. Pour the white sauce over then a layer of grated Parmesan, then a thin layer of breadcrumbs, and over all put pieces of butter, brown in the oven, and serve very hot.

A boned Turkey
This December 1914 recipe is from a special feature in The Bystander, ‘Four methods of cooking a turkey’. Turkey was emerging as a popular Christmas dish, but it did not dominate the Christmas table as it does today. Other fowl – particularly goose – were also popular.

The following recipe is for what was a particularly elaborate dish, recommended for a special public occasion like ‘a ball supper’. While many of The Bystander’s recipes were intended to be practical guides, it seems unlikely that the magazine’s readers would have followed this recipe in large numbers. We can think of this as early food entertainment; the equivalent of watching modern cookery shows. In this case, variety and interesting ideas were just as important as practicality.

Bone a turkey and lay it with the inside uppermost, cut the meat from the thick parts, and distribute it equally all over the inside, season with salt and pepper. Make some forcemeat with veal, ham, and truffles, put a layer of this over the meat of the bird, then a layer of sliced tongue, then another layer of turkey, then forcemeat, then tongue and truffles.

 Roll it up, and tie it with tape, and put it in a well-buttered cloth into a stew pan, with two carrots, two onions, a stick of celery, some parsley and peppercorns, and sufficient white stock to cover it. Let it simmer gently for three hours, strain, and let it get cold; remove the cloth, and glaze it all over; if any glaze is left, cut it into various strips and lozenge shapes and garnish the dish with it. This dish is excellent for a ball supper.

 'Forcemeat' was a mixture of uncooked ground or pureéd meat, similar to paté, while 'white stock' was a clear meat stock (as opposed to brown stock). The glaze in this instance would be a sweet jelly, brushed over the meat while warm and liquid. When cooled, the jelly would be firm enough to ‘cut into various strips’.

Novel dessert dish
Chestnuts were a traditional Christmas ingredient by December 1915, being grown in abundance on home soil – particularly handy for the wartime cook. But this recipe's dependence on sugar makes it an extravagant dish all the same.

 Roast three dozen large chestnuts, peel them, and put them into a stewpan; add 4 oz. of castor sugar and half a gill of water; cook slowly till the nuts absorb the sugar; then pile them up on a glass dish, squeeze over with the juice of a lemon, and dust rather thickly with castor sugar.

A 'gill' was an old unit of measure, equivalent to about 120ml.

Another inexpensive pudding
This recipe, which dates from November 1915, is a classic response to wartime shortages and economy. Unlike some of the exciting recipes above, this is a cheap, practical method for cooking Christmas pudding.

Sugar and eggs were both in increasingly short supply, and this recipe uses only one large spoon of sugar, and no eggs. Instead, the inclusion of a mashed carrot brings some essential sweetness and moisture to the recipe – just like in modern carrot cake.

Although fruit, like everything else during the war, has gone up in price, every English household must have a Christmas Pudding, but today, when eggs are so very expensive, it is necessary to be as careful as possible to try and obtain good results with fewer in the pudding. The secret of success is in the boiling, and the longer a Christmas pudding is allowed to boil the richer it will be.

Six spoonfuls of flour, ½ lb. of beef suet, ½ lb. of currants, one large spoonful of sugar, one large carrot to be boiled and mashed finely and mixed with the above ingredients, and the pudding to be boiled five hours. No milk or eggs are to be used in mixing the pudding. Serve with sweet sauce [almond or brandy sauce – popular accompaniments to Christmas pudding].

A 1915 Yuletide menu
The addition of olives with anchovies, and two extra dessert courses, promised to satisfy the most eager Christmas diner. Here is a typical 1915 festive menu:

 Hors-d’oeuvres
Clear Ox-tail Soup
Oyster Souffle
Roast Turkey, Chestnut Stuffing
Boiled Ham
Plum Pudding, Mince Pies
Orange Jelly
Olives with Anchovies
Dessert
Coffee, Liqueurs

Q&A: How did pasta come to Europe and when did it first become established in Italy?

History Extra

That the food crops up in so many cultures isn’t surprising: pasta is basically unleavened bread that has been boiled rather than baked.

There was long a fond myth that Marco Polo (1254–1324) brought pasta back to Italy from his travels in China, though what in fact he said was that he had found the Chinese eating lagana (sheets or ribbons of noodles or wheat pasta) similar to that already found in Italy.

Pasta as we know it today, made from durum wheat and water, was being produced in Sicily by the 12th century (and probably much earlier), and was probably introduced by Arab colonists. North Africa’s variation on pasta is, of course, couscous. It’s thought the Arabs used dried noodles on journeys and military campaigns as it kept well for long periods. Dried pasta would later be used by European seafarers.

Pasta spread across Italy where production remained hard, physical work; pasta-makers would generally sit and knead the dough with their feet. For this reason, it was expensive until industrialised kneading and extrusion methods were pioneered in Naples in the late 1700s. Only then did it become part of the diet of most Italians, before spreading across the world.

Answered by Eugene Byrne, author and historian.

Top 5 Dickensian recipes

History Extra

Oxtail stew. (© CICO Books 2017)

 The many scenes of eating in the novels of Charles Dickens (1812-1870) are useful ingredients of Victorian social history, particularly his scenes of the young, who are hungry for food and security and are let down by the well-fed adults and, crucially, the institutions who should be caring for them.

Dickens knew the agony of childhood hunger and loneliness. He loved convivial meals and we know his wife Catherine gave a lot of thought to them, because she published a little book of ‘bills of fare’ called What Shall We Have for Dinner? In their London home, she oversaw the cook sweltering over a coal-burning cast-iron range in a cramped basement kitchen, to produce an impressive variety of dishes for a dinner party. To help balance the books, family menus featured economic and filling puddings.

Dickens’ knowledge of domestic details is unusual in a Victorian man: in A Christmas Carol, he knows that Mrs Cratchit, too poor to have an oven, sends her goose to the baker’s and the washing copper doubles up as a pudding pan; in Martin Chuzzlewit he makes a joke about making a beefsteak pudding pastry with butter. This is all part of a picture he loved to paint – a rosy-cheeked young woman learning to cook for her brother or husband.

Victorian food may have a reputation for being either stodgy or unnecessarily fussy, but recreating the dishes that Dickens and his characters tuck into shows that it can be delicious, savoury and warming, light and elegant – and always best shared. Here, author Pen Vogler shares five top Dickensian recipes, updated for modern kitchens…

Charitable soup Catherine Dickens’ menu book is most indebted to the recipes of the celebrity chef Alexis Soyer. In 1847, in the midst of the Irish potato famine, he travelled to Dublin to set up a famine-relief kitchen and wrote Soyer’s Charitable Cookery, the proceeds of which he gave to charity. He later travelled to the Crimea to change the diet of soldiers, particularly those in hospital.

SERVES 6
2 onions, sliced a little olive oil, for frying
2 leeks, sliced and washed free of grit
2 sticks of celery, chopped
 2 lb 3 oz/1kg shin of beef or neck of lamb, bone in, cut into pieces by your butcher, plus some stock bones
2 small turnips, chopped bouquet garni or 2 bay leaves and a few sprigs of thyme and curly parsley, tied together
8½ cups/2 litres water (or beef stock if you are using meat without bones)
6 tablespoons pearl barley
3 carrots, chopped salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven, if using, to 325°F/165°C/Gas 3.

Sauté the onions in a little olive oil in a skillet/frying pan until they begin to soften, then add the leeks and celery and continue to soften for 5 minutes.

Tip this into a saucepan. Add a little more oil to the pan and brown the meat lightly on all sides in two batches—don’t let it sweat in the pan—then add it to the onions. Add the turnips, herbs, and either stock or cold water plus the stock bones. Season with salt and pepper, bring to a simmer and simmer on a very low heat, or cover and put it in the preheated oven, for 1½ hours.

Add the pearl barley and carrots and continue to simmer for 45 minutes, or until the pearl barley is cooked. Toward the end of the cooking time, take the stock bones and herbs out of the pan and discard.

Take the meat out of the broth, pull it off the bones and shred it, then return the meat to the pan.

Oxtail stew
 In The Old Curiosity Shop, Nell, her grandfather, and their eccentric fellow travellers are revived at The Jolly Sandboys with an equally eccentric “stew of tripe… cow-heel… steak… peas, cauliflowers, new potatoes, and sparrow-grass [asparagus] all working up together in one delicious gravy.” Margaret Dods’ dish of oxtail rather than cow-heel, served with peas and root vegetables, is also good for a hungry crowd on a rainy night.

SERVES 4
1 oxtail, about 3¼ lb/1.5kg, cut into short lengths (your butcher will do this for you)
4 slices of unsmoked streaky bacon, chopped olive oil, for frying
2 onions, peeled and roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves, crushed
 3 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped 1 small turnip, peeled and roughly chopped a sprig of thyme, a few stalks of parsley, and a bay leaf, tied in a bouquet or in a muslin
1 quart/1 litre organic beef stock salt and freshly ground black pepper sauce hachée  or horseradish sauce

 For the sauce hachée
2–3 gherkins, finely chopped
1 tablespoon flat-leaf parsley, leaves only, finely chopped salt and freshly ground black pepper Optional extra flavourings for sauce
 2 scallions/spring onions, very finely chopped or ½ teaspoon grated horseradish or a little lemon zest

Rinse the oxtail pieces and then leave to soak in salted cold water for an hour or two.

Drain the oxtail, place in a pan of fresh water and bring to a rolling boil for 10–15 minutes, skimming the scum from the surface (this removes the bitterness).

If you are cooking the stew in the oven, preheat it to 300°F/150°C/Gas 2. Fry the bacon in a very little olive oil in a large flameproof pot. Add the onions and garlic and sweat until they begin to soften, then add the rest of the vegetables.

 Add the drained oxtail pieces to the pot, fry them a little in the fat until they start to color, then add the herbs, the beef stock, and enough water to make sure the meat is completely covered. Bring to a simmer, check the seasoning, and add a little salt if necessary. Cover and either keep on a very low heat or put in the oven for 4 hours. Add a little water if the oxtail is becoming dry.

When the meat is falling off the bone, take the stew off the heat or remove from the oven. If the gravy is too thin, remove the meat and vegetables with a slotted spoon and boil it fast to reduce it until it is the depth of intensity you like, then add salt and pepper to taste and return the meat and vegetables.

Serve with peas, mashed carrots, and parsnips. For the sauce hachée, simply mix the ingredients and any extra flavouring you select together and serve separately, along with a bowl of horseradish sauce. Or make horseradish mash by infusing warm milk with grated horseradish root while the potatoes are cooking.

Ruth Pinch's beefsteak pudding

Beefsteak pudding. (© CICO Books 2017)

 In Martin Chuzzlewit, Ruth Pinch - the sort of ingénue housekeeper that Dickens loved writing about - is worried that the beefsteak pudding she cooks for her brother Tom will “turn out a stew, or a soup, or something of that sort.” Tom enjoys watching her cook, but later teases her when they realize she should have used suet for the pastry. Eliza Acton gives Ruth the last word by devising “Ruth Pinch’s Beefsteak Pudding,” made with butter and eggs.

SERVES 4

For the pastry
3½ cups/450g self-rising flour a pinch of salt
2/3 cup/150g cold butter, cubed, plus extra for greasing
3 eggs

For the filling
1 lb 2 oz/500g stewing steak, cubed 1 onion, finely chopped
2 teaspoons freshly chopped thyme
2 teaspoons freshly chopped parsley
3 level tablespoons all-purpose/plain flour about
 2/3 cup/150ml beef stock (or water plus a tablespoon of Worcestershire sauce or mushroom ketchup) salt and freshly ground black pepper

And any of Eliza Acton’s suggested additions:
a few whole oysters or 5½ oz/150g kidney, chopped (Eliza recommended “veal kidneys seasoned with fine herbs”) or
6 oz/170g “nicely prepared button mushrooms”
or a few shavings of fresh truffle
or 5–7 oz/150–200g sweetbreads, chopped

Start by making the pastry. Sieve the flour and salt into a basin; add the butter and rub it in. Beat the eggs together with a dash of cold water, then stir them into the flour mixture with a wooden spoon. Pull the mixture together with your hands, adding a little more water or flour as necessary. When you have an elastic dough, turn it onto a lightly floured board and roll out into a large disc. Cut a quarter out and put to one side.

Fold the two outer quarters over the middle quarter and put into a well-buttered 2-pint/1.2-litre basin, with the point in the bottom. Unfold the two outer quarters and push the pastry into the sides of the basin, wetting the edges so that they seal together and the whole basin is fully lined. Trim the top edge so there is ½–1 inch/1–2cm of pastry overhanging the edge of the basin.

Roll out the remaining quarter to make a circular lid.


Mix the meat with the remaining ingredients except the liquid, making sure the flour is well distributed. Turn it into the pastry-lined basin and pour the stock or liquid over. Brush the top edge of the pastry in the basin with water and put the pastry lid on top, pinching it around to seal.

Put a lid of buttered foil or a circle of parchment or greaseproof paper and a cloth on top, adding a pleat to give room for the pudding to puff up.

Place the basin in a saucepan so that the water comes halfway up the side of the pudding. Cover and steam for up to 4 hours, checking and topping up the water level every half hour or so.

Serve straight from the bowl or turn it out and cut it into segments. The butter crust makes this easier to do than the traditional suet one.

French plums

French plums. (© CICO Books 2017)

 The French Plums that Scrooge sees in the greengrocer’s are “blushed in modest tartness from their highly-decorated boxes” (which, if “exceedingly ornamental,” even Mrs. Beeton concedes might be put directly on the dining table). Port and cinnamon turn too-tart plums into a Christmas delight. Candied French plums were Christmas gifts, but should not be confused with “sugar plums,” which are, in fact, sugared nuts or seeds.

Put the water or orange juice, port, sugar, cinnamon stick, and lemon rind in a pan and heat gently until the sugar has dissolved and you have a syrup.

Add the plums, cover, and stew gently for 15 minutes.

Serve with cream, Italian Cream (see page 157), or custard. Alternatively, make into a plum pie by mixing the ingredients together in a pie dish, adding a pastry lid (see pastry recipe on page 129), and baking at 400°F/200°C/Gas 6 for 30–35 minutes.

SERVES 4
3 tablespoons water or juice of
 1 orange
3 tablespoons port
1 tablespoon soft brown sugar a cinnamon stick a small piece of orange or lemon rind
approx. 1 lb 2 oz/500g French plums, halved and stones removed

Almond cake for Steerforth
The feast of currant wine, biscuits, fruit, and almond cakes that Steerforth persuades David Copperfield to provide feeds David’s infatuation with the charismatic older boy. A subsequent gift from Peggotty, of cake, oranges, and cowslip wine, he lays at the feet of Steerforth for him to dispense. William Kitchiner’s light almond cake pairs well with oranges, berries, or other fruit.

SERVES 8–10
butter, for greasing
5 free-range eggs
1 cup minus
 1 tablespoon/180g golden superfine/caster sugar (or granulated sugar, if you cannot find golden superfine/caster sugar) finely grated zest of 1 lemon or orange
1 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
a pinch of salt
a pinch of cream of tartar
2 cups/200g ground almonds
¼ cup/35g all-purpose/plain flour

For the frosting
1 tablespoon orange or lemon juice
 ¾ cup/100g confectioners’/icing sugar, sifted
To serve fresh fruit, such as raspberries or cherries, or fruit compôte, such as orange, apricot, or plum

Preheat the oven to 350°F/180°C/Gas 4.
Grease a 9-inch/23-cm bundt pan/tin or ring mold, or a plain springform pan/tin. Separate the eggs and leave the whites to come to room temperature.

 Make sure there is no yolk or fat in the whites, which would prevent them from beating properly.

Beat the yolks with ½ cup/100g of the sugar until pale and fluffy, then beat in the lemon or orange zest and the almond extract, if using.

In a completely clean bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff (you should be able to turn the bowl upside down and they won’t fall out!). Add a quarter of the remaining sugar, the pinch of salt, and the cream of tartar, beat again, then fold in the rest of the sugar.

Fold the whites into the batter, a quarter at a time, followed by the almonds and flour. Scrape the mixture into the mold or pan. Bake in the preheated oven for 35–40 minutes until the cake is shrinking from the sides of the pan.

 Remove from the oven and leave the cake to cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn it out.

To make the frosting, stir the orange or lemon juice into the sifted confectioner's/icing sugar, then drizzle over the cake. Fill the centre of the cake with fresh fruit such as raspberries or cherries.

Alternatively, keep it plain and serve it with a compôte of fruit such as oranges, apricots, or plums.

Almond cake. (© CICO Books 2017)

Compotes of fruit

 Eliza Acton recommends a compôte of fruit as a more elegant dessert than the “common ‘stewed fruit’ of English cookery.” The fruit, being added to a syrup, better retains its structure and taste, and the syrup is beautifully translucent. She recommends serving the redcurrant compôtes with the substantial batter, custard, bread, or ground rice puddings Victorians loved.

 The preparation is simple. Gently boil white granulated sugar and water together for 10 minutes to make a syrup, skimming any scum from the surface. Add the fruit and simmer until the fruit is lightly cooked. If the syrup is too runny, remove the fruit with a slotted spoon and arrange it in a serving dish. Reduce the syrup over a medium heat, let it cool slightly, and then pour it over. It may also be served cold, and it keeps for a day or two in the fridge. Cinnamon, cloves, vanilla beans/pods, or a little orange or lemon peel can be used as flavourings when you make the syrup.

Eliza Acton recommends the following proportions and timings:

 Rhubarb, gooseberries, cherries, damsons - syrup made from ¾ cup/140g sugar with 1¼ cups/280ml water; add 1 lb/450g fruit and simmer for about 10 minutes.

Redcurrants and raspberries - syrup made from ¾ cup/140g sugar with 2/3 cup/140ml water; add 1 lb/450g fruit and simmer for 5–7 minutes.

Mrs. Beeton recommends the following proportions and timings:

 Oranges - syrup made from 1½ cups/300g sugar with 21/3 cups/570ml water; add 6 oranges, skin and pith removed, cut into segments. Simmer for 5 minutes. Apples—syrup made from 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons/225g sugar to scant 1¼ cups/280ml water; peel, halve, and core the apples and simmer in the syrup with the juice and rind of a lemon for 15–25 minutes.

Dinner with Dickens: Recipes Inspired by the Life and Work of Charles Dickens by Pen Vogler (CICO Books, £16.99) is on sale now. Pen Vogler is a food historian whose other books include Dinner with Mr Darcy and Tea with Jane Austen.

Revealed: how the Georgians taught us to diet 300 years ago

History Extra

It’s that time of year again, when we vow to ditch the sugar, take out a gym membership, and follow religiously the latest weight loss guides. But while you might assume dieting to be a modern phenomenon, new research suggests it originates in an earlier century.

As early as the 18th century, diet doctors began to recommend strict, low fat meals, and newspapers featured adverts for tonic and diet pills.

Research carried out by Dr Corinna Wagner from the University of Exeter reveals how the perceived decadence of the Georgian period gave way to a more moderate and austere approach adopted by the Victorians.

 In her new book, Pathological Bodies, Wagner demonstrates that by the mid-Victorian period, fighting fat had become a pastime for a large part of the population. Attitudes towards over-indulgence, obesity and body shape were hotly debated, and there developed a pressure to demonstrate self-restraint.

A greater emphasis was placed on the value of self-discipline – to be fat was to be immoral, irresponsible, and out of control.

Wagner told History Extra: “We associate the Georgians with being pleasure-seeking, and enjoying a lot of booze. Gout was almost a badge of honour – a sign you could eat and relax; that you had a ‘lust for life’.

“But a turning point came when a certain Scottish physician named George Cheyne decided to go on a diet. This was something people just did not do at the time.

“He cut out alcohol and even meat, and lost a huge amount of weight (from 32 stone to a ‘normal’ size). He published news of his weight loss success in a 1740 book called The Natural Method of Cureing [sic] the Diseases of the Body, and the Disorders of the Mind.

“He saw an opportunity to make money, so snapped up wealthy clients and showed them how to lose weight. He was, in effect, the first modern diet doctor.

“Due largely to his influence, there emerged a fashion for ‘diet doctors’ among the well-to-do.

“Newspapers started featuring adverts for tonic and even diet pills, and suddenly weight loss became fashionable.”

Wagner told History Extra that this change in attitude resulted from medical advances and political turmoil.

“An emphasis on health emerged at the same time as the radicalisation of the working class and the French Revolution across the channel.

 “Diet was linked with Britain’s role as a world force – people began to worry about whether Britain could maintain its empire and global power.

“It was a time of social anxiety, and in response, people pointed to individuals and said ‘you are part of the problem’.”

This attitude was also used to political ends, Wagner explained. For example, King George IV’s extravagant lifestyle led to vitriolic public condemnation. His obesity became the focus of press and public ridicule.

His weight was seen as a sign of his unfitness to rule, and politicians agitated for a transfer of power from the monarchy to government,” said Wagner.

“George IV was known to consume Persian and French delicacies, and his political enemies exploited that to incredible ends. It inspired an emphasis on British food such as roast beef and beer.

 “George IV was used as a cautionary tale to eat local food. There developed the idea that you should be supporting your local community, and that it was bad to be dependent on foreign countries such as China or India.

 “By the Victorian era, there were important medical advances in the area of obesity – and along with it, an emphasis in seeing into the body. Anatomy and dissection showed us the body’s physiology and functions.

“As a result, Victorian diet doctors like Thomas King Chambers, author of a book entitled Corpulence, prescribed strict regimens such as sea-biscuit for breakfast, and boiled macaroni and a piece of lean meat for dinner.

“There was also an interest in reading the body and face, and linking physical appearance to personal values. The Victorians were keenly interested in the idea that external features were linked to internal emotions, personality and intelligence.

 “As today, demonstrating bodily self management was central to demonstrating status and social position, as well as values like self-respect and responsibility.

 “Today, for example, being fat and on benefits is seen to indicate that you are selfish and irresponsible. Partially, we owe that perception to the Victorians.

“In Victorian society, individuals felt a pressure to demonstrate that they were not just consuming, but contributing. It’s amazing how that remains the same today.

“Then, as now, a fat body was a sign of a failing nation and community.”

9 strange facts about the history of apples

History Extra

1) The apple originated in the so called 'fruit forest' of Eastern Europe The fruit would have been smaller and more bitter than the apples we eat today. Travellers through the forest would have eaten the larger, sweeter apples, and started the process of selection, spreading pips across Europe and north into the Baltic regions.

2) In the Christian tradition the apple is associated with Eve's disobedience, right? Wrong She ate the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, and so God expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden. But the fruit is not described as an apple in any of the texts – the apple was put into the story by artists.

3) Apples don't grow true from a pip – each apple pip grows up into a unique tree The only way to get exactly the same apple is to graft a piece of apple wood onto a piece of rootstock. The ancient Egyptians knew how to do this, as did the Ancient Greeks and Romans. The Celts were also aware of how to cultivate apples, so sweet apples existed in Britain before the Romans arrived.

4) Royalty have always loved apples Henry VII paid huge sums for individual apples, and Henry VIII had an orchard in Kent with many different varieties, and he imported French gardeners to look after them. Meanwhile, Catherine the Great loved Golden Pippin apples so much she had them brought over to her palace in Russia, each one wrapped in real silver paper.

Queen Victoria was also a fan – she particularly liked baked apples. A canny Victorian nurseryman called Lane named a variety 'Lane's Prince Albert.' This apple is still in cultivation.

 5) Apples are a linked to fairyland It’s said that if you fall asleep in an orchard you may wake up years later, while treasure buried under an apple tree will allegedly never rot or be found. It's no coincidence that we go apple bobbing at Halloween: both the water and the fruit will put you in touch with the fairy kingdom. One Halloween tradition involves taking a bite from an apple and then sleeping with it under your pillow in order to dream of your true love.

6) Cooked apples were served as a street food An 18th-century Italian traveller, Caraciolli, complained that the only ripe fruit he ate in Britain was a baked apple. A form of roasted, semi-dried apple – the Norfolk Biffin – is mentioned by Charles Dickens as a Christmas delicacy: the Victorians ate a lot more fruit and vegetables than we might think.

7) Apples were sold from barrows and baskets in the streets of the big cities by costermongers This old-fashioned word for greengrocer comes from 'costard', which was a large variety of apple. Lord Shaftesbury, Victorian campaigner for children's rights, once disguised himself as a costermonger, complete with a barrow of fruit and veg, to experience the working conditions for himself.

8) The Victorian era saw a huge increase in the number of apple varieties being grown Many of these were bred by gardeners on large estates, and although they put the work in – grafting the scion onto the rootstock – the apples were named after their employers. Examples of such named varieties still extant include Lady Henniker and Lord Burleigh.

9) The Victorians studied apples In 1854 the British Pomological Association was formed to test new varieties of fruit to establish their suitability for British growers. Its secretary, Robert Hogg, had set out his knowledge of fruit in his British Pomology, in 1851. Hogg’s opening sentence shows how important the apple had become to all aspects of culture and cultivation: “There is no fruit, in temperate climes, so universally esteemed and so extensively cultivated, nor is there any which is so closely identified with the social habits of the human species, as the apple”.

Joanna is a food historian studying at the University of Essex. She is halfway through a PhD on the social and cultural history of the apple and the orchard. Joanna is also one of the founders of the Trumpington Community Orchard Project, a local community orchard – it was this project that inspired her apple research, or 'pomology'. When she is not studying Victorian texts, or weeding the orchard, she works in a local garden centre and gives talks on how to look after apple trees.

Sam’s historical recipe corner: Custard tart

History Extra

Custard tarts really are the food of and queens. They were served at Henry IV’s coronation in 1399 and more recently at Queen Elizabeth’s 80th birthday in 2006. In medieval times the tarts (also known as doucetes and darioles) could include pork too – dinner and pudding in one! Custard recipes go back to Roman times, but I used Marcus Wareing’s Queen’s birthday banquet version.

 Ingredients

For the pastry:
 • 225g flour + pinch of salt
 • Zest of one lemon
 • 150g butter
 • 75g caster sugar
 • 1 egg and 1 egg yolk

 For the filling:
 • 9 egg yolks
 • 75g caster sugar
 • 500ml whipping cream
 • 2 nutmegs

 Method
Preheat oven to 170°C/gas mark 3. Add salt, lemon zest and butter to the flour and mix between fingertips until it resembles breadcrumbs.

 Add sugar, then the beaten egg and extra yolk, and form into a ball. Wrap in clingfilm, chill in a fridge for 1-2 hours, then roll out on a floured surface to 2mm thick.

 Use to line an 18cm flan ring, placed on a baking tray, and cover with greaseproof paper and baking beans. Bake for 10 mins or until pastry starts to go golden brown. Remove, then cool. Reduce oven to 130°C/gas mark 1.

 Bring the cream to the boil. In a separate bowl whisk egg yolks with sugar and mix in the cream. Fill the pastry case to the brim and grate nutmeg on top. Bake for 30–40 mins or until set. Allow to cool.

 My verdict
 Delicious but extremely rich. Treat yourself to a moderate slice (rather than the robust slices I ate). You’ll find that it still works well if you reduce the sugar content.

 Difficulty: 3/10

 Time: 120 minutes

 Recipe courtesy of Great British Chefs.

17th-century 'Great British Bake Off' recipes

History Extra

All images are © Wellcome Images

 Hannah Bisaker’s puff pastry, 1692

To make puff paist
 "Take halfe a quortorh of The Finest Flower then mix yo Flower and water
 and Four white of Eggs together, mould up yo paste but not too stiff,
Then role yo Past out into a Sheete. Then lay some Butter in litle Pecies
Till you have Filled yo sheete but doe not lay it Towards The ends to neare,
 Then Dust a little Flower with yo Drudging Box then Fould it up
Twice before you put any more Then doe soe Till yo have put in
a pound keeping it a little dusted very Fine yo put it to yo Butter,
handle it a little Then cut it to yo own

Fancie Lady Ann Fanshawe's icy cream, 1651-1707

To make Icy Cream
 Take three pints of the best cream, boyle it with
a blade of Mace, or else perfume it with orang flower water
 or Amber-Greece, sweeten the Cream, with sugar let it stand
till it is quite cold, then put it into Boxes, ether of Silver
 or tinn then take, Ice chopped into small peeces and
putt it into a tub and set the Boxes in the Ice couering
them all over, and let them stand in the Ice two
hours, and the Cream Will come to be Ice in the Boxes,
then turne them out into a salvar with some of the same
Seasoned Cream, so sarue it up at the Table.

 Lady Ann Fanshawe's sugar cakes, 1651-1707

To make Sugar Cakes
 Take 2 pound of Butter, one pound of fine Sugar, the yolkes of nine
Egs, a full Spoonfull of Mace beat & searsed [sifted], as much Flower as this
will well wett making them so stiffe as you may rowle it out, then
with the Cup of a glasse of what Size you please cutt
them into round Cakes; pricke them and bake them.

 Orange pudding c1685-c1725

To make Orange Pudding
 Take 2 Oranges pare them and cut them in little pieces,
then take 12 Ounces of fine Sugar, beat them in a stone morter,
put to them 12 Ounces of butter and 12 Yolkes of Eggs,
 and beat all these together, then make a very good paste,
and lay a sheet of paste upon a dish and so lay on your pudding,
and cover it with another sheet of paste,
 and set it in the oven, an hour will bake it

 How to Cook a Husband (c1710-1725)

How to Cook a Husband

 As Mr Glass said of the hare, you must first catch him. Having done so, the mode of cooking him, so as to make a good dish of him, is as follows. Many good husbands are spoiled in the cooking; some women go about it as if their husbands were bladders, and blow them up. Others keep them constantly in hot water, while others freeze them by conjugal coldness. Some smother them with hatred, contention and variance, and some keep them in pickle all their lives. These women always serve them up with tongue sauce. Now it cannot be supposed that husbands will be tender and good if managed in that way. But they are, on the contrary, very delicious when managed as follows: Get a large jar called the jar of carefulness, (which all good wives have on hand), place your husband in it, and set him near the fire of conjugal love; let the fire be pretty hot, but especially let it be clear - above all, let the heat be constant. Cover him over with affection, kindness and subjection. Garnish with modest, becoming familiarity, and the spice of pleasantry; and if you had kisses and other confectionaries let them be accompanied with a sufficient portion of secrecy, mixed with prudence and moderation. We would advise all good wives to try this receipt and realise how admirable a dish a husband is when properly cooked.

A history of baking in 6 objects

History Extra

Bread tins
Though once considered the food of the poor, by the end of the 18th century, brown bread and course-grained flour were popular alternatives for the wealthier classes who began to reject the mass-produced, super-fine flours imported from the United States. Britain has retained its demands for less-conventional flours into the 21st century, with recent revivals for artisan grains such as spelt, rye, buck-wheat and gluten-free alternatives including rice, potato and oat flours. The latter sustained day-to-day bread making in Scotland and Ireland for centuries.

 The phrase ‘bread tin’ or ‘loaf tin’ was not commonly used until the early 1800s, roughly around the same time as the origination of the tin can for the preservation of food.

 Prior to the standard bread tin we are all familiar with today, loaves shaped in crude rustic ball shapes, or ‘boules’, were baked on a wooden tool called a 'peel' in large earthenware crocks. As bakers began to understand the science of bread-making – understanding that too much heat from below would burn the goods and that coarser flours required longer cooking times – bread ovens slowly became more progressive and integrated into the standard oven range in the 19th century.

 This progression was also seen in 19th-century legislation pioneered by the great German chemist, Friedrich Accum, that would subjugate the appalling and widespread use of harmful additives in baked goods.

A 19th-century satirical image showing a bread trough, oven and peel.

 Biscuit tins
Biscuits evolved out of small, baked necessities used as substance for long journeys. The most famous of these are perhaps the ‘ship’s biscuits’ eaten by Tudor sailors. These were concocted from flour, salt and water, prebaked on land and then rehydrated in stews or beer while at sea. Often alive with weevils and hard as door posts, this culinary ‘delight’ was almost certainly the precursor for the staple biscuit that we are all familiar with today.

 Gingerbread was traditionally the biscuit of popular choice, reigning supreme from its roots in the 13th century, right up until the 19th century. There were whole fairs and fetes dedicated to this sweet treat. The most popular of these, the Birmingham Fair, took place each year until the mid-1800s while other major fairs known for their significant gingerbread and toy stalls, Oxford St Giles and St Bartholomew Fairs in London, also petered out by the middle of the century. These would have consisted of rows and rows of market stalls displaying gingerbread in all its forms, interspersed with booths selling toys. Gingerbread men were known as ‘husbands’ in England.

Late 19-century tin biscuit cutter. (© Emma Kay)

 Early tin biscuit cutters like the one pictured above would often have little holes drilled into them to help circulate air, as well as aiding the release of the biscuit following cooking. In the 19th century, small biscuit cutters shaped like leaves, flowers, birds and animals were popular, used to produce fine, fancy almond pastes or other luxury delicacies.

 The ‘docker’ was once an essential tool for the baking of biscuits. It looked like an instrument of torture – sharp spikes attached to a wooden handle. This would perforate the biscuit dough to prevent trapped air from making the mix bubble up or rise too much.

 By the early 20th century, it became hugely popular to ice biscuits using the new-fangled metal syringes, which could be purchased in the icing kits manufactured by Tala and Nutbrown.

A Tala icing set c1950-60 and 1940s flour sifter. (© Emma Kay)

 Cake tins
The term ‘cake tin’ did not emerge until tin manufacturing had become the popular choice for kitchenware during the mid-19th century. Prior to this, ‘patty pans’ made from steel were used to bake small cakes and tartlets in a variety of shapes and sizes.

 During the Second World War, cake tins became equally popular for storing money as well as spongey delights. The media at this time reported on the high number of burglaries that prompted housewives to hide their loot in this most convenient of saving banks.

 In 1921, the Dundee Evening Telegraph reported that the favoured receptacle also saved the life of a little German girl, who was travelling alone by train in the UK. Having panicked after just missing her stop, the child threw open the outer carriage door as the train departed, shielding herself from the fall by holding out her cake tin. Despite falling out while travelling at a speed up to 20 miles an hour, she survived, albeit with some serious injuries.

Gingerbread hornbooks, based on the wooden and leather educational hornbooks, were blocks of alphabetical letters or Roman numerals designed as learning tools for children. (© Emma Kay) 

Pie-making
Pies are as ancient as the Egyptians and Greeks. The earliest of these wondrous and versatile of baked goods consisted of meat wrapped in flour and water pastes to seal in the juices when cooking, or honey concoctions which were coated in mixed grains and baked over hot coals. In early British pie-making, wooden hoops were used to shape the pie mould itself, though by the Victorian period, any dish that was deep enough to contain meat, vegetables, a gravy, capable of being covered by a pastry crust was termed a pie.

 This was also the era of the decorative pie collar and functional pie funnel, designed to both release steam and support the pie crust. In an 1806 edition of The Experienced English Housekeeper, the early 19th-century cook Elizabeth Raffald recommended that raised pies should be cooked in a well-sealed oven, quickly to prevent the sides from falling down. “Light pasted pies” were considered most successful if cooked at moderate temperatures for a period of time that was neither “too long, nor too short” (resulting in the pastry becoming either “sad” or quick to burn).

 Rolling pins and pastry jiggers
Two of the earliest mass-produced baking tools are the rolling pin and pastry jigger (jagger), with a history of mass production starting in the 1600s, possibly earlier.

 Glass rolling pins were used in the preparation of pastry-making, and they were often filled with ice to maintain the temperature when rolling. Apart from producing baked goods, decorative rolling pins were often used by sailors as superstitious good luck charms at sea. The Nailsea glass factory near Bristol produced a huge range of beautiful and decorative glass rolling pins (main picture).

 The pastry jigger, or cutter, was originally carved from scrimshaw [bone or ivory objects], another pastime of sailors who would create these wonderfully intricate items for their waiting wives and girlfriends ashore.

 The popular French rolling pins of the Victorian era were thicker in the middle and tapered at the ends in order to enhance the rolling process. In 1866, two Americans, Theodore Williamson and Chas Richardson, applied for a patent to create the ultimate rolling pin: one that acted not only as a roller, grater, and steak tenderiser, but also as a butter print. Whether it was commercially successful or not remains a mystery.

 Moulds
Moulds are the backbone to any kitchen and used to create many historical treats, from ancient Chinese rice cake sculptures to traditional jellies, ices and delicate confectionery.

 One of the most famous historical moulds in the UK is that of the Biddenden twins, Mary and Eliza Chulkhurst. This stems from a Kentish legend of twin girls, born joined at the hip and shoulders. Each Easter, the town of Biddenden would distribute cakes shaped in the image of the twins, taken from moulds carved in their image.

Other notable moulds include the traditional gingerbread hornbooks, based on the wooden and leather educational hornbooks, which were popular between the 16th and 19th centuries. These were blocks of alphabetical letters or Roman numerals designed as learning tools for children. The edible versions were incredibly popular in the 18th century, with London street sellers touting them for around half a penny.

 Gelatine is the stuff of early civilisations and blancmange is not, as we might believe, a 1960s British brainchild. Rather, it is thought to have originated in the Middle East from almonds, chicken, rice and sugar and introduced to Britain by the crusaders. It is also understood that a Frenchman in the 1600s widely communicated the method of boiling animal bones to extract its benefits, with the use of fishbones and innards to produce an adhesive (Isinglass), patented by the British in 1750.

A 20th-century wax Springerle mould. (© Emma Kay)

 Springerles are German biscuit, cake or confection moulds that exist in many designs and forms, originally carved from wood and wax. This is a typical traditional recipe taken from German National Cookery for English Kitchens, 1873:

 Half a pound of fine flour, half a pound of sifted sugar, two eggs, an ounce of butter, and a pinch of carbonate of soda dissolved in a teaspoonful of milk, or a little more if necessary. Form with these a dough, which must be well kneaded. Roll it out a quarter of an inch thick. Mix the anise-seeds into the dough… The more general way of moulding the springerle is with various figures cut in wooden blocks. These are dusted with flour, the paste rolled out and cut into small pieces, which are then pressed into the shapes, the surface shaved off with a knife, and the devices turned out by knocking the blocks as they are held upside down. Bake them very pale.

 Emma Kay is the author of Vintage Kitchenalia (Amberley Books, 2017)

What did people in the Tudor period eat?

History Extra

What did people in the Tudor period eat?

 Rank, station, and even religious customs affected what you ate throughout the Tudor period.

 Meat was forbidden on a Friday, when people ate fish instead. However, Henry VIII tended to be flexible, and often included certain meats, declaring them to be ‘fish’.

 Certainly the Tudors ate a wider variety of meat than we do today, including swan, peacock, beaver, ox, venison, and wild boar. They did not eat raw vegetables or fruit, believing them to be harmful. Water, especially in cities like London, was polluted, and wealthier individuals drank wine. Everybody drank diluted ale and small beer.

 Bread was an important staple of the Tudor diet; the most expensive was manchet bread, which was eaten only by the wealthy.

 Lauren Mackay is the author of Inside the Tudor Court: Henry VIII and his Six Wives through the Life and Writings of the Spanish Ambassador, Eustace Chapuys (Amberley Publishing).

Even in Viking Times Norway was Famous for its ‘White Gold’… a ‘Gold’ You can Eat!

Ancient Origins

New research using DNA from the fish bone remains of Viking-era meals reveals that north Norwegians have been transporting – and possibly trading – Arctic cod into mainland Europe for a millennium.

Norway is famed for its cod. Catches from the Arctic stock that spawn each year off its northern coast are exported across Europe for staple dishes from British fish and chips to Spanish bacalao stew.

Now, a new study published today in the journal PNAS suggests that some form of this pan-European trade in Norwegian cod may have been taking place for 1,000 years.

Norwegian cod – Norway’s ‘White Gold’. (Seafood from Norway)

Latest research from the universities of Cambridge and Oslo, and the Centre for Baltic and Scandinavian Archaeology in Schleswig, used ancient DNA extracted from the remnants of Viking-age fish suppers.

The study analysed five cod bones dating from between 800 and 1066 AD found in the mud of the former wharves of Haithabu, an early medieval trading port on the Baltic. Haithabu is now a heritage site in modern Germany, but at the time was ruled by the King of the Danes.

 The DNA from these cod bones contained genetic signatures seen in the Arctic stock that swim off the coast of Lofoten: the northern archipelago still a centre for Norway’s fishing industry.

Fish from Rügen’ (1882) by Hans Gude. (Public Domain)

 Researchers say the findings show that supplies of ‘stockfish’ – an ancient dried cod dish popular to this day – were transported over a thousand miles from northern Norway to the Baltic Sea during the Viking era.

Prior to the latest study, there was no archaeological or historical proof of a European stockfish trade before the 12th century.

While future work will look at further fish remains, the small size of the current study prevents researchers from determining whether the cod was transported for trade or simply used as sustenance for the voyage from Norway.

However, they say that the Haithabu bones provide the earliest evidence of fish caught in northern Norway being consumed on mainland Europe – suggesting a European fish trade involving significant distances has been in operation for a millennium.

One of the ancient Viking cod bones from Haithabu used in the study. (James Barrett)

“Traded fish was one of the first commodities to begin to knit the European continent together economically,” says Dr James Barrett, senior author of the study from the University of Cambridge’s McDonald Institute for Archaeological Research. “Haithabu was an important trading centre during the early medieval period. A place where north met south, pagan met Christian, and those who used coin met those who used silver by weight.” “By extracting and sequencing DNA from the leftover fish bones of ancient cargoes at Haithabu, we have been able to trace the source of their food right the way back to the cod populations that inhabit the Barents Sea, but come to spawn off Norway’s Lofoten coast every winter.

Reconstructed Viking Age longhouses at Haithabu. (CC BY SA 3.0)

“This Arctic stock of cod is still highly prized – caught and exported across Europe today. Our findings suggest that distant requirements for this Arctic protein had already begun to influence the economy and ecology of Europe in the Viking age.”

Stockfish is white fish preserved by the unique climate of north Norway, where winter temperature hovers around freezing. Cod is traditionally hung out on wooden frames to allow the chill air to dry the fish. Some medieval accounts suggest stockfish was still edible as much as ten years after preservation.

 The research team argue that the new findings offer some corroboration to the unique 9th century account of the voyages of Ohthere of Hålogaland: a Viking chieftain whose visit to the court of King Alfred in England resulted in some of his exploits being recorded.

 “In the accounts inserted by Alfred’s scribes into the translation of an earlier 5th century text, Ohthere describes sailing from Hålogaland to Haithabu,” says Barrett. Hålogaland was the northernmost province of Norway. “While no cargo of dried fish is mentioned, this may be because it was simply too mundane a detail,” says Barrett. “The fish-bone DNA evidence is consistent with the Ohthere text, showing that such voyages between northern Norway and mainland Europe were occurring.”

‘Vikings Heading for Land’ (1873) by Frank Dicksee. (Public Domain)

 “The Viking world was complex and interconnected. This is a world where a chieftain from north Norway may have shared stockfish with Alfred the Great while a late-antique Latin text was being translated in the background. A world where the town dwellers of a cosmopolitan port in a Baltic fjord may have been provisioned from an Arctic sea hundreds of miles away.”

 The sequencing of the ancient cod genomes was done at the University of Oslo, where researchers are studying the genetic makeup of Atlantic cod in an effort to unpick the anthropogenic impacts on these long-exploited fish populations.

“Fishing, particularly of cod, has been of central importance for the settlement of Norway for thousands of years. By combining fishing in winter with farming in summer, whole areas of northern Norway could be settled in a more reliable manner,” says the University of Oslo’s Bastiaan Star, first author of the new study.

Stamps Showing Everyday Life in the Viking Age Stamps showing ‘Everyday Life in the Viking Age.’ (Public Domain)

Star points to the design of Norway’s new banknotes that prominently feature an image of cod, along with a Viking ship, as an example of the cultural importance still placed on the fish species in this part of Europe.

“We want to know what impact the intensive exploitation history covering millennia has inflicted on Atlantic cod, and we use ancient DNA methods to investigate this,” he says.

The study was funded by the Research Council of Norway and the Leverhulme Trust.

 Top Image: Vikings. Summer in the Greenland coast circa year 1000. Source: Public Domain

The article, originally titled ‘DNA from Viking cod bones suggests 1,000 years of European fish trade’ was originally published on University of Cambridge and has been republished under a Creative Commons license.

Fit for a queen: 3 medieval recipes enjoyed at English and Scottish royal courts

History Extra

Rys Lumbard Stondyne
Period: England, 14th century
Description: Sweet Rice and Egg Pudding

 Original recipe And for to make rys lumbard stondyne, take raw yolkes of eyren, and bete hom, and put hom to the rys beforesaid, and qwen hit is sothen take hit off the fyre, and make thenne a dragée of the yolkes of harde eyren broken, and sugre and gynger mynced, and clowes, and maces; and qwen hit is put in dyshes, strawe the dragée theron, and serve hit forth.

 Modern recipe
 • 1 cup rice
 • 2 cups beef, chicken, or other broth
• 4 raw egg yolks
• 2 tsp sugar, or to taste
• 1/8 tsp saffron
• Salt to taste
 Dragées

 • 2 hard-boiled egg yolks
 • 1 tsp sugar, or to taste
• 1 tsp grated fresh ginger
• 1/8 tsp each cloves and mace

 1) In a heavy saucepan or pot combine rice, broth and salt. Over medium heat, bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer, covered, for about 15 minutes, or until all liquid has been absorbed.
 2) When rice is done, stir in raw egg yolks, sugar and saffron, and cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture gets very thick. Dish into a lightly oiled mould or bowl, cool, and turn out for serving.
 3) To make the dragées, in a bowl combine hard-boiled egg yolks, grated fresh ginger, sugar and spices, and blend into a paste. Roll this paste into little balls about half an inch across, and decorate the moulded Rys Lumbard with them.

 Great Pie

Ingredients
 • 1 kg mixed game (venison, pheasant, rabbit and boar)
• 2 large onions, peeled and diced
 • 1 garlic clove
 • 120 grams of brown mushrooms, sliced
• 120 grams smoked back bacon, diced
 • 25 grams plain flour
 • Juice and zest of 1 orange
 • 300 ml chicken stock
 • 70 ml of Merlot wine
• Salt and pepper Modern recipe (serves eight to 12)

 1) Preheat oven to 180°C.
 2) In a frying pan, brown the game.
 3) Soften the onions and then add the garlic, mushrooms and bacon and fry for a few minutes. Add the stock and orange juice and zest. Raise it to a boil then simmer for an hour until the meat is tender. 4) Let the mixture cool and add it to your short crust pastry case. Add a pastry lid and press it onto the lip of the base then trim it. Cut a steam hole or two and brush with a beaten egg all over.
 5) Put the pie in the oven and bake for one hour. Cool before serving.

Malaches of Pork
Period: England, 14th century
Description: Pork Quiche

 Original recipe
 Hewe pork al to pecys and medle it with ayren & chese igrated. Do therto powdour fort, safroun & pynes with salt. Make a crust in a trap; bake it wel therinne, and serue it forth.

 Modern recipe
(Serves eight to 12)
 • Pastry dough for 1 nine-inch pie crust
• 1 pound lean pork, cubed
 • 4 eggs
 • 1 cup grated, hard cheese
 • 1/4 cup pine nuts
 • 1/4 tsp salt
• Pinch of each, cloves, mace, black pepper

 1) Preheat oven to 230°C.
 2) Line a nine-inch pie pan with the pastry dough, and bake it for five to 10 minutes to harden it. Remove it, and reduce oven temperature to 175°C.
 3) In a frying pan, over medium heat, brown the cubed pork until it is tender.
 4) In a bowl, beat the eggs and spices together.
 5) Line the bottom of the pie crust with the browned pork, grated cheese, and pine nuts. Pour the egg and spice mixture over them. 6) Put the pie in the oven and bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick draws out clean. Cool before serving

Easter treats: what are Biddenden cakes?

History Extra

Every Easter Monday, in the village of Biddenden in Kent, a charity doles out tea, cheese and loaves of bread to local pensioners, and distributes hard-baked biscuits, known as Biddenden cakes, to villagers and visitors alike.

 Stamped on each cake is a representation of the ‘Biddenden maids’, conjoined twins from the 12th century who supposedly left money in their wills to found the charity. Joined at hip and shoulder, the twins, usually named as Eliza and Mary Chulkhurst, are said to have lived to their thirties and died within six hours of one another in 1134.

 There is little evidence, though, that the Chulkhursts actually existed and the earliest account of what is probably a legend was only published in 1770.

 Answered by: Nick Rennison