The first thing you are likely seeing here is a recipe. I try to translate one recipe from a historical source every day, and here is where I post them. When I have time to experiment, I also post reports on actually trying out the dishes or short articles on other historical questions I find interesting. But mostly, it is recipes. I hope you enjoy them.
Another excerpt from the wedding feast in Der Ring: Lady Else, having enjoyed bread, cheese, and wine, is served the second course of roast meat:
Front page of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring courtesy of wikimedia commons (and yes, I think Bertschi, the dapper fellow on the left, is doing exactly what it looks like he’s doing. It is that kind of poem)
Spiegelmais (a server) did not tarry long, poured cider (öpfelgtrank) into the pitcher after his manner, and went to fetch her food. He brought her the roast donkey which she thought noble venison (willprät edel). She drew a loaf of bread against her chest and cut it straight through the middle. Behold, those were some honest slices! She laid them in a proud heap like a stack of firewood. None dared take away the knife from her, so they tore the meat destined for her into pieces. All was hers, and she swallowed (schland) the roast and gnawed the bones. She chewed and gnawed so hard a tooth broke in her mouth. What would be left for the dogs? They were discontent with her gnawing, and one jumped up and took a bone from her mouth, but she kept eating and eating until she had caught up with the other guests.
People and dogs gnawing on bones are so much part of the sterotypical medieval feast it is surprising to see how rarely that kind of thing is actually described. Here, it is made explicit, and the context makes it clear that it’s not approved behaviour. The Wahre Hoveschheit, a book of table manners, states clearly:
You must not gnaw bones like a dog. You must not suck out the marrow like a honey bear sucks his paw.
The other faux pas that is committed here is cutting bread while holding the loaf against the chest. This is a bigger problem than it appears at first glance: Bread was a central element of any medieval meal, and though it was often served in a prepared state, with the crust removed partly or entirely, it had to be cut by the diners. There were no cutting boards as far as we know, and no serrated bread knives of ther kind we rely on today. Cutting bread neatly and precisely under these circumstances is hard. Though upper-class men were generally expected to master the skill of cutting bread held in their hand as part of a broader education of carving at the table, this was not universal practice. Interestingly, the Hoveschheit dedicates an entire paragraph to it:
One custom exists at court that is sometimes harmful; cutting bread holding it in your hands sometimes leads to harm. It happened at a prince’s court that a young gentleman wanted to cut his bread in his hand and cut himself in the hand so badly that he died of the wound. All of his family mourned. Thereupon the prince gave permission to all his court that each man and woman were to cut their bread holding it against their chest. You have the same permission to cut your bread against your chest when you need to. A harmful custom should be changed.
The anecdote is sometimes associated with Valdemar IV Atterdag of Denmark, but it is irrelevant whether or not that is how it happened. Anyone accustomed to eating Brötchen for breakfast knows the risk of slicing into the palm of your hand when cutting them in half. It’s a familiar injury in emergency wards throughout the country. So at least in this regard, Else is on the right side of history.
The donkey meat, a repellent thought to contemporary German audiences, is explained by an event that occurred the previous evening:
They paraded around the village of Lappenhausen that night as well as they could, making noise with drums. Those who could not lodge in a house took the sky for a roof and the street for a feather bed. Behold, they passed up and down all night with shouting so that nobody could sleep, neither in the hay nor in the straw. This continued until dawn. They permitted nobody to carry a candle, and the bridegroom suffered damage that way because he skinned his donkey instead of the cow by mistake and carried the meat into the kitchen. This would never have been known if he had found his donkey in the place where (instead) he saw the skin lying the next morning to his great dismay.
The intenjse, noisy fun on the eve of a wedding that is institutionalised as the Polterabend today clearly has long antecedents. Of course the idea that anyone, least of all a peasant familiar with livestock, would mistake a donkey for a cow in the dark is laughable. Even if that were to happen, it is hard to see how one would go about slaughtering, skinning, and butchering a large animal in the dark. We need to remember that though it has elements of reality, this story is not supposed to be realistic.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
I’m glad to announce the upload of a new translation. The Wahre Hoveschheit (true courtesy) is a Tischzucht or book of table manners most likely produced in the fifteenth century for a monastic community in Westfalia. It specifically addresses members of cloistered orders with the goal of teaching lower-class members proper conduct in polite company, but the rules described in it are applicable more widely.
Bad monk! Drinking from bowls is a faux pas. 13th century illumination courtesy of wikimedia commons
The Wahre Hoveschheit very likely enjoyed some popularity within its limited area, given two manuscript copies survive. It was first edited in the nineteenth century, but relatively little has been done with the text since. I produced a translation for the Society for Creative Anachronism’s (SCA) magazine Tournaments Illuminated in 2012 and have finally found the time to review it and post it here.
We do not know the author or origin of the text, but looking at its structure it appears to be cpomplete as it was intended. It begins with an introduction explaining the need to learn proper deportment for members of cloistered orders. This is followed by lengthy explanations of manners at table and, more concisely, general conduct in polite company and when visiting people in their homes. The final paragraphs seem to lose cohesion. They outline responding to challenges to the authority of the clergy and church, cast in terms of ‘foolish questions’ and especially envision debates with Jews. The recommended responses vary from claiming lack of education to brushing off the questions or insulting the questioner. Especially the attitude to Jews is crassly hostile. I included a translation of this part, but do not in any way share the underlying assumptions in case this needs spelling out.
It is quite unlikely that clergy in Westfalia in the 1400s would have interacted much with Jews. Jewish communities had dwindled and in many cases been expelled or destroyed in the 14th and 15th century in most cities. More likely, they serve as a rhetorical foil, an imaginary opponent against whom the aggressive insults that the reader may have wanted to hurl at his fellow Christians were permitted. What we can imagine is members of holy orders, especially those with little formal education, facing challenges from an educated, earnestly pious, and increasingly anticlerical laity. That is the more likely context here.
Another excerpt from the Grobianic wedding feast in Der Ring: How not to drink someone’s health.
Front page of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring courtesy of wikimedia commons (and yes, I think Bertschi, the dapper fellow on the left, is doing exactly what it looks like he’s doing. It is that kind of poem)
Else called for the first course to be brought to her. One of the company became her server and brought her in his bare hands apples, pears, nuts, and cheese. His name was Spiegelmäs (mirror tit, as in the bird). He laid down the cheese in one piece. She was happy and ate (frass) it with its rind – why should she have removed it? He bit open the nuts for her with his teeth so that the blood ran out. He began peeling the apples at the stem and the pears at the bottom. A boor who follows his practice! Then he looked into the pitcher and saw there was not enough wine (mosts) in it. That is why he took a heavy serving vessel and shook it to see whether there was anything left in that. The wine sloshed around, which pleased him. He poured it into the pitcher and filled it (understand me how full) so that it ran over on all sides.
But this was nothing compared to what I still have to tell you. Else, not wanting to insult her host, grasped the pitcher with both hands and thrust in her mouth and nose, so much did she enjoy the wine. When she found a morsel of food in it, she picked it out with her bare hands and drank so strongly and long that she was all out of breath in the end. But right after she had caught her breath again, she started again, looking over the rim (of her vessel) like a wild bear. She let her head drop and drank so that her eyes watered and her ears drooped from drinking. But there was still liquid left. That is why she painfully twisted herself to tilt her head backwards with the pitcher – she thought this was good manners. She leaned her back against a tree and cried out as though dreaming: “Woe me, woe! The pitcher is dry and empty! Pour me some more, and bring me the second course, I want it!”
Again, the description of manners is designed to evoke disgust and ridicule. On top of the exaggerated poor behaviour, the fact that a woman is guilty of it increases the titillation factor for upper-class readers. These weird peasant girls… Again, the details of her behaviour, from lifting up a heavy pitcher to letting food get into the drink, making noises, getting out of breath, and looking at others over the vessel are exactly the opposite of refined manners. The Wahre Hoveschheit, a late fifteenth century Westfalian text on manners, prescribes this:
When you want to drink, lift up the cup above the table with both hands, drink, and set it down. If you want to put it down near you, put it so far from you that those who are supposed to have it next can reach it. You must not drink with one hand like a wagoner greasing his cart. You must not drink while the person at the head of the table is drinking, and neither while someone who sits by you is drinking. You must not blow into the cup like a cook blows into his ladle. You must not drink while you have food in your mouth like cattle do. You must not look (at people) over the cup like a cow. You must not drink noisily like an ox. You must not make noises in your throat like a horse. You must not talk over your cup like a drunken innkeeper. You must not stick your thumb into the cup like a woman tapping beer. You must not drink up to the bottom like a sexton (or: cottager? koster). You must not lick your lips afterwards like a bad piper who has spoiled the dance. You must not drink from all along the cup’s rim like a sheep. You must not take overly long draughts like a pigeon. You must not breathe noisily afterwards like a bear. You must not hang your nose into the cup like a pig. You must not drink up the wine like an ox drinks water. You must not drink up the cup entirely or by half like an Estonian. You must not drink before the meal like a Russian. You must not drink in one long draught like a nursemaid. You must not drink on an empty stomach like people who were drunk the night before. If you want to take a drink of mead ‘on an empty stomach’, then know this: the first drink after eating is called a drink ‘on an empty stomach’. You should wipe your nose and mouth after drinking. You must not hold the cup in your hand too long.
Interestingly, the Hoveschheit also addresses the proper way to peel pears and apples, and there really was a rule to it:
If you want to peel a pear, start at the stem, but if you want to peel an apple, start from the head.
We really begin to see how the Ring was written, and it leads us right back to the words of Übelgsmach (evils taste/smell) in the chapter preceding the wedding feast:
But it is said often and much: If you would be a courtier, imagine a peasant and do the opposite of whatever he does in his boorish manner. Thus you become courtly and decorous.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
Another brief excerpt from Wittenwiler’s Der Ring: Setting up the tables for the feast:
Eating al fresco was not unknown for the upper classes, as seen in the livre de la chasse of Gaston III of Foix, courtesy of wikimedia commons
By now, people should have danced, but the feet could not carry them for hunger. That is why four who would serve at the table went away and said they wanted a soup as was the custom. This was done straight away.
One of them was so gluttonous that he almost died of scalding his throat. He jumped up immediately and banged his fist on the table so that the soup and the bread fell to the ground. Each of them said: “Before I starve, I will pick up the broth from the dirt. And it it were even shittier (noch bass beschissen) – no bite will be left lying.” In truth, this happened! They enjoyed it.
Then each took a sack and spread it out on the grass. Behold, what a lovely tablecloth! It was washed at least once a year for certain. Pitchers served for cups and glasses, so big they could hardly be lifted. They would have had salt and saltcellars if they had thought of them. There were no knives and no cut bread. They brought loaves of barley and of oats – they called for these – and also laid out rye bread. Thus was the table set.
This scene sets the tone for the rest of the feast: crass and unbelievably disgusting. The setup here – dirty sacks spread on the bare soil with only pitchers to drink from and no salt or sauces. It is not entirely improbable that peasants ate like this, but the way it is described makes it a mockery of upper-class tables. Oat and barley bread – the least desirable kind, often produced as feed for horses or dogs rather than people – are served by popular demand, along with the more acceptable rye. Basically, the table lacks the amenities that make proper dining possible. By contrast, consider what an anonymous 1492 poem describes (quoted after Bach: The Kitchen, Food and Cooking in Reformation Germany, chapter 5):
Do not be tardy in setting the table, diligently lay the cloth all around it. Do not forget the saltcellar, and place the schüsselrink (a ring-shaped coaster to hold the serving bowl in place) in the center. Put down a plate for each diner and the spoons in pairs. Place bread, rye and white, together, give it with each plate.
The table is set on a tablecloth – clean, of course. It covers not only the top, but the sides (there is some dispute on how this was achieved, whether there was one or more lengths of fabric). Salt is a must, as is bread, in this case rye and wheat. Each diner receives a plate. That was a relatively new idea at the time – before, sharing plates between two had been customary. Knives and spoons are the implements of choice, forks as yet very uncommon. That is the picture against which we contrast the mud-smeared servants arranging sloshing pitchers on dirty sacks.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
This is the first part of the most interesting section of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring: The wedding feast. The author lays out all tenets of good conduct and every aspect of nicety by describing the exact opposite. Here, we learn how not to wash our hands:
Front page of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring courtesy of wikimedia commons (and yes, I think Bertschi, the dapper fellow on the left, is doing exactly what it looks like he’s doing. It is that kind of poem)
By now, the wedding gifts had been handed over. Women and men went to the table like sows to the trough. Nobody but fro Els (Lady Else) and Farindkuo (“thrust-into-the-cow”, a man’s byname) washed their hands. They had been in such a hurry that they had fallen into the dirt. They needed water, and it was brought to them immediately. Farindkuo pushed in front of Else (I think he felt the wait was too long) and ordered that he should be given water immediately. The servant poured it carefully from above on his sleeves, not into the middle of the basin, holding up his head and thrusting out his legs stiffly. The basin was a wide sieve that had been bought for the wedding.
The maiden Else was unhappy and she also went where the water was poured. Her sleeves were also wet, nobody served her with a towel that should be spread between the clothes and the basin, smoothly in courtly fashion, whenever anyone would wash their hands.
The servants’ fingernails were also long and pointy like icicles. That is why nobody dared to approach and place their thumbs on top of the sieve to lift it. Thus it was left standing on the ground.
Farindkuo had no towel to dry himself, so he used his breeches (pruoch) as his towel. It was wide open. He came on noisily and sat down above everyone else (i.e. at the head of the table).
Fro Els washed her hands for so long, until the second course was served. Oh, when she saw this she regretted it. She had no breeches and did not want to ruin her shift by drying her hands, and to rub them in the air took too long and seemed pointless to her. Thus she came to the table wet and sat on her arse rightaway (auf dem ars gesass). Her feet were not idle: they pushed over pitchers and shifted the tablecloth.
“So, you sow, so, sou sow, so!” (so sau so sau so du so) said her Ochsenchropf (Sir Ox-Gullet) then, “I do not like your fun, it harms us in the stomach.” If the had drunk more, this would have ended in blows, but the matter was settled and the tablecloth spread out again.
This description is designed to evoke the mockery of and trigger disgust in the upper classes of fifteenth-century Germany. Going to the table with unwashed hands was unthinkable, and doing it properly was a social ritual. You held out your hands over a basin held by a servant while another poured a thin stream of water over your hands from above, and you quickly and neatly rubbed it over your fighers. This was no thorough wash. If your hands were actually dirty, you had to get them clean before. After this quick ablution, you dried your fingers on a proffered towel and were ready to enjoy your meal.
Obviously, the servants were expected to be clean and skilful. These, with their long, pointy fingernails and awkward stance, are already on record eating spilled soup from the bare earth and surely would have disgusted any listener at the time as much as they do us. Wiping your hands on your breeches (pruoch – Bruche) is a similar breach of taboo. The Bruche was an undergarment that was not meant to ever be visible in polite company.
Of course, every aspect of the company is a disgusting caricature. The titles are wildly inappropriate and the bynames deeply dehumanising. Ochsenchropf means the gullet or dewflap of an ox, but the word Kropf used in human contexts refers to a struma, a common ailment in mountainous regions until the twentieth century. A very exaggerated version of it can be seen on the woman depicted on page one of the manuscript above. Farindkuo may charitably be thought of as a farmworker engaged in veterinary obstetrics, but it should be noted that later fifteenth century sources record chüefigger as an insult aimed at the Swiss.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
A short excerpt for today – Mondays are long days. This is from the very beginning of the poem Der Ring when the peasant protagonists assemble for a tourney:
Front page of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring courtesy of wikimedia commons (and yes, I think Bertschi, the dapper fellow on the left, is doing exactly what it looks like he’s doing. It is that kind of poem)
The fourth was known as junkher Troll, a man as strong as a butter cake (anchenzoll)…
The sixth was known by the name Twerg (dwarf). He was high-born, on a mountain, and his coat of arms showed three flies in a glass.
The seventh was known as Her Eisengrein, the snorter. He bore on his shield nine spoons in a bowl.
The eighth was, I believe, called Graf Burkhart with the ganglion cyst (mit dem überpain). He had made as his arms two beets (ruoben) roasted well.
…
The tenth did a good deal of damage, he was called Jächel Grabinsgaden (roughly: the housebreaker), and by his ancient lineage he bore four cow’s milk cheeses on a hurdle (as his arms).
The name of the eleventh is also known: He was called Rüefli Lekdenspiss (lick-the-roasting-spit). He was the reeve of his village and his arms were eggs.
(lines 118-154)
This is the kind of vicious mockery the wealthy visited on their inferiors in so much German literature and art. Peasants are described as ugly, uncouth, venal and stupid, slaves to coarse appetites. Here, the would-be knights are assembling for a tournament that will predictably end in a muddy brawl with iron rods hidden in straw cudgels. Their names betray the expectations of the author, but such bynames were not uncommon in fifteenth-century Germany. Their arms display stereotypical peasant fare: cheese, eggs, and root vegetables (ruoben, Rüben, is a catchall term), shared bowls and dirty glasses.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
This is the second larger excerpt from Wittenwiler’s Der Ring. The story is that friends and relatives give advice to the protagonist Bertschi ahead of his wedding, in this case on good husbandry. The wedding feast is the main source on food and eating in this text, but we get some interesting glimpses here, too:
Front page of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring courtesy of wikimedia commons (and yes, I think Bertschi, the dapper fellow on the left, is doing exactly what it looks like he’s doing. It is that kind of poem)
Now said Härtel Saichinkruog (strain-into-the-mug): “Very well, so be it. I will teach you as best I myself understand it how to honourably keep house. First of all, you shall try to carry a second house built of silver with you so you can buy, as you unavoidably will, hay, fodder, straw, wine, grain, wood, millet and kraut, that is the custom, beans, peas, barley, smaltz, lentils, dried meat, salt, household goods and bedding, cheese, fruit, and many other things, each in its time. That will always prove useful. And only ever buy the best if you do not want to regret your purchase.
Feasting and invitations every day – that brings honour once and damage twice. Do not spend your estate with guests on musicians, and jewelry if you wish to keep your belongings and good name, that is my teaching. But expenditures on knighthood are very honourable, you must know, and especially have pity on your poor friend (i.e. the speaker).
Do not build houses at any price unless you are forced to. A built house, a book filled with writing, a woman one has slept with, cloth that has been cut, and pots full of old stuff (hefen alter plunder) are valued so little it is a wonder. A dripping roof can be repaired; Small damage is better than large. Honourable clothing, not too elaborate, is praiseworthy if it is clean, not beshitten (beschissen), well mended and not torn, and suitable for the season. The latest fashion is worn by (reit, literally: rides on) fools only.
You shall be glad to hear chickens crying and geese singing, because you gain from them. Your dog shall be a strong male who loyally guards what is yours. Spending money on training your children is also good, and also do not stint on their dowry (haimsteur). If you give to the poor, this (merit) will follow you to your grave, but see your profit is much greater than your daily expenses. Something can always happen that eats up the savings of a long time quickly.
I will forthrightly tell you how to secure gain and avert damage: Be the master in your own house. If your wife wears the pants, she will be your hail and your curse before God and His commandments. And you will be mocked for it. Thus watch her closely (sitz ir auf dem nak, lit: sit on her neck) and hold her like a fox in a net. Make her carefully preserve what is given into her hands. Also see to it that kitchen, table, and bed are well kept and clean from the start if she wishes to grow old with you. Oder her to clean, sew, spin, milk and suckle (säugen – probably breastfeed infants) if you wish to amount to something. Rarely allow her to be idle. And you must understand the same applies to your daughters from the start. If they do not know how, see that they learn it soon, day and night, as speedily as four people. For what your wife can do for you is also good for another man (i.e. their future husband).
Do not give the travellers’ staff to your son, and Saint Bernard says. Quickly teach him a craft as you can, or trading, but above all reading and writing if you want to secure him a position. But if he does not properly achieve anything with you, send him away; That is his steuer (dower).
If you have servants in your care, do not supper pride (übermuot) from them. Also trust no flatterer (gleichsner). Note, a servant should be obedient, loyal, able to work long, chaste and patient, not too rich, smart and speedy without complaint. But they must also have an honourable master who rewards them enough – coarse food as is their due – and does not withhold their wages overnight because he can. Thus pay and feed them well, and see that they earn their keep. If you would have certain gain, rise early with them and see to your livestock yourself if you do not want to lose it. Do you know what I know? Your own eye makes your cattle fat. But if you are lazy in your own affairs, so will be your servants and, which is worse, they will incline to evil thought.
When you leave your house, be aware of what you have to do, and when you return, check what has been taken from it. And if your grain has not increased, know that you have lost that day.
If you have good neighbours, be glad. Be useful to them as much as you can and your house will flourish for a long time. If you would sell wine and grain, approach them first and sell it cheaper than you would to strangers. I will also add: Sell as dearly as you can to your enemies. That is your gain. You are avenged and no blood has flowed – the best revenge.
If you would sell part of your land or – when something is for sale – add to it, guard against a co-owner who is more influential than you or one whose reputation is not spotless if you want to be without worry. But especially I will advise you: It is better to suffer hunger than to sell your estate. Yet it is better, this is widely agreed on, to sell part of your property than to give all of it in surety to a usurer.
Do not gladly borrow unless you know from whom. And if you know them, borrow even less gladly. Those who put their trust in borrowing will perish in great shame. Thus you can see that you should be happy to repay.
Therefore, if you are wise, make your will while you are healthy so you pay your debts before the clergy has access to your estate, and also do not forget your servants as the sick often do. Leave to your wife what is her due. And tell her kindly, if God calls you to himself, to conduct herself honourably for the sake of your children and, if she can, remain without a husband in pious memory and for a better (after-)life. But you shall not force her with an oath, with money, or by other means, for a legitimate husband is better for a woman than a lord or a servant as a lover. Also more readily support the daughter and the small child than your grown sons who can maintain themselves.
Finally: If your sons would become merchants, advise them to divide the heritage among them. This way they make a better profit. If they would be artisans, let them do as they please. But if they wish to be idle, tell them to stay together without dividing the estate. Each separate head wants its hat and each single house its fire. I will say no more.”
(lines 5016-5200)
Despite the Grobianic style of much of the poem, this speech, like the earlier one by the physician, is meant to be taken seriously. It is what contemporaries would have seen as commonsense advice, though much of it clearly envisions a much more substantial household than that of a peasant. Most likely it reflects the perspective of the author, an educated and wealthy urban professional.
The list of purchased items is interesting, though not unexpected, and the focus on careful husbandry and economy indicates the values of non-noble classes. Feasting and display are the ways of the nobility, not of the burghers or the peasantry. The household is seen as an economic unit designed to produce profit and accumulate wealth as insurance against an uncertain and dangerous future. All of this is familiar from many other sources.
The role of women in all of this, too, is conventional, and the focus on future generations a universally shared value of the time. It in interesting how little religion or the church feature here. The clergy only appears as a danger to the inheritance, God as a general guardian of decency. All of this seems very Early Modern and foreshadows the anticlericalism and self-righteousness of the sixteenth century. It is not surprising to learn that the author was an episcopal official versed in canon law and intimately familiar with the inner workings of the church.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
Another source! Distracting things going on, so I may again miss out on a few postings. Have a lengthy instruction on healthy living from Wittenweiler’s early fifteenth-century poem Der Ring to make up for the disappointment:
Front page of Wittenwiler’s poem Der Ring courtesy of wikimedia commons (and yes, I think Bertschi, the dapper fellow on the left, is doing exactly what it looks like he’s doing. It is that kind of poem)
Straubel answered like a knave: ”Nobody likes to ride himself into hell” he said “You know I am a man who can only earn his living from unhealthy, stricken and wounded people! That is why I will not tell you how to stay healthy. My art and my pharmacy would otherwise be ruined.”
Bertschi said: “You are a villain who only looks to his pennies. See, here you have three old haller, now tell me fully what it is like.”
Then the physician reconsidered and began his teachings thus: “No medicine was ever as good as this: Guard against too little and too much. Health demands moderation. Especially be keen to have good, clean air, neither too hot nor too cold. If the wind is too harsh, you need many silken, linen or cotton garments that are tightly woven (dick) and well made. Air is also good for sleeping people, that is why it is wrong to sleep where no air can reach you. But if you live at ground level and the earth is moist, guard yourself in winter with a bright fire that gives you heat. In summer, open the door so the moisture may escape and air enter. The chamber must also be sufficiently strewn with herbs that must not be mossy or waterlogged.”
“The second that is good for health depends on the work that a person does. Thus know, the wise man speaks: A man who does little work must have light foods. But we advise those who move about much and work hard also must eat substantially (grosseu speis er haben wil). Know that it is better for you if you walk before eating than if you sit, but do it without tiring yourself out. This frees you from superfluous matter. After eating, you may stand or walk about a little. That is always good until the food has settled.”
“The third thing that nature demands is washing and bathing. You shall remember that we distinguish two kinds of bath: the sweating bath (swaisspad) and the water bath (wasserpad). Have a sweating bath prepared when you have superfluous matter between the flesh and skin. The water bath, prepared with noble herbs, lukewarm and not too hot, makes you pretty and chubby (faiss). Always keep warm while bathing if you value your body. You shall wash your head at most once a week, thus you are acting correctly, but at least once a month without protest, that is the custom. The feet, I believe, should be washed frequently and very thoroughly with lukewarm water. You should always wash on an empty stomach. Thus you have heard the third.”
“Fourth you shall know that food serves you better when you are hungry than at any other time. But do not fill your stomach entirely full! Leave a little empty space in your stomach so the food can be better digested. If you do not wish to rue your meal, you must chew it well and thoroughly. Many courses will cause you suffering, they sap your strength and vigour. But if you will not forgo them, partake of the second dish right after the first, with no pause. Observe the rule in eating that the coarsest comes first, and take the most tender food last, unless it is soft fruit like cherries, figs, or raisins – these must be served first. After the meal, my rule says, harder fruit is served that press down the food. Those are peaches, good pears, and other foods that have the same effect. Cheese after meat and nuts after fish shall be served to us at every table.”
The fifth is that one must drink to quench thirst. Know that I mean proper thirst that affects the healthy after eating only, not before, through the heat in the esophagus. And what manner of drinking should there be? Moderate, not too extensive, white and clear or rosé in summer, and not too heavy. In winter, you may drink a glass of strong red wine. And if it is sweet and well-tasting, it is pleasing to your stomach. Also believe that a new, clear, and fine wine is much better than the old. But if your stomach is too cold, drink some hohen wein (Mediterranean luxury wines) in the morning, that will help. But I beseech you, if you wish to be healthy, above all avoid adulterated wine (gmachten wein).”
“The sixth is what we all need: It is sleep, which nature has ordained for us to rest. But if you have just filled yourself with food, do not succumb to sleep like a beast, even though the desire overcomes you. You must oppose it with pleasant activity, with sitting, walking, or standing, until sleep overcomes you a second time. Then it is healthy to sleep in complete quiet until you eye is without sleepiness. Then seek to rise and go to stool, and relieve yourself of your water. You shall also cough and clear your throat, wash quickly, and throw out all dirtiness (unflat). Comb your head, scratch your limbs, and clean your ears. But if it pleases you to sleep in daytime, especially in summer, lie down without worry where it (the air) is freshest and it is dark, without shoes and under a blanket. You shall also know that the head must be covered better while sleeping than while waking. First, you shall only lie down on your right-hand side. Nobody praises sleeping on your back, when the head hangs down in the straw. Those whose stomachs have become cold may lie on their bellies.”
“The seventh thing that serves your health is a joyful heart. That is why everyone must guard against dismay (ungemüet) and anger (zorn) that burns the blood. Dismay dries and anger consumes, and both harden flesh and bone. But a little anger can be quite good if it freshens the blood. Fire also serves this purpose, for it gives us joy and aids our lives. But do not turn towards it, because it harms your eyes. And if you become too warm from it, it will rob you of your vigour.”
“Finally, know one thing from me: What a man loves to sing from the joy of his heart, that is his song. What he joyfully drinks is his drink. What he likes to eat is his food. That is why the wise man tells us: Voluptuousness and custom thwart our abilities and our proper living. They twist nature to the point that a nobleman may become a peasant and a peasant a nobleman if he knows how to act accordingly.”
(lines 4204-4401)
This is a very conventional view of gfood health, but the workaday nature of much of it is endearing. The frank admission at the beginning also sheds light on the way the medical profession was perceived.
Heinrich Wittenwiler‘s massive poem ‚Der Ring‘ (the ring) is a somewhat puzzling piece of literature. Most likely produced in Constance around 1408-10, it tells a complex story of love, adventure, and deceit set in a peasant environment exploited for comedy value, but seems to have a genuine didactic purpose, though one often enough achieved by satirically describing the very opposite of desired conduct. In this, it resembles later Grobianic literature. I will limit myself to translating the parts that are relevant to food and table manners, but would advise anyone with enough command of German to read it in its entirety.
I am finally back (the trip was awesome) and will be bringing you more recipes. Tonight’s is an addition to the jelly recipes from de Rontzier that I thought deserved a post of its own:
Apothecary, the source of red colouring. 1568 woodcut5 from the Ständebuch by Hans Sachs and Jost Amman, courtesy of wikimedia commons
20 Item if you would have multicoloured jelly (bunten Gallert), you shall prepare a round or square thing (rund oder viereckicht Ding) of tin or sheet metal. Take of all kinds of colours of cool jelly, each in the same quantity, and then you pour one colour after the other into the bowl this way: Once one colour has set, you pour on the next straightaway and so on, until they have all been put in on top of each other. Once the jelly has stood for one night, invert (lesset) it out of the bowl onto a table. Then you cut it into thin or thick slices and lay them in a silver dish or confit dishes (Confectschalen) and serve them.
This is an interesting recipe, though cursory. It reminded me of somewthing I read in Balthasar Staindl’s Kochbuch, so I went and checked. Here it is:
1.xviii Item jellied (gesulzte) almond (milk) that has colours as you please
Almond milk (der Mandel) is white by itself. Make it yellow with saffron. Make it green with parsley. You shall take red from the apothecary, something that one calls a coloured cloth (farbtuoch) from the apothecary. You boil that and it makes the water red with which you may temper (prepare) the almond milk. But you must boil isinglass with it and mnis it well with sugar, just like egg cheeses (Ayrkaeß).
xix Item you make brown colour thus: Take ground almond milk and cherry sauce (Weichselsalssen), thus the almond milk becomes brownish-black (braunschwartz). Take clove powder and water in which isinglass has been boiled, boil peas in that, strain the pea broth through a cloth and sweeten it with sugar. This turns black.
To make red colour
xix Make it thus: Take water in which isinglass has been boiled, sweeten it and strain it through a cloth. Then take red colour from a bonded apothecary (einem geschwornen Apotecker) let the above water cool, stir in the colour and pour it soon, It will set, pour it in whatever shape you wish.
To make almond cheese that has any colours you wish
xx Make it thus: Pour the above described colour into a cup (becher) and let it set one finger thick. Then pour in another colour on top, but not hot, only cold or it will flow into the other. Pour in of colour(s) as many as you wish until the cup is full (vil, lit. much). When it has boiled and set (gesotten und gestanden), thrust the cup into hot water and take it out again soon. Invert it over a serving bowl, thus you have all the colours. Then cut the pounded almond (the almond jelly) lengthwise, then you see the colours one after the other.
Here we have some more details on the colouring process and a clear description of inverting a jelly by using hot water to loosen it. The becher involved could be quite large, so the resulting jelly might well be very substantial. Unfortunately, I lack good pictures for this. Neither do I have a contemporary depiction nor a good photo of the attempt I made at replicating this many years ago. But it can be done.
Franz de Rontzier, head cook to the bishop of Halberstadt and duke of Braunschweig, published his encyclopaedic Kunstbuch von mancherley Essen in 1598. He clearly looks to Marx Rumpolt’s New Kochbuch as the new gold standard, but fails to match it in engaging style or depth. He is thus overshadowed by the twin peaks of Marx Rumpolt and Anna Wecker. What makes his work interesting is the way in which he systematically lists versions of a class of dishes, illustrating the breadth or a court cook’s repertoire. He is also more modernly fashionable than Rumpolt. Looking to France rather than Italy and Spain for inspiration, and some of the dishes he first describes may be genuine innovations.
I will be quite busy the coming week and do not expect to be posting much, so here is a set of recipes from Rumpolt to keep you busy. They are for the dried flatfish that were known and widely disliked under the name of plateissen:
Dreught Fisch, dried soles prepared in Finkenwerder to this day, image courtesy of wikimedia commons
Of Plateissen or Halbfischen, eight dishes are made
1 Cooked in a white sauce with parsley root, pea broth, and butter, also with mace, pounded ginger, parsley that is cut small, and a little browned flour (eyngebrennt Mehl), let it boil with that, thus it will turn out good and well-tasting.
2 Plateiß in sauce. Take green pease that are shelled (? außgehoelet), pea broth, and butter. Also add browned flour and let it boil with that, thus it will turn out good and well-tasting.
3 Take Plateissen, set them to cook in water with a little salt and let them boil up. Serve them dry and brown them with hot butter. Strew ginger and salt or finely cut parsley over them, thus it is pretty and good.
4 Green Plateiß prepared with gooseberries. Take the Plateissen and boil them with salt and serve them dry. Take gooseberries, a little wine, and fresh butter, and let that boil together. Add a little pounded ginger and pour it over the Plateissen, thus it will turn out good and well-tasting.
5 Plateiß served with mustard. When they come from the sea and are boiled in salted water, take mustard and butter, let it boil up with that (together) and pour it over the Plateiß, thus they will turn out good and well-tasting.
6 You can also serve fresh fried Plateiß with mustard or with sour lemon juice squeezed over them, and cut in broad slices, thus they also turn out good. You can also take fresh Plateiß and boil them in pure butter, and when you serve them, put mustard on them.
7 When the Plateiß are dried and well watered, wash them and set them on the fire with water. Let them boil with that, cool them, and remove their bones, thus they will turn out nicely white. Also remove the black skin. Place them in a fish kettle that is tinned and add butter and a little pea broth. Let it boil with that , thus it turn out good and well-tasting.
8 If you want to water Plateissen, soak them in rainwater for the first day or two. Then prepare a lye of rain water and add unslaked lime that is white. Thus the Plateissen will rise (aufflauffen) a finger thick. Let them lie in it for one day or two, and when they have risen, wash them out in six or seven waters. Afterwards, let them stand in fresh water again for a day or two and wash them six or seven times each day. Thus they become all the whiter and the smell (geschmack) is removed. Thus the Plateissen are prepared if they are to be cooked, either for serving with mustard or for frying.
Dried flatfish seem to have been a common food in the sixteenth century and are frequently mentioned, including as garrison supplies for soldiers and as household stores. Recipes are not found very often, though. This is an interesting collection, not least because Rumpolt does not think highly of dried fish in general.
Today, dried flatfish are typically associated with Russian cuisine, but there is a surviving tradition of preparing them all along the North and Baltic seas. The most prominent exponent in Germany is Dreught Fisch, a specialty of Finkenwerder near Hamburg. These are now typically small fish that are eaten uncooked, as a snack, but also used as a cooking ingredient. Large flatfish are more typically hot-smoked or cooked fresh. Back in the sixteenth century, absent refrigeration, they would also have been preserved for export.
