A/N: For this (and the next) chapter I rely partly on reliable information from specialists' literature on feasts in the Middle Ages, partly on snippets about Yule celebrations, which I found somewhere in the deep recesses of the World Wide Web (a site that I liked is "Wodensharrow"), and greatly on the wonderful, day long menu to "Wile the Winter Away" by Mistress Margaret Makafee from the Society for Creative Anachronism, who graciously allowed me to quote from her marvellous recipes as much as I want (which I did, fitting words, names and places etc. to give the impression that Lothy is reading the recipes in an old cookbook of Dol Amroth – the real recipes can be found here: contrib. andrew. cmu. edu/ usr/ grm/ wwaway- feast. html – take out the spaces…).
I hope you enjoy this long, rambling chapter!
Yours
Juno
75. Olde Timey Recipes
"Mettarë, or mid-winter's day is not only about having a feast and enjoying yourself," Míri told me in a serious voice. "It is also about responsibility and obligation."
We were standing in front of the huge wooden table in the large kitchen of Dol Amroth. Marai, the cook of Dol Amroth, was busy at the head of the table, pounding the thick, smooth dough for all she was worth. The muscles of her thick arms bunched up threateningly. The dough connected with the table in a heavy, slick thump.
The Lady Míriël of Dol Amroth had placed a fat, leather bound book on the table before her. The title of the book was drawn in strong black runes with all kinds of flourishes spilling to the sides. "The Householde Booke of Dol Amroth Castle – Recipes and Advice".
I looked down on the heavy tome somewhat apprehensively. I enjoyed my lessons in the management of a noble household even less than poring over the runes or flailing around with a sword. I hoped that no one would try to make me actually cook something.
Ini, the shy dark haired kitchen-maid, and Aleth, the scribe, were waiting patiently for orders by the Lady of Dol Amroth or Mistress Marai, the cook of Dol Amroth.
The preparations for Mettarë had been well under way for more than a week. I had been easily caught up in the general air of expectation and festivity that abounded in the castle of Dol Amroth. Even though almost everyone who lived or worked in the castle had lost a relative in the war, the atmosphere in the castle was bright and cheerful with the approaching holiday. Only the Prince Imrahil and the Lady Míriël were noticeably more solemn and reluctant with their smiles. But who could fault them? They had lost two sons at the Morannon, and their oldest son would not be able to celebrate the holiday with his families, because his duties kept him in Minas Tirith. I think I would have simply called the holiday off. Not so the Lady Míriël. Life had to go on.
And as the Lady of Dol Amroth it was her duty to prepare a huge feast for mid-winter's day, to succour the poor of village and town, and to call on the blessing of the Valar and the One. She had marshalled the preparations with the foresight of an experienced general. I had been in on the preparations from day one, as she had told me in no uncertain terms that I had to be able to oversee just the same kind of preparations in a year's time on my own, when I was mistress of the palaces of Meduseld in Edoras. The thought alone chilled my blood. But it made me pay attention to everything Míri did.
Now, the day before the feast, it was time for taking care of the last details.
"The poorest of the village and the town are invited to the castle to join us for the feast, as well as the dignitaries," Míri went on in her explanation. "When the days are the shortest, and the nights are the longest, we have to share what we have, in honour of the Valar and the One. - The first guests will arrive early in the morning, and different kinds of food and drink will be served throughout the day."
Marai looked up from her dough. "And when the first guests come to the castle in the morning, they will be offered a nice bit of fresh bread, and apple butter and some cheese, and, of course, some nice, hot tírithel," the plump, grey haired cook told me in her usual friendly, direct manner. Then she blushed and lowered her head. "Beg yer pardon, my lady."
Míri smiled. "That's alright, Marai. Listen well to what Marai tells you, Lothíriel. She's been cook in this kitchen for longer than I am the Lady of Dol Amroth."
"Aye, that is true, my lady. Me old bones tell me that every night. And me Mum was Cook here before me. But 'twas a happy day, the one when the Prince brought you home." Marai said. Then she gave the loafs a last slap, added a criss-cross design at the top of the loafs and shoved the heavy tray into the oven, moving as it the tray and the eight loafs upon the tray weighed no more than a feather.
Míri opened the book, and without having to look for the page, pointed at a paragraph of crabbed, spidery handwriting. Even though my knowledge of tengwar was improving day by day, it was difficult to decipher even the title of this small piece of writing.
Ealishd's Bread
An olde timey recipe set down by Mistress Ealishd of Edhellond, based on an ancient peasant bread recipe of the Bay of Cobas
Maketh 2 dense loafs
6 cups bread flour
2 cups ale with barm
2 Tbsp milk
1 tsp salt
To properly make this bread, mix salt and flour. If thou useth ale and barm, make a well in the flour, pour in some barm and milk, cover with flour. Then thou shouldst drape a clean cloth over the bowl and put in a warm dry place for up to the third part of an hour or until the fifth turn of the spit dogs. Also, mix some flour with the rest of the barm. After the dough hath risen thusly, knead the barm mixture into flour, all the while adding a bit at a time, until all liquid is added and the dough formeth a smooth firm mass. If this is achieved, thou placeth the dough in a bowl once more and put it in a warm, quiet place for one hour. Then thou shouldst punch down the dough and knead it again. Afterwards divide the dough into two loafs and set them to rise. Bake in a well stocked oven (that hath been fired for some time before the baking). The baking will require the better part of an hour; thou shouldst take it out when the crust is nicely browned and golden. Allow the bread to cool. Serve forth with chees, apple butter and orange marmalade.
It was the recipe for the bread that had just been put into the oven to bake.
"But the bread's only the beginning," Marai the cook told me. "Around noon the fisher folk will be comin' up from the harbour. And they's in need for something hot, after comin' up the cliffs and all, with the wind blowin' as 'tis."
In time for Mettarë a storm had blown up from the West, with cold, strong winds and gusts of snow. Late though the winter was in coming here to the South, it now proved to be an exceptionally cold and harsh winter.
Marai pointed to a huge kettle simmering on the fire. "They likes their soup thick. And no fish tomorrow, oh, no. This is a beef soup, with ginger to fire up the wame."
Míri smiled at the old woman and merely leafed through the book again, neatly sliding her finger up to another recipe, this time written in bold, but very faded runes.
Beef Soupe of Ginger Beer
As I like to serve on colde days.
For 20 servings
1 gallon water (at least 1/2 from parboiling mushrooms)
2.5 lb beef, cubed
4 to 6 small onions
4 to 6 carrots, chopped
1 handful parsley, chopped
36 oz beer
beef broth
1 bay leaf
20 peppercorns
ginger and balsamic vinegar to taste
Put all ingredients except beer, ginger and balsamic vinegar in pot, bring to boil. Lower heat if cooking on a hearth, remove from fire if thou hast only an open fire place for cooking. Add beer. Simmer for the halfe parte of an hour, add ginger and balsamic vinegar so it tasteth delectably and warmeth the wame. Allow the Soupe to Simmer for up to three hours. Serve.
"That's the one," Míri told me.
Hesitantly I stepped up to the big kettle and held my nose above the burbling surface of the hot soup. I inhaled the spicy fragrance and drew back quickly, screwing up my face against the sharp taste of ginger in my nose. Hastily turning away I sneezed three times, my eyes watering. This soup would definitely heat up the fishermen tomorrow.
"Wow," I gasped. "This smells really good… and strong."
"Aye," Marai agreed. "'Tis also a splendid remedy against the ague."
I had no idea what 'the ague' might be, but I rather thought that the mere fragrance of this soup was enough to raise the dead.
"What you have to understand, Lothíriel, is that as many dishes as possible are prepared before tomorrow, so that they will only have to be put on the fire again to simmer away and can be served whenever they are needed. Only a few dishes will be prepared tomorrow, mainly the ones needing fresh eggs." Míri told me. She pursed her lips. "Hm, let's see… Marai, do you make the Spinage Toste tomorrow?"
The cook nodded, while she got out several pie shells and bowls with berries and apples. "Aye, my lady. And 'tis not only the eggs that needs to be fresh with this dish. Spinage is of great benefit to the health and exceptional for growing children, but it must be served fresh and hot and may not be reheated or it will curdle the wame."
Míri bent down and flicked over some pages. "There, Lothíriel. That's the one. Mel hates it."
To Make Fried Toste of Spinage
from The Second Part of the Good Huswife's Jewell,
Take Spinnage and seeth it in water and salt, and when it is tender, wring out the water between two Trenchers, then chop it small and set it on a Chafing-dish of coles, and put thereto butter, small Raisons, Sinamon, Ginger, and Suger or honey if Suger is hard to come bye, and a little iuyce of an Orenge and two yolkes of rawe Egges, and let it boile till it be somewhat thicke, then toste your toste, soake them in a little Butter, and Suger, and spread thinne your spinnage upon them, and set them on a dish before the fire a litle while, & so serve them with a little Suger or honey upon them, if Suger is hard to come bye.
Marai grinned. "Children rarely like what's good for them. I did not care overmuch for me father's strap either, when I was a wee lass, but now I know 'tis beneficial indeed."
Míri snorted. "Marai has reared eight sons and three daughters. It was lively in the kitchen when they were little." She explained to me.
I blinked at the stout figure of the cook. Eleven children?
It was hard to believe. But I knew, of course, from almost forgotten history lessons that in the days before the industrialization and before women's' rights and before the advent of the pill, large families had been the norm and not the exception. "That's a lot of children," I said hoping that I sounded suitably impressed.
Marai turned her rather toothless grin to me. "Ah, no, young lady, that's no really very many. Me sister, well, she's had the rearing of sixteen, and ten lived to have children of their own. That's a plucky woman, I tell you."
While she was talking, she was fixing up the tarts, working swiftly and expertly. Her every movement told of the many long years of experience that she had as the cook in chief of the castle of Dol Amroth. She set Ini to prepare yet another dish and advised Aleth to note that certain spices should be restocked. It was clear that Marai was used to ruling supreme in her realm. "Now, tomorrow we'll make fresh Tostes with cheese, and fared eggs, which are nice to have between meal times and which can be served from the trays into the hands. But we will also have golden Crypes for the youngsters, methinks. Master Mel is most partial of them golden Crypes."
Míri rolled her eyes. "But serve the Spinage first, please, or he won't eat anything like vegetables at all tomorrow and be sick for two days afterwards."
Marai chuckled. "Aye, my lady. I will see to it."
Míri sighed. Apparently she was not at all sure if Mel could be kept in check tomorrow.
She turned her attention back to the book and motioned to me to sit down.
I sat down on the long wooden bench and obediently looked down at the thin pages of parchment. "There," Míri said and put her finger to a recipe that was written in clear, bold letters. "That's the first thing I learned to cook when I was a little girl."
Savoury Tosted or Melted Cheese
From Sir Cened Dínen's Closet Unlocked, from the town of Linhir, though this version is based on, but not identical to the version in The Miscellany by Cariadoc of the Bow and Mistress Dendermonde.
Cut pieces of quick, fat, rich, well tasted cheese, (as the best of Brye Cheshire, or sharp thick Cream-Cheese) into a dish of thick beaten melted Butter, that hath served for Sparages or the like, or pease, or other boiled sallet, or ragour of meat, or gravy of Mutton: and if you will, chop some of the Asparages among it, or slices of Gambon of Bacon, or fresh callops, or Onions, or Sibboulets, or Anchovis, and set all this to melt upon a Chafing-dish of Coals, and stire all well together, to Incorporate them; and when all is of an equal consistence, strew some gross White Pepper on it, and eat it with tosts or crusts of White-bread. You may scorch it at the top with a hot Fire-Shovel.
"The children love it, especially when they are allowed to roast their pieces of bread in the fire place in the hall. Normally I don't allow that, because it's such a mess, but for Mettarë they usually get away with it." Míri commented.
"And that's the recipe for the farsed eggs." She turned a few pages, tracing her fingertips over the smooth parchment until she arrived at some recipes written down in the spidery handwriting I knew from one of the first recipes she had shown me. "Every cook of Dol Amroth has left his or her favourite recipes and pieces of advice concerning the management of the household in this book. To me it is worth more than those annals of the history of Gondor my husband adores so much."
"And that it is, my lady," Marai put in. "Why, I'd wager to say it is worth its weight in gold! After all, its wisdom has kept us fed and healthy for many a century! This is the true life-blood of Dol Amroth." She nodded her head fiercely, her eyes blazing with conviction.
I looked down at the pages in front of me. I realized that the old woman was right. In a way, this collection of recipes and the bits and pieces about the efficient management of the household of Dol Amroth, were just as much a source of great history and noble deeds as the annals of Gondor and the fief of Dol Amroth that I had been poring over for so many weeks now.
This was history, too. The history of many days of patient labour in the kitchen, the gardens, the stillroom. A history written by many hands of men and women, who are not remembered in any tale or song, but who have played essential parts in the history of Dol Amroth nevertheless. So many hands had set down on the wilting pages of parchment how they had kept hunger and sickness at bay in Dol Amroth, how they had coped with bad harvests or the invasion of bugs or snails in the kitchen gardens.
And they were not forgotten, even if there were no bards to sing songs of their renown.
To Farse Egges
From The Second Part of the Good Huswife's Jewell,
In the manner much preferred by the Mistress Margaret
Take eight or ten eggs and boyle them hard, pill of the shelles, and cute every eg in the middle then take out the yolkes and make your farsing stuff as you do for flesh, savign only you must put butter into it insteede of suet, and that a little so doon fill your Egges where the yolkes were, and then beinde them and seeth them a little, and so serve them to the table.
Maketh 3 dozen eggs
3 dozen hard boiled eggs, peeled and halfed, with the yolks removed
farsing stuff
lightly salted water
string, or strips of cloth such as muslin or cheesecloth for tieing.
Put the stuffing into the eggs, tie the halfs together with tieing material, and boil for 5 to 10 minutes (this cooks the stuffing). Serve.
To Farse all Things
From The Second Part of the Good Huswife's Jewell,
according to Mistress Filipka
Take a good handful of thyme, Isope, Parselye, and three or foure yolkes of Egges hard rosted, and choppe them with hearbes small, then take white bread grated and raw egs with sweet butter, a few small Raisons, or Barberies, seasoning it with Pepper, cloves, Mace, Sinamon and Ginger, working it altogether as paste, and them may you stuffe with it what you will.
Maketh stuffing for 3 dozen eggs
1/3 cup each fresh basil, parsley 1/2 tsp dry powdered thyme 1/2 tsp sage 12 hard-boiled egg yolks
2 2/3 cups fresh bread crumbs
3 raw eggs
1/3 cup butter
1/2 to 3/4 cup raisons
1/2 tsp pepper
1/2 tsp cloves
1/2 tsp mace
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp ginger
Chop together the herbs and egg yolkes into small pieces. Mix with all other ingredients until everything is a paste-like (in this case, a stuffing like) consistency. Stuff.
Crypes
from The Miscellany by Cariadoc of the Bow and Mistress Dendermonde.
Take white of eyroun, milk, and flour, and a little berme, and beat it together, and draw it through a strainer, so that it be running, and not too stiff, and cast suger thereto, if thou hast no sugar, thou taketh honey to taste, and salt, then take a chafer full of fresh grease boiling, and put thine hand in the batter, and let thine batter run down by they fingers into the chager; and when it is run together on the chafer, and is enough, take and nym a skimmer, and take it up, and let all the grease run out, and put it on a fair dish, and cast thereon sugar enough, and serve forth.
"In the manner much preferred by the Mistress Margaret…" I had to smile when I finally deciphered the crabbed, fine writing. Between recipes and advice on how to keep the snails away from the cabbage, and the moths from the chests of clothing, there were small glances at the lives and times of the men and women who had written down their favourite recipes and the wisest lore such as they knew it on those pages. There were recipes that had come from Tarnost and Pinnath Galen, and some from even farther away, written down after the Lord and Lady of Dol Amroth had returned from travels to Pelargir and Harondor, which obviously referred to meals they had encountered during the journeys.
Mushroom Pastries
originally from the Goodman of Tarnost, this version is from The Miscellany by Cariadoc of the Bow and Mistress Dendermonde.
Mushrooms of one night are the best, and are small and red inside, closed above; and they should be peeled, then washed in hot water and parboil; if you wish to put them in pastry add oil, cheese, and powdered spices. Maketh 1 large tart, or 8 tartlets--3 lbs mushrooms filled 24 tartlets enough stuffing left over for 2 or 3 more.
1 lb Mushrooms
9oz cheese (tarnostian) (I prefer 1/2 this much--should coat shrooms without overpowering)
1 Tbsp olive oil (can be left out)
Spice powder:
1 t ginger
1/4 t cinnamon
1/8t cloves
1/8 t grains of paradise
1 t honey
Slice mushrooms and parboil (put into boiling water and cook two minutes); drain. Grate or chop cheese. Grind grains of paradise and mix up spices. Mix mushrooms, 2/3 of cheese, spices and oil. Put mixture into crust, put remaining cheese over. Makes scant 9" pie. Bake just shy of half an hour in a well stocked hearth.
Cabbage Salad and Celery Sticks
From The Fruit, Herbs and Vegetables of Harondor,
"I once happened to be in Harondor in the company of a group of ladies and gentlemen, and we came one afternoon to a large village with a good inn, where we proposed to dine. One of the ladies, sitting in the window-seat of the dining room, which overlooked an orchard, said to me 'Let's go into the garden and pick a salad!' to which I replied, 'Yes, indeed!' When we got there we found nothing but cabbages, so the young lady picked one of these saying, 'Well, if there's nothing else, I'll make you all a nice salad out of tis.'
Having never seen or eaten anything like this before, I kept silent and waited for the outcome. First she removed the green outer leaves until she came to the white part, which she proceeded to slice very finely with a razor-sharp knife. She then salted and dressed it in the usual way, the ways is usual to these southern lands, which is with oil and vinegar and just a pinch of sugar, which they produce at the coast, and she brought it to the table, where it was pronounced excellent, and her ingenuity was much admired by the entire company."
Makes 6 cups
1 small head cabbage, grated
3/4 cup cider or wine vinegar
1.5 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt (or to taste)
2 Tbsp olive oil
Celery Sticks
"Celery is good at the beginning of this beautiful season autumn. Its seeds, which are extremely small, are sown in early spring in sifted ashes. When the stalks are a foot high, they need to be planted out about seven inches apart, for they grow quite large heads. They should be sown at sunset in good, rich soil, and watered often if the weather is dry. In early autumn the celery plants are dug up and earthed up close together in a trench about a yard deep, with the tops showing about four fingers above the earth, and left for fifteen to twenty days. They will then have blanched and become good to eat.
To eat celery, dig up the required amount and wash it well, and serve it raws with salt and pepper after meals. It is warm, and has great digestive and generative powers, and for the reason young wives often serve celery to their elderly or impotent husbands.
Celery
salt
pepper
Remove stalks from the heart. Serve with salt and pepper."
The virtue of celery as a remedy for impotence in elderly husbands! Oh my goodness!
I snorted, and then chuckled, valiantly suppressing my desire to laugh aloud.
Míri, who had been talking with Marai about further details of the Mettarë celebrations turned to me with her eyebrows raised inquiringly. I only pointed at the line that had gotten me in this unhinged state, clenching my teeth and tightening my stomach muscles to keep me from laughing like a loon. Míri read the line I pointed at and grinned at me. She gave a low chuckle. "Well, I don't think you'll have to worry about that for some time, Lothíriel," she commented in a very dry voice. I gulped, my mirth gone all of a sudden. The thought of Eomer in my mind made my stomach flutter. Celery!
Marai remained completely unperturbed by my unladylike outburst. "I will also have some dishes with mushrooms made up tomorrow. The harvest was not as good as last year, my lady, but Ewan and some others have been up in the hills of Tarnost and they brought back a fair amount. It will be sufficient for tomorrow, at least. I am sure, my lady Lothíriel that you will enjoy that northern recipe. After all, you hail from way up away there."
"Far away" meant for the inhabitants of Dol Amroth invariably "far to the North". To the South there were only the uncivilized, dark skinned people of Haradwaith, to the East the strange slit-eyed people of Khand. Therefore I had to come from somewhere up in the North, where once the mythical northern kingdom of Arnor had been, and now was again. I did not contradict them or venture forth a more detailed explanation of my origins. "Way up north" was fine with me.
"Oh, you will have the 'mushrooms of the Shire' for us tomorrow?" Míri's eyes lit up. Obviously not only hobbits liked mushrooms in Middle Earth. Of the Shire? I eagerly flipped through the pages. The Lady of Dol Amroth smiled and put her finger to the last part of the book. I opened the book where she had pointed and there it was:
Mushrooms of the Shire
A recipe of my own devising, based on a recipe from the North as brought to us by a wayfaring Dúnadan.
Makes approximately 5 lbs of mushrooms:
60oz of fresh mushrooms
1/4 cup olive oil
2/3 cups each red wine vinegar, cider vinegar, balsamic vinegar
1/3 cup lemon juice
6 cloves garlic, sliced
3 Tbsp dried basil, or a handful of fresh basil
salt water Boil the mushrooms for about 10 minutes in salt water, drain and put in storage container. Mix all other ingredients, pour over mushrooms. Cover and store in cool place overnight.
"Based on a recipe from the North, as brought to us by a wayfaring Dúnadan" – It was a fairly recent addition to the cookbook of Dol Amroth. A wayfaring Dúnadan – would that be Aragorn, then? I knew from our days in the wilderness that Aragorn was quite handy with the preparation of venison, and he knew everything about the plants and herbs of Middle Earth.
Involuntarily I smiled at the memory of many campfires and many cold nights in the empty lands of Hollin during the short days of December a year ago.
"For dinner we will have pumpes, mirause of Pelargir and a boar's head. There will be cabbage and sauerkraut to go with it and of course fresh brown bread, with apple butter, as well. It's all prepared and ready to be put on the fire tomorrow morning. The Mistress Samno has sent word that she will have her cook and maids up to give me a hand." Marai said, frowning at this last piece of news.
"Surely you can do with that help?" Lady Míriël asked politely.
"Well, of course I do, my lady, you know how it will be tomorrow. But that cook, the Master Hamweis, he's such a snob. He's learned the trade in Minas Tirith and he looks doon his nose on us country folks. He's unbearable with the girls. Can't have that. Not tomorrow anyways."
"I am sure you will handle it," Míriël told the cook in a soothing voice. "You always do, and magnificently."
"Hrmph," Marai replied with a snort, but I caught a pleased smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Here, and here – have look, Lothíriel," Míri had flicked to the appropriate pages. "Those are traditional dishes served at Mettarë in all of Gondor. I have no idea what they serve in Rohan for mid-winter's day, but it shouldn't be too different, all in all."
Marai raised her eyebrows at that, but wisely did not comment. In her opinion the Rohirrim were bloodthirsty savages. I had been treated to a colourful tale about her view of the wild riders of Rohan only days ago. I suppressed a grin and tried dutifully to read about pumpes and boar's head, which turned out to be virtually impossible, because the writing was so tiny and faded that I barely could make out the separate strokes of the runes.
Pumpes or Balls of Deer in Creamy White Sauce
An olde timey recipe such as they serve in Minas Tirith on Mettarë.
Take and boil a good piece of pork, and not too lean, as tender as you may. Then take it up and chop it as small as you may, then take cloves and mace and chop forth withall, and also chop forth raisins of Corinth, then take it and roll it as round as you may, like to small pellets, a two inches about, then lay them on a dish by themselves, then make a good almond milk, and blend it with four of rice and let it boil well, but look that it be quite runny, and at the dressler, lay five pumpes in a dish, and pour the pottage thereon. And if you will, set on every pumpe a flower, over them strew on sugar enough and mace, and serve them forth. And some men make the pellets of veal or beef, but pork is best and fairest
1 1/2 lb ground meat
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 cup raisins, chopped
1/4 tsp each cloves and mace
Mirause of Pelargir
Original from Pelargir, this version is from The Miscellany by Cariadoc of the Bow and Mistress Dendermonde.
The people of Pelargir are a refined people who in character and customs are hardly unlike the people of Harondor and skilful with food; they have a dish which they call mirause and prepare it thus: Capons or pullets or pigeons well cleaned and washed they put together on a spit and turn over the hearth until they are half cooked. Then they remove them and cut them in pieces and put them in a pot. Then they chop almonds that have been toasted under warm ashes and cleaned with some cloth. To this they add some bread crumbs lightly toasted with vinegar and juice and pass all this through a strainer. This is all put in the same pot with cinnamon and ginger and a good amount of sugar and left to boil on the coals with a slow fire until it is done, all the time being stirred with a spool so that it does not stick to the pot.
A 3 1/4 lb chicken
3/4 C roasted almonds, chopped fine
1/4 c breadcrumbs
Juice from roasting 10.5 oz chicken broth
1 T vinegar
1/2 t cinnamon
1/2 t ginger
1 T sugar
Boar's head/Pottage of pork
Similar to Master Chiquart's recipe as it is wont to be prepared at Pinnath Galen
Serves 8 to 16, depending on the other courses
2 lbs boneless pork roast
Approx. 1 quart apple cider
4 whole cloves
20 peppercorns
1/2 tsp sage
1/4 to 12 cup raisins
Brown pork in pot. Put in enough cider to cover, add spices, bring to boil, and allow to simmer for nigh on an hour.
If thou hast a boar's head, after simmering, remove boar's head from liquid, and place it in the oven uncovered for nigh on half an hour to acquire the beaste a browne crust.
At that moment the doors to the kitchen were thrust open and Mel and Númendil entered, their faces flushed, their eyes bright with expectation.
"Nana, Lothy, Marai. We have the most beautiful tree we ever head. It's that high!" Númendil pointed at the vaulted ceiling. A vital part of the decoration for Mettarë was the decorating of a mountain yew with all kinds of ornaments in honour of Yavanna. This year the boys had been allowed to accompany the servants to select and cut the tree. Apparently the outing had been successful.
"Really? How wonderful!" Míriël smiled at her sons.
Mel was at the side of Marai, giving the cook his sweetest smile, but his eyes were twinkling with mischief. "You are such a wonderful cook, Marai. Ada says you are a miracle. Truly."
The old woman turned around and smiled down at the boy, her face wrinkling like an old, dry apple. "You only want to know what's for sweets tomorrow." She told the boy, but she winked at him. Mel blinked and managed to retain a sweetly innocent expression. Barely.
Númendil sat down on the bench next to me and looked at the old cookbook with interest. "It's true," he whispered. "Mel is always after the tarts. And then he gets sick. You'd think he'd learn, but it's the same every year."
With the same expertise as his mother, he turned the pages for me and pointed, giving me wicked grin. These recipes had been written down in an elegant style with long curling loops and flourishes, and the ink was violet, not black.
Tart on Ember Day
As it was imparted on me by Cariadoc of the Bow and Mistress Dendermonde.
Parboil onions, and sage, and parsley and hew them small, then take good fat cheese, and bray it, and do thereto eggs, and temper it up therewith, and do thereto butter and sugar, and raisyngs of corince, and powder of ginger, and of canel, medel all this well together, and do it in a coffin, and bake it uncovered, and serve it forth.
Berry Tarts
From The Gondorian Huswife, as handed down by Mistress Gervase late of Minas Tirith.
A cherry tart
Take the fairest cherries you can get, and pick them clean from leaves and stalks; then spread out your coffin as for your pippin tart, and cover the bottom with sugar; then cover the sugar all over with cherries, then cover those cherries with sugar, some sticks of cinnamon, and her and there a clove; then lay in more cherries, and so more sugar, cinnamon and cloves till the coffin be filled up: then cover it, and back it in all points as the codling and pippin tart, and so serve it; and in the same manner you may make tarts of gooseberries, strawberries, raspberries, bilberries, or any other berry whatsoever.
Pear Tarts
From The Gondorian Huswife, as handed down by Mistress Gervase late of Minas Tirith.
A warden pie, or quince pie
Take of the fairest and best wardens, and part them, and take out the hard cores on the top, and cut the sharp ends at the bottom; then boil them in white wine and sugar, until the syrup grow thick: then take the wardens from the syrup into a clean dish, and let them cool; then set them into the coffin, and prick cloves in the tops, with whole sticks of cinnamon, and great store of sugar, as for pippins; then cover it, and only reserve a vent hole, so set it in the oven and bake it: when it is baked, draw it forth, and take the first syrup in which the wardens were boiled, and taste it, and if it be not sweet enough, then put in more sugar and some rose-water, and boil it again a little, then pout it in at the vent hole, and shake the pie well; then take sweet butter and rose-water melted; and with it anoint the pie lid all over, and then strew upon it store of sugar, and so set it into the over again a little space, and then serve it up. And in this manner you may also bake quinces.
Apple Tarts
An olde timey recipe as was often cooked by the Mistress Margaret.
This tart follows the basic process for the berry tarts as pertaining to the recipe come from Minas Tirith, but with sugar hard to come by this recipe uses honey as can be had from the meadows of the Dor-en-Ernil.
For each pie, take
3 lbs apples, peeled, cored and quartered.
1 pie shell
approximately 1/3 of a 1 lb jar of honey
2 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp cloves
Stock oven well and light the fire. Roll pie shell and place in pan, sprinkle bottom of shell with sugar or coat with honey if thou hast no sugar. Put in a layer of apples (enough to cover), sprinkle on half of the cinnamon and cloves. Pour honey over layer. Repeat for second layer. Cover; bake for nigh on an hour. Serve forth.
My eyes drifted across the flowing, violet letters. I could almost smell the baking tarts – no, I blinked, shaking my head, feeling confused. Then I realized that I did in fact, smell baking tarts.
Even as we had talked about the details of the meal that was to be served tomorrow and the various details of the celebrations which had to be taken care of yet, Marai had finished the pies and tarts and had slipped them into the oven to keep the bread company. Without, I realized, taking only one single look at this book. Marai knew all her recipes by heart.
Now the kitchen was filled with warmth from the hearth, the fire and the oven and the mingling fragrance of stew and the baking bread and cakes. Mel raised his head and wrinkled his nose. He sniffed appreciatively. "Apple. Pears. Cranberry. And cheese. Oh, goody!"
Míri frowned at her youngest. "Only," she told the small boy sternly. "Only, I repeat, if you eat your spinach and your cabbage first. Do you hear me? And only thin slices. One each. I will not have a repetition of the mess you made last year."
Mel hung his head. "Yes, Nana. Of course, Nana."
Míriël turned to me. "I have to go and check the rooms."
I nodded, scrambling to my feet, although I felt my head buzzing with the morning's kitchen lore. I think Míri noticed. Anyway, she smiled and added: "Could you keep the boys company for a few hours? You can go and watch how the hall is being decked out."
I nodded, relief flooding me. Míri is the nicest woman I know. "Of course I can. Thank you!"
With Mel tugging at my hand, we left the kitchen to have a look at the Great Hall and the Yavanna-tree.
A/N: I hope ff . net doesn't take this off because of the spelling in the recipes. I thought it made such a wonderful atmosphere….