Showing posts with label Historic Brewing Recipes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Historic Brewing Recipes. Show all posts

Friday, January 10, 2020

How does the The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Opened fit into the world of the medieval reenactor?

The Closet of the Eminently Learned Sir Kenelme Digbie Kt. Opened is well-known in the realms or reenacting. It is the earliest publication of its kind to present such a wealth of different recipes and almost seems too good to be true for the medieval reenactor. It includes over 100 mead and metheglin recipes and has become the go-to source for many a beginner brewer. Unfortunately, Digby really is too good to be true for the brewer looking for pre-1600 recipes and techniques, especially in context of reenacting Arts & Sciences competitions. Let's take a closer look at the man himself.

The general image of Sir Kenelm Digby is that of a great gentleman, a romantic Royalist, a somewhat out-of-date philosopher, as well as an accomplished cook and social brewer. In his own day he was befriended with Bacon, Galileo, Descartes, Harvey, Ben Jonson, Cromwell - the famous people of his time - was the intimate of kings, and the special friend of queens. Perhaps it should not be surprising that the publication he is most know for displays his remarkable skill in making drinks, and his interest in the skills of cooking.

For such an intriguing life's journey, living close to the stars of his day, Sir Kenelm Digby came from somewhat humble beginnings. Born July 11, 1603, Kenelm was barely three years old when his father, part of the Gunpowder Plotters, died on the scaffold. Fortunately, James I acceded to the wife's appeal that his widow and children should not be reduced to beggary. While Kenelm received an estate income during his active career, it was not enough to furbish a student of such diverse ambitions. His mother was in deep depression and her demeanor, and her faith, kept her on the sidelines of high society. Her son Kenelm would seem to be destined for obscurity, were it not for his unusual intelligence and his restless mind. King James was so enamored by Kenelm Digby that he turned a blind eye to his father's offense and enjoyed his company.

Perhaps to get the younger Kenelm away from the dark influence of his mother, and her catholic friends, Sir John invited fourteen Kenelm was invited to stay with him in Spain. A year in Spain, in Court and diplomatic circles, was followed by a year at Oxford, where Thomas Allen, the mathematician and occultist, looked after his studies. Thomas Allen was his friend and admirer until death, and he bequeathed his valuable library to Digby, kick starting Digby's own collection. Kenelm was restlessly longing to taste life outside academic circles, and already was hotly in love with his old playmate, now grown into a great beauty, Venetia Anastasia Stanley, the granddaughter of the Earl of Northumberland. Venetia was above Kenelm in station but as she was mother-less, and her father a recluse, she was left to bring herself up, and bestow her affections as she pleased. Kelemn and Venetia were together for a year or two, but Kenelm's mother would hear nothing of the couple and at seventeen sent him away on his grand tour, hoping to put an end to it. Unfortunately for his mother's wishes, the more Kenelm travelled the more he admired Venetia. Kenelm Digby stayed away from England for three years. The plague drove him from Paris to Angers, where the appearance of the handsome English youth caused such commotion in the heart of the Queen Mother, Marie de Médicis, that she evidently lost her head. When Sir Kenelm Digby's Memoirs were published in 1827, his narrative of her behavior was purged before publication! Kenelm ended up fleeing the royal attentions by faking his death, and moved to Italy.

When he moved back to England he found his great love had not waited for him. Venetia had believed in his death. It seems that in Kenelm's absence she had been the mistress of Sir Edward Sackville, afterwards the fourth Earl of Dorset. On Digby's return she was happy to return to her old love. But, alas! Sackville had her picture, which seemed to her compromising. Digby, therefore, having accepted her apologies and circumstances, challenged Sackville to a duel. Fortunately, Sackville refused to fight, gave up the picture, and swore that Venetia was as blameless as she was fair. A private marriage between Kenelm and Venetia followed. Only on the birth of his second son John (the first son having died) acknowledged Kenelm their marriage to the world. His Memoirs might give the impression that he looked on his wife as a wronged innocent, but when read closely it seems he knew the truth and took the risk. Perhaps not such a great risk after all, for the lady of many suitors and several adventures settled down to domesticity.



Sir Kenelm Digby was seen as an amateur, not as a scholar. One reason for this was how he presented himself - he talked endlessly. He had to share, explain, illustrate his ideas, whether or no they were ripe, and this was seen as a sign of the sincere amateur. His books are probably a distillation of his conversation. He was not a literary person, his style could be seen as self-aggrandizing. His scientific and controversial treatises, quite pleasurable to read and full of strange old lore, survive as singular curiosities. With an itch to use his pen as well as his tongue, he had none of the patience, the hankering after perfection of form, of the professional man of letters. Unlike his writing, his way of work was distinctly scientific, and he is known for observing the effect of oxygen on plant-life, and his invention particularly strong glass bottle in 1633. It was this glass making technology that let to the creation of vintage port, champagne, and wine meant for keeping as before the glass was too fragile for storage and aging purposes (indeed, bottling brews is post-period). According to bibliographer Anne MacDonell (1910): "There is no one like such amateurs for bridging two ages; and Digby, with one hand in Lilly's and the other in Bacon's, joins the mediæval to the modern world."

In the end, as is often the case with tinkerers, Sir Kenelm Digby died poor. Of his five children, by the time of his death three were already dead. Kenelm, his eldest son, had fallen at St. Neot's, in 1648, fighting for the King. His surviving son John, with whom he had been on bad terms, did not initially accept his father's estates. He regained some part of the estates later, perhaps it was separated from the main estates to pay off debts. Sir Kenelm Digby's library was still in Paris at the time of his passing, and was claimed by the French king to be sold for 10,000 crowns for similar reasons.

It was his remaining son John who sanctioned the publication of his father's receipts but it is not clear if he, John, or Hartman, Sir Kenelm's steward, compiled the publication. Hartman, Sir Kenelm's steward, made an excellent project out of Digby's recipes. His "Choice and Experimented Receipts in Physick and Chirurgery" had already appeared in 1668, suggesting that John Digby's consent might be obtained for printing both of Sir Kenelm's culinary as well as his medical note-books. The 1669 edition of The Closet Opened is evidently the first printing of these notebooks. The title of the book is lilely borrowed from The Queen's Closet Opened, Incomparable Secrets which were presented unto the Queen by the most Experienced Persons of the Times, many wherof were had in Esteem when she pleased to descend to Private Recreation (1655). The Queen in question is Henrietta Maria, and chief among the "Experienced Persons" referred to was certainly her Chancellor, Kenelm Digby. In 1682, George Hartman published "for the Publike Good," The True Preserver and Restorer of Health. It is dedicated to the Countess of Sunderland, and is described as "the collection for the most part (which I had hitherto reserved) of your incomparable kinsman and my truly Honourable Master, Sir Kenelm Digby, whom I had the Honour to serve for many years beyond the Seas, as well as in England; and so continued with him till his dying Day, and of whose Generosity and Bounty I have sufficiently tasted, and no less of your illustrious Fathers, both before and Page xlv after my Glorious Masters Decease."



Perhaps reading this short summary of his life helps illuminate why Digby is problematic as an easy resource for reenactment brewing. Not only did Sir Kenelm Digby live out of our period of reenacting, we saw he was born in 1603 and died in 1665, he also did not write The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby. This is problematic: officially the publication is post-period as it was first published in 1669. Then why is it often accepted as a credible source for plausible pre-1600 recipes? One prevailing thought is that Sir Digby collected the recipes in his notebooks during his lifetime including from sources older than himself, like his mother, which could plausibly be from before 1600. But here we run into another problem: the publication was compiled either by his son or by his steward, not by Digby himself. This means the publication itself is a secondary source.

Of course, this only matters from a reenacting arts & sciences point of view. Anyone interested in brewing historic recipes would do well to take heed of The Closed Opened! But for those looking to emulate medieval and renaissance times should dig a little deeper. From comparing the style and ingredients of the recipes included in Digby to similar recipes it becomes clear that most are written in an elaborate style, using ingredients and techniques much more common to the 17th century than before. It is not unthinkable that the compiler updated many of the recipes to reflect contemporary practices and tastes – the publication was meant to sell after all. Unfortunately, these issues mean Digby's The Closet Opened is not a beginner’s source for reenacting competitions. To be successful there, the artisan would need to prove the recipe they chose to emulate is more akin to recipes of the past, than those contemporary to the publication. There are a few early recipes hiding in between the sparkling citrus flavored meads, and those would make quite a nice research project - but not one ideal for beginners.

This does not mean The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby has no place in pre-1600 reenacting. Because of its cornucopia of recipes and ingredients it can be a valuable starting point, or a help shed light on a technique too briefly mentioned elsewhere. Like its contemporary publications Martha Washington and Ladie Elynor Fettiplace, The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby is wonderfully verbose. Most medieval recipes tend to be brief, to the point of obscure – not all that unexpected for handwritten manuscripts using precious resources. The invention of the printing press and the resulting popularity of book printing changed this approach to sharing information, and by the 17th century recipes flourished into the detailed, sometimes even overwhelming, guidelines we are used to today.

Therefore: if one takes Sir Digby as the original source and assumes the recipes are mostly period, then the work is a secondary source as the book was compiled by his son or steward. And if one wants to reference to the publication as primary source, then it is out of the scope of medieval reenacting, as it was published in 1669. Unfortunately, with this fabulous resource you can only have one out of two.

Sources
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Sunday, June 16, 2019

Iron Age stone brewing demonstration


My interest in anything Viking age, and anything early-period brewing merged last weekend when Myrkfaelinn hosted an Iron Age stone brewing demo at its annual Summer War Practice. Lord Ulf Barelegs traveled from afar to help THlord Robert of Ferness and I work our way through the different steps of successfully brewing an all-grain beer with nothing modern but a thermometer – and honestly, we did not even truly need that! Inspired by a Facebook post by a Texan brewer who shared his interpretation of an Iron Age brew in northern continental Europe around 2,000 years ago that he brews for an Iron Age immersion week each spring, I figured we could give it a try too.

While 2,000 years ago is a wee bit past the Viking age, it is unlikely the way of brewing changed all that much from the Iron age until Middle age monastic breweries started pushing the boundaries of brewing volume and shelf-life. And while there might not be a whole lot of recorded history, with only a single example from the Icelandic Ljósvetninga saga telling of milk warmed by stones, there is plenty of archaeological evidence for the brewing of beer in Viking age context. Residues of a fruit & honey beer from northwest Denmark of circa 1500-1300 BCE, found in 2014, included honey, bog cranberry, lingonberry, bog myrtle, yarrow, juniper, birch tree resin, as well as wheat, barley and/or rye. And there is nothing archaeologist like better than rubbish heaps and trash middens, of which the old farmsteads have plenty! It seems in central Norway the rubbish suggests Vikings and their descendants brewed beer by tossing hot rocks into wooden tuns. Many a fire-cracked stone is found at most of the farmyards of old, historically named farms. Unfortunately for the archaeologists, since most archaeological digs are initiated by construction sites, as developers are required to check for cultural artifacts before beginning construction, most construction sites avoid developing through a farmstead. This means most of the archaeological information we have about the Viking age comes from graves, and most of the archaeological information about the Middle ages comes from excavations in cities – which misses a large chunk of data as most people back then lived in the countryside. Recent small-scale excavations in farmyards found that the oldest farmsteads carbon-14 date to 600 CE, the late Iron age.

Our own Robert of Ferness admitted to having found and handled many FCR - archaeologist-speak for fire-cracked rocks - at various sites, including in Iceland. Not provable as stones used in brewing per se, but probable to have been used to heat a liquid. They could also have simply been stones put too close to fire in a hearth, or even stones cracked by intense heat in a structure fire.

Mounds of fire cracked stones, or “brewing stones”, on Ranheim, Trondheim
(Grønnesby 2017, 135)

Nineteenth century Sociologist Eilert Sundt recorded an encounter on a farm in 1851 in Hedmark, Norway after seeing a pile of strange looking smallish stones. “What’s with these stones?” he asked and the farmer replied “They’re brewing stones. Stones they used for cooking to brew beer, from the old days when they did not have iron pots.” Sundt noted that most of the farms he visited had piles of burned or fire-cracked stones, and every time he asked about them, he was told the stones were from brewing, when they would be heated until they were glowing hot and plopped into the wood vessel to heat things up. The stones were everywhere, Sundt wrote, and so thick and compact in places, houses were built right on top of them! A modern excavation at Ranheim, near Trondheim, Norway, found 700 cubic meters of stones from just one portion of the farmstead. A test sample of 24 farms found that 71 percent had fire-cracked stones. Hot rock brewing would not be as obvious in the archaeological record elsewhere as with Norwegian brewing stones because of the types of stones used, as most regions use stones which tolerate heat without fracturing, like the igneous rock granite and basalt. Brewing beer with hot rocks is nothing unusual, and traces of brewing with stones have been found in England, Germany, Finland and the Baltics.

And thus, in the great tradition of Gulating’s law – the Gulating being the Norwegian governmental assembly which met from 900 to 1300 CE - requiring three farmers to work together to brew beer, Ulf, Robert and I set up our brewing at the Myrkfaelinn Summer War Practice to make some Viking beer! For those who could not make it, this brewing session was a trial run for the Pennsic Iron Age brewing workshop which will be held at Aethelmearc Royal, war week Saturday, starting at 2pm.


Our grainbill:
·         18 lbs of 2 row barley malt
·         4 lbs of malted oats
·         1 lb of acidified barley malt
·         ½ lb of peat smoked barley malt (very smoky, use sparingly)
·         ½ lb of malted rye (left over)
The grain was milled on-site, and by hand.

With an infusion of:
·         Yarrow (big handful)
·         Baby spruce tips (handful)
·         Mugwort (less than a dozen sprigs)
·         Henbit (small handful)
·         Aged, yellowed hops (handful)
The herbs were fresh and picked the day before. The hops are homegrown and have been sitting in the dark in my basement for about a year. This way the brew gets minimal flavor, while still benefiting of some of the preserving qualities.


Now what did we actually do? Let me show you!

First thing we did was start a fire to make coal bed.
Then we used that fire to make a juniper infusion and clean out the wood tub (the mash tun) with the scalding infusion to clean and sterilize.


 Then we put a layer of juniper twigs covering the bottom, concentrating around the plug (there is hole in the bottom of the mash tun, kept closed with the plugging stick).


We milled the grains by hand: we used 2 row barley, malted oats and some random leftovers, including some rye, as well as some peat smoked malt.


Then we added water. We added it cold from the tap - it could also be pre-heated in sun, especially at Pennsic.

Next, we put stones on the coal bed and built another fire right over top of them, with a hardwood / pine mix I had brought from home to make sure we had dry wood.


In the traditional Scandinavian style, we made a separate tea, or infusion, with the herbal bittering agents. We used yarrow, some mugwort, aged and yellowed hops, some henbit, and baby spruce tips.
 

When the fire was mostly burned down again, we start pulling stones, and added them to mash (the soaked grains) 3 or 4 at a time. Ulf really enjoyed this bit, as did my kid when we did a water-only trial in the back yard. We tried three metal grabbers and found the funky accordion style firewood grabber worked best.


We kept checking the temperature, especially the top and bottom as the mash & juniper was quite insulating and there often was quite a heat difference between the top and the bottom. It was difficult to stir with the juniper branches covering the bottom. At around 130F we observed protein break - thank you Ulf for pointing that out - which made the surface of the mash all foam up.


We kept adding hot rocks until overall temps were at or over 160F, and then we kept it at this level for an hour and a half - adding more stones as needed.

 
 By now, whenever a new hot rock is added, the wort (the liquid surrounding the grains) surrounding the rock immediately went to a boil, creating lots of steam, a wonderful smell of sweet malt, lots of sizzling & sputtering, and quite the surface boil. This part, which takes about an hour and a half, is spectacular to watch!


At around the end of the protein rest (the hour and a half) we noticed the protein foam had dissipated, and the wort started to settle. So, we put the draining bucket under hole, carefully wiggled the plug stick, and slowly drained the wort into a sterile bucket. I would plug the drain back up each time the bucket was ready to dump the filtered wort into a sterilized fermenter bucket. This traditional way of having a combined mash tun (where the grains are soaked) and a lauter tun (where the infusion is drained off the grains) worked surprisingly well.


We sparged with boiling water. We intended to use juniper water but ran out of cooking vessels as we started to cook dinner while waiting for the protein rest. We drained about 4 gallons from the initial wort, and another 2 gallons were sparged, by trickling boiling water over the mash to wash out any remainder sweetness. The last sparge we handed around for anyone to taste.


We made about 8 gallons of wort from about 25 pounds of grain, including 4 pounds of oats I sprouted and roasted (called malting) over the winter, and bittering adjuncts grown and harvested from the backyard. All in all, it took about 6 hours from start to finish, but we also took all the time we wanted and ended up cooking dinner over the hot stone fire as well - rabbit with spring onions, over barley, nettle and plantain. It was a good day, and I can't wait to taste the results!

The things we learned:
  • Making the first coal bed took a while. In case of restricted time start with a bag or two of charcoal, add rocks, and built a wood fire over that.
  • We need more pots to boil water, and/or vessels to store juniper tea for sparging.
  • Stones crack, but slowly, crumbly, and pose no danger (apart from sharp edges when fishing them back out of the wort). It is no wonder the farmyards had layer upon layer of discarded stones, as from two trials I already have half a bucket of small gravel! Brewing stone beer means keeping an eye out for replacement granite.
  • When the wort reached about 130F, we saw foam (protein break). When it reached about 160F the surface was really steaming (and too hot to touch easily). When it had sat for about the right amount of time, the foam had also started to dissipate and the wort was starting to clear.
  • The sugar conversion went fine, the wort did not seem weak at all (none of us brought a hydrometer, so we did not check starting specific gravity).
Back home, I added some Nottingham dry ale yeast, and Robert added Munton's "Active Brewing Yeast" which the package says "...is a high viability robust yeast carefully selected for its consistency and clean finish." As we had brewed on a dry site (a Boy Scout campground) I had not brought any yeast to pitch on site. When we tried the wort at about the 5-day point (same as for Pennsic), we found it to be more acerbic and herbal tasting than expected. It had soured, quite likely because of the delay in pitching our yeast. The little bit of wort I had added to my yeast ring did not sour, but was fairly bitter, like an overly hoppy IPA. I checked back in with the Iron age brewer and he suggested not to boil the herbs, but only to steep, and to add the infused tea as a sparge, not during heating. We will do further testing before Pennsic and look forward to sharing our results with you then! Skål!


For anyone who would like to try Cy Phorg’s Iron Age interpretation:

·         4 lbs of 2 row barley malt OR a mix of light and dark Munich malt
·         1 lb of rye malt
·         ½ lb of peat smoked malt
·         ¼ lb acid barley malt
Mash for 160F or more for 1.5 hours.

Steep in ½ a gallon of water a combination of:
·         Juniper branch tips (handful)
·         Meadowsweet (several handfuls)
·         Sweet gale
·         Heather (handful)
·         Henbit / deadnettle (handful)
·         Yarrow
All preferably harvested in spring, use with flowers and buds when possible.
Sparge with the herbal tea.

He uses kveik yeasts, farmhouse/saisson style yeasts, and Belgian/Trappist style yeasts to good effect, often in a mixture and often with a health addition of bread yeast. It will be ready to drink in as little as 48 hours, though in his experience he finds 72 hours is a good spot to start pouring. It is not intended to be carbonated, and should be consumed in a day or two.


More on brewing with stones:


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