Recreating medieval brews in our modern times is a fun
and tasty way to connect to our historic past. Unfortunately, having a deeper
understanding about the chemistry involved in fermentation does not necessarily
translate into an easier interpretation of medieval recipes. Our modern brewing
methods and sanitary measures evolved, and the language and terminology used in
brewing changed over the years as well. The arcane language of early medieval
recipes often makes modern interpretations approximations at best, and modern
brewers with their own interpretation of the same recipe make variations which sometimes
differ slightly and sometimes quite a lot. For instance, in my own work to
recreate two mead recipes, no 9 and 10 in V:
Goud Kokery which is part of the 14th
century manuscript Curye on Inglysch,
I initially used the editors suggestions on how to interpret recipe 10 To make fyn meade & poynaunt. After
half a dozen or so of mediocre variations, and a deepening puzzlement on the
sequence of steps in the recipe, I realized the editors’ interpretation has practical
issues. Expecting something off with the technique, instead of tweaking the
recipe to make it fit our modern conceptions, I delved deeper into the
practices used during our time of study to track down where it went off track.
The first step was to look into the source of the
fermentable sugars in mead – the honey – which at the same time located the
source for fermenting yeast. Medieval honey would have been available in
different states and different grades. The highest grade honey was life honey,
which is the honey that drips out first without any assistance and is highly
regarded both in brewing and in medicine. Life honey is honey which is
completely untreated, and held in such high esteem that in medieval Dutch
cooking and brewing recipes it had its own term ‘zeem’. The translation for ‘zeem’
is given as ‘ongepijnde honing’,
unhurt or unprocessed honey and also as ‘maagden
honing’, or virgin honey. Unfortunately, true to medieval practice, the
word is used interchangeably for life honey and high quality processed honey,
and it is up to the reader to interpret which ingredient is meant. (openlaszlo)
What makes life honey so special, and literally alive, is that even though
honey is antibacterial, it is a welcome host for osmophillic yeast strains like
Saccharomyces rouxii, Sacharomyces var. osmophilus and Sacharomyces
bisporus var. mellis. (Rasmussen,
21)
Osmophillic yeast is able to thrive in highly
concentrated sugar solutions, and is best for the fermentation of honey
solutions with sugar concentrations above 15%, but generally does not produce
alcohol as well as the common beer and wine yeasts. If sugar concentrations are
below 15%, the wine and beer yeast varieties of Sacharomyces cerevisiae are the best choice for optimally fermenting
honey. (Rasmussen, 21) When processing life honey temperatures exceeding 154 º
Fahrenheit / 68 º Celsius (Hagen,
148) will kill ambient yeast and heating honey to facilitate flow often does
not produce life honey. Also, like the term ‘zeem’, the term ‘life honey’
is sometimes used for true honey that is alive and will start fermentation, and
sometimes for honey of the best quality. If the life honey asked for in a
recipe is to be truly boiled, then it does not need to be alive honey and you
should not sacrifice your labour intensive honey-yeast starter to literally
emulate the medieval recipe. One thing to keep in mind when fermenting with
osmophillic yeast: as the starting sugar concentration or density is high it
will have a slow start, especially compared to pitching modern concentrated
yeast.
Processed
honey is graded depending on how it is removed from the comb: with unprocessed
life honey being first grade, second grade would be what would easily be leaked
out and strained when breaking up or crushing the comb cell structure
(equivalent to our centrifugal extracted honey), third grade would be washing
the leaked combs in heated water whereby the leftover and crystallized honey
dissolves but the wax is not melted, and then a waste grade would be to squeeze
the washed combs with a twisted bag press to get the last little bits of liquid
out (often used for servant grade). This is not recommended by the reverend
Charles Butler, who warns in his 1609 beekeeping treatise Feminine Monarchie: “&
some (which is worse) doe violently presse it out. But by these means they shal
have no fine & pure raw hony, howsoever afterward they handle it.”
Leaking can be facilitated with heat, and as long as
the radiant temperature is kept below 154 º F the ambient yeast would survive.
Leaked honey would be used in recipes calling for volumes or weights. Honey
from different bio-regions or different seasons (a wet spring, a dry fall, etc)
can have different sugar concentrations, and when using volumes or weights, can
lead to slight differences in sugar concentration, as the Digby recipe Mr. Pierce’s
Excellent White Metheglin confirms “When
it is blood-warm, put the honey to it, about one part, to four of water; but
because this doth not determine the proportions exactly (for some honey will
make it stronger then other) you must do that by bearing up an Egge”.
Washing can be facilitated by agitation by hand, which
would also keep the water temperature in check to make sure it is not hot
enough to melt wax (upwards of 144 ºF or 62 ºC). Coincidentally, if honeycomb
is warmed enough to dissolve the sugars but not enough the melt the wax, the
ambient yeast is able to survive to start fermentation. As the sugar
concentration of washed honey is unknown – not enough honey will make weak mead
which spoils much quicker, while too much honey can inhibit yeast growth giving
competitors a change – it is advisable to use a hydrometer to check gravity
(the amount of sugar in solution); either with a modern glass hydrometer, or with
the egg float test, which basically does the same thing but with a renaissance
flair.
A honey solution made by boiling scraped
honeycomb. The swirls are from particulated bees wax.
The position of the egg showing about 20
mm or the size of a medieval groat coin above the surface
indicates enough dissolved sugars for a
circa 12% alcohol mead.
The next step is to look into the cooking process: how
exactly did the honey become must. Many medieval recipes will advice to boil
the must. Since the source of medieval water is most often rather conspicuous,
up to the point of deadly, this is not persé a bad thing. For the flavor of the
honey it would be better to boil the water first, and add the honey when it is
blood-warm to then start fermentation. Alcohols’ preservative properties
combined with the antibacterial effect of honey makes for a safe product to
drink, much saver than surface water, even without boiling. According to Feminine Monarchie, heating above
temperatures which would hurt the skin “The
best way is to put it into an oven after the batch is forth, but not before you
can abide to hold your hand upon the bottome, for feare of overheating the hony”
is known to damage the honey. Maybe, even though in cooking recipes the word ‘boil’
is most often meant as a roiling boil, in brewing it might mean the process of
cooking? Unless refermentation during warm weather is meant, to confuse the
matter even more! As Hugh Platt in his 1594 Jewell
House of Art and Nature complains “If
any sweete Wines happen to reboile in the hot part of the Summer, as manie
Vinteners to their great losse have oftentimes felt”.
The word ‘seethe’
or ‘seething’ is even vaguer. Does it
mean simmering, or, being at a boil but not bubbling? Or does it mean the
process of heating, which could be anything from above room temperature to near
boiling? For instance, the recipe To Make
Mede in the 14th CE Curye on
Inglysch cookbook uses both ‘boil’
and ‘seethe’ “& thanne take that forseid combis & sethe hem in clene water,
& boile hem wel” but after all that the combs should still be intact
enough to be pressed out “After presse
out thereof as myche as though may”. This indicates the water temperature
did not actually exceed 144° F or 62 ºC and melt the wax. Thus instead of
translating the following quote to “take the previously mentioned combs &
simmer them in clean water, & boil them well”, should it perhaps be “take
the previously mentioned combs & heat them in clean water, & cook them
well”? Since the latter interpretation matches the Feminine Monarchie’s technique “set
it in some vessel over a soft fire, and stil keep your hand in the vessel
stirring about the honie and the wax, and opening the wax piece-meale until the
hony and not the wax shal be molten”, and it makes sense, I think this
would be the correct interpretation. And as ambient yeast survives heating up
until 154 ºF or 68 ºC this would mean the must is still viable for spontaneous fermentation,
without the need for adding barm or lees from a previous batch.
Back to the two recipes, interpretations of the translation is re-evaluated. The reason I work with both recipes is that recipe 10 looks back to recipe 9, even more so in the re-evaluation than I initially had thought.
Back to the two recipes, interpretations of the translation is re-evaluated. The reason I work with both recipes is that recipe 10 looks back to recipe 9, even more so in the re-evaluation than I initially had thought.
The
two original recipes and the proposed alternate interpretations:
9
To make mede.
Take hony
combis & put hem into a greet vessel & ley thereynne grete stickis,
& ley the weight theron til it be runne out as myche as it wole; & this
is called liif hony. & thanne take that forseid combis & sethe hem in
clene water, & boile hem wel. After presse out thereof as myche as though
may & caste it into another vessel into hoot water, & sethe it wel
& scome it wel, & do therto a quarte of liif hony. & thanne lete it
stone a fewe dayes wel stoppid, & tis is good drinke. (Hieatt & Butler, 150)
Literal Translation:
9 To make mead.
9 To make mead.
Take
honey combs, and put them into a big vessel & lay in there big sticks,
& lay the weight on it until it runs out as much as it would; & this is
called life honey. & then take those mentioned combs & simmer them in
clean water, & boil it well. After press out of it as much as you can &
cast it into another vessel into hot water, & heat it well, & scum it
well, & do thereto a quart of life honey. & then let it stand a few
days well closed up, & this is a good drink.
If the honey combs are literally simmered and boiled, the wax will melt into the sugar solution. Interestingly, while the combs are quite bulky in their solid state, once they are melted within the sugar solution there is not a whole lot left. In one of my experiments, the combs were boiled in clean water and poured through a cheesecloth filter while hot, and in another experiment the combs were boiled, the must was cooled down first, and then poured through a cheesecloth filter. Filtering the waxy must while hot particulized the hot wax, which then solidified in tiny particles which mostly stayed suspended in the must. During fermentation a thin film of wax particles formed on the surface, which created quite a nice surface protection. After bottling the wax particles would form a haze around the neck of the bottle (shake well before pouring) and while sipping there was a distinct sensation of lipbalm around the lips. Many of these issues were negated by filtering the wax must after cooling down, though the sensation of lipbalm never completely went away. For the amount of wax comb that went into the must and the insignificant amount that was recovered during filtering, the indication is most stayed in solution with the sugars. Boiling the wax to dilute the honey does not coincide with the available information (as in, there should be comb structure left to be pressed) plus, the wax adds a significant (although not unpleasant) taste to the must.
If the honey combs are literally simmered and boiled, the wax will melt into the sugar solution. Interestingly, while the combs are quite bulky in their solid state, once they are melted within the sugar solution there is not a whole lot left. In one of my experiments, the combs were boiled in clean water and poured through a cheesecloth filter while hot, and in another experiment the combs were boiled, the must was cooled down first, and then poured through a cheesecloth filter. Filtering the waxy must while hot particulized the hot wax, which then solidified in tiny particles which mostly stayed suspended in the must. During fermentation a thin film of wax particles formed on the surface, which created quite a nice surface protection. After bottling the wax particles would form a haze around the neck of the bottle (shake well before pouring) and while sipping there was a distinct sensation of lipbalm around the lips. Many of these issues were negated by filtering the wax must after cooling down, though the sensation of lipbalm never completely went away. For the amount of wax comb that went into the must and the insignificant amount that was recovered during filtering, the indication is most stayed in solution with the sugars. Boiling the wax to dilute the honey does not coincide with the available information (as in, there should be comb structure left to be pressed) plus, the wax adds a significant (although not unpleasant) taste to the must.
Boiling the wax comb and honey to make
the must. From the 4 scraped frames of honey comb only about
an inch worth of black gook was
recovered. Most of the bright yellow wax disappeared during the boil.
Current Interpretation:
9
To make mead.
Take
honey combs, and put them into a big vessel & lay in there big sticks,
& lay the weight on it [of the combs] until it runs out as much as it
would; & this is called life honey. & then take those mentioned combs
& heat them in clean water [not hotter than your hands can take], &
cook it well. After press out of it [the combs] as much as you can & cast
it [the liquid] into another vessel into hot water, & heat it well, &
scum it well, & do thereto a quart of life honey. & then let it stand a
few days well closed up, & this is a good drink.
The second recipe:
The second recipe:
10
To make fyn meade & poynaunt.
Take xx
galouns of the forseid pomys soden in iii galouns of fyn wort, & i galoun
of liif hony & sethe hem wel & scome hem wel til thei be cleer enowgh;
& put therto iii penyworth of poudir of peper & i penyworth of poudir
of clowis & lete it boile wel togydere. & whanne it is coold put it
into the vessel into the tunnynge up of the forseid mede; put it therto, &
close it wel as it is aboue said. (Hieatt & Butler, 150)
Literal Translation:
10
To make fine mead & poignant.
Take
20 gallons of the previously mentioned pomys cooked in 3 gallons of fine wort,
& take 1 gallon of life honey & simmer it well & scum it well until
it is clear enough; & add to it 3 pennyworth powder of pepper & 1
pennyworth powder of cloves & let it boil well together. & when it is
cold put it into the vessel of the barreled up previously mentioned mead; add
it to it, & close it well as it is said before.
The suggestions by Hieatt & Butler are as follows:
The suggestions by Hieatt & Butler are as follows:
The word ‘pomys’
translates as apples (p. 207). [This exact word only shows up once as part of V: Goud Kokery; variants from other
recipes are ‘poumes’ and ‘pommys’ which both refer to a softened
apple dish.]
The ‘forseyd
pomys sodden’ evidently refers to a recipe the scribe has omitted (p. 150)
Fyne meade
and poynaunt V 10, spiced mead.
Despite the initial directions, no recipe calling for cooked apples actually
occurs in the vicinity of this one. The quantity of spices called for would
work out to something like 2 oz. of pepper and ¼ oz of cloves: this would not
make a very spicy drink, considering the 34 [edit 24] gallons of other
ingredients. (p. 188)
The immediate issue with recipe 10 is the translation
of the word ‘pomys’. From its
similarity to the word ‘pommys’ it
seems self evident it would refer to apples (linguistically via the French word
‘pomme’ for apple). The word ‘pomys’
in modern times could translate to ‘pomace’ or apple pressings, the apple
solids left over from the making of cider, or apple juice. To my best
knowledge, the word ‘pomace’ is never used for the juice, always for the
leftover solids from pressing, so I am inclined to forgo the option of it
meaning juice, or the must from recipe 9.
Another issue is the meaning of the word ‘tunnynge’, which I’d like to address
first. The word ‘tunnynge’ can be
interpreted as either a measurement (a ‘tun’ or a barrel of 252 or 265 gallons,
a defined unit of volume in the 14th century) or an action (tunning). My first
trial used the tun as a measurement and found that it adds too much volume to
the amount of honey & malt for a proper ferment. The recipe instructs “put it into the vessel into the tunnynge up
of the forseid mede” which at first reads like it barrels up twice: “put it
into the vessel into the tun of the previously mentioned mead”. My current
interpretation is “put it into the vessel into the tunned up previously
mentioned mead”, or, use a transporting vessel (see image) to move the
wort/must and add it back “put it therto”
into the barrel of the mead made with recipe 9. This would indicate recipe 10
is not a stand alone recipe, but instead uses the mead made in recipe 9 to make
something else, called fyne meade and
poynaunt. This would basically make a braggot, except instead of adding
honey & spices to ale to re-ferment (as a typical period braggot), it adds
wort (malt) and spices to mead (akin to a modern braggot, or malted mead).
“The Brewer” by Jan Luyken (1649-1712)
The vessel mentioned in the recipe could
be used to transport from the boiling vat to the fermenting tun or barrel.
Back to the pomys.
Hieatt & Buttler assume “the ‘forseyd
pomys sodden’ evidently refers to a recipe the scribe has omitted” as
“despite the initial directions, no recipe calling for cooked apples actually
occurs in the vicinity of this one”. When the directions in recipe 10 are
interpreted as if ‘pomys’ meant
apple, to make a spiced apple wine sweetened with honey and wort/malt, the
ratio of solid apples and fermentable sugars to liquid does not seem to add up.
To properly ferment a certain amount of apple solids, it would need to be at
least submerged, which combined with the direction to cook it “soden in iii galouns of fyn wort” makes
for apple sauce consistency. If enough water is added to create an acceptable cooked
apple wort the amount of fermentable sugars is too low for a proper ferment,
and if the water ratio is balanced for a proper short mead ferment, the must is
so dense it is difficult to get a good ferment (and have liquid left over at
the end, the apple solids suck it up like a sponge). This recipe had a tendency
for the apple sauce to create a pancake at the surface which then would get
pushed up by fermentation gasses, straight out through the airlock, which
necessitated in stirring the must back down every other hour or so until
primary fermentation slowed down. In other words, the recipe does not make
sense, it does not work well, and the resulting brew would spoil prematurely on
a regular base, indicating a unbalanced recipe. Combined with the interpretation
that recipe 10 could be a back ferment of recipe 9, similar to a modern braggot,
it puts the translation of ‘pomys’ to
apple to serious question.
Before
fermentation (L) and after fermentation (R). One quart of apple solids added to
one gallon of water, with appropriate honey and malt. Cooking made the apple
fall apart and most of the available liquid became absorbed.
What could be meant instead? If “the forseid pomys sodden” is to be taken literally as something
cooked from the previous recipe, then let’s look back to see what fits. The
bulk honey from recipe 9 does not come from leaked honey but from washed out
wax comb: “& thanne take that forseid
combis & sethe hem in clene water, & boile hem wel”. When the alternate interpretation for ‘seething’ and ‘boiling’ is used, the directions to “heat them in clean water,
& cook them well” would generate left over wax combs, which are then “presse out thereof as myche as though may”.
If the alternate interpretation is not used, and the must is literally simmered
and cooked, then the wax would have melted and there’d be nothing left to be
pressed, strongly indicating lower temperatures than the melting point of wax. The
wax comb from recipe 9 is both cooked and pressed it would fit the description
of “the forseid pomys sodden” of
recipe 10 perfectly (Magnus).
Current Interpretation:
10 To make fine mead & poignant.
Take 20 gallons of the previously mentioned pomys [the
squeezed combs of recipe 9] cooked in 3 gallons of fine wort, & take 1
gallon of life honey & heat it well [below 154 ºF, and the ambient yeast
will survive] & scum it well until it is clear enough; & add to it 3
pennyworth powder of pepper & 1 pennyworth powder of cloves & let it
cook well together. & when it is cold put it into the vessel of the
barreled up previously mentioned mead [add it back into the barrel the 20
gallons came out off]; add it to it, & close it well as it is said
before.
Twenty gallons of pressed comb cooked in 3 gallons of
malt seems like a too small ratio of solid to liquid. Unexpectedly, I found
from experience that boiling comb in a sugar solution does not generate a
significant amount of melted wax and as the combs are probably also somewhat
wet, even after manual pressing, they could conceivably have some crystallized
honey remnants left to add to the must. When the combs are boiled in the
wort/must the scum will float to the top, just like with clarifying honey, and
would have to be removed “scome hem wel
til thei be cleer inowgh” at the same time. And while Hieatt & Butler
thought the small quantity of pepper and cloves “would not make a very spicy
drink”, adding boiled wax combs to the mix significantly changes the taste of
the mead (mead made with honey in which wax has been boiled has a very distinctive
spicy, earthy taste).
Conclusion.
The translation of the two Curye on Inglysch mead recipes by Hieatt & Butler, even though
not completely understood, theoretically makes sense. It took some dedicated
experimental archaeology, so to speak, to come to the conclusion the modern
interpretation did not add up and a different way of thinking was needed.
Instead of looking at individual recipes as singular snippets, sometimes it’s necessary
to see a recipe within a broader historical context. For example, the cooking
technique blanching historically meant soaking in cold water until the almond
skins came off, while in modern times it means pouring over boiling water until
the almond skins come off. While the end result seems the same, almonds soaked
with the modern method tends to make dry crumbly marzipan, while cold soaked
almonds makes great sticky marzipan, just like grandma used to make. I learned
not to assume just because a word or technique had a modern equivalent, it
therefore historically meant the same. While seething and boiling might
actually mean simmering and boiling in one recipe, when dealing with brewing
recipes I now tend to double check (is there wax involved? What happens to the
life honey?). When emulating a historic recipe, I look for similar recipes and check
if there are nuances to the techniques & ingredients used; it might explain
something I did not even realize might be questionable. And just because
something was written down eight hundred years ago does not make it infallible:
people make mistakes, especially with the older texts the artisans were not the
scribes; translators made errors, as recipes would be translated and
republished (no medieval copyright), and some people are just better brewers
than others.
When interpreted within a broader context, the two Curye on Inglysch mead recipes work surprisingly
well and work well together. Recipe 9 makes good basic mead and includes
detailed albeit cryptic information on the processing of the comb, which is
omitted by many later period mead recipes. For now - until new information
presents itself - recipe 10 seems to be meant as an addition to a barrel of
mead made with recipe 9, to back sweeten and spice up mead with boiled beeswax
comb, for just that special occasion. And who’d have thought that…
Want
to read more? Check out my (newly updated) brewing paper Of Hony, a collection of Mediaeval Brewing Recipes, listing 46
period mead recipes, on Academia.edu at:
https://www.academia.edu/31052051/Of_Hony_-_A_collection_of_Mediaeval_brewing_recipes
References:
Butler,
Charles. The Feminine Monarchie.
1609. Oxford:
1623.
https://books.google.com/books?id=f5tbAAAAMAAJ&dq=the+feminine+monarchie+butler&source=gbs_navlinks_s
Transcription by Susan Verberg.
Digby, Kenelme. The Closet of the Eminently Learned Sir
Kenelme Digby Knight Opened, 1669
The Project Gutenberg EBook
of The Closet of Sir Kenelm Digby Knight
Opened. Anne MacDonell (ed.), 2005 https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/16441
Hagen, Ann. A Second Handbook of Anglo-Saxon Food and
Drink: Production and Distribution. Norfolk,
UK: Anglo-Saxon
Books, 1995.
Hieatt,
Constance B. & Butler, Sharon (ed). Curye
on Inglysch, English culinary manuscripts of the 14th century (including
the Forme of Cury). Early English Text Society. London:
Oxford University Press, 1985.
Private
communication with Peter Olson (East Kingdom brewing Laurel
lærifaðir Magnus hvalmagi).
Rasmussen, S.C. The Quest for
Aqua Vitae. SpringerBriefs in History of Chemistry, 2014.
Verberg,
Susan. Of Honey, a Collection of
Mediaeval Brewing Recipes. 2017.
https://www.academia.edu/31052051/Of_Hony_-_A_collection_of_Mediaeval_brewing_recipes
Links:
http://gtb.inl.nl/openlaszlo/my-apps/GTB/Productie/HuidigeVersie/src/inlgtb.html?owner=MNW
Images:
Protz,
Roger. The Ale Trail. Eric Dobby
Publishing, 1995, p. 30
All
photography © by Susan Verberg.
