The Philosophy of Food, Issue #024: Medieval Sweet and Sour Fish

Tonight, for your culinary pleasure, I have prepared a dauce egre or, in modern English, Sweet and sour fish.  It's a 14th century dish of fried fish covered in a tangy red wine vinegar and onion sauce.  Sound good?  Well, too bad.  Because it's what's for your deliciously anachronistic dinner.

The Ingredients
-Fish.  The recipe calls for Haddock.
-Olive oil.
-1 minced onion.
-1 cup Red Wine Vinegar.
-1/3 cup sugar.
-1/2 tsp. ground mace.
-1/2 tsp. ground cloves.
-1/2 tsp. ground black pepper.

MINCE!

The Process
Before I started on anything, I made sure that I had all my ingredients ready.  This includes mincing the onions.  Eyes beware.

Next, you lightly poach the fish.  While the recipe calls for haddock, I used drum.  Because that was what was available at the grocery the week of a hurricane.  Anyhow, to poach the fish, bring a large pan full of water to a boil, and immediately turn the heat to low.  Add the fish  to the pan, cover, and let it cook in the nearly boiling water for five minutes, then remove.  It doesn't matter if it doesn't cook all the way through, because we're going to fry it up in a minute.

To prepare the sauce, add the red wine vinegar, sugar, onions, and spices to a small or medium saucepan and bring the mixture to a boil.  The original recipe isn't great on giving precise instructions, but keep it at a light boil until it cooks down a bit or until the onions have been obliterated, whichever comes first.

Once your sauce is relatively far along, heat up some olive oil in a large pan and fry the fish until it is a crispy golden brown.

Remove the fish from the oil, drain, and place in a serving dish.  Cover it in the sauce and serve it up.

A whole onion might have been a bit much. . . or not.  Medieval recipes aren't very precise.

Fry it up!

The completed sauce.

 The Results

If you lived in 14th century England and were affluent enough to afford cloves, mace, and peppercorns, this might look vaguely like something you might have for dinner.

No idea if you'd be eating green beans though.

 So.  I would call this a success.  Considering that I've never made fish before, much less this recipe.  The sauce came out perfect, for what it is.  The only real hiccup was the fish.  I didn't have the oil hot enough to start with, so it cooked longer than it should have, and came out kind of tough (for fish).  Still, it was good and it all got eaten.

Either that or the fish got up and swam away. . .

 It's perhaps not something I'd prepare very often, but it presents well and is a bit different from food you might find elsewhere, so maybe something fun for a date or dinner party.

Anyhow.  I'm in negotiations as to what to make next.  I'm banking on shellfish in almond milk sauce (another medieval recipe), but others in the house aren't as thrilled.

Remember, folks, eat well and serve it forth!

The Philosophy of Food, Issue #022: Conys in Hogepoche

So, tonight I decided to kick it 15th century style.  Specifically, I delved into A Boke of Gode Cookery and attempt a recipe older than any permanent European settlement in the New World.  Yes.  I am aware of the Viking Age settlements in what is now Canada.  Which is why I specifically said, 'permanent.'

Conys in Hogepoche is described as 'rabbit in wine or ale sauce.'  Being a lover of beer, I went for the ale.

The Ingredients
-One 2 lb. rabbit, cut into pieces.
-Two small white or yellow onions, chopped fine.
-1/4 cup olive oil.
-2 12 oz bottles of ale (I used Leffe Blonde).
-1/4 tsp. cinnamon.
-1/4 tsp. allspice.
-1/4 tsp. ground ginger.
-A smattering of thyme.

Mainly tossing this up here to spare rabbit owners the horror of seeing the following image as the thumbnail. . .

. . . though it does kind of look like chicken.

The Process

First off, I actually used all the meatiest parts of two 2 lb. rabbits.  I intend to use the leftover meat to make rabbit stock, which will go on to create rabbit gumbo, or some other form of rabbit stew.

The first step is to scald the rabbit.  A brief internet search proved scalding meat to be the process of pouring boiling water over it.  The specific context dealt with a Chinese duck recipe, so I'm not sure if it's the same process that would have been practiced in 15th century England.  I'm also not certain it made any different to the final product, so I'll likely skip this step in the future.

Next, fry the rabbit pieces in hot olive oil until it has browned.  Once it has browned, add the onions, then the spices, then the beer.  The beer should come just short of covering the rabbit.  Bring to a boil, then cover and simmer for 90 minutes to two hours, turning the meat over every 15 minutes.

I should perhaps mention that I think rabbits are adorable, and want one as a pet.  I don't see it as so much of a contradiction as a recognition of the fact that I am an apex carnivore.  Not a predator though, as I don't hunt.

Some of the ingredients, waiting in the wings.

Just after bringing the concoction together.

And we're done.

The Result

I served the conys in hogepoche with home made rye bread I baked earlier this afternoon and some Brussels sprouts my mom baked.  The following dessert (which sadly did not get photographed) consisted of raspberry-chocolate frozen yogurt and chocolate chip cookies which my brother made.

The spread is prepared.

My brother, sampling a Brussels sprout and taunting me.

And finally digging into the rabbit.

My own plate.

The dish is good.  But there are a number of things I would do differently.

Until I can determine whether I did it right, and what it is meant to accomplish, I'll be leaving the scalding out.  I would skip the olive oil and use butter or bacon grease instead.  I would start by browning the rabbit, then deglazing the pan and melting the butter or cooking the bacon (chopped).  I would then add the onions and caramelize them, adding some brown sugar to help it along.  Once the onions had gotten nice and golden, I'd add a bit of flour, then the rabbit, and the bottles of beer, and bacon slices (if I used bacon).  For spices, I'd keep a similar mix, adding a couple of bay leaves at the front, and finishing with some parsley and perhaps a dab of spicy mustard.  Essentially, I would take a lot of cues from stoofvlees.

For all the 'could ofs' and 'should ofs,' it was quite tasty.  My next adventure will likely either be another medieval dish, or else that rabbit gumbo I spoke of.