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Old English Dishes: Mead

Mead, the favourite tipple of Queen Bess, was made by boiling honey and water together, with quantities of spices, herbs, and lemons; when it had stood for three months, the liquor was bottled and was ready to drink six weeks afterwards. Butler, in "The Feminine Monarchy, or History of Bees," draws a distinction between mead and metheglin, making hydromel the generic term. In the old cookery books and "Housewives" we find directions how to make strong Mead and small White Mead. Artificial Frontignac wine was made by boiling water, sugar, and raisins together, adding elder-flowers, syrup of lemons, and ale yeast. "English Champagne" was composed of water, sugar, and currants boiled, with the addition of balm; and, when bottled, a small lump of double-refined sugar was used to impart effervescence. In a somewhat similar manner numerous other forms of wine were compounded, as Saragossa or English Sack, Quince, Mountain, Plum, Birch, and Sage. Perhaps the most bizarre of all ancient concoctions is one termed "Cock Ale," for which this recipe is presented in E. Smith's "Compleat Housewife" (1736): “To make Cock Ale:- Take ten gallons of ale, and a large cock, the older the better, parboil the cock, flea him, and stamp him in a stone mortar till his bones are broken, (you must craw and gut him when you flea him) put the cock into two quarts of sack, and put to it three pounds of raisins of the sun stoned, some blades of mace, and a few cloves; put all these into a canvas bag, and a little before you find the ale has done working, put the ale and bag together into a vessel; in a week or nine days' time bottle it up, fill the bottles but just above the necks, and leave the same time to ripen as other ale." A notable advance in the art was accomplished during the latter part of the reign of Charles II, who was somewhat of a cook as well as an epicure. The sirloin of beef is said to owe its name to this monarch, who, dining upon a loin of beef with which he was particularly pleased, inquired the name of the joint, saying its merit was so great that it deserved to be knighted, and that thenceforth it should be called Sir- Loin. The Parisian school soon became fashionable, and numerous works on cookery made their appearance. But, like the fifteenth Louis when intent upon his pleasures at the Parc aux Cerfs, the second Charles, amid his dissolute court and its frail beauties whom Sir Peter Lely has drawn for us, had other matters to engage his serious attention than presiding at the range or posing as a patron of culinary authors. Pies, tarts, and pasties now met with increased favour, and "The Accomplisht Cook, or The Art and Mystery of Cookery" of Robert May, the first edition of which appeared in 1665, became the oracle of feasting and dining. "God and his own conscience," the author states, would not permit him "to bury his experiences with his silver hairs in the grave." From Pepys' "Diary" one may obtain much information regarding the mode of living at the time. That the English appetite had suffered no decline is apparent from nearly any one of his entries relating to the subject. John and Joan may have continued to live "meanely," but such can scarcely be said of the better classes. Thus, under date of January 26, 1659, Pepys speaks of coming home from his office to my lord's lodgings, where his wife had "got ready a very fine dinner, viz.: a dish of marrow-bones, a leg of mutton, a loin of veal, a dish of fowl, three pullets, and a dozen of larks all in a dish; a great tart, a neat'stongue, a dish of anchovies, a dish of prawns, and cheese." On March 26, 1660, having guests to dine with him, he says: "I had a pretty dinner for them, viz.: a brace of stewed carps, six roasted chickens, and a jowle of salmon hot for the first course: a tansy, a kind of sweet dish made of eggs, cream, etc., flavoured with the juice of tansy; and two neat's-tongues and cheese, the second. We had a man cook to dress dinner to-day. Merry all the afternoon, talking, singing, and piping on the flageolet."

On another occasion, April 4, 1662, he states that he "was very merry before and after dinner, and the more for that my dinner was great, and most neatly dressed by our own only mayde. We had a fricassee of rabbits and chickens, a leg of mutton boiled, three carps in a dish, a great dish of a side of lamb, a dish of roasted pigeons, a dish of four lobsters, three tarts, a lamprey-pie, a most rare pie, a dish of anchovies, good wine of several sorts, and all things mighty noble, and to my great content." Another of his dinners consisted of "a ham of French bacon boiled with pigeons, and a roasted swan, both excellent dishes." Dining at Sir William Penn's on his wedding anniversary, he mentions, besides a good chine of beef and other good cheer, eighteen mince-pies in a dish the number of years his host had been married. Again, he speaks of drinking great quantities of claret, and of eating botargo, a sausage made of eggs and the blood of a sea-mullet, with bread and butter; as also of dining on a haunch of venison "powdered and boiled, and a powdered leg of pork; also a fine salmonpie." It will be noted how meat, game, and fish-pies prevail, with tarts, marrow-bones, and neat's-tongues as secondary dishes. The roast swan, if a cygnet, may have been rather appetising, but one would feel more secure to leave the lamprey-pie untasted, and allow the "botargo" to be passed on to a neighbour. The salmon-pie, likewise, has an indigestible sound, especially as there are no signs of any Chablis or hock to serve as an antidote. Of course, the virtues of the carp would depend entirely on the sauce, and carp sauces of those days must have been anything but assuring.