#Tasting history with max miller

[petermorwood]

Potato Crisps / Chips on Tasting History

So we've just watched Max's latest...

...and I was grinning a bit because I posted about Dr Kitchiner's 1817 (non-US, definitely non-Saratoga) crisps / chips recipe a month ago.

That image was from an American edition of his book; I've found a pic from the original - NB that these slices are floured before frying.

For reference, here's a two-penny piece from about 1797; the coin would still be current 20 years later:

...and here's how thick the potatoes should be sliced. That's 4mm, which is 2mm less than "a quarter of an inch" (6.25mm).

The slices will get even thinner as their moisture evaporates during frying, and, given the nature of recipes, potatoes cooked this way are probably even older than 1817 and Kitchiner's is just the first appearance found so far in print.

*****

The first recipe for "Game Chips" (an accompaniment to grouse, pheasant etc.) appeared, per the Wikipedia link, in a 1903 book published by famous chef Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935):

"Chip potatoes - these are potatoes cut into thin slices; this is usually done with a special plane. (A mandoline.) They are put in cold water for 10 minutes; then drained, dried in a cloth and fried until very crunchy. They are served hot or cold and generally accompany game roasted in the English style."

However, per Escoffier's Wikipedia page, much of his work was based on that of Anton Carême (1783-1833), whose dates are squarely coincident with Dr Kitchiner's Potato Slices.

Given the amount of cookery to-and-fro between England and France after the Napoleonic wars were over, it's impossible to say who first came up with the idea of potato crisps.

The French loved dainties - "un petit quelquechose", a little something - which the English pronounced and dismissed as "kickshaws", something over-fussy yet insubstantial. Yet those same English also loved roasting things with their appropriate accompaniments.

(I'm writing this just over a week after Christmas, and have been well reminded that the phrase "Roast (turkey / goose / beef) With All The Trimmings" is still in common 21st-century use.)

If those roasted things were game birds, only those above a certain level in society would be eating them, so it's not unreasonable to assume a rich-person game bird would attract fussy, time-consuming rich-person trimmings like, okay, Game Chips.

One thing's for sure, Potato Crisps - and Game Chips too, so hard luck, Escoffier - are almost certainly older than even Tasting History could prove.

*****

BTW, they also existed at a time when "English Food Was Bland" is more fake history.

Sauces put out on the table in fancy bottles had fancy labels ("bottle tickets") showing what was in them, and the contents were often far from bland.

Quin sauce was anchovy-based, hot and pungent.

Harvey's was a spicy sauce similar to Worcestershire, ketchup was probably mushroom and also spicy; the other two need no elaboration.

AFAIK the two crescent-shaped ones in the next pics are deliberate imitations of an officer's rank-gorget.

Finally a generic Not-Bland label that would go on any number of modern bottles (antique silver, yours for £250)...

*****

And after all of the above, I could do Very Bad Things to a packet of Tayto Cheese 'n' Onion. A packet?

Why stop at a packet when A Pack takes less time to say?

After all, It Is Written that:

"Reading One Book Is Like Eating One Potato Crisp Chip."

And also that Nothing Exceeds Like Excess...

[timetraveltasting]

TEMPLAR BOAR WITH CAMELINE SAUCE (14th c.)

This past Thursday, the Corpus Christi public holiday in my part of Germany, known here as Fronleichnam, gave me a little extra time to make another Tasting History dish: Templar Boar with Cameline Sauce. The diet, eating habits, and table manners of the Templars were governed by strict rules, including only eating meat three times a week (two meat meals on Sundays). This dish was one of those they would have eaten for one of their meat meals during the 14th century. The spices present in the sauce would have been accessible to them during the crusades, but Cameline Sauce did become a popular dish in much of medieval Europe eventually. This dish is based on two 14th century primary sources: Le Viandier de Taillevent by Guillaume Tirel and Le Ménagier de Paris, a treatise written by an older man (as yet unnamed) to teach his 15-year-old bride how to run his household and please him, in every way (...yikes). The sauce, Cameline, is named as such due to the rich brown colour, which looks like the wool of a camel, also known as cameline. I chose to make this recipe next because I haven't made boar before, and the rich, silky, brown colour of the sauce made it look really tasty. See Max’s video on how to make it here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.

My experience making it:

I made a couple changes to the modern recipe below. I used boar goulash pieces instead of tenderloin, because it was the only form of boar I could find at my grocery store. The white wine I used (and drank with dinner) was a dry Riesling from the Mosel Valley in Germany. The red wine was a Bordeaux Merlot. I used saffron powder instead of threads, and I did opt to add the optional tablespoon of red wine vinegar. the white bread I used was a classic French baguette.

I also made a couple changes to the method. Because I used French baguette, which has quite small slices, I hollowed out about half the baguette (since baguettes are mostly crust). I also simmered the sauce for much longer than Max says to, because it wasn't quite the thickness I was looking for. Otherwise, I followed Max's recipe exactly, probably to the detriment of my boar. Because I had used goulash pieces instead of tenderloin, I probably should have adjusted how I cooked the boar to accommodate these smaller pieces. Unfortunately, I didn't, and as a result, I was left with very chewy, dry boar. Basically, the sauce was the saving grace of the boar! I served the boar and Cameline sauce with some green peas, garlic bread, and a glass of the dry Riesling wine.

My experience tasting it:

I already knew I had ruined the texture of the boar, but I hoped that the sauce would help. I warned my husband. Luckily, the Cameline sauce did a lot of heavy-lifting to bring some moisture back to the board. The sauce turned out wonderfully - a beautiful, silky brown. Flavour-wise, it reminded me of a jus, but more heavily-spiced. I was worried the Cameline sauce would end up tasting sweet due to the brown sugar and several spices that are more often used in baking, but in fact, the spices were well balanced by the taste of the wine and vinegar. The sauce also went really nicely with the peas, and I imagine would also have tasted good with potatoes or other red meats. My husband and I dipped the garlic bread in it as well, which was really tasty. It went alright with the dry boar, but I would like to use the sauce with another, more tenderly-cooked meat. We had leftover Cameline sauce, so we will probably try that again tonight. If you end up making it, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Links to harder-to-find ingredients:

Saffron

Templar Boar with Cameline Sauce original recipes (14th c.)

Sourced from Le Viandier de Taillevent by Guillaume Tirel and Le Ménagier de Paris respectively.

“Sanglier: Fresh Wild Boar Venison. Cooked in wine and water and boiled again; eaten with Cameline Sauce.”

— Le Viandier de Taillevent, 14th century

“Cameline. Note that in Tournai, to make cameline they grind ginger, cinnamon, saffron, and half a nutmeg, moistened with wine then taken out of the mortar. Then grind in a mortar untoasted white breadcrumbs that have been soaked in cold water, moisten with wine and strain. Then boil everything and finish with brown sugar, and that makes winter cameline. In the summer, they do the same but it is not boiled at all. ”

— Le Ménagier de Paris, 14th century

Modern Recipe

Based on Le Viandier de Taillevent by Guillaume Tirel, Le Ménagier de Paris, and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

Boar tenderloin

Olive oil for searing

Equal parts wine and water for boiling

1 thick slice of white artisanal bread without crust

1 ¼ cups white wine

¼ cup red wine

1 tsp ginger

2 tsp cinnamon

½ tsp nutmeg

Pinch of saffron threads

2 tbsp brown sugar

Pinch of salt

1 tbsp red wine vinegar (optional)

Method:

De-crust the bread and break it into small pieces. Soak the bread in water for a few hours, then pour in the red wine for the sauce.

Heat olive oil in a pot then sear the boar on all sides.

Remove it from the pot and boil equal parts wine and water, then add the boar back in and boil, covered, for 10-15 minutes or until fully cooked. Then let it rest.

To make the sauce, mix the spices and white wine. Strain the bread/wine mixture from earlier into a saucepan, then press the bread through the strainer.

Add the spiced wine mixture and bring to a simmer. Let simmer for 15 minutes, or until half reduced, then add the sugar and salt, and if you want, a tablespoon of red wine vinegar. Simmer until thickened.

Slice the boar and pour the sauce over it. Optionally, serve with roasted chestnuts and wine.

[marksandrec]

Marks and Rec: Misc #2554

"We're going to sh*t on your shingles!" (Dialogue from The Great.)

[dungeonmeshi-polls]

If Laios lived amongst us would he watch Tasting History with Max Miller? There are some pretty wild ingredients on that show. Are there any other food shows he may like?

[anotherscrappile]

Hm…

Arceus “Sitting Cuties” Pokémon plushie

[bearinarockingchair]

Tasting History with Nicolo

I’m watching Tasting History With Max Miller and I’m just imagining a TOG au where Nicky hosts a similar show. Joe would film, edit, and help taste test. The rest of the gang would be like guest stars or judges. Like Andy on any desert episode. Quynh helping with East Asian dishes here and there. Booker helping with research and liquor episodes. Nile helping with whatever sounds palatable when she’s not going to school cuz she’s a college kid down for free food

[do-you-like-this-youtuber]

link: https://www.youtube.com/@TastingHistory

subject matter: history + cooking

[arctic-hands]

If not for covid, the cost of food these days, and my medical dietary restrictions I would host a pot luck were we all make old timey recipes

[10-days-of-freakin-olives]

so I was going through Tasting History with Max Miller

(quality content, pls go and subscribe, my little food-archaeology-loving heart adores that channel)

and today I got around to watching the borshch (/borsch/borscht/barszcz) video, which means that TIL that the Soviet Union put out a book in the 30s called

The Book About Tasty and Healthy Food. To the Soviet Housewife from the People's Commisariat of the Food Industry

and that apparently everyone just called it

The Book

which is both way more culinarily ominous and somehow therefore infinitely more stereotypically Slavic.

Like.

They didn't shorten it to The Book About Tasty and Healthy Food, or call it The Cookbook or something

no, they called it The Book.

110% The Book About Tasty and Healthy Food. To the Soviet Housewife from the People's Commisariat of the Food Industry is a regular cookbook with a boring cover and neatly printed recipes

but The Book is 120% some kind of cursed leather-bound grimoire stained with unrecognizable ingredients from magical concoctions and written in the spiky dramatic scrawl of a long-dead slightly-mad wise woman

Yanno?

"We're having borshch tonight - bring me...The Book About Tasty and Healthy Food. To the Soviet Housewife from the People's Commisariat of the Food Industry" is an insane thing to say, for sure.

But somehow

"We're having borshch tonight - bring me...The Book" is both more sensible and more threatening at the same time

and I think that's beautiful

unrelated but that video also made me cry so thanks for that Mr. Max Miller

[do-you-know-this-youtuber]

Tasting history with Max Miller!

[elithedndyke]

Y’know what they don’t teach you in school is that they used caul fat to line the Xenomorph egg in Alien and in Ancient Rome to encase one of the earliest versions of hamburgers

[forgottenbones]

Making the Black Mead of Medieval France - Bochet

[timetraveltasting]

FRENCH ONION SOUP (1651)

For a very rainy day, soup seemed like the perfect answer. So, I decided to make this Tasting History recipe, a comforting version of French Onion Soup from 1651. While onion soups have been made since Ancient Greek and Roman times, modern French onion soup, topped with toasted bread and melted cheese, didn't arise until the 20th century. This recipe lies somewhere in the middle, and still comes from France, making it a true French Onion Soup. The recipe was published in Le Cuisinier François by François Pierre de la Varenne in 1651. Instead of the quintessential cheese in a modern French Onion Soup, it uses just milk instead. I chose to make this recipe because I thought it would be interesting to try a precursor to the French Onion Soup we enjoy today. See Max’s video on how to make the dish here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.

My experience making it:

I ended up using 3 medium-sized onions, as I wanted a smaller yield than what Max had, and as a result, I 'two-thirded' the recipe to match, which turned out very accurate still, I think. Otherwise, I followed the ingredients list meticulously - quite easy to do when the ingredient list contains mostly items I usually keep around the house on the regular.

I sliced my onions nice and thin, adding them to a soup pot with the already-melted salted butter. They filled about two-thirds of the pot, just as I planned, but after a little more than an hour of cooking they did caramelize down to a small layer, maybe an inch thick, at the bottom. I added the water and scraped as much of the brown caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan as possible. I probably could have waited until the onions were a little more brown to add in the water, but I was getting a little impatient, as the onions had already cooked for more than an hour (longer than Max's did). I added the salt and pepper (I might have been a little generous with these amounts), then simmered the soup a bit before adding the milk and bringing it back up to a boil. I took the soup off the stove as soon as it came to boil, as Max says that if it boils too long once the milk is in, the soup can separate into layers - no thanks! Luckily, mine cooperated. I baked the baguette slices until they got a good crisp on them, but I didn't bother trying to get them as golden as Max's, because, in my opinion, his looked way too crispy for my liking. I served the French Onion Soup as an appetizer for our dinner of breaded shrimp and carrots with hummus (a bit of an easier meal since the soup took so long to make). I topped the soup with a toasted baguette slice each, with a few on the side for dipping. It looked tasty enough, but very...beige!

My experience tasting it:

I tried just a spoonful of soup first, with some onion in it. While it did taste nice, and definitely of onion, I did find that the milk was very forward in the flavour. This gave it such a sweetness when combined with the onion, which, in a modern French Onion Soup, would have been perfectly balanced by the saltiness of the melted cheese. Unfortunately, the soup was also quite under-seasoned. Both my husband and I had to add quite a bit of salt and pepper to bring the flavour up to our taste preference, despite my generous hand adding both of those ingredients in when making the soup. Perhaps the flavour would have been a little more intense if I let the onions reach a darker shade of caramelization before adding the water, but I'm not too sure. My next bite, I tried some of the floating toasted baguette in the soup. It definitely added more texture, but the centre had gone a little soggy, while the outside was still a bit too crispy. When I dipped the remaining toasted baguettes on the side in, they were also a little too crispy. I would probably prefer just adding some small croutons to get that texture, since they're just easier to eat in a soup. While the soup was decent and we did both happily finish our bowls, I don't think we would make this recipe again. Firstly, it took pretty long for not much flavour-payoff, and secondly, modern French Onion Soup recipes are just so good (especially with the cheese in there!) that I would prefer to make the modern one every time. I guess the French have worked to perfect French Onion Soup for hundreds of years to make the show-stopping one we enjoy today! If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

French Onion Soup original recipe (1651)

Sourced from Le Cuisinier François by François Pierre de la Varenne, 1651.

After your onion is cut very thin and sauteed in butter until it’s well browned, cook it in a little water well seasoned with salt and pepper. After it is done, add milk to it and boil it. Baking your crusts dry, serve it promptly.

Modern Recipe

Based on Le Cuisinier François by François Pierre de la Varenne (1651) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

2-4 yellow onions

4 tablespoons (57 g) salted butter

1 ½ cups (350 ml) water

½ teaspoon salt, more to taste

½ teaspoon pepper, more to taste

3 cups (700 ml) whole milk, room temperature

8-12 slices French baguette, preferably stale*

*If the baguette is not already stale, put the slices in the oven at a low temperature for 30 minutes to dry them out.

Method:

Peel the onions and cut them in half from root to stem. Slice thinly. Don’t worry about them being perfect or totally uniform.

Melt the butter in a large saucepan over medium-low heat.

Add the onions (they will likely fill the whole pot) and cook, stirring frequently, for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until they’re a dark golden brown.

While the onions are cooking, preheat the oven to 400°F (205°C).

Arrange the baguette slices on a baking sheet and toast them on the top rack of the oven for 3 to 5 minutes on each side, or until they’re nicely browned.

Add the water to the caramelized onions and use a wooden spoon to scrape the sides and bottom of the saucepan.

Add the salt and pepper and bring to a simmer. Cover the saucepan and simmer for 15 minutes.

Pour in the milk and return to a simmer over medium heat. Remove from the heat immediately once it starts to boil.

Ladle into bowls and serve it forth with toasted baguette on the side.

[captainknell]

I have never used this particular recipe, but it looks simpler than the one I am used to. This history part of this video is my favorite though!

[livyamel]

Look, guys. I found professor Turo irl.

[riffingtheverse]

Three adorable food boys sitting together in the same space having fun. If I find out any of them has done something bad I will cry