Showing posts with label SCA feast cooking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SCA feast cooking. Show all posts

Monday, December 4, 2017

Creating a Pre-Edo Japanese Feast.

I was recently reminded that, thanks to the myriad of projects and life changes (and, oh, persona wardrobe changes!) I've gone through in the past couple of years, I completely forgot to share information about my pre-Edo Japanese feast.

This was the 13th feast I've done in the SCA (not including Gulf Wars shindigs, Diamond Wars feeds, fundraiser breakfast and lunches, specialty meals or the like) and it was a great deal of work. I wrote up this piece shortly after Candlelight Camp: Kaidan in May 2016 - where the feast took place. Here's that article.

I was approached about creating a feast in October 2015 for an event that would happen seven months hence. The autocrats for the event asked me if I would consider a Japanese feast, as the event itself had a Japanese theme. I agreed. I was eager to attempt a meal for a culture I had not previously researched.

My previous feasts have covered a variety of cultures, from English and French to Roman and Indian, but this one became a challenge. Few tenants of cooking and culinary tradition dovetail between medieval Japan and most of the rest of the medieval world. So before I decided on a single item, I began reading everything I could get my hands on about the time period, culture and food of 15th and 16th century Japan.

Sadly, this was harder than I thought. I found a few books that covered slices of Japanese foodways of the time period, including the first third of Japanese Foodways, Past and Present (Eric C. Rath and Stephanie Assmann, University of Illinois Press, 2010) and portions of Food and Fantasy in Early Modern Japan (Eric C. Rath, University of California Press, 2010) along with a partial electronic copy of The History and Culture of Japanese Food (Naomichi Ishige, Kegan Paul Limited, 2001). Each had its own merits.

Rath’s two books, published the same year by different companies, captured my imagination.  In Japanese Foodways, Rath has gathered essays on several centuries of Japanese food culture.  He starts with his own section, “Honzen Dining: The Poetry of Formal Meals in Late Medieval and Early Modern Japan.”  I was not surprised to find that gohan, the Japanese word for rice, is also the Japanese word for meal.  What did surprise me was this fact: beef was not generally consumed in Japan until the 19th Century.  Rath’s opening statement opened my eyes to a secondary challenge – creating a feast without red meat.

The idea of rice in itself was something for me to consider. Rath points out in this chapter that only nobles would have had white rice; other classes made do with brown rice, usually mixed with beans or vegetables. I decided, however, to go with white rice variants for most dishes because of the SCA idea that we are all noble. That not only made things simpler from a cook’s point of view, it allowed me the freedom to utilize cheaper rices and easier cooking methods. After all, our 21st century ideals on food has white rice as a default.  But I was going to need to shift away from my modern rices, since the long grain varieties such as Basmati grown here are quite different from the Japonica and Indica shorter grains used in traditional Japanese cuisine.

Ishige’s text dives into the entire history of rice in Japan, including the preference for Japonica over the “smellier” Indica varietal.  Ishige also comments on the practice of pouring off water of rice while it cooks to prevent it from becoming a gelatinized mess. He also goes into the steaming of rice and the making of sake, which for this purpose I was not planning to try.

Rath cites Mary Douglas’s previous work (“Decipher a Meal,” Food and Culture: A Reader, Counihan/Van Esterik, Routledge 1997) on the accepted structures of creating a meal and the similarity thereof with poetry.  Douglas, in this instance, was referring to honzen ryori, which translates literally into “main tray cuisine.”  This dining style evolved from its first documented usage in the Muromachi period (1330-1573) through the Edo period (1600-1868); its dining style was still in use in the early part of the 20th Century.  The combination of rice, soup and side dishes served in odd numbers were considered standard culinary practice until the second World War.

Douglas’s choice of pairing Japanese poetry styles and table service make sense. Japanese poems of the period were often gathered in phrases of five or seven syllables, while honzen meals consisted of odd number of dishes in the pattern of seven, five, three and one.  Addition of odd numbered courses or trays increased the elaborateness of the meal.

Rath’s notes on service guided me past a popular misconception. He begins by confirming that yes, ancient Japanese dining service was on the ground or floor.  He notes individuals eating from wooden boards in the Nara period (710-784) slightly elevated from the ground, and aristocrats eating from elevated trays in the Gaki Soshi (Story Book of Ghosts) from 1333 during the early Kamakura period.  In the Muromachi period, he cites how chefs in the employ of samurai would serve meals on a series of trays, or honzen.  The main tray would always contain a soup, rice and a number of side dishes as well as vinegar, rice and/or sauce for flavoring the items (condiment use was expected to create the flavor the diner wished to experience, since dishes were often presented unseasoned). Pickles were also common, and diners were provided with chopsticks and even toothpicks to clean the teeth.  Each additional tray included another soup as well as side dishes.

Rath elaborates:

Like different types of Japanese poetry that are differentiated by their lines of syllables, honzen banquets came to be described by a shorthand that referenced the number of trays and dishes on them. Five-five-three or seven-five-three were typical formations that indicated banquet menus of three trays, each with a soup, and a corresponding number of side dishes on them, totaling thirteen side dishes for the former and fifteen for the latter. Seven-five-three (shichi, go, san) was thought to be an especially auspicious combination, one found in other areas of Japanese culture such as the visit of children to a shrine at three, five, and seven years of age.

His description continues:

These trays were positioned in front of the diner next to the main tray, and the trays were served simultaneously.

As a cook in the SCA, I have become very familiar with our traditional service of bread-on-the-table, three courses and dessert.  Rath’s introduction to honzen ryori showed me several specific ideals for a Japanese table, and the biggest accommodation I needed to make was to provide a feast that would be ready to eat, almost all of it, the moment diners entered the room.  I had considerations to make, the largest one being the need to coordinate all dishes to be ready to go at one single instance.  But how was I going to keep dishes at the right temperature?

I’m certainly not the first person to tackle this idea.  Within a few weeks of the start of my research, I was connected with THL Christopher Koch, who had just completed his own Japanese feast and who had documented the process on his blog.  His Lordship and I compared ideas on what a feast of this sort should entail. At this point, I had been considering several different forms of service, including the utilization of the metal platters my home group has for food service.  His Lordship pointed out the unlikelihood of any sort of metal or wood being used for food service in pre-Edo Japan. I considered this, studied what few illustrations I could find (many of which appear in the previously mentioned books) and realized he was right.  I could not serve on wood or metal, only on ceramic or glass as would have been done on the isolated, resource-poor islands that was Japan in this era.

To complete this feast, not only would I need to have all dishes ready to go pretty much when diners entered, I’d also need to have appropriate dishware. Dishes to use to serve at least 15 items.

And, from searching for any sort of relevant image and from exploring every avenue, I noticed every honzen ryori meal I saw consisted of the tray and all the dishes… a separate service for each and every item. In short, the Japanese may be the first culture to truly understand the childhood fear of having one’s food touch.

Ho boy.  At this point I realized I could simply come up with some Japanese food (maybe not period, but certainly ethnic enough to be exotic), cook it and serve it the same way we’d done feasts for years. But I saw in this opportunity a chance to do something unique, and to present a challenge to myself.  I was going to accumulate dishes.

Over the course of seven months, I did acquire more than 1400 ceramic and glass service pieces. They came from everywhere, from friends throwing out old dishes to yard sales and flea markets. I pestered for fairness our local Goodwill Outlet Center the price per pound of purchased items with luck – and earned a 29 cent a pound rate for ceramic and glass items rather than the standard $1.38 a pound for other items.


The same Goodwill Outlet Center provided me with other things, too, that were essential to making this feast happen.  After all, it would be strange to ask a diner to bring his own tablecloth if you were providing the dishes.  One afternoon I visited the center to discover someone had donated 24 identical brown table runners (or throw blankets, I still haven’t determined for certain), which I happily grabbed for tablecloths.  Over the course of time, I also managed to collect two hundred mismatched napkins.

I also realized there was no suitably decent financial way for me to pull off the trays.  But I had another idea. Each plate needed to be glass or ceramic. Well, I had some nice rectangular plates, but not enough for the whole feast.  So, to get the flat surface I’d need plus to have the possibility of keeping cold items somewhat cold, I decided to go with food-safe ceramic kitchen tiles.  The 12”x12” version looked like the way to go.

Rath’s other book, Food and Fantasy in Early Modern Japan, shared how during the Muromachi period the meal actually began with drinks.  So many drinks, in fact. Mind you, all I had been able to find through any of the books as far as references went consisted of water, tea and alcohol. No fruit juice is mentioned, nor milk, nor any other liquid substance as a beverage.  Challenged with a dry site, I knew I would not be able to include sake or any other form of alcohol as part of my presentation. I also knew the water at the site had a unique… flavor. So I decided well in advance tea would be served – and, to balance modern sensibilities with the period concept, I went for an unsweetened green tea and a slightly sweetened and light chrysanthemum tea for the beverages we would share.

Rath cites Joao Rodrigues’s research in this particular chapter ("Ceremonial Banquets," page 73) in mentioning that the beauty of a dish also determined whether or not it would be consumed.  The ideal, takamori (high serving), actually comes from a Chinese concept that came to Japan during the Heian period, symbolizing the home of an immortal and elevating the ryori with visual and symbolic depth.

Thing is, at this point, I’d already begin finding, rescuing and purchasing each of what would end up being more than 1400 service pieces to complete this feast.  I’d begun the washing, cataloguing and packing away of 22 boxes of bowls, lidded boxes, tiny pots with tops, tiny plates and ramekins. I’d settled on 15 separate items, most of which would have to be prepared and served individually to a crowd of up to 100 people.  I was managing this on a budget of $8 a person, under the watchful eye of the veritable comptrollers of my group.  There comes a point where sanity must enter. That point for me was deciding that a takamori was one step too far. I decided against pursuing this show of auspicious consumption, especially since it would be an item none could consume and would therefore go to waste.

At this point, I had come to some conclusions:
Honzen ryori service was standard service for Japanese meals served from the Muromachi period to World War II
Several months of research had yielded no absolute period recipes in existing documentation from period
Meals in pre-Edo Japan were served on ceramic and glass pieces
Each item was served separately

Using this gleaned information and descriptions of items from 16th and 17th Century feasts in Rath’s Japanese Foodways, I determined the best way to redact non-existent recipes was to find recipes from before World War II.  Anything after that, and European and American influences would have taken their own toll.

Problem is, I don’t read Japanese. Even now, two months after the feast for which this research was prepared, I haven’t found a good cookbook to utilize.

What I did find, though, was The Cooking of Japan, a volume of Time Life’s Foods of the World series. Published in 1969, this examination of the different tenants of Japanese food by Rafael Steinberg – a Harvard graduate who served as a correspondent during the Korean War – utilized a host of experts and chefs, including Fumie Adachi, the director of exhibits programming for the Japan Society of New York; Rand Castile, the education director of the Japan Society, who had researched the tea ceremony in Kyoto (the one presented is certainly post-period for this feast); and Eiko Yuasa, the head of the International Conference Hall in Kyoto.

Steinberg’s book was likely to many Americans and Canadians the first opportunity to not only practice Japanese cooking but to learn about the culinary culture of the country.  The book goes into many of the same points I discovered in my period research – with seasonal eating, the importance of fish and the value of agri- and aqua-culture highly cited.  For the book, dishes were created from the included recipes and beautifully photographed, showcasing many of the same serving patterns as found in honzen ryori.

My logical conclusion was that many of the dishes for this feast would come from redactions of the recipes in this volume, cross-referenced with ingredients mentioned in The History and Culture of Japanese Food and served in the style suggested and diagrammed in Food and Fantasy.

Creating a seasonal menu of fresh items was important, since the event was set in the springtime. I secured an individual to create a Japanese-inspired dessert and contacted individuals who have worked beside me on feasts before specifically to take on tasks such as handling raw fish, slicing, washing dishes and cutting vegetables. I developed a feast menu and began the test cooking.

In the interest of brevity (as the 2400 word point of this text sails on by), I present to you the menu we chose for this event, with ingredients.

A selection of vegetables and condiments
Lotus root, daikon, ninjin (carrot), daijo (purple yams), satsuma-imo (Japanese sweet potato)
Pickled ginger, pickled radish, soy sauce
These items were selected for carving and for condiments to decorate in place of a takamori and more ambitious decorations.

Kitsune Udon (udon noodles and fried tofu in a dashi broth)
Dashi*, udon noodles made from wheat flour, tofu fried in vegetable oil
The first soup of the meal would be hearty and substantial, with thick noodles and the exotic addition of fried tofu.


Nasubi (baked eggplant)
Eggplant, salt
A simple baked eggplant dish served in small portions added a traditional Japanese vegetable to the menu without extraordinary preparation, just a wash, slice, salt and bake.


Onijiri
Short grain rice, black sesame seeds, sea salt, nori
Onijiri have been documented back to the fourth century and come in a variety of styles. My original idea was to include bonito flakes within, but I decided instead on black sesame seeds to reduce the number of items that contained seafood.


Hiyamugi (cold soba noodles with shrimp and mushrooms)
Soba noodles made of buckwheat, sliced king oyster mushrooms, tamago (egg), boiled shrimp
By preparing this dish in advance and on separate plates, it freed up counter and cooking space for other items. This traditional dish was usually served cold, so no worries there.



Goma Joyu-ae (string beans in soy and sesame sauce served cold)
Green beans, sesame paste, sesame seeds, soy sauce, sugar
A simple dish of steamed green beans in sesame sauce went over very, very well.

Komo Sakamushi (sake steamed chicken served cold)
Chicken, michiu
The original dish called for duck instead of chicken to be steamed. Frankly, I couldn’t afford duck for 100 people, so I went with a different poultry.  I also went with michiu instead of sake for the steaming, which took place off-site because the site was dry.  Michiu is Chinese rice wine, virtually identical to sake.



Shoyu Tamago (whole hard boiled eggs boiled again in soy sauce) - Egg, soy sauce
Another simple dish, though I was hoping for a darker brown to the eggs. That’s what you get when you decide to boil 120 eggs in soy sauce!

Toshikoshi Soban Dashi*
Long life noodles, dashi, sliced kombu (kelp)
This simple dish was nothing more than long life noodles that had been tossed in a dashi broth right before service. However, the original dish was going to be ramen noodles, which were in one fashion period to Japan but not in the flash-fried form in which we Americans are used to seeing it today.. I just ran into a sale and decided to go with it. Strangely enough, there were a lot of people that preferred this change!


Unagi Kabayaki 
Smoked barbecue eel slices
From the beginning, knowing the value of aqua-culture and seafood in the Japanese diet, I knew I needed to include seafood in the feast. I went with a combination of eel and tuna to satisfy the sashimi requirement I sensed from Rath’s description of period feasts.  However, there was one issue I had not contemplated. This dish was originally supposed to have been a sashimi of grilled eel. When I went to pick up my properly butchered eels, I was alarmed to discover that live eels had been ordered instead. After consulting with a professional chef, I determined that I did not have the skills to safely prepare this dish, and sadly resolve to remove eel from my menu.  However, the proprietor at Sam’s Oriental Store laughed kindly at my story and brought out for me prepared barbecue eel, which was slice thinly and served instead. It worked.

Nigiri
Glutenous white rice, rice vinegar, rice bran oil, sugar, salt
Rath’s work talked about the difference between sashimi (raw fish), nigiri and sushi. While sashimi did exist in period, as did nigiri, sushi as we know it today came along much later. The maki roll, my friends, is the equivalent of the sandwich and did not come about until post-period.  Nigiri, on the other hand, refers not to rice with a slice of fish on top but to the rice ball itself.


Tataki Maguro (seared peppered tuna)
Sushi-grade tuna, black pepper, oil, soy sauce, citrus
Because of the nature of this dish, I had a professional chef who happens to be a member of the SCA handle the searing of the tataki, and another SCA member who has been a professional chef in the past just to slice it.  Four pounds served every diner.

Binnaga maguro 
Albacore tuna, salt
I had tried to source ahi tuna for weeks with no luck. Friends in the Kroger seafood department hooked me up with a lovely discount on albacore tuna.  However, the flavor was so far different from the flavor profile of the feast, I did not serve this to all tables, only to the one table in the back that requested all the tuna. I’m looking at you, Ibrahim.



Kani Kyuri Ikomi
Cucumber, pickled ginger, imitation crab (fish cake)
I didn’t find this dish mentioned in any of Rath’s references, but he did mention stuffed items as well as cucumbers and fish cake.  This crab-stuffed cucumber is very pretty, and I decided its appeal, combined with the use of both seafood and vegetable in a single item, made it worthy to add to this feast. It was well received.

Edamame
Immature soybeans served salted and cold
Soybeans and soy sauce are well known to be Japanese staple items today. Edamame is also an Arkansas product, so I was thrilled to incorporate simple edamame in their pods.



Sekihan (celebration rice)
Adzuki beans, red beans, short grained rice, salt, sugar
This dish’s ancestry goes back to red rice that was grown, harvested and prepared in a Shinto ritual as a sacrificial dish evolved over time. The custom of cooking adzuki beans with rice in a kayu (porridge) began in the Imperial court in the mid-Heian Period (794-1185) and remains to this day – to the point where the phrase “Let’s get sekihan” is synonymous with “let’s celebrate.”  That being said, the dish I prepared truly conveyed the overwhelming glutinous nature of both the beans and rice. It could have been used to post wallpaper.  It could have been used for bathroom caulk. For those who liked the flavor, it was an unexpected treat. For everyone else, it was a big bowl of what.

Misoshiri 
Dashi*, miso paste, daikon, scallion
For the final soup, I wanted something light and small. This lightly fragrance soup was served over pre-delivered slices of daikon and scallion via pitcher into two ounce ramekins for just the right nice light touch. This was the best way I could decide to serve a hot soup without it standing a great while. If the daikon had spent longer in the broth, it’d have been a daikon soup instead.


Kuro Mochigome
Bowls of this blackish purple rice were provided at each table as contrast to the other rices in other dishes.

Teriyaki
Beef, soy sauce, brown sugar, michiu, mirin, fresh ginger, garlic, white sugar
There is an expectation for SCA feasts that all participants will find enough to eat to be satisfied. Under this thought, I decided to break a taboo of the period by serving what today would be considered a very normal dish. I marinated slices of chuck roast and sirloin tip in a handmade teriyaki sauce mixed up before we came to site (because of the michiu). The beef was skewered and then roasted until internal safe temperature was reached. Because of budget issues and to eliminate food waste on an expensive dish, these skewers were delivered individually instead of served on the tray. None were wasted, and all but three were gone before the night was over. Don’t hate me, but I set aside those three for my breakfast the next day.

I do feel I need to add a bit more here about teriyaki’s place in Japanese food, but I am starting to worry about all these words and the reader who is ingesting them.

Tori Gohan
Chicken, short grain rice, michiu, mirin, soy sauce, button and shiitake mushrooms
Chicken and rice is a very traditional one-pot dish, not just in Japan but almost anywhere where chicken and rice come into contact. Here, we recycled the chicken broth and michiu from the steaming process and used it to rehydrate the button and shiitake mushrooms before adding the rest in as broth to the dish. This can be served hot or cold. I wanted to serve it warm, but faulty ovens put us behind and instead it was prepared in advance and served chilled.

*Dashi contains kombu (kelp), bonito flakes (dried fish flakes), shiitake mushrooms and water.

While modern culinary texts talk about how Japanese schoolchildren love sweets, I found little in the way of dessert descriptions in the books I read. What I did notice were the reference to sweet fruits. My original inclination was to include peaches, which are a late spring fruit in parts of Japan. However, fresh Arkansas peaches aren’t available until late July.  We augmented with a peach and honey cake to round out the feast. My partner also provided a cake of green tea.


Thanks to pre-cooking, a strong kitchen crew and a little luck, most dishes were on the table when diners arrived. The overall effect was considerable, with the comment being made about how quiet it was not to hear all those dishes being pulled out of baskets and hampers while folks would normally be setting up their own gear.  Communication with the nobles of our feast in advance meant no one really had to wait to begin.  A few dishes were served after the start of the feast – notably, cold dishes of the eel and tataki; the long life noodles; beef teriyaki; dishes of the tori gohan and the cakes at the end of feast.  Best of all for this cook was the possibility of setting up a special table just for the staff. At the end of this feast, the cooks and preparers who made the feast possible sat down and shared noodles together.

Of note – this feast contained absolutely no dairy. There were no loaves of bread or chunks of cheese, or any large hunks of meat. Advertisements for the event included the very specific information for those who cannot eat seafood about the amount of seafood in the feast. Adequate sharing of menus and ingredients before the event lead to proper plans being put in place, which meant everyone had the opportunity for happiness.

The accumulated dishes were dispersed in several ways. Local groups who needed service gear were gifted with some pieces, while members of the populace who needed feast gear were happily encouraged to take what they need. This cook kept a few service pieces for projects such an arts and science project, and the remainder were donated back to Goodwill. All of the service gear was purchased with non-SCA funds with the exception of the chopsticks used for the feast.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

How To Feed A Prince on a Pauper’s Pittance Feast Research, Planning and Preparation in the SCA.

An SCA feast can be many things.  It can be a chance to sit down and talk with friend. It can be a spectacle. It can be just dinner. It can be a buffet or table service or even individual service. It can feature food of any of dozens of time periods, cultures and regions.

But above all, it must be edible, ample, and served on time.

If you’ve thought about putting your name in the hat for an SCA feast or want to up your game, there are a lot of things you should consider.  After all, what we do when we feed people here might look like a simple catering gig or barbecue from the outside, but oftentimes it is far more complex.  Why?

The dreaded budget.

While you may pay $20 for a feast in another kingdom, or $15-20 a head for a meal in a restaurant, the average Gleann Abhannite pays $5-9 each for the chance to sit down to what might be a sumptuous course of dishes.  I wish I were kidding about that.

How can you recreate a splendid feast, or even attempt one, on a small budget?  Thankfully, a lot of what we pay for when we sit down to a restaurant meal is labor. In the SCA, labor is usually free (there’s a catch to that) and with careful and smart planning, you can indeed create a memorable meal that captures that magic moment.

Step 1: Research

There are many that would argue that feast cooking is a service. I fall into that camp. The planning and execution of a feast can take dozens, even hundreds, of hours over several months.

Many feast cooks are asked to provide a menu when an event is bid; unless that bid has been considered a very long time, this is a pretty high expectation.  Most feast cooks can at least give an idea of what they want to cook or tackle (ie, 14th Century French, or a broad Mediterranean feast covering many cultures), but you shouldn’t be expected to know just how much paprika you’re going to use.

Yes, you can just throw some food out there (this is common for fighting events where barbecuing might come into play). But there’s something incongruous about sitting around in finely researched and hand-sewn garb, chewing on a taco or a plate of ribs.
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This is where research comes in.  Before you know what you’re going to cook, it pays to research what you want to cook.  The SCA has come a long way since Take A Thousand Eggs or More, but it is a good start if you are interested in cooking a basic SCA-style feast.  These days, there are so many other options.  You don’t have to redact (that’s taking a medieval recipe and figuring out its modern equivalency) but you can find recipes that have already been redacted.  Hooray, Internet!

It’s important to keep in mind the theme for an event.  It’s one thing to have a non-themed fighter’s collegium or Kingdom Arts & Science event where there’s no specific time period stated – in these cases, your canvas is broad, and you can do anything within reason (and budget).  But if you happen to have an autocrat who’s decided they want a specific time period (say, the reign of Henry VIII, or a Venetian salon, or a late period Japanese gathering), it’d do well for you to figure out what people ate at those times.

So do your reading and research before you get into planning your menu.

Step 2:  Plan your attack

When deciding what you’re going to cook, you also need to think about how much to cook.  The average person can consume 20 ounces in a big meal.  However, those 20 ounces will be different from person to person.  Some will want more meat and some will want more starch.

Variety is important in most feasts. With our ever-changing list of people who are allergic to different items, have dietary concerns such as diabetes, or who practice vegan or gluten-free lifestyles, it can be difficult to please everyone.  Most are satisfied with knowing what’s going to be served so they can plan accordingly, so be sure to publicize your finalized menu at least two weeks before the event.

Research doesn’t just mean cracking the books. Research also means getting out into the stores. Not just your Kroger store, my friends, but to each of your local stores. Check out discount goods. Search out ethnic groceries. Scan circulars. Compare online prices. Become familiar with the resources available to you.

See if you can find an ethnic equivalent to help you out.  Anything Mediterranean or Asian will have a correlating store in a bigger city.  Not only will these options afford you a greater selection of items that might not be in your regular store, some items may be cheaper (such as noodles at an Asian store, or spices at an Indian store).

Keep an eye on sale circulars, especially if you live in a city where there are competing stores.  Some grocery stores will honor prices in other grocery store circulars. If all these locations are nearby, it may serve you better to just hit each one.

For certain items you may need in large quantities, prepare to shop early and often.  For example – for my last feast and the other meals to be served that weekend, I needed 40 pounds of chicken thighs.  The local discount grocery store was offering said chicken for 77 cents a pound – a great deal less than the $3.29 a pound at Kroger. However, the store was only putting out 15 pounds at a time in its limited meat case – which required multiple visits.

There are other ways to save money and get things for free (or close to it), especially if you have plenty of advance notice of your feast.  Consider these options:

Hunt or fish? Know someone who does? Arrange in advance to receive part of the bounty.

Grow your own herbs, spices and vegetables.

Ask for donations.  I have a working relationship with Petit Jean Meats, and sometimes receive items through the company.  A single whole ham will provide enough breakfast meat for 100 people, so that’s what I usually ask for.  Riceland Rice will sometimes offer donation of its products, if you’re willing to drive to Stuttgart.

If you don’t have a lot of room for food storage, make a plan to pick up refrigeratables immediately before the event.  Dry goods such as rice, beans, noodles, etc. can be stored anywhere in your home that’s dry.

Step 3:  Service

We’ve fallen into a pattern with a goodly number of feasts these days – where the first course is bread, cheese and fruit; the second and third courses are meats, starches and vegetables; and the final course is dessert.  It can be pretty repetitive and expected.

But the way we serve feast was not the typical service for most cultures.  For instance, passed dishes and eating on banana leaves on the ground was common for central and southern India; a sideboard loaded with food where individuals picked up what they wanted was common in parts of norther Europe.  When you research a culture, pay attention not only to what was served, but how it was served.  Were there dishes that were made only from seasonal ingredients? Were those ingredients available at the same time of year for your feast?

Taking the effort to provide service in the style of the culture that begat the cuisine of your chosen theme can change a typical feast into an extraordinary feast.

One of the biggest hassle I see for new feast cooks is forgetting how a dish will be served.  I do end up in kitchens a lot, managing plating – because while there may be enough food planned to feed everyone, dividing and plating said dishes (especially when there’s limited space) can be challenging.

How food will be served at table is another important thing to consider.  A whole chicken for a table of eight sounds about right on the surface, but what if no one brought a knife to cut that chicken?  How will you account for preventing cross-contamination?  And can you manage for food allergies?

The preparation for serving your feast should be just as important as preparing the food itself. Create your game plan before you tackle your feast. Create lists of what you need to bring to site. Create a timetable to cook all items.  And then make sure you send out every dish.

Step 4:  Labor and Creation

There’s nothing sadder than watching a feast cook attempt to put together a big feast by themselves when they expected help.  Calling for volunteers from the populace can work, but it’s not something you should expect.  Things happen. There will be individuals who want to fight in that tourney or take that class or participate in that activity.

Just like if you were in a mundane kitchen, “hire” your staff.  Find competent individuals to surround you.  When I prepare for a feast, I contact different individuals to come help.  I have a baker, a butcher (or cutter), and a dishwasher at the ready – and I make sure they’re in the know about my plans.  Heaven forbid something happen to me, but between my feast recipes, my lists and the individuals on my team, I know the feast would go on even if I wasn’t there.

Having a team also makes other things simpler – such as making sure you have enough knives, bowls, and other kitchen equipment.  Sadly, few of our site kitchens come complete with all the things we need for our feasts (it’s always good to take a site tour if you’re using a new site, and to compare notes with people who have cooked in site kitchens we often use).  Team members also mean there’s someone available to make a last minute store run if you need it.

If you have the opportunity, choose your own hall steward and make sure that person is well informed of how you want to serve the feast as well as every dish.  This person is your direct communication between the populace and your kitchen (and yes, I have hall stewarded three of my feasts!).

The most important thing concerning your staff – they’re volunteers, they’re not being paid in money, so please pay them in appreciation.  BE KIND.  Be alert, have a game plan and be prepared to make adjustments if you need to.

HERE’S AN IMPORTANT NOTE!

So, you hate getting a cold cheeseburger at a drive-thru, right? Or if your ice cream is starting to melt. Or… let’s face it, while breads and crackers and hard cheeses aren’t hurt by a few minutes of sitting, most foods need to be served in a specific amount of time.

The SCA is well known for its very flexible schedules.  Add in a court or a ceremony and the sliding scale of time, and a feast might get started very, very late.  That’s not good eats.

Talk with your sovereign or baronage before an event and express your food concerns.  Many will work with you to ensure that proceedings have concluded before the scheduled point of your feast.  I’ve been very fortunate to have crowns (Her Majesty Ilissa the Nightwatcher way back in 2001 told a crowd court would end on time whether people liked it or not because she wanted some of my stuffed oysters!) and baronages work with me to make sure we weren’t eating at oh-dark-thirty.

On that same note, be prepared on time.  If this means you need to swap a course or dish out, that’s fine too. Just keep your hall steward in the know so they can share that information.

Step 5:  PROFIT!

Er, no, not monetary profit.  That’s not why we do SCA feasts.

In this case, I mean profit in the completion of a great feast.  There’s nothing quite like the feeling of having a whole room of satisfied diners after a feast, or hearing about your feast (in a good way) from someone who wasn’t there who heard about it from others.

If something goes wrong, keep going. If a dish doesn’t turn out, don’t be afraid to scrap it (NEVER served burned food, unless it’s crème Brule, because crème Brule is burned to start with).  Keep your cool.

And remember – you volunteered for this!

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Doughnut Bread Pudding for Breakfasts at Events.

I'm always looking for reasonably priced dishes that give a good bang for the buck for any SCA event.  I don't have a lot of requirements, just that whatever is made tastes great, feeds the masses and has at least some sort of bearing on SCA life.

Hence doughnut bread pudding.

Now. this may not make any sense at all to the layman.  How can something that's become a fad for up and coming chefs of the 21st century have any sort of historical roots in our Current Middle Ages? Stick with me for a moment.

To start off with, doughnuts themselves as we know them today aren't even close to period. There are archaeological digs in different Native American settlements where breadstuffs were made in rounds with holes in them, sure, but the first thing we can really start pointing to in the doughnut lineage happens to be olykoeks - "oily cakes," as they came to be known.  They were created by Dutch immigrants and first appeared on the streets of Manhattan around the turn into the 19th century. Culinary anthropologist Paul R. Mullins cites an 1803 English cookbook as the first of its kind to mention doughnuts (in an appendix of “American” recipes) in his book Glazed America: A History of the Doughnut.

But Mullins' own work gives rise to a dispute over the doughnut's true origin.  He cites a 1669 Dutch recipe for "olie-koecken" as a possible evolutionary link between pastries of the 17th century and the American favorite that would eventually give soldiers from the United States the name "doughboys" during World War I (thanks to American doughnut girls who delivered sweet morsels of relief).

Without dispute, some genius had the idea of taking bits of dough and frying them in hot oil and serving them up with sugar or a sugar glaze - and they took off like hotcakes - or doughnuts.  Most folks agree that the modern American doughnut started that way. But surely someone else made that connection beforehand.  After all, hot oil and pastry go ways back.

In fact, there are several distinctive fried dough products present throughout the Middle Ages in cultures spanning Europe and Asia.  The Germans were packing jam into pastry as early as the 15th century and calling it a Gefüllte Krapfen (renamed the Berliner a few centuries later), a filling of jam between two yeast rolls deep fried in lard that came to be known as the sufganiyah, as recorded in the Kuchenmeisterei (Mastery of the Kitchen) published in 1485. Mind you, this delicacy was more likely to be stuffed with fish or beef, but what the heck, it's close.

The Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook of the 13th Century gives us a number of fried pastries, including Shabât, a layered dough interspersed with butter and fried in duck fat.  You may now remove the drool from your keyboard.  I've had arguments with others over another dish from that very chapter, Sanbûsak, which is also a pastry fried in fat - but from what I understand, you roll the dough out very flat, put in a filling and then fry it, making it a closer approximation to today's fried pies. There goes the drool again.

Arab cooks would take bits of dough, fry them and then soak them in a sugar syrup. In the Kitabh al-Tabikh, one of two Arab cookbooks from the 8th-10th centuries, several recipes could be pointed at as predecessors to the doughnut.  For instance, there was zulaabiyyah, a fritter made by pouring batter into hot oil (Charles Perry has a lovely article on the book here).  From a second book with a very similar name, also known by Perry's title A Baghdad Cookery Book, we get Aqras Mukarrara with its discs of hot oil fried golden pastry (Check out this version in Fearless Kitchen).

Even the Romans had their own version - a sweetened sticky bun that was easy to carry.  These, when piled up at marriage festivities, would go on to become the pre-medieval predecessor to the modern wedding cake, and brides and grooms would be compelled to see if they could kiss over the tops of these tasty towers.  As in all things of that time, a taller tower meant more favorable fertility possibilities.

Still, even with this sort of documentation about the mighty doughnut, where does bread pudding come in?  That, my friends, can be traced back to the French, through the art of pain perdu, or lost bread.  Two breakfast-related culinary traditions come from this "lost bread."

In many places, the combination of stale bread, sour milk and old eggs resulted in a dish of what eventually came to be known as French toast.  In others, the three ingredients would be slopped together, mashed a bit, and thrown in a pan to slide into a cooling oven after the rest of the meal was cooked.  This combination was first recorded in the very first extant cookbook we know of today, that of the Roman dude Apicius, who recorded this recipe "Aliter dulcia" (another sweet): Break slice fine white bread, crust removed, into rather large pieces which soak in milk and beaten eggs fry in oil, cover with honey and serve. Sounds like French toast to me.

There are a lot of different versions that could be considered the forerunners of bread pudding. There's Om Ami, an Egyptian dish of phyllo dough, milk, eggs, honey and pistachios.  There's also Shahi tukra, a Mughlai dish (yes, relevant to my current interests) that translates as Royal Morsel and which contains bread fried in ghee then soaked in rosewater and cream.  A lack of perfected recipes in European menus, however, more indicates that the dish was lowly, an opportunity to utilize scraps or sops, and not until the emergence of English whitepot in the 17th century did the pudding start getting its just due.

When sugar was added, and when the mess was covered with rum sauce when pulled out and served, this became the bread pudding best known for its New Orleans connections. But sugar was not a necessary ingredient, and thrifty bakers using whatever was on-hand managed to scrape up savory bread puddings of ham, bacon, beef, cheese, vegetables or whatever was available to create hearty, gut-filling meals.

Bread pudding came to me twice in my life.  When I was a young girl, I watched a perfectly good loaf of white bread be ruined with a thorough soaking in milk at my paternal grandmother's home - an action that made me cringe knowing how lovely it would have been as a slice of French toast.  The milk emulsion with its few beaten eggs was rendered brown and speckledy with additions of cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla and brown sugar, and the slice of bread were allowed to dissolve helplessly before the smooth resultant batter was poured into a pan.  The resulting eggy bricks were heavy and sad, a homogenized sign of surrender that could not be resurrected by a sweet buttery icing (alcohol was frowned upon by that side of the family).

I couldn't bear the thought of bread pudding for years afterwards.  But in 2000, I traveled to New Orleans for a respite and made my first venture to the New Orleans School of Cooking.  There, Chef Michael and Big Kevin and Little Kevin all passed through that day while I learned many different dishes of the area, including bread pudding.

And I immediately got it - old eggs, stale bread and spoiled milk - and the magic they could render. So I took it home with me, and rendered bread pudding for breakfast that following February at Candlelight Camp.  My concoction, which included pineapple and cherries, was a hit, and from then on I tried to fit a bread pudding into any feasty thing I did -- from apple pie bread pudding at Fall Crown List 2002 to ham and cheese bread pudding at Barbearian Brawl in 2005 to black-and-white bread puddings at Barbearian Brawl 2013 and pineapple upside down bread puddings for Christmas 2015.

And along the way, I learned something else.  You could make a lot of bread pudding with any bread, but for sweet bread puddings, doughnuts were an awesome choice.  I made more of these over the years and shared the information with my friends.  Some of those friends are chefs.  I'm not saying I created the doughnut bread pudding craze, but I certainly fed it.

So doughnuts have been around for centuries, and lost bread for millenia.  Is it really so crazy to think that the two could have come together?

The short of it is, doughnut bread pudding is here to stay.  Every event where I'm responsible for breakfast, it comes out.  Every event that happens at, I have to explain it.  So yeah, there are some historical components.  But it's more to take advantage of cheap ingredients - even cheaper when you learn that my local Kroger bakery gal just gives me a box when she sees me coming and lets me fill it with as many day-olds as I can shove in.  Yeah, always get to be friends with the folks at your local grocery store.

For those who have asked, here's a quick version of the recipe, scaled down to family sized. Remember, you do not have to be exact. And it does not matter if your doughnuts are glazed, cake, old-fashioned or even filled - they'll work.

Doughnut Bread Pudding
1 dozen doughnuts (stale is better)
1 pint milk (or 1 1/2 cup heavy cream, 3 personal containers of yogurt or similar dairy equivalent)
3 eggs
1/2 cup sugar

Tear doughnuts into pieces.  In a measuring pitcher, beat eggs and mix in dairy component and sugar. Place doughnut pieces into greased 13x9 pan, pour egg mixture over and mush lightly with fingers. Bake at 350 degrees for 40 minutes or until knife inserted in center comes out clean.

Variations:
Chocolate raspberry - Make recipe with chocolate glazed and raspberry filled doughnuts.
Pineapple upside down - In Bundt pan, arrange one can's worth of pineapple rings.  Place maraschino cherries inside the rings.  Replace half of milk with reserve pineapple liquid.
Apple pie - In Bundt can, arrange half of bread-egg mixture.  Spoon in one can of apple pie filling. Add in the rest of the bread-egg mixture.  Note - knife will not come out of pudding clean.
Croque Monsier - Add 1 teaspoon black pepper, 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, six ounces Gruyere and six ounces Parmesan to the mixture.  Put down half the mixture into the pan, top with thin sliced ham, add the rest.  Bake.  Serve with mustard or jam.