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.

Tuesday, October 31, 2017

An Entire Outfit for a Mughal Lady, Constructed.


For weeks, my partner Grav Weldon (known in the Society as Jali Bukha) and I have been working to assemble a complete Mughal outfit based on the different pieces I've documented through the examination of the existing illuminations of the time.

The image on the left is the one I've been attempting to completely reconstruct. The right is the finished product... almost. The final piece is the sash/belt, seen in white. I'm replicating mine in yellow gold. It's finished but not photographed.

Here are the pieces that influenced my choices:


Hat shape, fall of outer veil, long sleeves under shorter sleeves, floor length dress. This piece painted in the last 20 years of the 16th century depicts a scene from 1507. It appears in the Baburnama, a collection of illuminations on the life of the first Mughal emperor, Babur.  Reference link.


Shape of hat, patterned fabric, plume, underveils. This illumination by the artist Bishinadas is reportedly of the birth of Jahangir, the fourth Mughal emperor who ruled in the 17th century. This piece represents those in attendence at the birth in August 1580. Reference link.


From the same source, variations in hats, hat shape, how the hat lays on the head, underveil.


Same piece, shape of hat, underveil, placement of hat.


Makeup, hat patterning, same piece (read more about what I found in this piece here).


Hat, veil, underdress and overdress are seen here in this sketch depicting Shirin entertaining Khusraw in a garden pavilion was reportedly commissioned by Akbar in 1595. This woman appears at the bottom right corner. Reference link.


Coat over deel or dress, hat, bandolier-style jewelry across chest, veils - the lady in green and yellow is Khanzada Begun, older sister of Babur. On the far left, a woman wears a coat over a deel, a hat with veil and a scarf. Reference link.


Amidst dancers in short sleeve, short hemmed dresses with pants, a Mughal woman looks on the scene  The captured dancers behind her are being presented for Emperor Akbar, the third of the Mughal line. She may be Mariam Uz-Zumani in an early illumination representation. Later representations of the first wife of Akbar show her in far more modern dress, usually in a different hat or decked in Hindi wear such as choli, veil and skirts. Note the overlength sleeves for the underdress, seen whole this time. Reference link.


While the majority of the illumination this detail is taken from concerns an attack on the life of Akbar in 1564, there is no determination of what's going on in its upper left quadrant. The seated lady, once again believed to be Mariam Um-Zamani, show a shorter hat and another overlength sleeve dress - but on the seated figure's left side, the sleeve is pulled back. Reference link.


Bandolier-style jewelry "chestlaces," layered clothing with sleeves of differing length, plumes, hat shape, scarf. Dancers celebrating the marriage of Akbar's foster mother, Maham Anaga from the Akbarnama. Reference link.


Hat shape, underveil, overveil, pants (see leggings) and proof a Mughal woman can sit in a chair. From Bishandas' Birth of a Prince. Reference link.


Hat, veils, coat, caftan, scarf/belt, plume. This dancing woman and her friend all have it going on. The image is actually from Birth of a Royal Infant. Here's my take on the entire piece, which includes women from all walks of life in the harem. Reference link.


The inspiration for making the hat came from an illustration in the Chingiznama, the book of illuminations commissioned by Akbar to document the life of his ancestor Genghis Khan. The image in question is held by the Smithsonian as part of its Mughal period art collection and is found here. Amongst the women in the image, you'll see hat-wearers and one woman whose hat is, literally, a basket.

It all brings me back to the original image.


It is a piece in the Read Mughal Album, held by the Morgan Library and Museum in New York, entitled Babur Seeks Advice From His Grandmother (link to full illumination here). The singular image of Babur, the first Mughal emperor, consulting with Aisan Daulet Begun, a granddaughter of Genghis Khan and a right advisor in Baburian times, inspired me to seek out Mughal costume, culture and more.

So, let's begin.


 That's me and all the pieces I will wear in this demonstration. 


Each layer has its purpose. The idea of wearing all the fabric isn't just a sign of excess. Higher elevations in some areas conquered by the Mughals resulted in some pretty cold temperatures from time to time. You'll notice in the details of illuminations above those long completely body covering layers.


First, the undershift. While later references talk about a bra band, those bands were in direct relation to choli-and-petticoat fashion. Also here, pants obtained mundanely. The shift was pennies at the Goodwill by-the-pound, and the pants were $2 at Walmart.


Caftan or underdress, based on the Baburian example and such. The sleeves protrude four to six inches beyond the cut of my knuckles. While determining much about the sleeve other than the length is difficult, I've gone with the Persian adaptation of slit sleeves. After all, unlike Mughal princesses, I don't have a personal attendant to dress me. The caftan was constructed from a cotton duvet cover obtained from the local Goodwill-by-the-pound. It took me a couple of hours to construct.

I am planning to add a front slit of about four inches - this chokes me a bit, and I see plenty of the slits in the illuminations.


The deel, another layer which brings forward the idea of the Mongolian deel. Unlike those, this one has the long slit sleeves of later styles. It was constructed from a single king sized sheet obtained at the local Goodwill-by-the-pound by Jali Bukha, adapted from a pattern he has developed in constructing Mughal and Mongol deels.


The lined coat took the most time to construct. Between the layout, cutting, sewing and lining, it took Jali about 50 hours to carefully piece this out and put it together. It's constructed from a saree I purchased about a decade ago at an Indian store in Vermont.The original saree had a few tears (I got two for $35) but he was able to work around that. The photo does not do this piece justice.


The boqta hat is a design I've been refining over the past two years. I've compared what I've been doing to the original illustrations and cross-referencing the idea with extant examples in other time periods and cultures, refining by how it actually fits on the head. Since most of the illuminations show hair below the hat, without a turban, this is the first of the hats I created with an extra layer. The base is a woven basket (flower pot) with the plastic interior removed, covered with a layer of felt sewn on tightly and over the bottom edge into the hat, then a remnant of the saree carefully placed, tacked and blind stitched.  The feathers are a plume I constricted with a base of two peacock feathers, fluffed out with feathers from an old blown out ostrich feather furniture duster, enhanced with a few white and pink craft feathers, tied together with embroidery floss and glued together with Elmer's School Glue, wound with nickel wire onto a large safety pin. The tikka is actually a Turkish earring, and the GOA band and copper and nickle panther pin were objects I already owned.


I did my best to match the pattern. Under the top of the hat, there's an additional double layer of felt, which should help with pinning veils onto the hat.


This is the underveil attached to the hat. To fit it, I place the very center of the veil under my chin and pull the veil tight before pinning it.


The gray scarf was discovered and picked up at Goodwill-by-the-pound ,while the bilous overveil came from my old collection, a dupatta or dance veil previously from my daughter's stock.


While it's hard to see on the full shots, there are four silver chains as part of the get-up. I've included some pendants that are either from an award I have received or a badge there-of.

Now let's put it all together.


To start, I changed out my makeup. Mughal women tended to have lips and teeth of red, thanks to the popularity of chewing the betel leaf. I'm not that dedicated, so this is just lipstick close to the color. I also tried a press-on jewel for a bindi - but removed it after this attempt. The tikka on the hat makes a bindi superfluous, and considering how easy it would be to add a dot to any illumination, I'm not certain the bindi is period for the Mughals.


Underlayer on. During summer months I won't wear the shift. I live in Arkansas. It's hot here. The shift is the layer that would traditionally be washed so the rest of the outfit did not need it. However, since I have gone with a plain underdress that can easily be washed, I'm not so concerned about it. For this demonstration, though, it's necessary.

Most people will never see the pants, but I do plan to learn how to make more appropriate pants in the future. The pumpkin pants and baggier pantaloons of my Elizabethan-wearing days just won't work here.


The undercaftan with its long over-the-finger sleeves. In period this would have been made from several sections of fabric but here I've simplified it and cut the entire thing out of a duvet cover. Future effort will include a center seam and separate fully lined sleeves.


As you can see here, I've created this undercaftan with slit sleeves. I'm not certain that's what I saw in the 1564 image above, but I do see a hand outside the sleeves, and with those lengths I suspect a slit had to be in place.


Over this goes the del or jama layer. This version is augmented from Jali's Mongolian del pattern (which you can find here) with the addition of slit sleeves lined to the elbows. From the illuminations, it appears it would be just fine to wear this garment open by itself over the undercaftan, but we're going for full-on court garb here.


When the del is tied (two tie closures along each side) it gives this nice shape to the ensemble. Because of the pattern, it's difficult to see the criss-cross at the top, but it's there.


The short sleeved coat cut from the antique saree and a gifted piece of black silk for the lining, over the del and caftan. This is heavier than it looks, thanks to the silver in the cloth. At this point, I have four layers of fabric on my backside and five on the front (due to the overlap of the del). It was 84 degrees outside. The heat was already starting to build up.


Up to this point, everything is on the body. Now it's time to put on the hat.


To get the right fit on the veils, I put on the hat, center the underveil, bring its edges up to the top of the hat, take off the whole thing and pin the underveil in place. The overveil is pinned directly behind the plume.


The entire outfit assembled. I don't have other images outside from the first assemblage because of what you cannot see here - which are the black ants that are quickly biting the hell out of me.


Back inside, we try for the pose in the Baburnama. It's close.


The completed project... almost. There's also a scarf belt - I wore it appropriately at the first event I went to, but have tied it since. It's a hassle and I'm not certain how it was pinned.


As you can see here, the tikka completely covers where the bindi would go.

Grav's artsy shot.


The finish project at Ork Wars.


The 180 inch pure silk belt was hand dyed with turmeric-colored dye - one packet of Rit Golden Yellow and one cup of sushi vinegar. You may notice the blue at the sleeves - that's an indigo dyed caftan under everything. It was very cold.


Harder to see are the four chains under the coat that carry pendants and badges of awards.


The view from the back. I've been thinking the veil would be rectangular since looms were only so wide, but I may eventually pick up a half-circle of silk to play with.


More adjustments with the makeup, too - with black eyeliner a little more prevalent and a press-on jewel at the corner of the eyes. The red still doesn't seem betel-reddish enough, but I can work with it. It's going to be interesting finding the right shade, since I have bluish tones to my pink which is pretty contrary to the golds and white in skin tone shown in most of the Baburnian illuminations.

This is a continuing project for me. I've come a long way since my first attempts in January 2016. The hats have come along nicely and Jali's construction of the coats and dels has been finessed to a pretty good point. The goal now is to create a balanced yet varied selection of separates for wearing at longer events - and to work on plumes. Here are a few recent combinations of separates I've assembled to wear at events from what we've already created.


Margurite Stewart took this one at Diamond Wars. Please don't mind the shoes - I realized soon into the event that the sheer sope of site meant I'd be walking a lot, so I'm in sneakers (heavens!). The layers include pants, a mauve long sleeve (but not overlong) undercaftan created from a duvet cover, a short sleeve del from a sheet (that's the green patterned thing you see), the "peacock coat" that was the first piece of Mughal garb Jali made for me, which is lined in gray cotton, and a hat made from the same material. This was the first outing for the second plume I made. To replicate the bright colors the Mughals loved, I paired it all with a somewhat matching teal underveil and a contrasting magenta dupatta. The gold lantern isn't just for light - it's also a place to stash my keys and phone!


This image is from April Edwards and is me and my daughter. She's wearing more reclaimed garb - a really pretty sleeveless Indian dress over a long sleeve cotton wool underdress. I'm wearing the same del and peacock coat but with a patterned overlong sleeve undercaftan from yet another duvet cover, and I matched in an olive green underveil and teal and rust colored dupatta to boot.


Another image from April Edwards showing how the del crosses in the front, along with the drape of the veils and the lining of the hat. This hat is about a year old now and I've learned to give more of the exterior fabric a lip inside the basket to make this work better.


One more - this one from Ork Wars. It was very cold, so I'm wearing several layers here - shift, undercaftan of a heavy cotton-wool that Jac Hatun dyed with indigo, then the del that goes with the outfit featured above (you can barely see the edges), a purple linen del and a blue unlined coat. The matching hat is made with an outer layer made from a scrap of the same purple linen, enhanced with a strip of blue jeweled kundan (Indian wedding jewelry) and a blue and purple plume I made on-site. The underveil is a soft cotton rayon scarf that I plan to hand-hem soon, and the overveil is a rather garish dark fuschia with sequins of flowers and leaves. 

My research continues, but for now I finally feel like I've gotten to a good point where I can share these images and help others who want to create this early Mughal look do so. Please feel free to send along any questions you may have.

***

ADDITIONAL:

I was asked to show a price breakdown on the ensemble. Here it is.

One old silk and silver saree = purchased about ten years ago, two for $30 = $15
A couple of yards of black silk = gifted
One sheet and one duvet cover, $1.38 by the pound at Goodwill Outlet = ~ $5
One used ostritch feather duster = 25 cents
Various commercial feathers = around 50 cents at thrift store
Two peacock feathers = free from friend who raises peacocks
Embroidery floss = 49 cents
Elmer's School Glue = 50 cents
Wire and pin from my jewelry-making kit = ~$1
Panther pin and GOA band = previously owned
Silver design earring (half of set) = 50 cents
Scarves from by-the-pound at $1.39 a pound = 50 cents
Slippers from Goodwill = $2
Basket for hat = 25 cents
Felt for underparts of hat = 50 cents
Thread from sewing kit
Two lengths of silver chain from spool obtained from Michael's, 1/2 off coupon on $6 = $3
Existing jewelry
Bindi created from adhesive paste jewel sheet = 25 cents (I decided this wasn't necessary between the outdoor and indoor shots)
Makeup from mundane kit

Entire outfit (sans underthings) ~ $30

Hours on the coat (because of the fabric) ~ 30 hours (including plotting the cut of the saree, mock-up, second mock-up with adjustments, lining with silk, seamripping mistakes)
Deel - 5 hours
Hat with plume 9 hours
Jewelry 2 hours

UPDATE: I figured I'd show some of my more recent outfits.


Gulf Wars 2017. The cold war. While most of my friends were shivering, I was perfectly happy... in my eight layers of garb - mundane undies and leggings, shift, indigo-dyed caftain, raw silk deel, double layer brown and gold Mughal deel, double layer mughal coat. Warm up top, too - three layer felted hat, cotton hijab, veil and a pashmina pinned on top. 


Same coat, double-lined deel and parasol, but a different hat and veils and an oversleeve caftain underneeth. This was Beltaine 2018.


I love how Mughal garb looks from the back, the way everything hangs is lovely. This is my favorite combination, a matching red and gold Mughal coat and hat, black deel and caftain. The underdress here is a lightweight white caftain. I also had an ice pack in my hat - it was in the upper 80s. This was Fall Coronation 2018. I was announced that night. 


Same coat, hat, veil and deel - but this time, it's around 40 degrees, so it's matched up with an oversleeve caftain and a leopard print bunny muff. I also had a second caftan under this all. As I've said, Mughal wear is awesome in the cold and adaptable in the heat.


Gulf Wars 2019. A bit of a departure from period - you don't see much dual color Mughal depictions for women - there are always different colored coats and deels and accessories. Since there were no women heralds in Mughal times and places, this was my go-to heralding set, with an oversleeve red caftain under a black deel, with matching black hat and red veils and so many pearls..


My vigil garb, made by my partner Baron Jali,except the hat, caftan and of course my protege sash. The coat is made from two silk sarees - one outside and one in. The deel is linen, the oversleeve dress is blue cotton, and you can see my hijab hood and separate hijab veil under as well as two layers of overveils.

This is from my elevation at Newbie Collegium in March 2019. My partner made the coat once again from two veils - one under and one over - completely pieces symmetrically. He also block printed the blue cotton deel with panthers and double headed eagles, both from the same Yuan dynasty cloth. Countess Falada embroidered my pelicans onto my coat. They're birds sitting in lotus flowers.This was right after the coat went on and before I was given the medallion. 


And this is us today. Baron Jali was announced to the Laurel in December 2019, but his elevation was postponed when Gulf Wars was cancelled. Here we are in matching blue and gold Tibetan patterned outfits - I have two veils, a Mughal coat, a pink deel of the same pattern, and a blue oversleeve caftan.

We don't know how long it'll be before we get to SCA again, but here's hoping it's soon.