Article for the Sylvan Signet - Rabbit Holes.

This is an article I wrote for the December 2024 issue of the Sylvan Signet.

Rabbit Holes and the Places You'll Go

by Caleb Reynolds

Hello, my friends. I was asked to write a brief article about my area of research expertise: Googly eyes and puns. No, my actual area of *research* expertise is of rabbit holes. Not literal rabbit holes, but literary rabbit holes. Or, more precisely, research rabbit holes. To anyone who has spent an hour or more clicking on links on WikiPedia, this sounds like a bad idea. One can easily spend too much time chasing down errant facts and not enough time writing about whatever it was that you were trying to present. Certainly, if you are writing a short article about the Varangian Guard and you suddenly get sidetracked by quadriga racing in Constantinople's Hippodrome, which then leads you to colorful, fan rivalry, which then leads you to the Nika Riots, which then leads you to nail-studded curse tablets, which leads you to Attila the Hun, which leads you to how a nomadic people conducted siege warfare, which leads you to how extreme climate change decimated the Huns, which leads.... Wait. What was I talking about?

Oh, yes; rabbit holes. This is an article about rabbit holes.

Rabbit holes are a good way to find topics to further research and then, with hope, write about. Every newsletter can use content. As can the AE Gazette and this very A&S newsletter. Remember, the SCA is at its heart a educational organization; we need to be doing research, writing, and teaching. So, being able to find topics to write on is a good thing. Consider, also, that not every A&S competition requires a physical item. Research papers are welcome: I entered a Kingdom A&S Championship with a brief paper about Piers Galveston. Having a list of topics, and notes with links to resources, can be beneficial for the researcher/writer. Examine my example, above. I have pointed out several areas of research that are up for grabs by anyone who might be looking for a blog post, or something interesting to publish in a local newsletter. One can confine one's research to just the Varangian Guard; a brief history of who they were, how they interacted with Byzantine royalty, how they brought back their pay (and booty) to Scandinavia. Or about how they made contacts with merchants in and around Constantinople that benefited themselves and their families for years. Or how Scandinavians got to and from Bosphorus Strait and how mail was sent back and forth.

Or, one can research quadriga racing, perhaps looking only at the chariots and harnesses that were used, compared to the horsey hardware used by other people, particularly on the battlefield. Perhaps focusing on the rules of the race and the rewards for winners. Were the chariot races in the various versions of "Ben-Hur" accurate, or fantasy? Or, why chariots kinda disappeared. Or if biga and triga racing were as popular as the quadriga. And, if you don't want to get into the weeds with ancient Formula 1 racing (or would that be the equivalent to NASCAR, since the horses were stock?), you can always restrict yourself to the rowdy fans and how they wore team colors, much like modern American football fans (or, if you are in Europe, football fans), and how the colors were highjacked by political factions in the city. This would, of course lead you to the Nika Riots, where upwards of 30,000 people were killed over the course of a week. A bit of a downer, but you might try to end your article on an up note and talk about how the various factions competed with one another to rebuild the city walls prior to the arrival of Attila the Hun.

Recently, "Ancient Warfare" magazine had a nice article about the siege engines Attila used. However, the article was far to short for me, and didn't explain how a fully light cavalry army could haul around siege equipment big enough to attack massive stone and brick walls. This would lead, naturally, to why Attila preferred "shock and awe" to bully towns and cities to surrender rather than spend the time and resources on a siege. This could also tie in with siege technique difference between the Huns and the Roman Empire, and then with later European armies. And since horsey cavalry requires grass for their four-footed companions, talking about how a years-long drought killed off vast areas of grass, making it next to impossible for an light cavalry army, which moved only with what could be carried in a saddlebag, to cross a wide empire of what turned into scrubland, fit only for sheep and goats. One could also compare and contrast the Hunnic and Mongolian empires. Or even the legends of Attila's final resting spot.

Every rabbit hole can be used a jumping off point for research. If you are looking for an area to research, start reading and when you hit a "Huh? I wonder why that was?" moment, you can stop and try to find an answer. Reading about castle construction might spark some questions about how stones and timber were lifted up to the tops of the walls and towers. You might ask how the same hardware was used to quickly raise and lower items. This might lead you to reading up on Brunelleschi's reversible, multi-gear hoist, which might make you ask "Why in the hell is this attributed to Leonardo diVinci when we have full documentation that Brunelleschi designed and built it?" Did he lick the crane? Is that why people say that he invented it? <bad Italian impersonation>Si, si. I-a licked it, so it'sa mine.<\bad Italian impersonation>

Attributing everything under the sun to Leonardo di Vinci is on my list of future articles. Spoilers: Leonardo wasn't the only clever person in the Renaissance.

Reading about medieval cathedrals you have so many jumping off points leading to smaller rabbit holes: labyrinths; pay structure of the workers; grotesques and gargoyles; stained glass windows; flying buttresses. You want a rabbit hole to deep dive into? Look up the iron chain of Amiens Cathedral.

Another nice thing about chasing down rabbit holes is that the knowledge you gain can help fill in the gaps of the mental pattern you have of a given time and place. Running down the rabbit of medieval builders' pay scales will give you greater insight into the value of goods and services sold. So, in 1600 London, a basic, unskilled laborer might earn around 60 shillings over the course of the year. 60 shillings is 720 pence or around 2 pennies per day. What does this actually mean? Two pennies a day sounds horrible to us, but how bad was it in 1600? Well, the price of a gallon of the best beer was set at 3.5 pence. So, an unskilled laborer would have to work a day and half for a gallon of the best beer. A gallon of decent ale could be had for a half-penny, Two dozen eggs for a penny. A pound of cheese for a half-penny. A pound loaf of bread from a half a penny to a penny and a half, depending on the quality. A cheap room could cost as little as 4 pennies a week. So, our unskilled laborer, making 12 pennies a week (Sunday's were spent in church and on the archery range, could afford their rent and basic food, with enough left over for clothes, shoes, the occasional tavern or street meal, as well as tithes for the church collection plate. With this information always at your mental fingertips, you will be able to better express the true value of spices based on what some guy was paid to lift and carry heavy loads. In perspective, a pound of nutmeg sold in London for 720 and 800 pennies per pound (weight), wholesale. A single nutmeg sold on the streets of London, retail, for 25 to 30 pennies, which would be 2+ weeks wages for our dude. For one nutmeg. Which is about 2 tablespoons of ground nutmeg. An outrageous expense for most of London's workers, but an affordable luxury for those a little higher up on the food chain: A little freshly ground nutmeg goes a long way. This information can influence our cooking and brewing projects: how much nutmeg to use would depend on who is making the thing. The middle-classes might use a tiny bit of nutmeg, while the upper-classes might use enough to make a Starbuck's employee say, "Whoa, ease up on the nutmeg, it doesn't grow on trees."

Running down rabbit holes allows us to build up our knowledge base and will help us in future writing. A deep dive into wages and monetary exchange rates throughout time means that we will have, at out fingertips, information that we can plop into any paper we choose to write. My research into the rabbit hole of cane sugar makes its way into any paper I write that touches on sugar. I can just copy and paste whet I've already written and not have to worry about starting from scratch every time I start a project about cookies or cakes. The same with distillation, or saffron, or spices, or any number of subjects. Once you've mapped out that rabbit hole, you can use that information on any number of other projects. It's the gift that keeps on giving. And the added information can help round out a research paper by helping you put things into perspective, or by engaging with the reader to keep them hooked. A paragraph that I use in pretty much every paper I write involving cordials is as follows (minus the footnotes):

"Sir Hugh Plat’s recipe “How to make the ordinarie spirit of wine, that is solde for five shillings & a noble, a pinte” shows how costly these beverages were. A noble was the first gold coin minted in Medieval England and was worth 80 pence. Or 6 shillings and 8 pence. So, Plat’s cordial could be sold for 11 shillings and 8 pence per pint. According to MeasuringWorth.com, this would be worth between $142 and $2400 in 2018 dollars, depending on the method of calculation. Cordials were not cheap. In London, in 1609, the year Plat published this particular recipe book, a barrel of the best ale was sold for 3 shillings and 8 pence, and a barrel of the best beer was sold for 4 shillings. This works out to 3 to 3.5 pennies per gallon. Cordials were too expensive to be consumed as a social beverage."

Running down the rabbit hole of comparative value pays off over and over again.

Rabbit holes also help us understand the broader picture of our projects. Going down the rabbit hole of felt production might help someone explain the difference between a cheap hat worn by commoners and a luxury hat worn by the hoi polloi. (BTW, why "hoi polloi" refers to both to the general population and to the elite is a fun rabbit hole to visit.) The rabbit hole of English saffron farming can explain why saffron could be found in so many English dishes up until the 18th Century, where it disappeared from all but the highest of tables. Asking if Robin Hood was a real person might lead to you falling down a rabbit hole of how the Victorians rewrote history to suit their own narrative. Try to find out who invented pretzels and you'll end up tripping over multiple rabbit holes involving drunken New Yorkers, Popeye the Sailor, Captain Kangaroo, Otto the Gorilla, Dutch renaissance painters, medieval knots, and if capybaras are kosher for Lent (as well as being able to annoy all of your friends for years to come). Try to figure out how much spice to add to a cordial and you'll trip over a rabbit hole of apothecary weights and measurements. Be careful when researching Anglo-Saxon kings or you might fall into the rabbit hole of King Arthur and his super powered knights of the round table (King Arthur was like Professor X in the earliest stories). Or you might trip over the hole looking for the Jutes: what happened to the Jutes? They came over to England at the same time as the Anglos and the Saxons? Why aren't they mentioned? Why is it the Anglo-Saxon time period and not the Jute-Saxon?

The rabbit hole of Spanish unification can explain why Henry VIII couldn't get an annulment. The rabbit hole of manorial rights can help explain why there were so many rebellions against land owners. Start poking about in French water mills and you'll get caught up in the medieval stock market and the dam wars. I audited a class about the American Civil War in college and the professor was talking about the unusual troop movements of one particular Confederate company.  He told us that no one could figure out what that company was doing; they weren't chasing a Union company; they weren't coordinating with other companies; and they were going anywhere that made any military sense. The professor spent years trying to figure out what this company was doing based only on the reports of other companies, since the colonel in charge of this one left no written records. Years of research culminated in taking him a break to write about the history of bourbon whiskey. He discovered that that company was marching from one distillery to another and drinking them dry. The map of troop movement lined up perfectly with where the distilleries were. He said, the professor, that he never would have figured it out unless he actually went to visit the old distilleries and read the diaries of the people who owned those distilleries. 

Chasing down too many rabbit holes can overwhelm just about everyone, so some discipline is required. Focused rabbit holes during the research portion of your project is acceptable and can help round out your paper. Some discipline is required, however. I have spent far too much time chasing down rabbit holes instead of concentrating on what my project was about. For some documentation on red wine, I wrote years ago, I spent a week running down a rabbit hole about how Venice would bribe, threaten, and even kidnap glass blowers from Constantinople [1] to ensure that Venetian glass was the best in Europe. All I really needed was a couple of references supporting my assertion that wine was bottled and shipped in glass during the middle ages, but the human trafficking of skilled workers was a siren song I could not resist. Still no research is truly wasted, but, you can spend too much time researching interesting facts that are irrelevant to your paper.

You have to set limits so that you can write. You can limit yourself to what famous Laurels call "Three Degrees of Kevin Bacon"[2] which means you limit yourself to three separations from your primary subject matter and what you are poking about researching. If you are researching invisible ink, a mention, or a footnote, about how Mary, Queen of Scots, used invisible ink to correspond with her supporters in France is fine; one doesn't need to fully research Francis Walsingham's spy network if all you need for your paper is that Mary and her confederates used alum to write their secret messages. Documentation about re-creating a particular Flemish dress only needs a paragraph or two about what fabric might have been used and where it came from; one doesn't have to research how Cistercian monasteries adopted two different sheep breeding programs to to produce fleece of different qualities and features. Documenting a period bread recipe doesn't need 30 pages on the evolution of bread ovens: the history of bread ovens can be its own paper. Limiting yourself to only the type of bread oven that would have been available when your recipe was written is better for your paper, but you don't need to go into detail on how much each brick cost and where they were shipped from. A project about a 14th Century ale recipe doesn't require you to document 4000 year old Sumerian beer. But, in case you have the need, here is me breaking my own rule:

Borne of the flowing water,
Tenderly cared for by the Ninhursag,
Borne of the flowing water,
Tenderly cared for by the Ninhursag,

Having founded your town by the sacred lake,
She finished its great walls for you,
Ninkasi, having founded your town by the sacred lake,
She finished its walls for you,

Your father is Enki, Lord Nidimmud,
Your mother is Ninti, the queen of the sacred lake.
Ninkasi, your father is Enki, Lord Nidimmud,
Your mother is Ninti, the queen of the sacred lake.

You are the one who handles the dough [and] with a big shovel,
Mixing in a pit, the bappir with sweet aromatics,
Ninkasi, you are the one who handles the dough [and] with a big shovel,
Mixing in a pit, the bappir with [date] - honey,

You are the one who bakes the bappir in the big oven,
Puts in order the piles of hulled grains,
Ninkasi, you are the one who bakes the bappir in the big oven,
Puts in order the piles of hulled grains,

You are the one who waters the malt set on the ground,
The noble dogs keep away even the potentates,
Ninkasi, you are the one who waters the malt set on the ground,
The noble dogs keep away even the potentates,

You are the one who soaks the malt in a jar,
The waves rise, the waves fall.
Ninkasi, you are the one who soaks the malt in a jar,
The waves rise, the waves fall.

You are the one who spreads the cooked mash on large reed mats,
Coolness overcomes,
Ninkasi, you are the one who spreads the cooked mash on large reed mats,
Coolness overcomes,

You are the one who holds with both hands the great sweet wort,
Brewing [it] with honey [and] wine
(You the sweet wort to the vessel)
Ninkasi, (...)(You the sweet wort to the vessel)

The filtering vat, which makes a pleasant sound,
You place appropriately on a large collector vat.
Ninkasi, the filtering vat, which makes a pleasant sound,
You place appropriately on a large collector vat.

When you pour out the filtered beer of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of Tigris and Euphrates.
Ninkasi, you are the one who pours out the filtered beer of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of Tigris and Euphrates.
- "Hymn to Ninkasi" translation by Miguel Civil

See how easy it is to chase down the rabbit hole? All I needed was a general date of how old the oldest beer recipe was and I spent a good 20 minutes trying to chase down a good translation of the recipe. Definitely more than three steps away from Kevin Bacon and 20 minutes I could have spent doing anything else more productive. However, now that I have this recipe, I can use it like color commentary in future brewing projects, if I want to show that beer has been around for a long, long time. However, if I'm going to make a 14th Century German beer, the recipe for a 19th Century BCE Sumerian beer isn't going to help me at all: the methods are really not interchangeable.

You can also use the "Get What You Need and Get Back to Work" method, which is pretty self explanatory. If you need one particular piece of information, look for that information and stop. I don't need to research the hunting of Greenland walrus tusks if all I need is an example or two of how valuable they were. (More than their actual weight in pure silver, which could be up to 12 pounds each, at least while access to elephant ivory was cut off; but that's a different rabbit hole). If I am planning on reproducing a 15th Century Italian omelet, I might want to do some research on what size frying pans were available. This would help me figure out how thick or thin my omelet should be. Time spent looking at 15th century spatulas would also help me in my method. Time spent running down the rabbit hole of Italian harlots and ruffians can better be spent elsewhere.[3] Research for the sake of research is fine and dandy, but if it interferes with your primary goal, documentation for an A&S project, an article for a newsletter, then you have to put your foot down and focus on finishing your paper with only the information directly related to it. I don't need to know every step involved in making vellum if I am documenting a scroll. It's a disgusting process and many thanks to the people who get their hands dirty, but it's irreverent compared to what type of paint I used and where I got the image from.

Rabbit holes can be used for an entire article of useless, yet interesting, facts. Heck, my "Ask Another Laurel" articles are nothing but rabbit holes. Sometimes, you can just riff on an idea and do stream of consciousness research and writing. If anyone wants to write their own rabbit-hole articles about the topics that keep them awake at night, there is plenty of room in the blog-o-verse. For my fancy, fabric fabricating friends, go down the rabbit hole of cloth-of-gold and see where it takes you. For my creative, culinary, chefy companions, go down the rabbit hole of how much kitchen staff were paid and what benefits and perks they got. Let me know what you find. For my pretty, professional pigment partners, go down the rabbit hole of how dye makers often lived outside of normal society because of the smells they generated and how most people don't want to be around people who are perpetually blue or green. Tell me of the neat facts you discovered. Surprise me with answers to questions I didn't know I needed to ask. Inspire me to look more into what inspired you.

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go...”
― Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You’ll Go!

[1] Istanbul was Constantinople. Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople.

[2] No Laurel other than Caleb has ever said this and there is a limit as to what the word "famous" can stretched to.

[3] Since you asked nicely: Recipe #122: Orange Omelette for Harlots and Ruffians from “Le ‘Registre de Cuisine’ de Jean de Bockenheim”, originally published in “Le Moyen Age à table” by Bruno Laurioux, Paris, Adam Biro, 1989.

Sic fac fritatem de pomeranciis: Recipe ova percussa, cum pomeranciis ad libitum tuum, et extrahe inde sucum, et mitte ad illa ova cum zucaro; post recipe oleum olive, bel segimine, et faac califieri in patella, et mitte illa ova intus. Et erit pro ruffianis et leccatricibus.

Translation:

How to make an orange omelette: Take eggs and break them, with oranges, as many as you like; squeeze their juice and add to it the eggs with sugar; then take olive oil or fat, and heat it in the pan and add the eggs. This was for ruffians and brazen harlots.

Ingredients for one omelet or frittata:

2 large chicken eggs

4 tablespoons of 100% orange juice.

1 teaspoon of organic, unbleached sugar

small pinch of salt.

2 tablespoons of vegetable oil.

Method:

Add the oil to a small pan and bring up to medium-high heat. Crack the two eggs into a cup and add the orange juice, sugar and salt. Whisk well. When the oil starts to shimmer, pour the egg mixture into the hot oil and cook until the bottom sets. Flip to cook the top side. Remove from the heat once both sides have cooked to a light brown. This is actually a frittata, rather than an omelet, but you could fold the eggs over and let the center cook by residual heat. The sugar and acid will keep the eggs from setting fully, so be careful when flipping or folding. My first two attempts didn't turn out pretty. The omelet or frittata will have a light and airy texture and have a faint hint of sweet oranges. Now, why it's recommended for ruffians and harlots, well, that's a different article.

[4] I spent three days researching this recipe and taste testing it. Three days. Three days in the middle of writing the paragraph about how not to get distra..... SQUIRREL!

[5] And now I've become one of those people who has made their readers slog through 3000 words before getting to the recipe.

[6] No. No I didn't explain "nail-studded curse tablets". I can't do everything around here.

Figure 1: found on the web

Figure 2: Partial image from Ancient Warfare magazine, Vol XVII, Issue 3, page 30. Attributed to Andrey Fetisov

Figure 3: By Caleb Reynolds