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Sikanjabîn
Sikanjabîn; “medieval gatorade.” It is the quintessential, non-alcoholic, period beverage of the SCA but most SCAdians use a modern recipe when making it. And, I will admit, there is nothing inherently wrong with that. But the purpose of this project is to use a period recipe and period ingredients. Modern recipes tend to produce a beverage that is intended to be consumed out of the bottle or tap. The earliest recipes detail making a syrup that can either be consumed as is, like medicine, as an ingredient in another dish, or diluted with hot or cold water, as needed. This last beverage is known, in present day Iran, as “sharbat-e sekanjabin”. [1]
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| Not motor oil |
I do find it interesting that this is a beverage that most brewers/cooks will take next to no time to properly document. After all, it contains only two or three ingredients, why spend more time with the documentation than necessary? Medievalcookery.com even has an automatic documentation generator for Sikanjabîn; [2] all one has to do is fill in one’s name, the name of the event and the date and everything else is filled in automatically. I find this page to be “documentation lite”. Yes, one could use it and produce a drinkable beverage, but where is the research? Where is the learning? Where is the growth process where one become better at making the beverage? While Sikanjabîn only calls for two ingredients, it is what two ingredients and how they are put together that are important.
The beverage is nothing more than some type of vinegar and some type of sugar cooked together. Sikanjabîn was mentioned in the tenth century Kitab al-Fihrist of al-Nadim. [3] But, the recipe I wish to use is from the 13th Century Al-Andalus Cookbook:
Syrup of Simple Sikanjabîn [vinegar syrup]
Take a ratl [1 ratl=468g/1lb] of strong vinegar and mix it with two ratls [1 ratl=468g/1lb] of sugar, and cook all this until it takes the form of a syrup.
Drink an ûqiya [1 ûqiya=39g/7tsp] of this with three of hot water when fasting. It is beneficial for fevers of jaundice, and calms jaundice and cuts the thirst .
Since sikanjabîn syrup is beneficial in phlegmatic fevers: make it with six ûqiyas [1 ûqiya=39g/7tsp] of sour vinegar for a ratl [1 ratl=468g/1lb] of honey and it is admirable. [4]
===============
1 pint of red wine vinegar (5% acidity)
1 pound of piloncillo sugar.
Since a pint is a pound the world round [5] I started with a 1 to 1 ratio, by weight, but only used half of the vinegar to dissolve the sugar. As the sugar dissolved, and the water in the vinegar boiled out, I added more of the vinegar to keep the taste balanced. All in all, I probably used about 14 fl-oz of the vinegar. [6] If the vinegar were more acidic, or stronger in flavor, I might have used less of it. Sikanjabîn is definitely a beverage that cannot be made by simply dumping in ingredients and expecting to get a beverage that pleases everyone. Also, by starting with a 1 to 2 ratio (by weight) and then adding additional vinegar as the mixture cooked down, I ensured that all of the vinegar, and its flavor, would not be boiled away.
I used wine vinegar because the Romans planted vineyards throughout Spain and there would have been sufficient demand for wine by Christians and Jews. If you have enough wine, I can guarantee that some of it will spoil and turn into vinegar. And with the Muslim prohibition of alcohol, I am willing to bet that a large percentage of the wine grown in Moorish Spain was grown specifically for vinegar. [7] I used red wine vinegar because the Cookbook doesn’t say what kind of vinegar to use. With 262 references to vinegar, only twice does it mention what kind: once in the translator’s introduction (“White vinegar is made of pure, extremely sweet grapes”) and a second time on page 23 (“Then pour strong vinegar, white of color, over this dough for the dish”). [8] Every other use of vinegar either calls for “vinegar” or for “strong vinegar.” No mention of cider or malt vinegar or red versus white wine vinegar. I used red wine vinegar over white because I thought that the stronger flavor of the red wine vinegar, along with the tannins, would act as a better counterpoint to the sugar, which has a lot of flavor. I did not use malt vinegar because I could find no reliable documentation that ale vinegar was readily available for cooking, or if “spoiled” ale was simple thrown away or mixed with fresh ale. As a side note, I generally use cider vinegar paired with wildflower honey when I make a honey based sikanjabîn, as red-wine vinegar would overwhelm the subtle flavor of the honey.
I used plain, store-bought red-wine vinegar: not organic; not unfiltered; not artesian, small-batch vinegar. For this beverage, I do not think that there is any difference in taste between a generic bottle and a speciality bottle. Any subtle flavor will be overwhelmed by the sugar and the cooking process. I could have used cider vinegar as northern Spain was known for its apple orchards at the time the Cookbook was written, but I think that the red wine vinegar, with its tannins, makes a better counterpoint, to the heavy sugar, than the lighter flavor of cider vinegar.
I used piloncillo, or Mexican un-refined sugar, because I feel that it is very close to the common sugar that was used in the time period. [9] Piloncillo comes in hard, dark brown cones, or in bricks: period inventories and shopping lists mention sugar loaves as well as references to “sugre blanche”, “white sugar” or “candy sugar”. Which indicates that there was a difference between the varieties of sugar. Furthermore, The Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook uses the word “sugar” in most of its recipes but calls for other varieties of sugar in some: “good white sugar”, [10] “lump white sugar”, [11] “white sugar”, [12] “pounded white sugar”, [13] “white manna of sugarcane” [14] and “Sulaimani sugar” [15]
Balducci Pegolotti, an early 14th century Floretine trader, listed various types of sugar in his hand book...five kinds of loaf sugar, in order of quality: mucchera, cafetino, bambillonia, musciatto and dommaschino. The colour and cost of the loaves varied widely. A sugar loaf looks a little like a bomb. [16]
The Arabic sources from medieval times describe raw sugar as red (sukkar ahmar) rather than brown. A cone-shaped loaf of sugar, also called an ubluj, typically had a white upper section and a red or dark lower point. Tricks...were clearly employed by the sugar merchants to hide the red part, and present the illusion of an entire white cone. [17]
We expect our sugar to be white, uniform crystals, readily available at a moment’s notice. And while the market is offering organic, “unrefined” sugar (turbinado, cane crystals, raw sugar) it is still processed and packaged to be easily scooped and measured.
Sugar itself was exported in solid conical loaves of various sizes, since a cone-shaped mould was in standard use wherever sugar was refined. We tend to think of sugar as a pure, white and unvarying substance, but the difficulty and expense of refining meant that until the mid 19th century there were many more grades of sugar than today, and that a batch or loaf of sugar was by no means always white - and if it looked white on the outside, it may have been brown within. [18]
Piloncillo is un-refined, crystallized, sugar-cane juice, loaded with molasses. This is not the same as modern brown sugar which is processed, refined, white-sugar mixed with molasses; processed so that it can be easily spooned out. Piloncillo cones and bricks, like period sugar loaves, [19] are hard and are either added whole to a hot liquid, or placed in a dish and scraped with a utensil.
As to the cooking hardware, I used my electric burner stove top, a one quart stainless steel pot and a silicone spatula. In the 13th century, cooks would have used a ceramic, copper or lead pot to cook in and would have placed the pot into hot coals, over a fire or on a hearth next to a fire. I prefer to cook using electricity because I can control it completely. And I don’t like open fire in my house. For this beverage I don’t think there would be any difference between fire and electricity other than there is no smoke, ash or particulate matter in my beverage, where, depending on the ventilation, there would be if I did this outside on my grill. Also, I used the pot that I had; stainless steel. The metal is non-reactive, but so is ceramic. Copper ions can leach out into acidic solutions and cause copperiedus [20] over time and I do not have to explain why using lead cookware is a bad thing. The 13th century cooks did not have access to silicone, but I used a high-heat spatula because it is non-reactive and much easier to clean than wood. This is an occasion where the use of modern cookware is preferred to period cookware: safer to use; easier to clean; and doesn’t add or take away anything good that period equipment would possess.
I placed the one pound brick of sugar into the stainless steel pot and added half a pint of the vinegar. I set the burner to high and brought the vinegar to a boil, stirring constantly to keep the sugar from burning. I added more vinegar a little at a time to keep the volume of liquid relatively constant. I let the solution boil for 15 minutes before tasting the solution. I added more vinegar to balance out the sour and sweet, using 14 out of 16 fl-oz, as previously mentioned. By this time the solution had cooked down to a thin syrup that clung to the back of the spatula. [21] I then cut the heat and moved the entire pot off of the stove an onto a cast iron skillet. The cast iron drew heat from the pot, and the solution, allowing it to cool quickly.
Once the Sikanjabîn had cooled enough, I moved it to a plastic container. I used plastic containers, because they were convenient, easily sterilized and can be easily discarded once the syrup is consumed. In the 13th century, ceramic containers would, most likely, have been used. Perhaps ones with wide mouths to allow a hand, with a spoon, access to the syrup. As the syrup cooled, it thickened. I also picked plastic over ceramic, or glass, [22] because this syrup is really, really, really sticky. With my luck I would drop a glass container and watch as it breaks and flings brown goo all over important, and hard to clean, things.
In my experience, most people who do not like sikanjabîn have only had the pre-mixed beverage at events. [23] And unless the mixer of the beverage and the drinker have similar tastes, the sikanjabîn can either be too sour or too strong (or both). By keeping the sikanjabîn as a thick syrup, the drinker can control the ratio of syrup to water to produce a beverage that is pleasing to the drinker’s pallet. Furthermore, while the recipe for syrup of vinegar did not call for more than two items, the same procedure can be used to make mint, lemon or sage flavored sikanjabîn.
1 l’aloiere, intoduction
2 http://www.medievalcookery.com/search/autodoc.html?anony:514
3 Abu’l-Faraj Muhammad bin Is’haq al-Nadim
4 p17
5 US pints, not Imperial pints.
6 A rough estimate of what is left in the container. 1 pint is 16 fuild ounces.
7 Interesting enough, the Cookbook does have a few recipes that call for wine.
8 This might be because red wine or cider vinegar would dye the dough.
9 13th century Spain.
10 Recipe for Zrbja
11 Making of Elegant Isfunja
12 Recipe for Jullbiyya, a Dish with Julep
13 White Fldhaja With Milk
14 Syrup of Sandalwood
15 Another Like It, a Summer Dish that Cools the Body
16 Richardson, p101-7
17 Sato, p69
18 Richardson, p101
19 Davidson, Gitlitz, p1 16
20 Copper toxicity
21 Nappe, as the French would say.
22 Which is also a ceramic.
23 Or, filled a cup with a concentrated syrup and took a big swig.
Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook. Kitab al tabikh fi-l-Maghrib wa-l-Andalus fi `asr al-Muwahhidin, li-mu’allif majhul. The Book of Cooking in Maghreb and Andalus in the era of Almohads, by an unknown author: 13th Century Al-Andalus Cookbook. translation is by Charles Perry and others
Davidson, Linda Kay; Gitlitz, David M. A Drizzle of Honey: The Life and Recipes of Spain’s Secret Jews. Macmillan. 2000
Did You Know It’s Period? - Modern Medieval Food. THL Rowan Houndskeeper. Stefan’s Florilegium: DYKIP-Food-art - 5/29/09
Galloway, J. H. The Sugar Cane Industry: An Historical Geography from Its Origins to 1914. Cambridge University Press. 2005
l’aloiere, Murienne. Sekanjabin & Oxymel: The Basics. Published in Stefan’s Florilegium: Sekanjabin-art - 7/7/13
Richardson, Tim. Sweets: A History of Candy. Bloomsbury Publishing. 2008
Roberts, Teresa. Did You Know It’s Period? Modern Medieval Food by HL Rowan Houndskeeper. Stephen’s Flogiorun. 2008
Sato, Tsugitaka. Sugar in the Social Life of Medieval Islam. Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands 2014
Serjeant, R. B.; Bidwell, R. L. Arabian Studies. Cambridge University Press. 2005
Wood, George Bacon; Bache, Franklin; Remington, Joseph Price; Sadtler, Samuel Philip. The Dispensatory of the United States of America. Grigg & Elliot. Philadelphia. 1918.
===============
My method for this project:
The original recipe called for a two to one ratio, by weight, of sugar to vinegar. From experience, I do not like exact ratios when making Sikanjabîn: since the final taste depends on the balance of the sweet of the sugar and the sour of the vinegar, I like to adjust the mixture as it cooks. And this can depend on the variety of vinegar, the variety of sugar or honey as well as the acidity of the vinegar. Even the amount of humidity can dictate the exact ratio.1 pint of red wine vinegar (5% acidity)
1 pound of piloncillo sugar.
Since a pint is a pound the world round [5] I started with a 1 to 1 ratio, by weight, but only used half of the vinegar to dissolve the sugar. As the sugar dissolved, and the water in the vinegar boiled out, I added more of the vinegar to keep the taste balanced. All in all, I probably used about 14 fl-oz of the vinegar. [6] If the vinegar were more acidic, or stronger in flavor, I might have used less of it. Sikanjabîn is definitely a beverage that cannot be made by simply dumping in ingredients and expecting to get a beverage that pleases everyone. Also, by starting with a 1 to 2 ratio (by weight) and then adding additional vinegar as the mixture cooked down, I ensured that all of the vinegar, and its flavor, would not be boiled away.
I used wine vinegar because the Romans planted vineyards throughout Spain and there would have been sufficient demand for wine by Christians and Jews. If you have enough wine, I can guarantee that some of it will spoil and turn into vinegar. And with the Muslim prohibition of alcohol, I am willing to bet that a large percentage of the wine grown in Moorish Spain was grown specifically for vinegar. [7] I used red wine vinegar because the Cookbook doesn’t say what kind of vinegar to use. With 262 references to vinegar, only twice does it mention what kind: once in the translator’s introduction (“White vinegar is made of pure, extremely sweet grapes”) and a second time on page 23 (“Then pour strong vinegar, white of color, over this dough for the dish”). [8] Every other use of vinegar either calls for “vinegar” or for “strong vinegar.” No mention of cider or malt vinegar or red versus white wine vinegar. I used red wine vinegar over white because I thought that the stronger flavor of the red wine vinegar, along with the tannins, would act as a better counterpoint to the sugar, which has a lot of flavor. I did not use malt vinegar because I could find no reliable documentation that ale vinegar was readily available for cooking, or if “spoiled” ale was simple thrown away or mixed with fresh ale. As a side note, I generally use cider vinegar paired with wildflower honey when I make a honey based sikanjabîn, as red-wine vinegar would overwhelm the subtle flavor of the honey.
I used plain, store-bought red-wine vinegar: not organic; not unfiltered; not artesian, small-batch vinegar. For this beverage, I do not think that there is any difference in taste between a generic bottle and a speciality bottle. Any subtle flavor will be overwhelmed by the sugar and the cooking process. I could have used cider vinegar as northern Spain was known for its apple orchards at the time the Cookbook was written, but I think that the red wine vinegar, with its tannins, makes a better counterpoint, to the heavy sugar, than the lighter flavor of cider vinegar.
I used piloncillo, or Mexican un-refined sugar, because I feel that it is very close to the common sugar that was used in the time period. [9] Piloncillo comes in hard, dark brown cones, or in bricks: period inventories and shopping lists mention sugar loaves as well as references to “sugre blanche”, “white sugar” or “candy sugar”. Which indicates that there was a difference between the varieties of sugar. Furthermore, The Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook uses the word “sugar” in most of its recipes but calls for other varieties of sugar in some: “good white sugar”, [10] “lump white sugar”, [11] “white sugar”, [12] “pounded white sugar”, [13] “white manna of sugarcane” [14] and “Sulaimani sugar” [15]
Balducci Pegolotti, an early 14th century Floretine trader, listed various types of sugar in his hand book...five kinds of loaf sugar, in order of quality: mucchera, cafetino, bambillonia, musciatto and dommaschino. The colour and cost of the loaves varied widely. A sugar loaf looks a little like a bomb. [16]
The Arabic sources from medieval times describe raw sugar as red (sukkar ahmar) rather than brown. A cone-shaped loaf of sugar, also called an ubluj, typically had a white upper section and a red or dark lower point. Tricks...were clearly employed by the sugar merchants to hide the red part, and present the illusion of an entire white cone. [17]
We expect our sugar to be white, uniform crystals, readily available at a moment’s notice. And while the market is offering organic, “unrefined” sugar (turbinado, cane crystals, raw sugar) it is still processed and packaged to be easily scooped and measured.
Sugar itself was exported in solid conical loaves of various sizes, since a cone-shaped mould was in standard use wherever sugar was refined. We tend to think of sugar as a pure, white and unvarying substance, but the difficulty and expense of refining meant that until the mid 19th century there were many more grades of sugar than today, and that a batch or loaf of sugar was by no means always white - and if it looked white on the outside, it may have been brown within. [18]
Piloncillo is un-refined, crystallized, sugar-cane juice, loaded with molasses. This is not the same as modern brown sugar which is processed, refined, white-sugar mixed with molasses; processed so that it can be easily spooned out. Piloncillo cones and bricks, like period sugar loaves, [19] are hard and are either added whole to a hot liquid, or placed in a dish and scraped with a utensil.
As to the cooking hardware, I used my electric burner stove top, a one quart stainless steel pot and a silicone spatula. In the 13th century, cooks would have used a ceramic, copper or lead pot to cook in and would have placed the pot into hot coals, over a fire or on a hearth next to a fire. I prefer to cook using electricity because I can control it completely. And I don’t like open fire in my house. For this beverage I don’t think there would be any difference between fire and electricity other than there is no smoke, ash or particulate matter in my beverage, where, depending on the ventilation, there would be if I did this outside on my grill. Also, I used the pot that I had; stainless steel. The metal is non-reactive, but so is ceramic. Copper ions can leach out into acidic solutions and cause copperiedus [20] over time and I do not have to explain why using lead cookware is a bad thing. The 13th century cooks did not have access to silicone, but I used a high-heat spatula because it is non-reactive and much easier to clean than wood. This is an occasion where the use of modern cookware is preferred to period cookware: safer to use; easier to clean; and doesn’t add or take away anything good that period equipment would possess.
I placed the one pound brick of sugar into the stainless steel pot and added half a pint of the vinegar. I set the burner to high and brought the vinegar to a boil, stirring constantly to keep the sugar from burning. I added more vinegar a little at a time to keep the volume of liquid relatively constant. I let the solution boil for 15 minutes before tasting the solution. I added more vinegar to balance out the sour and sweet, using 14 out of 16 fl-oz, as previously mentioned. By this time the solution had cooked down to a thin syrup that clung to the back of the spatula. [21] I then cut the heat and moved the entire pot off of the stove an onto a cast iron skillet. The cast iron drew heat from the pot, and the solution, allowing it to cool quickly.
Once the Sikanjabîn had cooled enough, I moved it to a plastic container. I used plastic containers, because they were convenient, easily sterilized and can be easily discarded once the syrup is consumed. In the 13th century, ceramic containers would, most likely, have been used. Perhaps ones with wide mouths to allow a hand, with a spoon, access to the syrup. As the syrup cooled, it thickened. I also picked plastic over ceramic, or glass, [22] because this syrup is really, really, really sticky. With my luck I would drop a glass container and watch as it breaks and flings brown goo all over important, and hard to clean, things.
Observations:
While the last line in this recipe calls for honey, I chose to use sugar; first because I like the richer flavor of the sugar, and second, I wanted to make enough syrup using sugar appropriate to the time period, and introduce it to as many people as possible. Since a Mexican grocery store opened up a few blocks from my house, I have a ready supply of piloncillo sugar and can make as much period, sugary beverages as I wish.In my experience, most people who do not like sikanjabîn have only had the pre-mixed beverage at events. [23] And unless the mixer of the beverage and the drinker have similar tastes, the sikanjabîn can either be too sour or too strong (or both). By keeping the sikanjabîn as a thick syrup, the drinker can control the ratio of syrup to water to produce a beverage that is pleasing to the drinker’s pallet. Furthermore, while the recipe for syrup of vinegar did not call for more than two items, the same procedure can be used to make mint, lemon or sage flavored sikanjabîn.
1 l’aloiere, intoduction
2 http://www.medievalcookery.com/search/autodoc.html?anony:514
3 Abu’l-Faraj Muhammad bin Is’haq al-Nadim
4 p17
5 US pints, not Imperial pints.
6 A rough estimate of what is left in the container. 1 pint is 16 fuild ounces.
7 Interesting enough, the Cookbook does have a few recipes that call for wine.
8 This might be because red wine or cider vinegar would dye the dough.
9 13th century Spain.
10 Recipe for Zrbja
11 Making of Elegant Isfunja
12 Recipe for Jullbiyya, a Dish with Julep
13 White Fldhaja With Milk
14 Syrup of Sandalwood
15 Another Like It, a Summer Dish that Cools the Body
16 Richardson, p101-7
17 Sato, p69
18 Richardson, p101
19 Davidson, Gitlitz, p1 16
20 Copper toxicity
21 Nappe, as the French would say.
22 Which is also a ceramic.
23 Or, filled a cup with a concentrated syrup and took a big swig.
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
Anonymous Andalusian Cookbook. Kitab al tabikh fi-l-Maghrib wa-l-Andalus fi `asr al-Muwahhidin, li-mu’allif majhul. The Book of Cooking in Maghreb and Andalus in the era of Almohads, by an unknown author: 13th Century Al-Andalus Cookbook. translation is by Charles Perry and others
Davidson, Linda Kay; Gitlitz, David M. A Drizzle of Honey: The Life and Recipes of Spain’s Secret Jews. Macmillan. 2000
Did You Know It’s Period? - Modern Medieval Food. THL Rowan Houndskeeper. Stefan’s Florilegium: DYKIP-Food-art - 5/29/09
Galloway, J. H. The Sugar Cane Industry: An Historical Geography from Its Origins to 1914. Cambridge University Press. 2005
l’aloiere, Murienne. Sekanjabin & Oxymel: The Basics. Published in Stefan’s Florilegium: Sekanjabin-art - 7/7/13
Richardson, Tim. Sweets: A History of Candy. Bloomsbury Publishing. 2008
Roberts, Teresa. Did You Know It’s Period? Modern Medieval Food by HL Rowan Houndskeeper. Stephen’s Flogiorun. 2008
Sato, Tsugitaka. Sugar in the Social Life of Medieval Islam. Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands 2014
Serjeant, R. B.; Bidwell, R. L. Arabian Studies. Cambridge University Press. 2005
Wood, George Bacon; Bache, Franklin; Remington, Joseph Price; Sadtler, Samuel Philip. The Dispensatory of the United States of America. Grigg & Elliot. Philadelphia. 1918.
