Wednesday, September 30, 2015

A riddle

I am valued by men, fetched from afar, 
Gleaned on the hill-slopes, gathered in groves, in dale and on down. 
All day through the air, 
Wings bore me aloft, and brought me with cunning safe under roof. 
Men steeped me in vats. 
Now I have power to pummel and bind, 
To cast to the earth, old man and young. 
Soon he shall find who reaches to seize me, 
Pits force against force, that he's flat on the ground, 
Stripped of his strength if he cease not his folly, 
Loud in his speech, but of power despoiled 
To manage his mind, his hands or his feet. 
Now ask me my name, who can bind men on earth, 
And lay fools low in the light of day.


Kennedy, Charles W. Riddles from the Exeter Book. An Anthology of Old English Poetry. Oxford University Press: New York.1960.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

German Sage Mead

This is documentation that I wrote for the 2008 Pennsic Iron Brewer Challenge. The challenge was to brew something with sage.

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Sage Mead


"A wine is also made of only water and honey. For this it is recommended that rain-water should be stored for five years. Some who are more expert use rain-water as soon as it has fallen, boiling it down to a third of the quantity and adding one part of old honey to three parts of water, and then keeping the mixture in the sun for 40 days after the rising of the Dog-star. Others pour it off after nine days and then cork it up. This beverage is called in Greek ‘water-honey’ [‘hydromeli’]; with age it attains the flavour of wine." [1]

The purpose of this project is not to prove that mead was available in period, for we have plenty of documentation that it did. I will not take up the reader’s time with the many pages required to document the history of mead. I will, instead, concentrate on the project and the steps I used.

The secret ingredient of this year’s Pennsic Iron Brewer Challenge is sage. A period herb that grew through out most of Europe. It was a simple matter to find a period recipe that called for sage. This mead is a simple redaction of a period recipe, brewed using modern equipment, but keeping true to the original intent. I chose a recipe from Ein Buch von guter spise: [2]

14. Wilt du guten met machen: Der guten mete machen wil, der werme reinen brunnen, daz er die hant dor inne liden künne. und neme zwei maz wazzers und eine honiges. daz rüere man mit eime stecken, und laz ez ein wile hangen. und sihe ez denne durch ein rein tuch oder durch ein harsip in ein rein vaz. und siede denne die selben wirtz gein eime acker lane hin und wider und schume die wirtz mit einer vensterehten schüzzeln. da der schume inne blibe und niht die wirtz. dor noch giuz den mete in ein rein vaz und bedecke in, daz der bradem niht uz müge, als lange daz man die hant dor inne geliden müge. So nim denne ein halp mezzigen hafen und tu in halp vol hopphen und ein hant vol salbey und siede daz mit der wirtz gein einer halben mile. und giuz ez denne in die wirtz, und nim frischer hoven ein halp nözzeln und giuz ez dor in. und giuz ez under ein ander daz ez geschende werde. so decke zu, daz der bradem iht uz müge einen tae und eine naht. So seige denne den mete durch ein reyn tuch oder durch ein harsip. und vazze in in ein reyn vaz und lazze in iern drie tac und drie naht und fülle in alle abende, dar nach lazze man in aber abe und hüete daz iht hefen dor in kumme und laz in aht tage ligen daz er valle. und fülle in alle abende. dar nach loz in abe in ein gehertztez vas und laz in ligen aht tage vol und trinke in denne erst sechs wucher oder ehte. so ist er allerbeste.

14. How you want to make good mead: He, who wants to make good mead, warms clean water, so that he can just stand to put the hand in. And take two maz water and one honey. One stirs that with a stick and lets it set a while and then strains it through a clean cloth or through a hairsieve into a clean barrel. And boil then the same wort against an acre long there and back (as long as it takes to walk this distance and back) and remove the foam from the wort with a bowl with holes. The foam stays in the bowl and the wort does not. Next pour the mead in a clean barrel and cover it, so that vapor can not get out, until one can bear the hand there in. So take then a half maz pot and add until half full hops and a hand of sage and boil that with the wort against a half mile (as long as it takes to walk this distance) and give it then in the wort and take a half nut of fresh yeast (the amount that could be held in a nutshell) and give it there in and mix it together so that it will ferment. So cover also, so that the vapor can get out, a day and a night. So strain then the mead through a clean cloth or through a hairsieve and pour (it) in a clean barrel and let it ferment three days and three nights and fill (it) in all evenings. There after one lets it go down and looks that yeast comes therein. And let it lay for eight days, so that it falls and fill in all evenings. There after let it down in a resined barrel and let it lay eight days full and drink in the first six weeks or eight. So is it the best. [3]

The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages, by Terence Scully, [4] references the same recipe but translates it slightly differently:

For those who want to make good mead, warm pure water from a well, only as warm as you can bear your hand in it, and for each two maz [each about two pines] of water take one maz of honey; stir this with a stick, let it sit for a while and afterwards strain it through a clean cloth or through a hair sieve into a clean barrel. Then boil the usual mead spices for as long as it take to walk around a field, and do that again, and skim the spices using a bowl with holes in it so that the foam stays but not the spices; the pour the mead into a clean barrel and cover it, so that the steam cannot escape, leaving it there until [it has cooled to the point that] you can bear your hand in it. Then get a pot the size of half a Maz [roughly one pint], fill it half with hops and a handful of sage. [5]

The recipe calls for a two to one ratio of honey to water and a half of a pint of hops for every three pints of must. This may appear to be a lot of hops, but we are not only talking about whole hop leaves, but hops that most likely were dried when they were harvested then transported and stored until they were needed. It is most likely that the hops used on a daily basis were not as strong as the hops we use today. Also, since the recipe uses pint pots as a unit of measurement, I can only conclude that this recipe was intended for the home brewer; the alewife who would have brewed for the family’s daily consumption.

Ingredients:
Five pound of Clover Honey
1 gallon of spring water
1/2 ounce of Cascade Hops, pellets
3 ounces of California Sage.
1 ounce of Ale yeast

I used modern ingredients found around the house for this project. I found it next to impossible to get fresh, European Sage and had to settle for California Sage. I am told that the California variety has a slightly different taste then it’s European counterpart. [6] The sage I had purchased from a local farmer’s market earlier this year and had frozen the remains of the bundle after I had finished the dish I had used it for.

In modern terms, a handful of whole hop leaves is about an ounce, [7] and when packed well, is about a half a pint in volume. As it is the wrong season to use fresh hops, I was forced to dip into my hop stash and pull out what I had in the kitchen. As the recipe for a half of a pint of whole hops, which is, as I had stated, about one ounce, which was most likely dried from the previous harvest, I substituted 1/2 ounce of hop pellets that were vacuum sealed when picked. My reasoning is that my hops would be twice or even three times as strong as what was available to the average 14th century alewife. 

While the recipe calls for a two to one honey to water ratio, I went with a five to one ratio, in order to get a sweeter mead, and to offset stronger hops. Also, I had a five pound bottle of honey that I had opened to get a few ounces of honey at one point, and I wanted to finish it up to get it off of my counter.

Since I am of the camp of "Do not boil honey to make mead", I chose instead to pour a small portion of the water into a small sauce pot and make a tea out of the hops and the sage. While the tea was steeping, I poured a half gallon of the water into a larger pot and added in the honey. The remainder of the water went into the fermenter. I simmered the honey and skimmed the scum out for about twenty minutes. [8] By this time the tea was a dark shade of green and smelled great.

I strained the tea before I added it to the must, then poured the entire mess into the fermenter. It sat in the fermenter for a week and a half. I racked the must directly into bottles: I did not attempt to strain or clarify the must. I was not interested in a clear mead, but was attempting to produce a mead that would not be out of place at the time the recipe was written. Also, the cloudy nature of the mead, is, for the most part, protein and nutrients.

The resultaning mead was sweet, savory and bitter at the same time. The one-dimension flavor of the honey was enhanced by the contrasting flavors of hops and sage. I used the American variety of hops called Cascade hops, when I made this mead for the Iron Brewers Challenge, because it was what I had in the house. I have made this mead dozens of times and when I have the time, I try to use imported German hops that have been around for centuries, such as Spalt, Hallertau and Hersbruck.

[1] Natural History, by Pliny the Elder, Book XIV, section XX, p. 261.
[2] The Book of Good Spices, published between 1345-1354
[3] Translated by Alia Atlas, 1993
[4] p154
[5] Unfortunately, the digital copy of this book skipped page 155 and the rest of the recipe.
[6] Some people say that there is a lemony aftertaste.
[7] Tested in personal kitchen and brewing classes over the years.
[8] My estimate on how long it would take me to walk an acre.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:


Ein Buch von guter spise c. 1350. Translated by Alia Atlas. http://cs-people.bu.edu/akatlas/Buch/
buch.html

Pliny, the Elder. The Natural History of Pliny, Volume 3. Translated by John Bostock and Henry T Riley. H. G. Bohn; London. 1855

Scully, Terence. The Art of Cookery in the Middle Ages. Boydell Press, 1995. Digitized by Google Books.


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Observations from 2015:

I enjoy this mead. It is easy to make and tastes great. It is my go-to beverage if I want to brew something. The balance of sweet to bitter to savory is just right and even people who hate mead like the flavor of this one. I think that I've brewed this recipe about 50 times and it's never turned out bad.

Just a quick note about skimming scum: place the pot off set on your burner. The heat from the burner will create a hot spot which will set up a convection current which will push scum towards the coldest spot. Since all of the scum collects in one area, it is easier to scoop up.

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Dijon Vu

This was a project that I did for the 2015 Summer's End A&S competition. I did not win but people did tell me that they liked the flavor. No documentation was required but I typed up the following and included it along with the documentation I did ten years ago.



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Dijon Vu


Purpose:


While the theme of this A&S competition is to do something that one learned in a class at Pennsic, I wished to do something that I re-discovered while others were at Pennsic. While guarding the home front, I went through my digital documents and uncovered some documentation for mustard that I wrote for the 2005 Ice Dragon Pentathalon. While re-formatting it for my blog, I decided to re-visit this condiment and see if I could mustard the strength to enter this competition as a seasoned SCAdian.

Documentation:


Please see the attached documentation, Medieval Mustard, for the history of mustard and for a variety of period sources. I wished to improve upon the mustard that I made ten years ago:

3 ounces White mustard seeds, whole
An equal volume of stout (home brewed, of course)
2 teaspoons, Honey
½ ounce, Ginger root
1 pinch, Kosher salt
1 grind, Black pepper

I soaked the mustard seeds in the stout but I had miscalculated the volume and added more beer than seed. This mixture I let soak for three days. Then the seeds, which had absorbed most of the beer, and ginger were ground using a mortar and pestle and returned to the remainder of the beer. The mixture was left to soak for another night. To the mixture I added the honey, a pinch of salt and a single grind of black pepper. The salt was not added for flavor, but to enhance the flavors of the rest of the ingredients.As the end product tasted of mustard floating in a puddle of beer, I heated the mustard in a small saucier over very low heat for a couple minutes to cook off some of the alcohol and to reduce the mustard to a firmer consistency.

If I recall correctly, the mustard had little to no heat and tasted more of beer than mustard. This time, I did a little research on mustard in order to get a more pungent mustard. The Romans combined ground mustard seeds with unfermented grape juice to make a paste that they called mustum ardens [burning must]. This turned into “mustard” by the time the English language developed.

The heat of mustard is determined by a few things, the first being the type of mustard seed: White being the mildest, then yellow, the brown and the hottest are the black seeds. On their own, mustard seeds have no heat; the compounds that cause the heat (myrosin and sinigrin) are separated from each other. It is only when water is added that enzymes within the seed are activated and break down the cellular walls that hold myrosin and sinigrin away from each other. Once these two compounds meet, they produce an oil that causes a pleasant flavor in small doses and can cause burning and blistering in large quantities. Mustard gas is made from the myrosin and sinigrin reaction.

The temperature of the water can affect this reaction. Hot water can deactivate the enzymes and break down some of the pungent compounds. The hotter the water, the milder the mustard. Soak time also affects the final heat level. The heat level will rise for the first 15 or 20 minutes and then taper off as the enzymes and mustard compounds are used up and the mustard oil dissipates. An acid can fix the heat level at a particular point. Vinegar, ver juice, pickle juice and wine are often added. Alcohol can slow the process down, but not stop it.

With all of this in mind, this mustard consists of the following:

3 ounces yellow mustard seeds, whole
3.5 ounces of cold water
4 tablespoons of red wine (home brewed, of course)
2 teaspoons, clover honey
1 clove of garlic, minced
2 pinches, kosher salt
4 grinds of black pepper (about 2 teaspoons)

I ground the mustard seeds in a mortar as fine as I could along with the kosher salt, which I added as an abrasive as well as for flavor. I used kosher salt because it does not contain any iodine or anti-clumping agents. It also has large crystals that allow it to act as a good abrasive. Once all of the seeds were ground, I added 3.5 ounces of water and mixed so that all of the water was absorbed by the powder. I added the minced garlic, and the ground pepper, and let the mixture sit for six minutes, stirring with a whisk. After the soak, I added the wine and mixed in the honey. I whisked the mustard for another five minutes and then transferred it to a container to sit.

I hope that my mustard offers a good balance of heat to flavor.


Bibliography: 


DeWitt, Dave. 1,001 Best Hot and Spicy Recipes. Agate Publishing, 2010.

Ledgard, Jared. A Laboratory History of Chemical Warfare Agents. Lulu.com, 2006.

Kiple, Kenneth F. The Cambridge World History Of Food. 2 (2000), Volume 2. Cambridge University Press, 2001

Man, Rosamond; Weir, Robin. The Mustard Book. Grub Street, 2010




Some useful research lingo.


Monday, September 7, 2015

Three more scrolls ready for calligraphy


Three scrolls are halfway done. Two are for assignments for Harvest Raid (Heavy Championship and an award to be named later) and the third was the backup scroll for the Heavy Championship. I had done the fighting knights and horses before, (about a year an a half ago) but the image just makes me laugh. I don't know the story behind the image, but the thought that the duel was so hardcore that their steeds had to get in on the action just makes me giggle.

Of course, the horses could be comforting each other: "Mabell, I haven't seen you in so long." "How long has it been, Alice? Two years? How are your colts?" "All grown up, 'cause we're horses."


Friday, September 4, 2015

Some brief notes about table forks


The following is an extract from a paper that I wrote a few years ago: The Humble Table Fork: It’s Life and History in Europe, which is based on a research paper I wrote for the 2005 Ice Dragon Pentathalon (The Tines They Are A’Changing: A Brief History of the Fork in Western Europe). I was in the process of getting it published in the Compleat Anachronist and kind of put it aside mid-way through its fourth re-write. A friend suggested posting a section might help me re-gain my enthusiasm for forks. I have already posted a section from this document, in this blog. 

The following is from the 6/23/2010 revision, pages 36 to 41.


On Top Of Old Spaghetti:


The difference that allowed forks to spread in Italy before the rest of Europe was pasta, or more exact; long pasta noodles. Try to eat a plate of hot, buttery linguine with your bare hands. It can be done, but not easily or cleanly. I would guess that the fork was pressed into service to eat noodles, rather than being "invented" to fit the job. We have already seen that forks have been around for a long time, it would be easy for us to imagine some unknown chef trying different methods of eating vermicelli before hitting upon the fork.

While pasta-like dough has been around since the ancient Greeks, [244] macaroni [245] dates back to at least the year 1000. In that year the first documented recipe for macaroni was written. De arte Coquinaria per vermicelli e macaroni siciliani or The Art of Cooking Sicilian Macaroni and Vermicelli written by Martino Corno, chef to the powerful Patriarch of Aquileia. [246] I will assume that pasta dough that was rolled into balls or folded around a filling (such as ravioli) was easy enough to eat with a spoon, the point of a knife or with one’s fingers. But the long, thin noodles of vermicelli would require a special tool. "The slippery strings of spaghettini either burned or slipped elusively through the diner’s fingers. Hence the ingenious fork, with allowed one both to spear and to twirl." [247]

Weird Pasta Fact #1: it may have led directly to the popularity of the fork. According to The Medieval Kitchen, the fork was in use from the 14th Century in taverns and manors alike, for eating pasta. Eating food with the fingers and a knife had been common practice, but eating pasta this way is difficult. Initially, a pointed stick was used to eat hot pasta, but the fork was eminently more practical. [248]
-
That is because the fork was not yet used for this purpose - except in Italy, where it was in use from the late 14th century, even in tavern, for eating pasta. A tale by Franco Sacchetti depicts two people sharing the same plattern of steaming-hot macaroni, one wolfing it down and the other remaining hungry (Tables florentines, p21). Could not the spread of the fork in Italy be connected with the consumption of pasta, which was already typical of that land? What other tool, apart from chopsticks, could be better for eating noodles? And the author of one of our recipe collections, which probably predates Sacchetti’s story, suggest eating lasagne with a pointed stick (lc and recipe 6), which amounts to a preliminary design for the fork. But we must also link the use of forks to the generally more highly evolved customs of urban Italian society, who were less frozen in terms of social hierarchy and therefore more willing to accept new practices. [249]

One of the earliest references linking forks to pasta appear in a cookbook compiled at the Angevin court in Naples and presented to King Robert of Anjou. [250] In this book we find a recipe for lasagna:

On Lasagna: for lasagna take fermented dough and roll into a hollow tortellini shape as tightly as you can. Then divide the dough into four quarters measured and shaped by the fingers. Afterward you have salted boiling water and into which you put the aforementioned lasagnas to cook. And when they have been thoroughly cooked you add grated cheese. If you so desire you can add quality powered spices and sprinkle these over the mixture. Then you make a serving of lasagna and this concoction and serve until the bowl is full. Then eat picking up the lasagna with a single-pronged wooden utensil (punteruolo). [251]

This punteruolo appears to be a proto-fork; a single-tined fork, if you will. I would imagine that using a punteruolo would be like using a skewer or a toothpick to move food: If the food were firm, like a piece of cheddar cheese or a cube of salami, one could easily spear the item and move it from dish to mouth. However, if the item were soft and limp, like brie or an oyster, or like a cooked lasagna noodle, it would not work very effectively. Still, Robert’s cookbook recommends the punteruolo despite it being inconvenient and awkward. It did not take long for the fork to replace the punteruolo. Where ever pasta was eaten, it appears, forks were used. [252]

Franco Sacchetti, in the middle of the Fourteenth-Century, wrote a book entitled Three Hundred Novellas: Story 124 of that book tells a tale of a Giovanni Cascio who sat at a table with Noddo d’Andrea, a glutton, able to swallow food "ancor che boglienti" (still hot). When "boglienti maccheroni" were served, "Noddo cominciò a raguazzare i maccheroni, avviluppa e caccia giù; n’aveva già mandato sei bocconi giù, che Giovanni aveva ancora il primo boccone sulla forchetta" (Noddo began forking the hot maccheroni, gulping them down. He had already swallowed six mouthfuls when Giovanni still had his first on his fork). [253]

It chanced upon one occasion that when Noddo was dining together with others, he was put to share a dish with a pleasant man named Giovanni Cascio. And when boiling hot macaroni was brought to table, this Giovanni, having several times heard tell of Noddo’s habits and finding himself put to share a dish with him, said within himself: "Truly, I am fortunate! I thought I was coming here to dine, and I shall have come only to behold Noddo devouring, and macaroni too, to make matters worse! Provide he doth not eat me, I shall do well."

Noddo began to stir the macaroni, to wrap it round his fork and hurry it down his throat, and he had already disposed of six mouthfuls whilst Giovanni still had his first upon his fork, not daring to put it in his mouth as it was smoking hot. And reflecting that the whole of this dish would disappear down the same road if he did not do something, he said within himself: "Of a certainty this man shall not devour all my share." So when Noddo took up one mouthful upon his fork, Giovanni took another and threw it on the ground to the dog, and when he had done this several times, Noddo cried: "Alas! what art thou doing?"

Said Giovanni, "Nay, what art thou doing? I will not have thee eating my share, I wish to give it to the dog."

Noddo laughed, and ate still more hurriedly, and Giovanni Cascio likewise more hurriedly flung the food to the dog. [254]

The gesture of twirling macaroni on a fork must have been familiar enough to his Fourteenth Century readers for Sacchetti simply to use the verb "avvilupparte" to evoke the image. [255] But pasta wasn’t the only dish that drove the fork to new heights: cuisine was changing throughout Europe. In the year 1000, the cuisine of most of Europe consisted of roasted meats and vegetables, meat pies, bread, stews and porridges. The kitchen of John of Guant, [256] Europe’s wealthiest man, served him, "meat pies and elaborate desserts of custard or spun sugar. Barbecued meat was still the staple serves at aristocratic tables, but the better chefs learned how to season the roasted or broiled meat with Oriental or Islamic spices. Pickled fish was also considered a delicacy." [257]

From Bread to Plate.


The various dishes were carried into the hall with great ceremony, a steward, with his rod of office, heading the procession. As we have already stated, the roasts were carried in on the spits, and these were often of silver. In the romance of Garin le Loherain, a quarrel is represented as taking place at dinner, when one of the guests, wanting a weapon, snatched a spit from the hands of an attendant. The fourteenth century Flemish brass of Robert Braunch, at St Margaret’s, Lynn, shews, at a feast given by Edward III. by the corporation of that town, the peacock being carried in with attendant minstrels, &c. The hour of dinner at this period was ten o’clock in the forenoon, and five for the afternoon meal. Each guest washed his hands before sitting down, and when he rose from the table. As forks were almost unknown, this was a very necessary operation. The guests were placed in couples, these eating the same food, and having one plate between them. Care was taken to place those together who were likely to be friendly. This was the origin of the phrase ‘ to eat in the same dish’ (manger dans la mime ecuelle), implying friendship. But plates do not appear to have been generally in use. Mr Wright observes that loaves, were cut into thick slices (called in French tranehoirs; English, trenchers, because they were to be carved upon), and in these the portions of meat were placed, the gravy passing into the bread. Sometimes this was eaten by the guest, but, if not, it went away with the leavings, which were destined for the poor. [258] In great houses, a platter (often of silver) was placed under the trencher, and so, after a time, the use of the latter was abandoned. [259]

The menu of England’s Henry IV’s coronation in 1399 included; braun en peuerarde (brawn in a sort of spiced wine pottage), viaund ryal (a soup of almond milk, wine, and spices), roasted boar’s head with tusks, large roasts (of some animal), syngnettys, capoun de haut grece (larded and fried capons), roasted pheasant, roasted heron, crustade lumbarde (a sort of savoury custard pie with marrow and dried fruit), roasted sturgeon, roasted pike, a subtlety, venison with frumenty, jelly, stuffed sucking pig (roasted), roasted peacocks, roasted cranes, roasted venison, roasted old rabbit, roasted bittern, gilded chickens (roasted), graunt tartez, (great tarts with game, birds, etc, marrow, spices and eggs), braun fryez. (brawn cooked in a sweet batter), leche lumbarde. (a paste of dates, wine, and spices, in slices), another subtlety, a white soup, preserved quinces, roasted egrets, roasted curlews, roasted partridge, roasted pigeons, roasted quails, roasted snipe, small birds (or meat pies depending on the translation of ‘brydys’), roasted young rabbits, meatballs, brawn cooked with almond milk, jellied eggs, fritters, cheesecakes, small tarts, roasted hedgehog, pottys of lylye, a third subtlety. [260] All foods that can be eaten with one’s fingers or with a knife or a spoon. The majority of the meal was roasted meat which could easily be sliced apart with a knife. It is worth noting that Henry didn’t ask for any vegetables. Henry’s son, Five, [261] had a similar menu for his coronation; mostly roasted meats that could be eaten with one’s fingers. [262]

Manorial servants often fed well. In the 13th century they ate two meals a day consisting of beef and ale, fish, in the form of herrings and cod, cheeses and rye or wheat bread. The basic diet of the peasants consisted of carbohydrates in the form of grain, mostly barley and oats, baked or brewed into bread or ale. They ate little protein, meat and eggs being in short supply. The wedding feast menu of Jean du Chesne in 1394 is fairly typical of an upper middle class meal:
Pottage: ground capon thickened with almond milk, pomegranates and red comfits.
Roast: kid, duckling and spring chicken all served on the same dish.
Entremets: crayfish set in jelly, loach fish and young rabbits and pigs.
Dessert: Frumenty (a kind of wheat porridge with eggs and milk) with venison.
Hippocras: (sweetened spiced wine) and wafers.
Boutehors: (The sally forth) spiced wine and spiced sweetmeats. [263]

Even between grand feasts, the cuisine didn’t change much. Richard II appears to have eaten mostly roast meat when at home:

Thys is þe porweaunse for the fest for þe kynge at home for his own table. Venesoun with furmynte in potage, borys hedes, grete flesshe, swan rostyd, capones rostyd of hy grece, pesson, pyke, and ii sotelltees. Potage called blunsorre, potage called gele, pyggys rostyd, crunes rostyd, fesaintes rostyd, herones rostyd, pekokys rostyd, breme, sartes, broken brawn, conyng rostyd, & i soteltee. Potage called bruet of almayne, new lombard, venesoun rostyd, egret rostyd, pekokys rostyd, perteryches rostyd, pegones rostyd, rabetes rostyd, qualys rostyd, larkes rostyd, a mete called payne pufe, perchys, resquyle, longe freturys, and ii sotelteys. [264]

Thirteenth and Fourteenth Century cuisine, particularly English cuisine, appear to be very similar to our modern barbecues: mostly meat that could be eaten with one’s fingers. The menus that I have listed rarely describe a dish; the majority of the items are roasted animals. The few dishes that require an explanation (brawn in a spiced wine pottage, custard pie with marrow and fruit, crayfish in jelly) are very straight forward descriptions and, to my mind, could be eaten with a spoon. When we compare this to what the French were serving in the Sixteenth-Century, it becomes very apparent that one’s fingers might not have sufficed. The famous Renaissance author, Francois Rabelais, wrote of a banquet he attended on the 20th of May, 1529. "The menu consisted of seventeen separate courses. Here is course number two, each dish served in fifteen separate platters while musicians played in the background: trout in pastry; stuffed hard-boiled eggs with sauce; fish entrails fried with orange juice, cinnamon and sugar; sturgeon with garlic (decorated with the Este arms in red sauce); sixty large fried river fish; white almond soup; pizza and little fried river fish. The seafood served included tuna, mullet, lamprey, stuffed crab, shrimp, squid, pike, caviar as well as a thousand oysters." [265]

But in order for the spoon, and knife and the fingers to do the job cleanly, with a modicum of decorum, foods had to be served either a) in bite-sized morsels, or b) in a liquid, mash or paste. Most prepared dishes were just that, either a) or b), dishes for the eating of which either the pointed knife or the spoon were respectively adequate. The whole development at this time of meat- and fish-pies (chopped meat or fish cooked and contained between pastry crusts; the late-medieval sandwich par excellence) can be attributed at least in part to an on going desire to find clean finger-foods. [266]

As cuisine evolved from simple roasts, fritters and pies to more complicated dishes served with sauces and gravies, forks were called into use more and more often. While the English were happy to see whole animals roasted and then served to their tables with side dishes of gravy and sauce, Spain, France and Italy were pioneering the prepared dish. Instead of carving a roast in front of the diners, chefs were pre-slicing the roasts and serving particular cuts already covered with the right amount of sauce.

Naturally, the advent of the fork meant that foods could more often be sauced before presentation, or could be presented in ways that were unusual in the middle Ages. The influence of the fork on the cuisine if Europe in generally underestimated, but it does seem crucial to understanding how cuisine ultimately shifts entirely after the late seventeenth century. [267]-By now [16th century] chefs and chroniclers were, like Scappi, writing down their banquet menus so that we have more details of what was served. Europe diversified into cuisines still identifiable today. In Italy, while table decorations and service became more elaborate, the food itself became simpler, lighter, and less heavily spiced than medieval ‘messes’. ... French cooking became more complex, with dozens of ingredients in each dish, larded meats, and an enthusiasm for sauces. Britain, Germany and other northern countries remained enamoured of their red meat, plain and lots of it. However, accounts start to praise the quality or rarity of food at feasts rather than only its quantity. [268]

Before the dynamic duo of knife and fork could take over European dinner tables, they first needed a solid bedrock for support. A bread trencher, no matter how stale, can not provide enough resistance to allow a diner to slice through a particularly tough cut of meat. The wide spread adoption of wood, ceramic or metal plates assisted the development of "modern" eating methods: Not only could these plates hold up to the stabbing and slicing of the fork and knife, but a meal, or a remove of a feast, could be delivered from the kitchen or sideboard straight to the diner, and then taken away to the kitchen either for the next course, for seconds or to be cleaned. "Wood, metal and eventually china plates replaces the bread trencher; glassware, particularly in Italy, made its sparkling appearance on the table; forks as well as knives started to be used, and intricately folded napkins decorated the table throughout the meal.' [269]

The addition of the fork reflects half of an important change that was coming to northern European tables from Italy in the late sixteenth century. The necessary other half was the replacement of the bread trencher by pewter, silver or glazed ceramic plates, whose firm and impermeable surface made it possible to serve more liquid sauces and to serve preparations most conveniently cut with knife and fork by individual diners. [270]

With the great houses switching from edible to non-edible eating surfaces, kitchens would no longer be spending so much time baking bread for the sole use as trenchers. Cooks would have more time to work on meals as well as their appearance on the plate. Bakers would have more time to bake pastries and cakes. Since used trenchers were thrown into pots to thicken soups, stews and porridges, new methods of thickening were developed; which, in turn, led to thickening sauces and gravies; which, in turn, led to new dishes that the medieval diner would never have thought possible.

The replacement of porous bread trenchers by ceramic plates made it possible to serve both more liquid mixtures and firmer ones requiring the use of knife and fork. Many compositions were suitable for serving in individual portions; the egg-size piece of meat or stuffed vegetable became a standard format. Garnishes of cockscombs, artichokes, and truffles surround larger pieces of meat, such as legs of mutton or roast chickens. Although pies of all sizes continued to be standard fare, their smaller relatives - turnovers, pastries, and little fried crusts - were experimented with and would be immensely popular through the eighteenth century. Well seasoned mixtures of meat, poultry, and fish, either used as farces or formed into meatballs, were very wildly used. [271]
-
The bread consumption dropped during the period since 1390 because custom has changed: the court [of Poland] now ate from silver plate, majolica, or gilded pewter. The bread was still either used as sops or torn apart and eaten with the gravies that were served with the meal. On fast days, however, it was customary for the Polish court to eat from bread trenchers rather than from silver plate or fine majolica. [272]


[244] Many sources
[245] From the Sicilian word ‘maccaruni’ meaning "made into a dough by force"
[246] Whittington, Serventi, Barzini. et al.
[247] Rebora; Sonnenfeld, px
[248] Adler-France, Medieval Pasta.
[249] Redon; Sabban; Serventi, p13
[250] Reigned from 1309 to 1343
[251] Rebora; Sonnenfeld, p14
[252] Rebora; Sonnenfeld, p16
[253] Rebora; Sonnenfeld, p16 & Frugoni; McCuaig, p121
[254] Sacchetti, p104
[255] Rebora; Sonnenfeld, p16
[256] 1334-1399
[257] Cantor, p72
[258] Martial de Paris, writing of the episcopal tables of that time (fifteenth century), says : ‘Alas ! what have the poor! They have only the tranchoirs of bread which remain on the table’ Footnote from quoted text.
[259] Chambers; Chambers, p360
[260] Cosman, p20
[261] Actually crowned Henry V
[262] Myers; Douglas, p1160. The documented menu mentions that many of the roasts were also gilded with eggs, saffron or other food dyes.
[263 Medieval Gallery Text
[264] Hieatt; Butler: Curye on Inglysch, p39. Modern translation by "Garay": This is the menu for the feast for the king at home for his own table. Venison with a dish of boiled wheat, a stewed dish, boars’ heads, boiled meat, roasted swan, roasted fat capons, peas, pike, and two subtleties. White pudding, jellied meat or fish, roast pork, roasted cranes, roasted pheasants, roasted herons, roasted peacocks, fish, tarts, meat served in pieces, roasted rabbit, and one subtlety. German broth, spiced pudding of pork, dried fruits and eggs in a sauce of almond milk or wine, roasted venison, roasted small heron, roasted peacocks, roasted perch, roasted pigeons, roasted rabbits, roasted quails, roasted larks, meat in puff pastry, perch, a rice dish, fritters, and two subtleties.
[265] Bowen, p151
[266] Scully, p28
[267] Albala, p7-8
[268] Fletcher, p135
[269] Fletcher, p134
[270] Ketcham-Wheaton, p54
[271] Ketcham-Wheaton, p11117
[272] Dembinska, Weaver, Thomas, p61



Adler-France, Chris (Katja Davidova Orlova Khazarina of Robakovna). Medieval Pasta: History, Preparation, and Recipes. http://www.katjaorlova.com/PastaClass.html.

Albala, Ken. Cooking in Europe, 1250-1650. Published by Greenwood Publishing Group, 2006

Cantor, Norman F. The Last Knight: The Twilight of the Middle Ages and the Birth of Modern Era. Free Press. New York: 2004.

Chambers, William; Chambers, Robert. Chambers’s Journal Of Popular Literature, Science And Arts. W & R Chambers, 1872. Google Books. Original from Indiana University. Digitized Feb 4, 2009.

Cosman, Madeleine Pelner. Fabulous Feasts: Medieval Cookery and Ceremony. George Braziller, Inc. New York: 1995.

Dembinska, Maria; Weaver, William Woys; Thomas, Magdalena. Food and Drink in Medieval Poland: Rediscovering a Cuisine of the Past. Translated by Magdalena Thomas. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999.

Fletcher, Nichola. Charlemagne’s Tablecloth: A Piquant History Of Feasting. Macmillan, 2005.

Hieatt, Constance B.; Butler, Sharon. Pleyn Delit: Medieval Cookery for Modern Cooks. Toronto: University of Toronto P, 1976.

Ketcham-Wheaton, Barbara. Savoring the Past: The French Kitchen and Table from 1300 to 1789. Published by Simon and Schuster, 1996

Medieval Gallery Text. Medieval Gallery of the Corinium Museum. Cotswold District Council Web Site: http://www.cotswold.gov.uk/nqcontent.cfm?a_id=2679&tt=cotswold. Last Posted Update: 06/02/2008

Myers, A. R. Douglas, David Charles. English Historical Documents 1327-1485. Routledge, 1996.

Rebora, Giovanni; Sonnenfeld, Albert. Culture of the Fork: A Brief History of Food in Europe. Translated by Albert Sonnenfeld. Published by Columbia University Press, 2001.

Redon, Odile; Sabban, Françoise; Serventi, Silvano. The Medieval Kitchen: Recipes From France And Italy. Translated by Edward Schneider. 1998

Ronsen, Jeremy Caleb. (Caleb Reyonlds). The Tines They Are A’Changing: A Brief History of the Fork in Western Europe. Ice Dragon Pentathalon Research Paper. March 2005.

Sacchetti, Franco. Tales from Sacchetti. Translated by Mary G. Steegmann. J. M. Dent & co., 1908.

Scully, D. Eleanor; Scully Terence. Early French Cookery: Sources, History, Original Recipes and Modern Adaptations. Published by University of Michigan Press, 2002

Scully, Terence. The Opera of Bartolomeo Scappi 1570: Larte Et Prudenza Dun Maestro Cuoco. University of Toronto Press, 2008.

Whittington, Mark. The Joy of Pasta. Published Oct 02, 2005: Associated Content.

Image Credit:

Matching Silver Fork and Spoon With Carved Red-Coral Handles. Nuremberg, Germany. 1600-30. Smithsonian Museum

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Invisible Ink - For Real

This is the actual project that I did for the 2013 Ice Dragon Pentathlon as both a research paper as as Other. I couldn't resist the previous post. I am disappointed that no one left a comment on my joke.

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Invisible Ink from Le Menagier de Paris


In 1393 a book was written providing instructions, for a young bride, on how to run a household. In between recipes, cleaning instructions, wedding plans and medicinal cures is the following statement: 

TO WRITE ON PAPER A LETTER NO-ONE CAN SEE UNTIL THE PAPER IS HEATED, take sal ammoniac and moisten and dissolve it in water: then write with this and let it dry. And it will last about eight days. [1]

While medieval invisible ink isn’t surprising; records of such can be dated back to the first century AD when "Pliny the Elder explained how the "milk" of the thithymallus plant could be used as an invisible ink". [2]

John Carey directs us to Ovid’s advice, in Ars Amatoria 3:627-28: "Tuta quoque est fallitque oculos e lacte recenti / Littera: carbonis pulvere tange, leges" [A letter too is safe and escapes the eye when written in "new milk": touch it with coal-dust and you will read]. G. P. Goold glosses the passage with references from Pliny and Ausonius on the "herba lactaria" used by the ancients as invisible ink (see the revised Loeb edition of Ars Amatoria, 162). Ovid adds, in 3:629-30, that writing with a stalk of wet flax works the same way as the milk plant. (Cowley, p243)

Susan Zimmerman wrote about the escape of John Arden and the Jesuit priest John Gerard from the Tower of London on the 5th of October, 1597; an escape that was planed with the help of secret messages written in orange juice. "Orange juice was the preferred form of invisible ink in the period because, as Gerard explains in his memoir, while characters written in lemon juice disappear again after the letter is moistened or exposed to heat, characters written in orange juice do not, making it a more secure form of writing, less subject to interference if intercepted." [3]

I cannot say thou writ’st instead of Ink
With juice of lemons, that’s too sharp a drink
And quick; but yet as that conceals what’s writ,
   writes well enough, but then
   Blots out as fast agen;
   And so by riddling play
   Brings Night in midst of Day,
   And none must hope to see
   What’s written, though there it be,
Just so thou jugglest, speak’st good sense and wit
Yet so obscure in every part of it
    As that it dissappears
   From all our eyes....
(Abraham Cowley, Upon The Author’s Mystery Of Babylon - sig C2) [4]

They all get Porta, for the sundry ways
    To write in cypher, and the several keys,
To ope the character.  They’ve found the slight
    With juice of lemons, onions, piss, to write;
To break up seals and close ’em.  And they know,
    If the states make peace, how it will go
With England.  All forbidden books they get,
    And of the powder-plot, they will talk yet. 
[Ben Jonson, Epigrams, 92, II 25-29] [5]

The amazing thing was that this one sentence, from Le Menagier de Paris, was actually written down between instructions on how to make salt white and how to make lime, [6] without a single word as to why the young bride might ever want to write a secret message. Was it included so that the bride could write secret love letters? Or hidden instructions on financial matters? It was important enough that the instruction was written down, but not important enough to explain why it was included. While I was aware of using the juice of lemons, onions, cabbages and artichokes, as well as some tree sap, vinegar and urine, as invisible ink, I was unaware of the use of sal ammoniac, [7] known today as NH4Cl: ammonium chloride. [8]

Sal ammoniac was also used as an insect bite treatment, a leather cleaner, a copper cleaner, as smelling salts, in ink and paint production, a soldering flux and to "age" bronze [9] (was used to give new bronze casting the appearance and patina of old bronze) and in much, much more. It appears to have been the universal ingredient in most household cleaning methods as well as a major staple in industrial work. [10] I searched through my resources looking for other references to sal ammoniac as an invisible ink. I found many references from the American Revolutionary War, and later, for invisible inks made with ammonium chloride and an additional chemical (e.g.: zinc powder, iron or cobalt sulfate), but few from the SCA time period... Until I came across an English translation of the 1653 edition of Gargantua And His Son Pantagruel, and discovered that I had found a gold mine.

A letter which a messenger brought to Pantagruel from a lady of Paris, together with the exposition of a posy written in a gold ring. When Pantagruel had read the superscription he was much amazed, and therefore demanded of the said messenger the name of her that had sent it. Then opened he the letter, and found nothing written in it, nor otherwise enclosed, but only a gold ring, with a square table diamond. Wondering at this, he called Panurge to him, and showed him the case. Whereupon Panurge told him that the leaf of paper was written upon, but with such cunning and artifice that no man could see the writing at the first sight. Therefore, to find it out, he set it by the fire to see if it was made with sal ammoniac soaked in water. Then put he it into the water, to see if the letter was written with the juice of tithymalle. After that he held it up against the candle, to see if it was written with the juice of white onions. 
Then he rubbed one part of it with oil of nuts, to see if it were not written with the lee of a fig-tree, and another part of it with the milk of a woman giving suck to her eldest daughter, to see if it was written with the blood of red toads or green earth-frogs. Afterwards he rubbed one corner with the ashes of a swallow’s nest, to see if it were not written with the dew that is found within the herb alcakengy, called the winter-cherry. He rubbed, after that, one end with ear-wax, to see if it were not written with the gall of a raven. Then did he dip it into vinegar, to try if it was not written with the juice of the garden spurge. After that he greased it with the fat of a bat or flittermouse, to see if it was not written with the sperm of a whale, which some call ambergris. Then put it very fairly into a basinful of fresh water, and forthwith took it out, to see whether it were written with stone-alum. But after all experiments, when he perceived that he could find out nothing, he called the messenger and asked him, Good fellow, the lady that sent thee hither, did she not give thee a staff to bring with thee? thinking that it had been according to the conceit whereof Aulus Gellius maketh mention. And the messenger answered him, No, sir. Then Panurge would have caused his head to be shaven, to see whether the lady had written upon his bald pate, with the hard lye whereof soap is made, that which she meant; but, perceiving that his hair was very long, he forbore, considering that it could not have grown to so great a length in so short a time. [11]

I was interested in seeing how effective sal ammoniac was as an invisible ink, and how long lasting it was. Le Menagier states that the ink is good for eight days. I remember using lemon juice, as a kid, and having hidden messages last for weeks. George Washington’s "Sympathetic Stain", which was used during the American Revolutionary War, could remain hidden for years; one such hidden message, from one of the Culper spies, was revealed in a book during the 1930s: all but invisible for over a century. [12]

The purpose of this project is to compare the effectiveness of sal ammoniac with that of ordinary lemon juice and of white onion juice. Solutions of sal ammoniac, of lemon juice and of onion juice will be applied to paper and then photographed every few days. The elapsed images will show if any of the chemicals becomes visible. Furthermore, additional hidden messages will be provided for the judges, along with a heat source, to show which chemical was more effective as invisible ink. I am using lemon juice because most of us has had some experience with using lemon juice as invisible ink, through the boy/girl scouts or through science classes in school. The white onion is being included as they were more common than lemons; and I am interested in the effectiveness of the juice when compared to that of lemons.

Procedure:

Sal amonic
While sal ammoniac, in period, was quarried or produced by the distillation of animal dung, hooves and horn, [13] I purchased a container of animal grade ammonium chloride. I had to use animal grade ammonium chloride, [14] which is 99.9% pure, because chemical grade ammonium chloride, 99.9999% pure, is a restricted product; one would have to work for a school, university or laboratory in order to purchase it. This is because the chemical can be used to make explosives. So, because of this, I was unable to purchase 50g of chemical grade NH4Cl, but, for the same price, I was able to purchase 1135g of the animal grade version of the same chemical. [15]

I was not too concerned with the purity of the chemical; for my purposes, there was no difference between chemical grade and animal grade ammonium chloride. What I secured was a more pure chemical than what was available via mining or from animal remains. I dissolved a tablespoon in just enough water to eliminate all traces of the crystals. The solution was left alone for a good twenty minutes while the other two solutions were produced. The test messages were written next to the number one.

Lemon Juice
One lemon was cut in half and the juice of each half was squeezed out into a glass. The juice was not watered down.

Onion Juice
I will freely admit that I had no clue on how to make onion juice. Jack LaLanne’s Juicing Machine might predate the SCA, but I was unable to find any period sources for electric juicers. A hand-held citrus reamer produced little to no juice from half of a white onion. Also, the onion was too solid to yield any juice when a potato masher was applied. In the end, I dropped half an onion into a food processor and converted it into a fine mush. I then squeezed the liquid out of the mush with my bare hands.

Inks, ready to be applied

Test Cards
Several cards were prepared, all from 100 pound, hot-pressed, cotton paper. [16] The Ammonium Chloride was written next to the number one; the lemon juice next to number two and the onion juice next to number three. Each chemical was written on each card with the same pen nib with the nib being cleaned between each chemical. The important thing to remember about invisible ink is that you cannot see it. [17] I need to point this out as it was very difficult to see what I was actually writing. I had to hold the paper at an extreme angle so that the ink would shine in the light. When viewed straight on, the ink was all but invisible: just a wet shine.

After each card was prepared, it was set aside and left to dry. The lemon juice and onion juice soaked into the paper and dried within a few minutes, while the ammonia chloride, after an hour, was still thick and wet. [18] Even after a few days, the thickness of the ammonium chloride ink could still be seen, and felt, on the paper. While the juices could not be felt (as either raised text or a different texture) and could only be seen as something shiny when held at an angle to bright light: the lemon juice far more visible than the onion juice.

Two cards are marked Age Test and were left alone to see if any of the chemicals would darken and reveal itself over time: Le Menagier said that the hidden, ammonium chloride message is good for eight days.

Age Test 1, after drying.


Two cards were marked Sunlight Test and each card was placed in two different windows in such a way that one would bask in the rays of the morning sun and the other in the afternoon sun. This is to see if plain sunlight could reveal the hidden messages.

Sunlight Test 1, after drying


Two card were marked Reveal Test. Each card was aged for three days and then exposed to heat to test which of the three chemicals could be read after different levels of heat. 

One card was marked Body Heat Test and was carried in my shirt pocket everyday at work. This was to test to simulate a message being carried within a doublet. I wish to see if any of the chemicals could be revealed by simple body heat.

Four days into the experiment, the three inks were visible (shiny) when held at the right angle to bright light and the Ammonia chloride was very tactile. A chance conversation about this project brought up the definition of the word "melt". I had used cold water to dissolve the ammonium chloride and only enough to dissolve the powder. Reproducing the same mixture in a clear glass, [19] I could see that not all of the ammonium chloride was dissolved, as I first thought. There was a thin film of wet powder on top of the solution. And it might be that the thick writing was due to the undissolved power sticking to the pen nib. Another possibility was that the solution had too much ammonium chloride. 

I prepared two additional paper cards, titled Consistency Test and Consistency Test 2. I also acquired a scrap of pergamenta to see if the invisible ink would hide better. I prepared a watered down solution of ammonium chloride (one tablespoon mixed in with a quarter cup of cold water), as well as a hot solution (one tablespoon of ammonium chloride mixed with about four tablespoons of hot, but not boiling, water). I also juiced another lemon to act as a control.

The cold solution was written down next to the number one, the hot solution next to the number two and the lemon juice next to the number three. I used lemon juice for the control as I had another lemon available and I did not want to gooify [20] another onion. The hot ammonium chloride solution dried faster than the cold solution (about a hour faster).

Results and Observations


Inks
In preparation, the lemon juice was the easiest to prepare. The ammonium chloride, both cold and hot methods, were the next easiest and the onion juice was the most difficult to prepare. For aroma, the onion juice had the strongest smell in the cup, followed by the lemon juice and then the ammonium chloride. However, once the inks were on paper, all odors disappeared within a few minutes. No detectable aroma could be discerned after the inks had dried. For the reveal test: the lemon juice and ammonium chloride were about equal darkness, after being heated, while the onion juice was not quite as dark: it required a longer exposure to heat to fully develop. The onion juice was the best in being invisible: it was not very detectable when the cards were held up to the light or when held at an angle to the light. The ink was detectable as a rough surface by one’s fingers, but could not be identified as text as could the ammonium chloride and the lemon juice. The ammonium chloride and the lemon juice could be seen as shiny text when held up at an angle to the light and almost read at this angle. The ammonium chloride could even detectable when the cards were held up with a bright light shining behind them.

Pergamenta vs. Paper
As I had noted above, the lemon and onion juices soaked into the paper, and dried, within minutes, while the ammonium chloride took over any hour before it dried and set up. While on the pergamenta, both ammonium chloride solutions caused the scrap of pergamenta to start to curl and bend where it was moistened. The lemon juice did the same, but not as severely. Plain water did not cause any similar reaction.

Within minutes, all three liquids had soaked into the pergamenta and were quite invisible, even when held up at an angle to bright light. While the hidden text on the paper had a certain shine to it, on the pergamenta, if one did not know that that was a hidden message, it would have been almost completely undetectable, particularly to the casual glance. In comparison, the hidden text on the paper might pass a casual glance, but would be detected with a detailed search. However, it was obvious that the pergamenta had gotten wet at some point.

Pergamenta Test, after drying


Age Test
This test was done to see what would happen after eight days; the original source gave a fixed time limit for the invisibility. However, after 20 plus days, there is no visible difference between the three inks. Comparing the cards with the photos taken at the start of the project, it does not appear that visible changes have taken place. I do not know why the author of Le Menagier de Paris stated that the ink would only last eight days, but since there is no context for the instructions, we might never know why it was listed as a temporary solution, [21] or, indeed, why the instruction was provided at all.

While I was finishing up this documentation, I lit a candle and held Age Test 2 to the flame. The hidden text was revealed with any problems, except for when I brought the card too close to the flame and burned a hole in the card.

Age Test 1, after two days

Age Test 1, after twenty days


Body Heat Test
I am ashamed to say that the body heat card was misplaced after only three days. However, judging by the length of time it took for a candle flame to reveal the hidden messages, I do not think that normal body heat would be capable of sparking the chemical changes necessary to darken the text.

Body Heat Test, after one day


Sunlight Test
Like the Age Test, there is no visible difference between the cards and their initial photos after three weeks of sitting in sunshine. The exposure to sunlight appears to have no effect on the ammonium chloride, lemon juice or the onion juice. Like Age Test 2, I also brought Sunlight Test 2 near a candle flame to see if age and light exposure would prevent the hidden messages from being revealed. However, this time I did not set the card on fire. The only noticeable difference was the the last two characters written in lemon juice did not fully appear. I will put that down to not enough lemon juice was in the pen nib.

Sunlight Test 1, after twenty days


Reveal Test
After four days, the two paper cards marked Reveal Test were exposed to fire. I acquired a candle and a lighter and sat down on the sofa, ready to reveal the hidden messages. I picked up the lighter and the candle and realized that paper is, potentially, flammable. I could set the paper on fire and ruin the experiment. And, more importantly, I could set the sofa on fire. [22]  I moved the candle, lighter and paper to the less flammable bathroom and cleaned off the counter; removing anything that could catch on fire. I then got the fire extinguisher from the kitchen and set it by the sink, just in case. There are no pictures of this portion of the experiment as I only had two hands, one for the paper and one to steady the candle.

For the test, I held one card at an angle to the candle flame (Reveal Test) and the other (Reveal Test 2) directly over the flame. This was a test to see which of the three chemicals appeared the fastest and the easiest to read.

Of the three chemicals, the ammonium chloride was the darkest, the lemon juice the next darkest and the onion juice the faintest. However, the onion juice was revealed the quickest, then the lemon juice and finally the ammonium chloride.

With the card held at an angle to the candle flame, I started at the bottom of the card, with the onion juice, and moved the card so that the lemon juice and finally the ammonium chloride was exposed to the flame. Even with added heat of exposure, as the heat moved up the card, the lemon juice took about twice as long as the onion juice to reveal (estimated two seconds for the onion juice and four seconds for the lemon juice). [23] It took an estimated nine seconds for the ammonium chloride to reveal, while I moved the paper back and forth to keep the paper from burning. As it was, the paper is darkened around the text, where the paper was held to the flame too long.


Reveal Test 1 and 2 after exposure to heat

With Reveal Test 2, with the paper held directly over the candle, the Onion Juice was revealed in one and a half Mississippis and the lemon juice in three. The ammonium chloride was revealed in four and a half seconds, but, the paper trapped the rising heat from the candle and darkened the paper considerable more than Reveal Test.


Reveal Test 2 twelve days after exposure to heat


Since I had the candle burning, and as I had a safe environment already prepared, I decided to test the pergamenta; I had another scrap that I could use for any further testing. I brought the pergamenta close to the candle flame and it almost instantly started to bubble, pop and then catch on fire. On the plus side: the heat of the fire did reveal the lemon juice and both ammonium chloride solutions. On the minus side: the sample was on fire!

Pergamenta Test after being set on fire


Dear readers, if you only take away one thing from this project, it should be that pergamenta is flammable and I highly recommend that you do not expose it to fire. There are plenty of other things one can do with pergamenta; setting it and your house on fire should be low on your list of priorities. So, remember, only you can prevent scroll fires.

Pergamenta Test four days after being set on fire


Fortunately, the fire was not very big and I was able to put it out without too much difficulty, and without losing too much of the pergamenta. However, due to the flammability of the material, I decided to discontinue testing with the pergamenta, other than observing if the charred remains of the ammonium chloride text would fade.

Consistency Test
The ammonium chloride applied to these cards were less visible than that applied to the previous cards. However, the text could be felt as raised text with one’s fingers. The lemon juice could also be felt on the card’s surface, although not as severe. Like the previous cards, all three could be detected by their sheen, when held up at an angle to the light and the two lines of ammonium chloride could be seen when held up to a bright light.

Consistency Test 1 after 17 days


Like the previous cards, no visible changes could be seen after three weeks of aging. One of the cards, from this test, was exposed to the heat of a candle. The warm and cold solutions of ammonium chloride were revealed in about the same amount of time (about nine seconds).

Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures of any of the additional cards, after they were exposed to heat. I left them for the judges to experiment with. After Ice Dragon, I had packed the cards and paperwork away someplace safe. If I manage to find them, I will photograph them and update this blog.

Conclusion

Sal ammoniac appears to be as effective as an invisible ink as lemon juice and onion juice. In period, it would have been easier to acquire than lemon juice and, probably, easier to prepare than onion juice. [24]. I was pleasantly surprised at how effective it was and can easily see how messages can be secretly passed between two people: if not for bright light, and the knowledge that there was writing present, my hidden text would be easily overlooked by anyone who was not actively looking for invisible ink.

[1] Hinson, Other Odds and Ends
[2] Singh, p6 and Kahn, p522
[3] Zimmerman, p104
[4] Cowley; Calhoun, p242-3
[5] Ben Jonson, William Gifford, p203
[6] Not the fruit
[7] Salt of ammonia
[8] Eliade, p216; Cotnoir, Wasserman, p75, et al
[9] Vert Antique
[10] Hiscox, p137-9, 184, 206, 209; Coolet, Tuson, p68, 88, 255, 268, 270; Merrifield, p55-59; Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, no page numbers
[11] Rabelais, Chapter 2.XXIV
[12] Allen, p170
[13] Myers p27
[14] Used to treat and prevent urinary tract infections in goats
[15] And they gave me free shipping.
[16] Bristol
[17] Duh.
[18] That’s what she said.
[19] I first used a ceramic mug
[20] Yes, it is a real word
[21] Pun intented.
[22] That would be bad.
[23] Using the Mississippi method.
[24] And most likely easier to find than the dew from alcakengy, the gall of a raven or ambergris.




Bibliography:

Agricola, Georgius. De Re Metallica, Translated From the First Latin Edition of 1556. Library of Alexandria, 1950. (Google eBook)

Allen, Thomas B. George Washington, Spymaster: How the Americans Outspied the British and Won the Revolutionary War. National Geographic Books, Jan 2007.

Cooley, Arnold James; Tuson, Richard Vine. Cyclopaedia of practical receipts and collateral information. J. & A. Churchill, 1872. (Google eBook)

Cotnoir, Brian; Wasserman, James. The Weiser Concise Guide to Alchemy. Weiser Books, May 20, 2006. (Google eBook)

Cowley, Abraham; Calhoun, Thomas O. Collected works of Abraham Cowley: Poems (1656) ; Pt. 1 : The mistress, Volumes 1-2. University of Delaware Press, 1993. (Google eBook)

Eliade, Mircea. The Forge and the Crucible: The Origins and Structure of Alchemy. University of Chicago Press, Mar 15, 1979

Grant, Edward. A Source Book in Medieval Science. Harvard University Press, 1974

Hiscox, Gardner Dexter. Henley’s Twentieth Century Forrmulas, Recipes and Processes: Containing Ten Thousand Selected Household and Workshop Formulas, Recipes, Processes and Moneymaking Methods for the Practical Use of Manufacturers, Mechanics, Housekeepers and Home Workers. Norman W. Henley, 1914. (Google eBook)

Jonson, Ben; Gifford, William. The works of Ben Jonson...: with notes critical and explanatory, and a biographical memoir, Volume 8. G. and W. Nicol, 1816. (Google eBook)

Kahn, David. The Codebreakers: The Comprehensive History of Secret Communication from Ancient Times to the Internet. Simon and Schuster, Dec 5, 1996. (Google eBook)

Le Menagier de Paris. Translated by Hinson, Janet. http://daviddfriedman.com/Medieval/Cookbooks/Menagier/Menagier_Contents.html

Merrifield, Mary Philadelphia. Medieval and Renaissance Treatises on the Arts of Painting: Original Texts With English Translations. Courier Dover Publications, 1999. (Google eBook)

Myers, Richard L. The 100 Most Important Chemical Compounds: A Reference Guide. ABC-CLIO, Aug 30, 2007. (Google eBook)

Rabelais, Francois. Five Books Of The Lives, Heroic Deeds And Sayings Of Gargantua And His Son Pantagruel: Translated into English by Sir Thomas Urquhart of Cromarty and Peter Antony Motteux. The text of the first Two Books of Rabelais has been reprinted from the first edition (1653) of Urquhart’s translation. Footnotes initialled ‘M.’ are drawn from the Maitland Club edition (1838); other footnotes are by the translator. Urquhart’s translation of Book III. appeared posthumously in 1693, with a new edition of Books I. and II., under Motteux’s editorship. Motteux’s rendering of Books IV. and V. followed in 1708. Occasionally (as the footnotes indicate) passages omitted by Motteux have been restored from the 1738 copy edited by Ozell. (Project Gutenberg Ebook)

Rees, Abraham. The Cyclopædia: Or, Universal Dictionary of Arts, Sciences, and Literature, Volume 19. Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, 1819. (Google eBook)

Rose, Alexander. Washington’s Spies: The Story of America’s First Spy Ring. Random House Digital, Inc., Dec 18, 2007

Singh, Simon. The Code Book: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography. Random House Digital, Inc., Jan 26, 2011. (Google eBook)

Zimmerman, Susan. Shakespeare Studies, Volume 34. Fairleigh Dickinson Univ Press, Oct 1. 2006. (Google eBook)


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Observations from 2015:


I really enjoyed conducting this experiment. I like researching oddball things and this was a very odd ball. And, I got to go all "Mythbusters" on the cards. I only posted a small selection of the pictures: for most of the cards, I have between 20 and 40 pictures. I did not want to flood this post with almost identical photos. Once I find out where I stashed the cards, I'll post some "very after" pictures. I am willing to bet that the un-revealed cards will still be all but invisible.

This project started with me looking for a recipe and reading the line in Le Menagier about the ink. My first thought was, "That's weird." And then I spent a few weeks trying to think of why some old dude would be telling his young wife how to make spy ink. I went back and re-read the line and then had to do some research on what sal ammoniac was and what other invisible inks were available and by then, I was hooked. I had to try it.