This week has been colder than usual, and what better way to warm up than with a piping hot Tasting History dish: the medieval Bokenade. This meat stew is found in Harleian Manuscript 279, a manuscript of recipes from around 1430 A.D., and is located under the section for "winter potages". When reading the text in this manuscript, it is easy to detect the French influence in the language, and many of the recipes are just the kind of hearty meals that would have been served in medieval taverns. Like me, you may have heard rumours of certain restaurants in the world having perpetual dishes, perhaps a soup, stew, or curry that has been cooking without interruption for hundreds of years. Who's to say whether these dishes have really cooked without interruption, or if that is hyperbolic advertising, but either way, perpetual stews may have been quite common in medieval taverns. As stew was ladled out into the bowls of the hungry patrons, more ingredients would be added in so that the stew kept on stewing. Typically this is good for flavour, consistency of taste across many bowls, and keeping your menu simple and delicious. One rumour of such a stew is one in southern France, where, apparently, a perpetual stew was served from the 15th century (around when this recipe was written) all the way up until WWII, when they couldn’t get the right ingredients. I leave it to you to judge the veracity of these claims. One thing is for certain, the Bokenade I make here will only become a perpetual stew in my house if it tastes absolutely heavenly! See Max’s video on how to make this dish here or see the ingredients and process at the end of this post, sourced from his website.
According to standard practice at this point, I halved the recipe. For my meat, I found veal shoulder at my local Turkish butcher, bones intact. I opted to use beef broth from bouillon instead of water, since I had heard that veal makes a lighter tasting stew than beef, and I wanted lots of flavour! I bought some dried hyssop online since I couldn't find it in stores, and found verjuice at my local Turkish grocer. One addition I insisted on was to put some chopped carrots in the Bokenade - for the sake of nutrition, and because I could see medieval taverns having done the same with whichever vegetable was in season.
I poured about 1 litre of water into a large pot, heated it, and dissolved the beef bouillon. I then added the entire veal shoulder whole, adding just a tiny bit more water afterwards to cover the top of it. I simmered it for an hour, skimming the scum off the top as it cooked. Meanwhile, I chopped and measured out all the herbs and spices, and promptly made my first mistake, which was adding all of them together into a bowl (except the saffron and salt). Little did I realize, the ginger was supposed to be added in an entirely different and later step, and the mace and clove were meant to be added after the herbs. However, once in a bowl, I couldn't take those powdered elements out, so I had to take it in stride and continue. After an hour of the meat cooking, it still wasn't "falling off the bone", so I cooked it about 15 minutes longer. It still was firmly attached to the bone. I became impatient and removed the meat anyways, figuring I could just chop it off the bone. For some reason the veal smelled kind of bad when I took it out and diced it. I wasn't sure if this was the normal smell of veal being boiled, or if something was actually off about it, since I had never cooked with veal before. Regardless, I continued on, disposing of the bones and dicing the meat into bite size pieces. I strained the broth, then added the veal back into the broth to continue its long simmer, this time for two hours.
I added my bowl of herbs and spices, stirred, then let it simmer with the lid on. I checked on it periodically and about halfway through the simmer added a cup of water, since the liquid was getting low. About 1 hour in, I added the chopped carrots to the pot. After 2 hours, I tried a piece of veal, and it was indeed very tender - ready! So, for the last step, I took a half cup of broth out, let it cool for a few minutes while I whisked the egg yolks, then slowly added the broth to the egg yolks, stirring all the while. I then added the salt and saffron, whisking it in (the ginger I had already mistakenly added to the broth earlier), then poured this mixture into the main pot, also stirring as I went. Lastly, I stirred in the verjuice, and left the pot on the stove for another minute or two before ladling the stew out into our bowls. I quickly toasted a baguette to serve alongside the stew, put a bit of sea salt butter from Brittany (my all-time favourite) alongside, and served the Bokenade forth! Although it looked more like a soup than a stew, it did look and smell quite warm and hearty.
My experience tasting it:
The initial spoonful, laden with broth, herbs, and veal, was warm and hearty indeed! The taste was overall well-balanced; I could not pick out any one spice or herb, they just seemed to all work together to create a nice medley of savoury goodness. However, there was one other ingredient that did make itself quite known (and surprisingly, it wasn't the veal, despite my worries): the verjuice! I had never had verjuice before, and I was quite worried it would take over the dish, as vinegar has known to have done in past medieval and Roman Tasting History dishes I've made. This time, I wouldn't say it took over, but that its acidity or sourness did make itself known, and sourness is not a flavour profile I expect often in a stew or soup. And I call it a soup here, because the consistency was most definitely that of soup. I realize that the egg yolks were meant to be added as a way to thicken the Bokenade, but I just don't think they were successful in doing this. This could also be because I added extra water as the broth was simmering, however. Mine and Max's finished dishes looked quite different as a result. Luckily, this recipe tastes good both ways, according to each of us respectively. My favourite part of the Bokenade was actually the veal, despite my earlier doubts. It was perfectly tender and had just a light beef-like taste. It held the flavours of the broth very well, also. Similarly, the baguette held the flavours of the Bokenade well when dipped into the broth. My husband and I happily finished our bowls. While we agreed the Bokenade had a little too much sourness for our liking, this could be easily fixed by adding a little less verjuice. Despite enjoying the dish, I don't think I'll make it again, as it is not so delicious that it makes it worth the long cook time, in my opinion. I suppose for a medieval tavern, the long cook time is the whole point, and not a drawback, if they want their Bokenade to be a perpetual stew. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!
Bokenade original recipe (c. 1430)
Sourced from Harleian Manuscript 279 (c. 1430).
Vele, Kede, or Henne in bokenade
Take Vele, Kyde, or Henne, an boyle hem in fayre Water, or ellys in freysshe brothe, and smyte hem in pecys, and pyke hem clene; an than draw the same brothe thorwe a straynoure, an caste there-to Percely, Swag, Ysope, Maces, Clowys, an let boyle tyl the flesshe be y-now; than sette it from the fyre, and alye it up with raw yolkys of eyroun, and caste ther-to pouder Gyngere, Veriows, Safroun, and Salt, and thanne serve it forth for a gode mete.
Based on the recipe from Harleian Manuscript 279 (c. 1430) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.
3 to 4 lbs (1.5 kg) beef, goat, or chicken, with bones
Water or broth (or a combination), enough to cover the meat
Small handful of fresh parsley
A few leaves of fresh sage
A few sprigs of fresh hyssop, or about 1 teaspoon dried
A pinch of saffron, ground
1/2 cup (120 ml) verjuice*
*Verjuice is made from unripened grapes and has a vinegary, acidic taste mixed with some sweetness. If you can't find it, try using a mixture of equal parts grape juice and red wine vinegar.
Place the meat in a large pot and pour in enough water and/or broth to cover it. Bring it to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Skim off any scum or foam that rises to the surface. Simmer for about 1 hour, or until the meat easily comes away from the bone.
Take the pot off the heat, remove the meat, and cut it into bite-sized pieces. Strain the broth.
Return the cut up meat and the broth to the pot.
Chop the parsley, sage, and hyssop very fine, then add them to the pot. Add the mace and cloves, and give it a stir. Bring the stew to a simmer. Cover the pot with the lid and let it simmer for anywhere from 1 to 2 hours depending on how tender you want the meat to get. Check the pot a few times and add more broth and/or water if it starts to get low.
After the meat is as tender as you like, take the pot off the heat. Let the broth cool for a few minutes while you whisk the eggs in a bowl, just enough so that they’re smooth. Take about 1/2 cup (120 ml) of the broth and add it to the yolks in a slow stream, whisking constantly. After the 1/2 cup of broth has been added, whisk in the ginger, saffron, and salt. Pour this mixture into the pot, then stir in the verjuice. (Add the yolks right before you want to serve it. If you reheat the stew, they’re likely to scramble a bit.)
Serve it forth. If you need to reheat your stew after adding the egg yolks, they may scramble a bit. The stew is still delicious, it’s just the texture that changes a little and it won’t be quite as thick.
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