#john nott

[timetraveltasting]

CHOCOLATE WINE (1723)

Happy New Year! Now back in Germany, my husband and I are enjoying our Christmas decorations for one last weekend before taking them down. Meanwhile, we wanted to sip on this warm and wintery Tasting History  (or rather, Drinking History) recipe: Chocolate Wine from 1723. The recipe comes from The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary: Or, the Accomplish’d Housewives Companion by John Nott, who was the chief cook for a string of English aristocrats including the Dukes of Somerset, Ormond, and Bolton, and the Lords Lansdowne and Ashburnham. Drinking chocolate was all the rage in England in the 18th century, and the drink was consumed in a variety of public chocolate houses. One of these houses was owned by Thomas and Grace Tosier. Their chocolate house became well-known, to the point that King George I hired Thomas Tosier to work in his royal chocolate kitchen. This special kitchen at Hampton Court Palace, devoted only to the production of chocolate, was rediscovered in 2013 by a curator, and can now be visited by the public. While none of the Tosiers' original chocolate recipes survive, to our knowledge, this recipe from 1723 could be similar, since it is of the time. As someone who does not like coffee, I am a frequent hot chocolate consumer, and I am so curious to try it put together with another drink I love: port wine. Time to turn my kitchen into a royal chocolate kitchen! 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.

My experience making it:

Since just my husband and I are partaking, I halved the recipe. For the chocolate, I used 60% dark chocolate nibs - I couldn't find unsweetened chocolate at the grocery store, so I opted to use slightly less sugar (about 10g less) in order to accommodate for the extra sweetness in the chocolate. Since I am not a fan of sherry, I decided to use port for the wine, specifically Astrada Tawny Port, since I didn't have a ruby port on hand and tawny is still on the red, sweet side.

To start, I measured out the required ingredients, then poured the tawny port into a saucepan. Next, I poured in the sugar in and whisked until I couldn't feel any more granules beneath, meaning the sugar had dissolved well into the port. At this point, the port was still a dark red wine colour, no longer translucent but opaque. For the next instruction, I didn't realize it said to sift the flour into the port until I had already whisked in a couple clumps. Luckily, with some vigorous whisking, I was able to break them up before sifting in the rest of the flour. The mixture had now taken on a lighter, dark magenta colour. I added the dark chocolate nibs in next, not bothering to chop them up further since they were already pretty small, and I figured they would melt fairly quickly anyway. Putting the the saucepan over the stove on medium heat, I whisked constantly for about five minutes while the chocolate melted in. The drink began to take on a deep maroon colour, and it was beginning to smell wonderful, mostly of chocolate. When the drink finally reached a simmer, I continued whisking for just under ten minutes more before taking the saucepan off the heat. Still stirring while it cooled a bit, the drink thickened just slightly once it was off the heat. Hoping it wouldn't thicken to a pudding-like texture, I quickly poured the drink into our Christmas market mugs, just the right size for a small, cozy tipple.

My experience tasting it:

My husband and I tucked into our mugs straight away to try the chocolate wine while it was still hot (but not too hot). The texture was certainly much thicker than a modern hot chocolate, but it was not so thick as to become gloopy, chunky, or wiggly like pudding. It was actually silky smooth! The taste was oh so rich and decadent, I had to go get a glass of water to drink alongside the chocolate wine in order to balance out the strong flavour. It was still very delicious, however: the dark chocolate was in the forefront with its sumptuous and thick sweetness, and that was directly followed by the more acidic sweetness of the port, ending with the light, sensual bite of the alcohol. It was like a drink version of a chocolate raisin dipped in port. Each sip was so full of flavour and texture that I wanted to savour it slowly, but this was not a good idea, because the drink was thickening with every second. By the time we were halfway done our mugs, the chocolate wine had become a thicker drink, and the chocolate was beginning to stick together into very small clumps. To solve this, I added some water: just enough to return the drink to its original texture. This had great results not only for the texture, but also for the flavour, as the chocolate wine became less powerfully decadent and more of an enjoyable, balanced drink to sip on more consistently. Overall, I quite enjoyed the chocolate wine, but unfortunately my husband couldn't say the same. It was simply a bit too rich for him - he winced with each sip due to the strong sweetness, following sour taste, and ending of alcohol. While it was an interesting experiment to try, and I would be interested to try different ratios, types of chocolate, or types of port in this recipe, I probably will not try making something like this for quite a while. The changing texture was difficult to deal with, and I can imagine it would only become more difficult in larger batches. I can only wonder whether the Tosiers' drinking chocolate recipes contained solutions to such challenges. Either way, it was a fascinating and decadent start to 2026. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Chocolate Wine original recipe (1723)

Sourced from a recipe in The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary: Or, the Accomplish’d Housewives Companion by John Nott (1723) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

To make Wine Chocolate Take a Pint of Sherry, or a Pint and half of red port, four Ounces and a half of Chocolate, six Ounces of fine Sugar, and half an ounce of white Starch, or fine Flour; mix, dissolve, and boil all these as before. But if your Chocolate be with Sugar, take double the Quantity of Chocolate, and half the Quantity of Sugar; and so in all.

Modern Recipe

Based on a recipe from The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary: Or, the Accomplish’d Housewives Companion by John Nott (1723) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

750 ml ruby port or 2 cups (475 ml) sherry

Heaping 3/4 cup (170 g) sugar

2 tbsp (14 g) flour

4 1/2 oz (130 g) unsweetened chocolate, grated or chopped finely

Method:

Pour the port or sherry into a medium saucepan. Whisk in the sugar a little at a time until the sugar is mostly dissolved.

Sift in the flour and whisk until it’s incorporated, then stir in the chocolate.

Set the saucepan over medium heat and bring it to a simmer, whisking constantly. Continue to whisk and simmer it, reducing the heat if it starts bubbling too much, for 10 more minutes.

Remove the saucepan from the heat and let it sit, stirring occasionally, until it’s cool enough to drink. It will thicken a bit more as it cools and will form a skin if you don’t stir once in a while.

Serve it forth warm in wine glasses or mugs.

[timetraveltasting]

ROAST VENISON WITH RED WINE SAUCE (1723)

Even though my last Tasting History roast turned out horribly, I decided I shouldn't be scared to try another demanding roast, this time the gout-inducing Roast Venison with Red Wine Sauce from 1723. The recipe comes from a book of recipes, The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary: Or, the Accomplish’d Housewives Companion, compiled by John Nott in 1723. Nott had been the head cook for several aristocrats: the Dukes of Somerset, Ormond, and Bolton, and the Lords Lansdowne and Ashburnham. Gout has plagued people for thousands of years, but due to its causes mostly being on the more expensive, gluttonous side, it mostly afflicted the rich, and thereby, the nobles, monarchs, or aristocrats of any given time period. Gout often comes from an indulgent diet full of red meat and alcohol, and this venison recipe from 1723 flies in the face of the rules you should follow to prevent gout. While this venison recipe was most likely served to the aristocrats the recipe's author worked for as cook, it is similar in its richness of flavour to the meals enjoyed by gout's other famous sufferers in history: Alexander the Great, King Charlemagne, and King Henry VIII. My regular diet is not too gout-inducing (yet!), and I have never cooked venison before, so I thought it would be a good challenge to try and make this sumptuous dish. 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.

My experience making it:

I stuck to the same quantities as Max lists in the recipe this time, as I could only find a 1kg frozen venison haunch at the supermarket. I realize Max used a tenderloin, but I couldn't find this, and I figure that if anything, I am sticking to the original recipe even more faithfully by using the haunch! Since my cut of meat is different to Max's, I thought it might be important to look up a few other recipes online for cooking venison haunch. This way, I could make sure my meat would be fully cooked, since a haunch is quite a bit thicker than a tenderloin. For the wine, I used some leftover Cabernet Sauvignon from France from my last failed roast. Otherwise, I kept to the recipe exactly.

I read online that one should defrost a deer haunch in the fridge for about 24 hours before cooking, so I did so. About half an hour before beginning to cook, I took the haunch out of the fridge to come to room temperature. In the meantime, I pre-heated the oven to 220 degrees Celsius (this is following other recipes online for haunch, not Max's for tenderloin) and began preparing some of the other ingredients. I decided to roast some carrots and onions at the same time as the venison, and therefore decided to make a bed of vegetables in the roast pan on which to lay the haunch. This would hopefully help the haunch cook a bit more evenly. Next I tried to follow Max's direction to trim off the silver skin. Unfortunately, my haunch was tied tightly with grid-like, netted string, making it impossible to do this. Despite most sources online saying to keep the strings on, it was impossible to get at the silver skin this way, so I savagely tore them off. However, I really couldn't get all the silver skin off, despite my hacking with a knife. I also noticed that the string was on there for a reason: the meat came apart in large chunks, so in order to get it back into a roast shape, I had to pile it up on itself. This worked alright in the end, and I laid the haunch on the bed of vegetables in the roast pan. Since I didn't have the special larding needle that Max used, I larded using my own DIY method: poking the roast with a knife every few centimetres and stuffing each hole with bacon fat. That worked well, so I did the same with the rosemary sprigs. I also added a bit of butter to the top of the roast, as online many recipes were saying to do this for haunch, since it is very low in fat. According to the haunch recipes online, I first roasted the venison at the high temperature for 20 minutes, then brought the temperature down to 180 degrees Celsius and roasted a further 10 minutes per 500g, or until the inside reached 52 degrees Celsius. After the initial 20 minutes, I ended up checking the roast with a meat thermometer every 10 minutes until it was above 52 degrees.

While the roast was in the oven, I started making the sauce. I brought the wine, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and sugar to a simmer on medium heat, whisking all the while, then stirred in the breadcrumbs. I let the sauce thicken, stirring intermittently, until it could coat the back of a spoon. Then I added in the white wine vinegar and salt, letting it cook another minute or two. It smelled like glühwein! I then took it off the heat and stirred in the cold cubes of butter until the sauce was smooth. Next, I put the sauce through a sieve. It looked pretty smooth by this point, but unfortunately the sauce was ready before the roast was, so I put some tinfoil over it in an effort to keep it warm until the roast was ready. This only partially worked, as the sauce was beginning to develop clumps the longer it sat and cooled. Luckily, after about 40-50 minutes in the oven overall, the roast finally reached an internal temperature in the middle of 55 degrees Celsius; a bit above what Max suggested, but good enough. I took out the rosemary sprigs, poured the melted butter on top, and let the roast sit for ten minutes to finish cooking and cool a little bit. Then, I plated it with the vegetables. It looked a bit like an amorphous mass of meat (which it kind of was) surrounded by a wreath of colour, but otherwise looked tasty!

My experience tasting it:

I cut into the roast on the end with a carving knife, slicing against the grain, and was at first a little miffed, since it looked a bit overcooked. However, as I kept slicing, working my way to the centre of the roast, I realized that the centre did have some nice pinkness! The roast was probably just a little overcooked for how I usually like it (medium rare), but overall, I was very happy with it. I served my husband and I a few slices and some veggies, then poured some of the now-fairly-thick sauce over the meat. We sprinkled a bit of salt on top, and took our first saucy, meaty, gout-inducing bites. It was really quite delicious! The meat still had a nice chew, it wasn't too dense, and it went perfectly with the sauce, which, like its smell, also tasted like glühwein. So, the dish overall had a bit of a Christmas-y taste, but in the best way. The veggies were also good as a complement to the venison, but a couple carrots weren't quite cooked through. No matter. All in all, I was very happy with how the venison turned out, even if I would have preferred it just a little more rare in the middle. I could really tell that larding the venison had brought it an extra juiciness that it needed. My husband also enjoyed the venison, but did comment that it reminded him of liver a bit, since it was still a bit dense and metallic at times. Despite this, both of us would happily eat this again, even if it is gout-inducing. Don't tell anyone, but between us, we polished off the entire 1kg roast (yikes). For the sake of our health and our wallet (venison ain't cheap), I will probably not make this again unless it is for a special occasion like Christmas or Thanksgiving. No gout for me, thanks. If you end up making this dish, if you liked it, or if you changed anything from the original recipe, do let me know!

Roast Venison with Spiced Wine Sauce original recipe (1723)

Sourced from The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary: Or, the Accomplish’d Housewives Companion by John Nott (1723) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

To roast a Haunch of Venison. First lard it with Bacon, and stick it thin with Rosemary; then roast it with a brisk Fire; but let it not lye too near it; bate it with fresh Butter; then boil a Pint of Claret with a little beaten Ginger, Cinnamon and Sugar, with a half a dozen whole Cloves, and some grated bread; and when they have boil’d enough, put in a little Salt, Vinegar and fresh Butter; dish your Venison, strew Salt about the Dish, and serve it with this Sauce.

Modern Recipe

Based on the recipe from The Cooks and Confectioners Dictionary: Or, the Accomplish’d Housewives Companion by John Nott (1723) and Max Miller’s version in his Tasting History video.

Ingredients:

Venison

2 lbs (1 kg) venison, I used tenderloin

1/8 lb (55 g) bacon fat, cut into strips about 3/4” (2 cm) long

12 or so small sprigs of fresh rosemary, each sprig still connected to a bit of the stalk so you can poke it into the meat

1/4 cup (60 g) melted butter

Sauce

2 cups (475 ml) red wine

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 cup (50 g) sugar

6 whole cloves

1/4 cup (35 g) bread crumbs

1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more for garnish

1 tablespoon white wine vinegar

1/4 cup (60 g) cold butter, cubed

Method:

For the venison: Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

Trim any silver skin from the venison. This is the thin, shiny membrane on the meat. Pat the venison dry.

Lard the venison by inserting the strips of bacon fat into it, distributing it evenly. There are different methods for this, but I got a special needle that helps me inject the fat into the meat.

Poke the sprigs of rosemary stalk first into the meat every couple of inches.

Place the venison on a wire rack over a baking sheet or roasting pan and roast for 10 to 12 minutes, or until the internal temperature is about 125°F (52°C). It will be fairly rare, but if you cook venison much past medium, it gets really tough and gamey.

Remove the venison from the oven, then remove the rosemary from the venison. Baste the meat with the melted butter. Let the meat rest for 10 minutes while you prepare the sauce.

For the sauce: In a saucepan, stir together the red wine, ginger, cinnamon, sugar, and whole cloves. Set it over medium heat and bring it to a simmer.

Once it simmers, thoroughly whisk in the bread crumbs and continue to simmer for about 5 minutes. It should start to thicken, and it will get thicker the longer it simmers.

When it’s to a consistency that you like, stir in the salt and vinegar. Take it off the heat, then stir in the cold butter until it’s fully melted. Pour the sauce through a strainer so that it’s nice and smooth.

Slice the venison against the grain, drizzle the sauce over the meat and/or serve some on the side, give it all a generous sprinkling of salt, and serve it forth.

[janereigns-blog]

John Nott's Cook's and Confectioner's Dictionary, published in 1723—This is one of the resources for my digital essay that I'll be using because it is one of, if not the first recorded recipes for white-pot. The OED cites the first in-text mention of white-pot in 1577, apparently by Batman, which I found both super exciting and ironic because of my own extreme nerdiness.