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Kalamazoo Book Blog: A Fluffy but Delicious Book
Dalby, Andrew & Maureen Dalby. 2012. The Shakespeare Cookbook. The British Museum Press, London. ISBN 978-0-7141-2335-6
This is not a book aimed at serious food history geeks, except insofar as serious food history geeks who are completists will no doubt enjoy picking up a copy to grace their shelves. This is meant as a "gateway drug" to historic food geekery. The name Dalby is generally associated with a quality product and up to a certain point, this is what the book delivers. Past that point ... well, but I'll get to that.
The basic premise here is to introduce the reader to the basic ideas of culinary and dining history in the late 16th century in a palatable [you see what I did there?] manner by tying the subjects in at regular intervals to themes and dialogs in Shakespeare's plays. With the wealth of the British Museum holdings at their disposal, it comes plentifully illustrated with artwork and artifacts relevant to the topics. In fact, solely as a single source for images of Elizabethan dinners and dining arrangements (of varied levels of formality, class, and scope) this would be a valuable starting point. In addition, there are discussions of common (and some uncommon) ingredients and staple foods.
And, of course, there are recipes. Like all good "gateway drug" cookbooks, the text provides a literary context mentioning a dish, then provides a recipe from a historic cookbook that has some connection with the literary context, and then provides a modern measured-and-step-by-step recipe for the novice to follow. Very disappointingly though, these last are not merely modern in format but have been changed significantly from the historic recipes to make them modern in taste and form as well.
As a typical example, a 16th century recipe for "Capon with oranges or lemons" which can be summarized as "boil a capon, then make a sauce by simmering some of the broth with oranges, mace, and sugar, thickened with wine and egg yolks" gets turned into "oven-braise chicken pieces with onions, carrots, and dill, then make a sauce from lemon juice and a minute amount of the cooking liquid, thickened with whole eggs and cornstarch". Well, they overlap in the use of poultry, citrus, and eggs I guess. This is, alas, fairly typical of the lack of confidence the authors have in the ability of modern readers to both follow and enjoy more authentic recipes. And some have an even more tenuous connection between the two (like the deep-fried apple fritters that get turned into a baked apple coffee cake, or the simple spinach tart for which a spanikopita recipe is substituted).
In short, the book works as a gateway drug to historic cooking all the way up to the point when the reader wants to start cooking, at which point there is a bait and switch and they are deprived of the chance to learn anything true or real about the food of Shakespeare's day. This is quite disappointing (and I look forward with trepidation to someone presenting the results of the modernized recipes as "an authentic Shakespearean banquet"). The book is hardly without value, but the recipes make it deeply flawed in what it purports to be.
This is not a book aimed at serious food history geeks, except insofar as serious food history geeks who are completists will no doubt enjoy picking up a copy to grace their shelves. This is meant as a "gateway drug" to historic food geekery. The name Dalby is generally associated with a quality product and up to a certain point, this is what the book delivers. Past that point ... well, but I'll get to that.
The basic premise here is to introduce the reader to the basic ideas of culinary and dining history in the late 16th century in a palatable [you see what I did there?] manner by tying the subjects in at regular intervals to themes and dialogs in Shakespeare's plays. With the wealth of the British Museum holdings at their disposal, it comes plentifully illustrated with artwork and artifacts relevant to the topics. In fact, solely as a single source for images of Elizabethan dinners and dining arrangements (of varied levels of formality, class, and scope) this would be a valuable starting point. In addition, there are discussions of common (and some uncommon) ingredients and staple foods.
And, of course, there are recipes. Like all good "gateway drug" cookbooks, the text provides a literary context mentioning a dish, then provides a recipe from a historic cookbook that has some connection with the literary context, and then provides a modern measured-and-step-by-step recipe for the novice to follow. Very disappointingly though, these last are not merely modern in format but have been changed significantly from the historic recipes to make them modern in taste and form as well.
As a typical example, a 16th century recipe for "Capon with oranges or lemons" which can be summarized as "boil a capon, then make a sauce by simmering some of the broth with oranges, mace, and sugar, thickened with wine and egg yolks" gets turned into "oven-braise chicken pieces with onions, carrots, and dill, then make a sauce from lemon juice and a minute amount of the cooking liquid, thickened with whole eggs and cornstarch". Well, they overlap in the use of poultry, citrus, and eggs I guess. This is, alas, fairly typical of the lack of confidence the authors have in the ability of modern readers to both follow and enjoy more authentic recipes. And some have an even more tenuous connection between the two (like the deep-fried apple fritters that get turned into a baked apple coffee cake, or the simple spinach tart for which a spanikopita recipe is substituted).
In short, the book works as a gateway drug to historic cooking all the way up to the point when the reader wants to start cooking, at which point there is a bait and switch and they are deprived of the chance to learn anything true or real about the food of Shakespeare's day. This is quite disappointing (and I look forward with trepidation to someone presenting the results of the modernized recipes as "an authentic Shakespearean banquet"). The book is hardly without value, but the recipes make it deeply flawed in what it purports to be.