Food History

I’m becoming a firm believer in everything being linked. That’s the only explanation for a food history excursion including unexpected tips on how to make a shofar. Our hosts today didn’t even know what a shofar was, but Michael knew all about hollowing ram’s horns the easy (though slow) way and gave me a really good explanation why rams’ horns are used more than ewes’. Ewes have a solid portion at the thin end of their horn: they’re harder to hollow out. None of which is relevant to food history unless the breeding of sheep for meat and the breeding of sheep for musical/religious reasons work together, which they might have, somewhere and sometime.

We talked about Aylesbury ducks and their fine history while we were at the farm, but in the end we forgot to see them. We met some young male Belted Galloways, who acted very much like teenage boys. Michael tried and tried to call them, and they kept fairly disdainful gazes upon us, but they saw there was no food in meeting us so they stayed away. The thing is, we will get the ultimate revenge. Young cows should not act intolerably bored – not when they’re in the slaughter paddock. (I felt so mean typing that!)

The sheep were much cooler, and meeting Beyonce the pig is always a delight. She has grown huge and the sheep (Wiltshire, I think) looked tiny and elegant by comparison. They reminded me, in fact, of many of the sheep I had seen in Medieval Book of Hours. So did a roaming whippet.

The hens avoided the peacocks and peahens, and since the peacocks and hens decided to squawk around us enthusiastically we didn’t talk to the hens, just as we didn’t talk to the ducks. I pointed out that I knew how to cook a peacock, which amused my students immeasurably. I left out some key elements when I described the process to them, but it was a genuine error. If they cook according the (very vague) method I described, without the missing steps, they won’t have roast peacock, they’ll have some form of leather.

My enthusiasm for all the plants and Michael’s and Elizabeth’s immense knowledge of what they’re doing often transformed into discussions of how to cook everything from briar rose hips to belladonna’s uses. It was someone else, though, who knew that paddymelon fruit were not edible.

And that was our class excursion. We all bought meat to take home (which resulted in me cooking steak and kidney pie for my dinner), one of my students collected a bunch of feathers to use for calligraphy, and I’m now the proud possessor of a sheep’s skull (alas, merino – I was hoping for one of the heritage types) and a red kangaroo skull. The ‘roo skull is amazingly tiny. They act dangerously clever and sheep act stupid, so maybe the main use of a big brain is to form the base of a dish for the evening meal. And no, I didn’t buy any brains.