[Sca-cooks] A Feast Experiment

[Robert Downie]

I scanned through my copy of _The Feast_ a modern translation of "Fled Bricriu", an Irish ledgend.  There is mention of:
a- cauldron filled with undiluted wine
-a cask of beer, freshly brewed from honey soaked barley
-7 year old boar, fed fresh milk and meal in spring, curds and sweet milk in the summer, shelled acorns and walnuts and hickory nuts in the autumn, and beef and broth in the winter
-one hundred wheat cakes made from twenty five bushels- four cakes only from each bushel-have been baked in honey
-a bowl of grain and meat mixed in a mash
-nuts and cherries
-3 bullocks slaughtered, one in honour for each of the warriors so that none could argue over the champion's portion.  Fifty women waited on each, bringing platters of  meat from the spits as eachdevoured his portion.  Others held damp cloths so the heroes could wipe their greasy fingers and lips.
-honey-wine, aged ten years in an oak cask that had been carefully chared with burning faggots of apple wood
-platters heaped with roasted beef and pork were brought in on gilded trays.  Rare wines and aged beer flowed copiously, while rich breads baked in raisin sauces and walnut honey mashes.

Someone has persued this idea before.  HauvietteD'anjou  has a feast that was inspired by a 12thy c poem, a"A Vision ofViands" see below:
Faerisa

http://home.earthlink.net/~mkcooks/AFeastAtCarrickFergus.htm
                                translation by author from Gaelic dictionaries online[i]

                                       The Vision of Viands

                                In a slumber visional, Wonders apparitional
                                 Sudden shone on me: Was it not a miracle?
                               Built of lard, a coracle Swam a sweet milk sea.
                                     Whith high hearts heroical,
                                      We stepped in it, stoical,
                                      Braving billow-bounds;
                                     Then we rode so dashingly,
                                    smote the sea so splashingly,
                                   That the surge sent, washingly,
                                       Honey up for grounds.
                                     Ramparts rose of custard all
                                     Where a castle muster'd all
                                        Forces o'er the lake;
                                     Butter was the bridge of it,
                                    Wheaten meal the ridge of it,
                                         Bacon every stake.
                                    Strong it stood, and pleasantly
                                      There I entered presently
                                        Hying to the hosts;
                                     Dry beef was the door of it,
                                    Bare bread was the floor of it,
                                      Whey-curds were the posts.
                                    Old cheese-columns happily,
                                     Pork that pillared sappily,
                                       Raised their heads aloof;
                                      While curd-rafters mellowly
                                   Crossing cream-beams yellowly,
                                         Held aloft the roof.
                                    Wine in well rose sparklingly,
                                     Beer was rolling darklingly,
                                     Bragget brimmed the pond.
                                      Lard was oozing heavily,
                                     Merry malt moved wavily,
                                     Through the floor beyond.
                                      Lake of broth lay spicily,
                                       Fat froze o'er it icily,
                                     'Tween the wall and shore;
                                     Butter rose in hedges high,
                                     cloaking all it's edges high
                                      White lard blossomed o'er.
                                       Apple alleys bowering,
                                   Pink-topped orchards flowering,
                                      Fenced off hill and wind;
                                      Leek-tree forests loftily,
                                      Carrots branching tuftily,
                                         Guarded it behind.
                                       Ruddy warders rosily
                                      Welcomed us right cosily
                                       To the fire and rest;
                                      Seven coils of sausages,
                                    Twined in twisting passages,
                                     Round each brawny breast.
                                      Their chief I discover him,
                                       Suet mantle over him,
                                         By his lady bland;
                                   Where the cauldron boiled away,
                                     The Dispenser toiled away,
                                        With his fork in hand.
                                     Good King Cathal, royally,
                                       Surely will enjoy a lay,
                                        Fair and fine as silk;>
                                     From his heart his woe I call,
                                       When I sing, heroical,
                                      How we rode, so stoical,
                                       O'er the Sea of Milk.-

                                Aniar MacConglinne --- Irish, 12th century

             ------transtrans. G. Sigerson, in Bards of the Gael and Gal??(London Unwin, 1897) [ii] florilegium.com