The Fall of Roman clothing

The “Middle Ages” period is defined as the time after Roman hegemony centered in Rome itself. After Rome was overrun by Goths and ceased to control its empire, Constantinople was called the New Rome or Eastern Rome. Its cultural domination extended over the eastern Mediterranean, but not past Greece. Western Europe was no longer dominated by any one single people, but instead it was unsettled and wild. Various groups from the north contested for power.

Let’s look at the map before Rome’s influence ended. (link to Wikimedia map) On this map, Mediterranean culture has spread as far north as it could. There’s one large block of geography resistant to Roman culture, in the areas of modern Germany and Poland. Between 200 and 600 AD, most of these groups pushed east and south, taking over warmer lands. The Vandals and Lombards went to Italy. The Visigoths settled in Spain. Burgundians went to France. Some Saxons and Angles (not shown on Wiki map) moved into Roman Britain.

Medieval fashion began with two very divergent poles: Byzantium (Constantinople) with its Roman-like robes and wealth and the uncouth Germanic people who wore pants. Medieval fashion history is about the influence of the East on the West in repeated cycles, with the West each time altering the East’s clothing notions into forms more appropriate to their hard northern winters.

So in considering medieval clothing, we have to look at two radically different ways of covering the human body. Byzantium was relatively warm and already a crowded urban center. Northwestern Europe was forested with only scattered human settlements; wolves and bear roamed through the snow. Byzantium’s fashions were based in gold and imported silk; Germany’s fashions centered around fur. Byzantines wore slippers, robes and tunics; Franks and Saxons wore pants and boots, with many layers of wool and fur on top.

Flax was Europe’s native fabric material. Wool-producing sheep and goats, brought north from the Mediterranean, were a welcome addition. Silk was a rare import from China, not at first known outside the huge urban center. Cotton was yet unknown.

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Modern European cooking begins

1400: firewood is scarcer than ever, with just one iron forge using up to 100 oak trees per year. Wild game animals are hoarded by aristocrats on their shrinking forest estates (parks). But beer is flowing, with a surplus of wheat for the smaller population. There’s more bread in bakeries and some people can afford 2 1/2 or even 3 meals a day.

Cheese and smoked pork are the two first big changes in protein foods. Both are ways of preserving surplus food, a rarity just one century before. Butchers begin stuffing ground meat and blood into intestinal casings, creating the famous sausage types of later European cuisine. Cheese is still mostly from sheep’s milk in some places, but cow’s milk is more and more available.

Around this time, bakers start borrowing brewer’s yeast, perhaps first in monastic kitchens where brewing and baking were done in neighboring rooms. Country bread is still sourdough, but wealthier institutions and families start eating light, risen, sweet bread. Of course, baking skill is applied to the new breads, so soon there are breads of all shapes, including sweetened and with imported dried fruits.

There are more sugar refineries and plantations in the Portuguese-controlled islands off Africa; sugar is still expensive but it’s starting to be used more by the rich. This bumps honey downscale into greater availability for the upper middle classes. Sweet desserts proliferate. The spice trade is growing; pepper, cinnamon and ginger are becoming available for the upper middle classes.

As merchants and goldsmiths start peppering their brewet and mixing cinnamon with honey in dessert, aristocrats lose interest in spices. Game animals are now the best show of wealth; roast boar is classier than ever. A new trend starts among the aristocracy that will alter cooking again: serving food in set courses, one type at a time. The fad comes from Spain to Paris. The emphasis is now on volume, since the Fish Course must concentrate enough fish to serve everyone, ditto the Meat Course, rather than spreading everything out in fancy dishes served in random clusters.

The Little Ice Age is making travel in the North Sea difficult. Stockfish’s importance in daily diet drops as fewer ships go out for cod near Iceland and Greenland.

Italy has been developing its characteristic pasta, a quick-cooking wheat food for a region doubly short on firewood. In 1400, you can eat tortellini, ravioli and lasagna as well as pasta soups. Spain’s food has long been influenced by Arabic tastes, chiefly in sweets but also in pickles. Fashionable people in Paris and London begin serving these exotic foods instead of last century’s colored tromp l’oeil dishes.

By 1500, European food as we recognize it has arrived, and there my special knowledge ends.

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Side note: Jews and the Black Death

Why did Jews get targeted during the plague? Here’s what happened (copied from FB comments string on “The Great Mortality” post):

By this time, England and northern France had expelled their Jewish populations. Jews lived in Spain, southern France (Marseille coast), Italy and Germany.

The plague came first to Italy, then to southern France and Spain. They didn’t know what it was, but they pretty much knew it had come from the Genoese death ships. Some Jews in towns near Marseille were attacked, but it wasn’t directly connected with the plague, it seems. The Jews maybe did statistically better (I haven’t seen that claim), but it was no better than maybe 20% of them died instead of 30%. That’s still a lot of death and it’s very plain to everyone that you’re not exempt.

Germany was assaulted by the plague from west and east, but it had a full year to hear news from Italy, France, England and even Sweden, and tremble. Italy was hit too suddenly to anticipate the tragedy, but Germany had time to think. They wanted desperately to turn away the dreadful thing that was headed their way, ready to plunge them into exquisite suffering.

I don’t know the true story on this, but a Jew in Switzerland confessed to local authorities that he had a letter from the Chief Rabbi in Toledo, Spain, telling them to start poisoning wells. The Rabbi sent out the poison packets, too. He took the town council to the well he had poisoned and showed them the packets. Or something like that. In medieval terms, it was a full investigation with proofs beyond doubt; I have a feeling it fell short of CSI standards.

The Swiss sent warning letters to the German towns, telling them that the way to avoid the plague was to prevent the Jews from carrying out their plan. Each major town received a copy of this letter with official seals affixed.

Some rulers doubted the story; after all, the Jews had done a pretty bad job at avoiding their own “poison” in Spain and Italy. What kind of a conspiracy was that? A few governing authorities (don’t make me look it up, but I will if you ask) tried to protect the Jews. But for the most part, terrified German towns bought the whole story.

Thus began the first mass murder program in modern history. Each town arrested all of the Jews and disposed of them in some way. The most dreadful, to me, was the town that rowed the Jews out to an island in the river, where a wooden house stood. The Jews were stripped (clothes were valuable) and herded in. The door was locked, the house set on fire, and the boats rowed back to the city.

Of course, the Germans still died like ants when the plague hit. And the Jews who heard of the crisis in time left Germany and moved to Poland, where the King welcomed them and gave sanctuary. Which is why so many of them were in Poland during the modern era. No other place in Europe was safe; they had to move to the margins, to the recently-Christianized lands.

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Post-plague diet shift

The collapse of the medieval farm economy had a very wide impact on European society. Farming had been based on semi-slavery in which tenants owed the landowner certain days of free labor. They weren’t allowed to leave this contract without buying freedom, although I’ve never heard of any problems with runaway serfs being tracked down like slaves. For the most part, the conditions were just good enough to be accepted, and the landowners owed the serfs things like a harvest feast, which made it feel okay.

But the price of labor skyrocketed after the third visitation of the plague. Survivors demanded wages; landowners could not easily pay, since there were also fewer food customers and the price of wheat dropped. There was a long period of social instability in which landowners petitioned the King to control wages, and the peasants refused to cooperate or mounted armed revolts. Inevitably, towns (by definition free of feudal farm duties) grew and manor farms shrank. Landowners had to pay wages; farms had to make do with fewer workers. There were no significant technological leaps in farming at this time, but the progress of the past centuries (horses, harrows and plows, better seed) allowed them to tinker, improve and do more with less.

The political upheaval led directly to modern institutions and was a big part of the later religious wars that shaped modern Europe. But at table, the main effect of all of this change was that old women who survived through several plagues saw unbelievable price changes at market.

Wheat became affordable; there was a surplus of wheat for the first time in Europe’s history. Not only could more people eat bread on a daily basis, but there was even wheat left over for beer. The working classes had always drunk watery ale in preference to contaminated water, but now they could actually afford a pint of beer that contained enough alcohol to feel the effect. Tavern business boomed, and so did the associated cook-shops.

Animal products became affordable, too. Eggs and a lump of hard cheese, previously the highest protein to which a poor man could aspire, became taken for granted. Although cows had been affected by the plague (and murrain, an animal disease, regularly carried off flocks of domestic animals), there were more farm animals per human mouth now. Cheese-making expanded, creating export markets for isolated Swiss and French villages.

Game animals were scarcer than ever, and so was firewood. But pigs (who could and did catch the plague) became plentiful. Europe’s diet began to swing decisively toward pork consumption…

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The Great Mortality

Although historians count the Middle Ages as running through 1450, when Constantinople fell to the Turks, there’s a compelling argument for ending the era a century sooner, in 1350. By that year, Europe as it had been for the last 500 years was mostly dead. The shape of European culture struggled into new life over the next 50 years, and during that time, nearly everything I’ve written about medieval European diet ceased to be relevant.

Of course I’m referring to the pandemic plague known as the Black Death. At the time, it was called the Great Mortality or just the plague. Although the plague has been identified as Bubonic Plague, it was not fully the same as Bubonic Plague today. It was a new sickness at the time; it probably jumped from an animal species, the Central Asian marmot, around 1345. Traffic on the Silk Road was a big part of initial transmission, but we don’t know if they caught it directly from the marmots and their fleas. There’s strong evidence that it was airborne, both pneumonic and septic, during the early pandemics. The bacteria we know today as the cause of the Bubonic Plague is only spread through blood contact, by flea bites, and it does not mean certain death. Either we’ve developed immunities or the bacteria’s original form was more toxic.

The plague came to Europe in a particularly gory, gross way. 1347: Genoa had a trading colony, Caffa, on the Crimean Peninsula. Tatars and Mongols ruled in Russia and were besieging Caffa. As the plague spread to the Tatars across the central plains, the besiegers grew too sick to fight, so they catapulted dead bodies into Caffa. Terror-stricken plague survivors ran to their ships and put out for Genoa. In the days it took them to leave the Black Sea and cross the Mediterranean, most of them got sick and many died. The ships tried to stop at closer ports to get help, but the residents in each city realized the ships were contagious and drove them off. Even Genoa, which heard of their coming before they arrived, drove off the ships with flaming arrows.

But it was too late. Perhaps at their first stops, ports had permitted them some brief contact before sending them away in panic, and the plague immediately began to spread at those ports. It was like a bonfire lit in six different places; the plague spread outward from these port cities until all the coasts were infected by the end of 1347. In 1348, it spread inland to Florence, and then from port cities like Marseille into Spain. Paris had its first cases in June 1348. By fall, it was in London. In 1349, the Swedish were sick. The plague also spread north from Italy into Austria; Germany got it from both directions in summer 1349. It reached Poland in the fall and hit Scotland in 1350. Moscow, capital of the Tatars who had started it all, sickened via European routes in 1352.

In each place, the plague lasted about a year and then began to abate. At peak, people died too fast for gravediggers to keep up. Notaries who signed a dying man’s will found the executor and beneficiaries dead the next day, then died, themselves. In some places, the mortality rate may have reached 50%. Historians can only estimate based on indirect measures and contemporary claims, but a general average of 30% seems about right.

At first, manor farms still got in their harvests even as peasant workers were dropping dead. There seem to have been a lot of unemployed serfs in that time. Ten years later, the plague came back again, and in addition to taking out some who had survived in 1350, the disease hit children very hard. By the time the plague came back a decade later, it settled into an average 10% death rate. By this time, farms were short on plowmen and harvesters…on the other hand, there were not as many people to feed. When the food could be harvested and brought to market, its value dropped dramatically. The farm economy began to tumble, but survivors could buy food they’d only imagined before.

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Ale and beer

In the early Middle Ages, ale and beer didn’t refer to separate drinks; they were more or less interchangeable. The brew indicated was made from sprouted wheat (dried and ground) brewed in water and then left to ferment. They added herbs according to taste and availability: pine needles, ivy, mint, caraway, acorns, bog myrtle, sage, sycamore sap, and others. Ale/beer in Sweden, Germany, the Netherlands and England tasted very different, but each batch differed by town, village and brewer as well. Herb blends were called “gruit,” and eventually a trade in gruit itself developed. Buying foreign gruit was the closest to buying foreign beer, since the drink itself was not traded internationally.

Ale kept for about five days before souring. It couldn’t be stockpiled against sudden future demand, nor could it be shipped beyond the next town. Most of it was brewed and drunk on the same street. Local ale brewers kept taverns supplied as well as selling to their neighbors; it was a home craft for the most part.

All this changed when German brewers discovered that a local gruit component, hops, changed the drink so that it didn’t spoil for up to six months. Beer that kept so long could be shipped and stockpiled. Taverns could keep a few barrels of hopped beer while meeting daily demand with local brews. Hopped beers could go on sea voyages, as water supply.

The Hanseatic League, a shipping monopoly in the Baltic sea, began to ship beer from Bremen, Hamburg and Wismar to the ports of the Netherlands. There, customers soon adjusted to the bitter tang of hopped beer and began to enjoy it. Hops flowers were exported, then hops growing expanded, and by the Renaissance, most beer was hopped. England was the lone conservative, as most drinkers there still preferred their traditional cider and ale. From this time, “beer” meant “with hops.”

Beer was always considered an inferior drink to wine, but it was much cheaper. Real wine-growing regions never fully switched to beer as daily drink. And by the close of the medieval period, home brewing persisted only in rural places. Regulation and taxes in town had driven small brewers out of business. The towns’ chief concern was that brewing needed large fires that might get out of control. Large breweries needed full-scale buildings that could have better fire safety than small, crowded town kitchens. Eventually, brewing was a guild craft.

Beer drinking had another huge boost after 1400, as the diet of Europe changed. Grain was suddenly plentiful in a new way; they could afford to make much of it into ale and beer. That’s what we’ll talk about next.

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Wine improvements

During the Middle Ages, Europe’s winemaking went from super primitive to setting the world’s standards. How did this happen? One way to answer is, well, that was Europe’s genius. Something about the close-set rivers and mountains kept the land broken into locally-governed, competitive regions and fostered the spirit of self-improvement among the people. Another answer lies in the way vast tracts of land were donated to monastic orders. While the choir monks prayed and sang, lay brothers found themselves part of national and multi-national farming and mining corporations, without family and profit-earning distractions. The orderly spirit of monasticism applied itself to farming and iron-working, resulting in the first attempts at basic scientific method in agriculture.

First place goes to the Cistercian monasteries of France and Germany. In central France, the Cistercians became owners of many stony hillsides at the edge of more valuable farmland. They set out to put this wilderness to use. Particularly in the area known as the Côte d’Or, along the Saône River, they used the rocky hillside’s small arable shelf plots as vineyards. As they kept records of wine output, they began to see that some elevations worked better for grapes than others. Small fields on hillsides led to a new method, the creation of enclosed fields in which grape varieties could be controlled. Each “clos” had only one kind of grapevine.

The Cistercian lay brothers all through central France used the Clos system to test and learn about all the factors that went into better viticulture. They could control the product, so that the wine of Clos St. Jean or Clos de Bèze always tasted the same. The Cistercian method spread among the monasteries of their order, through Burgundy and into Germany. The Cistercian monastery at Eberbach, Germany was the largest wine producer of its time. Cistercian abbeys in the Beaune region of France shipped casks of their product, made with dark-red grapes, to the Popes at Avignon. Bordeaux, a French region under English control until the late Middle Ages, supplied most of England’s wine. There, the vineyards developed a method halfway between white and red wine; the wine was fermented with the colored skins for one day, then the skins removed to complete fermentation of this light red, clear wine that became known as Claret.

Wine in the Mediterranean region took a different turn. Under the hot sun, grapes could be left on the vine as long as possible, then partially dried before going into the fermentation process. They had a much higher sugar concentration; the wine was both higher in alcohol and sweeter. It became very popular in England, known as Malmsey. Traders from Venice, whose galley ships took over much northern trade from the flagging Hanse monopoly, carried many butts of Malmsey northward. By 1478, there was enough Malmsey among the aristocracy for a legend that the Duke of Clarence had drowned in it.

The last real improvement of the period came about in Germany, where someone discovered that smoking the inside of a barrel with burning sulfur disinfected it. Wine lasted much longer before souring this way. Germany’s wines were sweeter than France’s, so it was an important international market improvement to make them keep longer, too.

By the end of the Middle Ages, the famous wine names of Europe were all in place. While more improvements would come, particularly with glass storage possibilities, the basic product was not much different from the way it is now.

As a side note, because it seems to go with the wine, cheese was going through the same improvement process in these years. Bleu cheese dates back to the time of Charlemagne, when an Abbot served him cheese streaked with mold and he liked it. By the close of the Middle Ages, every region of Europe had its distinctive cheeses, often made in such large sizes that many dairy farmers had to pool their milk supplies.

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Wine’s beginnings in Europe

The Romans planted vineyards in southern France and in the Rhine valley; viticulture spread with both majority Christian and minority Jewish settlement, since both religions required wine in their services and rituals. During the Medieval Warm Period, grapes could grow in northern England and in Denmark, but after the climate began to cool (1300s), England had difficulty producing wine. Germany and France were huge wine producers. It turns out that the best wine comes from grapes that grow in the marginal climate zones, those right on the edge of being too cold.

But wine drinkers today would not fancy medieval wine. Early wine-making was primitive, and not just what you’re thinking. Yes, they did expect to walk in the grapes to press them, although Charlemagne’s rules outlawed it on his manors. There were not many other good ways to press the grapes, and it turns out that early mechanical presses produced worse wine. So for the most part, grapes were foot-pressed in stone vats in the Mediterranean, and oak barrel vats in Northern Europe; a hole at the bottom let the juice run out.

Medieval vineyards were also primitive in that they mixed different strains of grapes in the same field. Each year, one variety might fail, so growing a mix meant getting something rather than nothing. The wine tasted different every year and in every field. Vines grew in every direction; they didn’t keep them in neat rows of posts and wires, as we do. They knew how to prune vines, but used hatchets for the work, stepping in and around the tangle of vines.

White wine was not fermented with the skins included; it took a shorter time to make, and could be used right away. For that reason, white wine was much more common than red. Stored in oak barrels, wine lasted up to a year before souring. (Of course, sour wine became vinegar, also much used.) Six months was the peak of its storage life, and four years was the outside limit.

Most medieval wine had a lot of sediment and was only 5% alcohol. Still, it had one key advantage: the water in it came straight from the grapes and had never been tainted with potentially contaminated water. Winemaking didn’t require large fires, either; it was a fuel-conserving, guaranteed safe beverage. It just didn’t taste very good. Dessert wine after feasts was called Hippocras; it was sweetened with honey and heavily spiced with cinnamon and ginger. Just the idea that drinkers would welcome a disguised flavor tells you something.

Next: why wine became much better by the end of the period.

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Would you like water with your meal, sir?

The highly spiced, meaty dishes at a feast made diners thirsty. What did they drink? First, what didn’t they drink?

Water.

Water was universally shunned as a beverage, for a number of reasons. First, cold water was considered unhealthy by medical food rules: it put out the fire in the stomach. Second, it was bland and plain, which was unfashionable. Third, it was often contaminated.

Europe’s water supply came from thousands of springs and streams, which were presumably clean in the days of the Celts, Romans and early Franks. By the High Middle Ages, most people’s water supply had been compromised. In the country, most water came from dug wells, into which dirt and rain fell (and sometimes bodies fell in). Country water also came directly from rivers and streams. There was no way of knowing whether someone upstream had used that same creek or river to wash out chamber pots, or worse. Country people put human waste directly into rivers and creeks without a second thought.

Cities were usually built around rivers that had tributary streams. As the cities grew, many of these streams were built into tunnels under the streets. Other streams were left exposed, but the businesses that located along them were water-using businesses. Many used the water to wash out butchering blood or the scraped waste from tanning. Cities also typically provided public lavatories by building stalls along the river bank. By the late Middle Ages, the rivers in major cities smelled terribly of raw sewage, especially on a hot summer day. They began dredging and cleaning them, but it was long past too late for drinking water quality. Water might be piped in from outside springs, and water-sellers brought it in casks on carts, but in major cities, clean water was always in short supply.

Monasteries were the most likely to have clean water, and monks were among the few who drank plain water with their meals. Monastic compounds were usually located near towns but in the country; the monks put a lot of thought and work into planning their facilities. A really well-done monastery piped in water, with hollow logs and metal pipe sections, from some spring a mile off. The water came into the compound and went to fountains and then into kitchens. Down the line, as slops were added, it went only for laundry and industrial use. Along the way, the channeled water ran straight through the outhouses, flushing the waste out. At the end, the waste water had to go somewhere: the ideal place was the fish pond, where some natural sewage-treatment happened. Non-ideal places included the public river or a neighbor’s field.

Cooking always meant boiling the water, so cooking with contaminated water didn’t concern them. Ale, too, required boiling the original source water. It seems likely that they had learned in a pragmatic way that boiled water is safer, but without microbe theory, they never actually did much with the idea. Coffee and tea hadn’t been imported from the east yet, so boiled water couldn’t be flavored in interesting ways. Water came to the feast table, but only to pour over hands: never to drink, at any temperature.

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Medieval desserts

Medieval sweets weren’t much by our standards. Fruit was the dessert of non-aristocrats; later medieval letters record a father sending his son a box of pears from home to his boarding school in town. Although pies were generally meat dishes, they made fruit tarts. They also stewed fruit and added it to other dishes.

There were two basic problems in the evolution of dessert. One was the sweetening agent, the other was how to find a rising agent to make wheat-based sweets soft enough to eat without effort.

Sugar didn’t become available outside of palaces until African slavery was well established in the Renaissance. (Anti-slavery campaigners in later centuries would boycott sugar in protest.) Until then, a loaf of refined sugar had the same market value as the same size brick of silver, so very few medieval people ever saw or tasted it. Honey was available to those who could afford it, and growing wealth in the middle class allowed them to have sweets at holidays.

Without effective leavening, the steamed/boiled pudding was their go-to dessert. At Christmas, they added imported dried plums and figs from Spain; of course this was also the genesis of holiday fruitcake. The pudding was thickened with eggs, put into a bag, and steamed until it cooked solid and could be sliced.

The first recognizable cookie was literally bis-cuit, in French “cooked twice.” It was a heavily spiced gingerbread that began as ginger porridge, its first cooking. When it was very thick and dry, they poured it into molds and baked it in a bread oven, the second cooking. The final product was still not very sweet, and it was tooth-breaking hard. Since spices were still an upper-class marker, gingerbread caught on among the rich. It had to be dipped and soaked in hot broth to make it edible.

Bakers made sweetened breads at holiday times, of course. Until the late Middle Ages, when some bakers began borrowing brewers’ yeast, all breads were sourdough. When they began producing honey-sweetened yeast bread with imported Spanish raisins, they began to have a food worthy of being called a dessert.

The last option was to boil something in honey solution until it became candied. Whole spices, nuts and roots like horseradish could be candied this way.

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