The Gentle Art of Renaissance Cooking

For some reason, in the last few days preparations for the Renaissance party have motivated me much more than academic accomplishments. So here's what I did today instead of grading home exams or finishing an essay: I baked a Renaissance-style cheese and onion pie. In case you're interested, you can find the recipe here (be warned: that is not a Weight Watchers page you're entering).

I was expecting the tart to be tasty (after all, what's not to like: fatty cheese, onions, sultanas, parsley, sugar and spices), but still the result surprised me positively. It's not too sweet, although the added sugar and sultanas make your brain do funny things, not knowing whether this is a sweet or savoury dish. Also next time I'll double the amount of ginger.

But yep, this one's definitely on the party menu.

Another example of my skewered priorities is that when I couldn't sleep last night, I got up to trim my French hood (now there's a double entendre if I ever produced one). Never in my life have I considered sitting up until 11 pm sowing beads on a piece of headwear. Strange days indeed.

The SHS is also spreading its sinister influence, one person at a time.; at least I've already managed to involve some totally innocent people in this Renaissance lark. Last week I persuaded my mum to help me with the making of two bumrolls (ours are blue, by the way). Mum's a good sport, and she complied with surprisingly little resistance (I think she was curious to know what exactly I had in mind). However, in order to make a decent bumroll, you need quite a lot of stuffing. Having exhausted our supply of old pantyhose and other miscellaneous hosiery, we turned to my mum's best friend for help. Thankfully, she's one of those people who never throws anything away, and soon furnished us with about fifty pairs of old pantyhose. (Seriously, people! Let this be a warning to you all...). But now Otter and I can cut a nearly authentic figure in our Renaissance frocks, although I don't think even Queen Elizabeth has as cool bumrolls as we do. At least hers weren't stuffed with support stockings...

Small Budget Charity

Now here's an amusing thing you can do if you've got time on your hands and zero motivation to do any real work. Check out this website. (I found it through her.)

While I don't think that the English language is getting impoverished, or that all these newfangled words are ruining its ages-old beauty, it's nevertheless a nice idea to hang onto some of the older words and expressions - especially if they're useful or poignant or just downright silly.

Here are five words I picked, and have pledged to use as much as I can. I tried to choose words that are genuinely useful (there are lots of words that are very specific, and thus not all that practical for everyday activities like blogging).

Blateration. "blabber, chatter". As in "I couldn't get a word in the edgewise for all the blateration at the meeting."

Foppotee. "a simple-minded person". This is my favourite - mainly because it's meaning is so self-evident. "He's a great foppotee, but I like him nevertheless."

Incabinate. "to enclose or imprison in a cabin." A word of great usefulness in the Finnish summer. "They're planning to incabinate me for two months."

Welmish. "of a pale or sickly colour." While obviously handy when referring to people, somehow I think this word applies very well to animals as well - especially dogs. "The new puppy was cute, but of a strange, welmish colour."

Yelve. "a dung fork." This word has a deliciously Ye Olde Worlde ring to it - and I can't believe that fantasy writers haven't rallied to its defense. "Gandalf was greatly annoyed when the Balrog prodded him in the backside with his yelve."

New arrivals

This is "Eino". He was born on Sunday - just in time to make a great Mothers' Day gift for M - and I got to meet him when he was only a few hours old.

I'm not of the 'Miracle of Birth' school (meaning that I'm not overawed by the arrival of new life), but I'm a keen supporter of the 'Baby Animals Are Darn Cute' club. I would also be terrified to be left in charge of a newborn human (or indeed any human under 5); yet, I had no scruples watching over little Eino and bottlefeeding him until he learned how and where to get the milk himself (he finally mastered this at around 1 am).

"I should peddle butterflies / There's a shortage in the city... "

As my academic career seems to be going nowhere (quite literally) at the moment, I've got to provide some movement by some other means. So I went to Helsinki for May Day, mainly to see Fidia and to take care of some SHS business.

I finally got to meet my dress. It looks even better than I thought it would (when I was feeling overly optimistic); the green velvet (or the approximation thereof) is exactly the right shade, and the blue-and-gold brocade (ditto) looks really sumptuous. The only problem with the dress was the sleeves: being historically accurate, they weren't sown to the bodice, but came as separate attachments - but with only two holes on the shoulder and a length of ribbon to attach them with. As I had expected a less efficiently air-conditioned model, I spent the best part of Saturday afternoon attaching the sleeves to the bodice. I was positively surprised with the result (as I'm not a very adept needlewoman, and attaching things to other things has always been especially problematic for me), and now all I need is a bumroll (my mum has promised to make me one).

Anyway. Other Stereotypical History Society business included teaching Renaissance dancing to six other members of our society. The dances I'd chosen (bransle and pavan) were surprisingly simple, and my apt pupils picked them up very quickly - and even claimed to enjoy hopping about randomly in full view of other people. Although I have to say that folk who spend most of their time staring into a computer screen have some difficulty reaching even one tenth of the gracefulness of their Renaissance counterparts (who, I've been informed, spent their days practicing various sports, and yes, dancing).

I'm glad my friends showed genuine enthusiasm towards the dancing, because otherwise I've been feeling as if I've been left holding up the pole (with Otter and T holding up another), while the others are just glad to sit back in the carriage and enjoy the ride. Of course, others probably haven't got as much spare time on their hands as I do, and can't spend hours pondering the finer points of French hoods; yet, it's always a bit saddening when you realise other people aren't as enthusiastic about things you have a passion for.

Luckily, there's still plenty of time to get people interested in the Renaissance party, and make them realise they need to find something appropriate to wear as well.

Although the beginning of last week was more crappy than most, I'm feeling more optimistic and upbeat now - and, of course, still looking forward to the party. The song below pretty well sums up my present state of mind. (It's 'Aching to Pupate' by Regina Spektor. I wish I'd written that song).