Israelite9191
You should be reading
I have just returned to CFC after a long hiatus and, after reviewing the history articles list, am absolutely astonished to see that none has been posted since July of 2007. As such, here is my first semester A.P. Modern European History research paper. It is relatively short and concise and somewhat dry as compared to my normal style, but I believe the topic matter should make up for any dryness in style (especially considering the lack of cultural and social topics among this forum's articles).
Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, the famed French lawyer, Revolutionary politician, epicure, and gastronome wrote in his 1825 magnum opus Physiologie du Goût, Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are. One of the many questions spawned by this quote asks that if people are what they eat, then who are the French? Up until recently, the answer was very assuredly that while the French are most certainly a unique and truly grand culinary culture, French cuisine was born out of Italian saplings transplanted to Paris by the Florentine court of Catherine de Médicis. However, in the last few decades a growing number of discontented historians and French nationalists have begun to question this cornerstone of culinary history, claiming that French haute cuisine could not have evolved primarily out of the foreign influence of Italians but only out of native French inspiration. However, through the examination of the primary texts and their interpretations one cannot arrive at any answer other than that haute cuisines origins rest squarely in the Italian kitchens of the Médicis courts.
The bone of contention between the pro-French origin and pro-Italian origin parties can be traced back to the 27 October 1533 when Catherine de Médicis entered the royal court of France.[1] The legend goes that upon tasting the products of Pariss royal kitchens and witnessing the barbaric table manners common among the French at the time, she immediately demanded that chefs, along with table forks, be brought from her familys courts in Florence and the Vatican to reform the kitchens and dining rooms of her new home. Despite the wide acceptance that this legend holds true among scholarly circles, so much so that some of the fiercest proponents of a French-origin theory are forced to admit it[2], the legends importance remains in question. While some see here see the spark of a culinary revolution transporting the gastronomic philosophy of Maestro Martino da Como across the Alps, others see a meaningless changing of the guard in the royal kitchens with little to no implications for the wider scope of gastronomy. Those who adhere to the latter support their view based primarily on the fact that published cookbooks coming out of France begin to demonstrate significant change beginning primarily in the seventeenth, not sixteenth, century.[3] The key problem with this argument is that it assumes that cookbooks tend to announce change, not follow it. This stands in total opposition to one of the fundamentals of gastronomic scholarship, that cookbooks tend to reflect changes that have already occurred, seeing as recipes tend to be written down because they are well tested and liked, not because they are unheard of.[4] As such, it stands to reason that a better understanding of the origins of haute cuisine can be gained through a comparison of pre-Catherine de Médicis sources, from both France and Italy, and post-Catherine de Médicis sources from France than can be gained through analysis of the very few sources from Catherines time or supposition.
One of the most prominent, and certainly the most accessible outside of manuscript libraries, is the Vivendier, a short manuscript containing some 66 recipes of unknown authorship presumably from the northeast of France and compiled in the mid fifteenth century.[5] A careful reading reveals seven distinct features worthy of note. The first is the utter dominance of a sweet and sour taste through the use of a small collection of ingredients and flavours over the whole of the collection, namely almond milk (the liquid attained by grinding almonds), vinegar, wine, verjuice (the juice of sour grapes, resembling vinegar while being less sharp), sugar, and an assortment of spices, normally grouped together, including ginger, grains of paradise, allspice, cinnamon, pepper, galingale, mace, cumin, saffron, and cloves. The second is the complete absence of the mirepoix that forms the basis of haute cuisines flavours. The third is the complete lack of herbs with the exception of the occasional garnish of parsley, two mentions of sage[6], and two mentions of pennyroyal and hyssop.[7] The fourth is the lack of a single dish meant to show off vegetables, even among the numerous Lenten recipes. The fifth is the near absence of roasting, in favour of boiling and stewing. The sixth is the rarity of dairy, especially of eggs, including only one recipe featuring eggs.[8] The seventh is the practical obsession with sauces, an obsession that goes far beyond even the richness of modern nouvelle cuisine plates. These seven features combine to paint the picture of a cuisine far more reminiscent of, say, traditional English or Scottish fare than elegant haute cuisine.
For the Italian cuisine of the same period the most useful source is the far more referenceable De Honesta Voluptae et Valetudine, a text with the honour of being the first printed cookbook, being published in 1470, 1474, and 1475 by one Bartolomeo Sacchi under the penname Platina with the recipes lifted, with appropriate sourcing, from Martino da Comos De arte coquinaria, which itself is recorded only in manuscript form having never been published.[9],[10] This places itself almost opposite the Vivendier. Firstly, where the Vivendier relies almost solely on the combination of almond milk, grape products, sugar, and spices, Martinos recipes are quite varied in their makeup, taking advantage of the numerous products available in Italys microclimates and through importation, producing a wide range of tastes beyond the sweet and sour of the Vivendier. Secondly, while Martino does not use mirepoix, he does make frequent use of aromatics, including the soffritto. Thirdly, where the Vivendier is lacking in its use of herbs, Martino takes full advantage, using them often, robustly, and from a number of plants. Fourthly, where the Vivendier does not have a single recipe featuring vegetables, Martino only slightly gives favour to meat. Fifthly, where the Vivendier disparages roasting in favour of boiling, Martino does the reverse, preferring that the majority of meats be roasted, rather than boiled.[11] Sixthly, where the Vivendier gives but one recipe featuring eggs, Martino dedicates an entire chapter to them.[12] Finally, whereas the Vivendiers philosophy favours rich and monotonously sauced dishes, Martino prefers natural flavours through quick cooking and light seasoning, making it the chefs job to, rather bluntly, take natures bounty and not ruin it.[13]
In terms of the haute cuisine following Catherine de Médicis, it goes to reason
from the above argument that the best source would not be one from the period, but one that reflects back upon it; for this, there is no better source to turn to than lempereur des chefs himself, Georges Auguste Escoffier. Though he published his magnum opus, Le Guide Culinaire, in 1903[14], the contents were simply a codification of Marie-Antoine Carêmes five major works, all published between 1815 and 1835[15], which intern were collectively a codification of the cuisine that had evolved over decades.[16] In comparing the haute cuisine of Le Guide Culinaire and the recipes of the Vivendier and Martino, it becomes very obvious from the outright that the major affinity lies between Martino and Escoffier, not the Vivendier and Le Guide Culinaire. In reference to the seven points used above to break down the Vivendier and Martino, Escoffier lines almost perfectly with Martino and very little with the Vivendier. The one major difference between Escoffier and Martino lies in the rusticity of Martino and the refinery of Escoffier, but this has more to do with the progression of time and the codifications of Escoffier and Carême than it has to do with any innate nature, especially seeing as Martino is in fact more delicate and refined in flavour than the Vivendier. Meanwhile, the only place where Escoffier and the Vivendier line up is the emphasis on sauces, but even here the similarities are obscured by the fact that Escoffiers use of sauce is light and complimentary while the Vivendiers is heavy and draws away from the main ingredient. Additionally, the single substantial similarity between Escoffier and the Vivendier is simply not enough to provide any substantial counter-argument to the similarities observable between Escoffier and Martino.
So what, exactly, happened on that fateful autumn day when the fourteen year old Catherin de Médicis wed the future King Henri II of France? Through careful cross-analysis and comparison of sources, post and pre 1533, the answer can be gleaned that perhaps it was French gastronomy that was conceived in the nuptial bedchamber under the watchful eye of the father of the groom.[18] Though proponents of the theory that haute cuisine lies solely with French innovations certainly have their arguments, when the problem is approached using the most basic tools of historical scholarship available, direct analysis and interpretation of the available sources, the answer that comes out is clearly that haute cuisine is primarily rooted in the Médicis homeland of Italy.
[1] Leonie Frieda, Catherine de Medici: Renaissance Queen of France (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2003) 45.
[2] Jean-François Revel, Culture and Cuisine: A Journey through the History of Food, trans. Helen R. Lane (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1982) 117, 119.
[3] Ibid., 119.
[4] Simon Varey, Medieval and Renaissance Italy A: The North In Regional Cuisines of Medieval Europe, edited by Melitta Weiss Adamson (London: Routledge, 2002) 86-87.
[5] Terence Scully, ed., The Vivendier: A Critical Edition with English Translation (Blackawton, Devon: Prospect Books, 1997) 11-12.
[6] Ibid., 38, 52.
[7] Ibid., 38, 70.
[8] Ibid., 88.
[9] Martino da Como, Luigi Ballerini, and Stefania Barzini, The Art of Cooking etc., trans. Jeremy Parzen (Berkley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005) 1-2.
[10] Varey 86.
[11] Da Como, Ballerini, Barzini, Parzen 49.
[12] Ibid., 96-98.
[13] Varey 93.
[14] Stephen Mennell, All Manners of Food: Eating and Taste in England and France from the Middle Ages to the Present (Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd, 1985) 157.
[15] Ibid., 145.
[16] Ibid., 144-163.
[17] Frieda 46.
[18] Frieda 46.
Vive la France ou Vive lItalie ? : An Exploration of the Trans-Alpine Roots of Haute Cuisine
Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, the famed French lawyer, Revolutionary politician, epicure, and gastronome wrote in his 1825 magnum opus Physiologie du Goût, Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are. One of the many questions spawned by this quote asks that if people are what they eat, then who are the French? Up until recently, the answer was very assuredly that while the French are most certainly a unique and truly grand culinary culture, French cuisine was born out of Italian saplings transplanted to Paris by the Florentine court of Catherine de Médicis. However, in the last few decades a growing number of discontented historians and French nationalists have begun to question this cornerstone of culinary history, claiming that French haute cuisine could not have evolved primarily out of the foreign influence of Italians but only out of native French inspiration. However, through the examination of the primary texts and their interpretations one cannot arrive at any answer other than that haute cuisines origins rest squarely in the Italian kitchens of the Médicis courts.
The bone of contention between the pro-French origin and pro-Italian origin parties can be traced back to the 27 October 1533 when Catherine de Médicis entered the royal court of France.[1] The legend goes that upon tasting the products of Pariss royal kitchens and witnessing the barbaric table manners common among the French at the time, she immediately demanded that chefs, along with table forks, be brought from her familys courts in Florence and the Vatican to reform the kitchens and dining rooms of her new home. Despite the wide acceptance that this legend holds true among scholarly circles, so much so that some of the fiercest proponents of a French-origin theory are forced to admit it[2], the legends importance remains in question. While some see here see the spark of a culinary revolution transporting the gastronomic philosophy of Maestro Martino da Como across the Alps, others see a meaningless changing of the guard in the royal kitchens with little to no implications for the wider scope of gastronomy. Those who adhere to the latter support their view based primarily on the fact that published cookbooks coming out of France begin to demonstrate significant change beginning primarily in the seventeenth, not sixteenth, century.[3] The key problem with this argument is that it assumes that cookbooks tend to announce change, not follow it. This stands in total opposition to one of the fundamentals of gastronomic scholarship, that cookbooks tend to reflect changes that have already occurred, seeing as recipes tend to be written down because they are well tested and liked, not because they are unheard of.[4] As such, it stands to reason that a better understanding of the origins of haute cuisine can be gained through a comparison of pre-Catherine de Médicis sources, from both France and Italy, and post-Catherine de Médicis sources from France than can be gained through analysis of the very few sources from Catherines time or supposition.
One of the most prominent, and certainly the most accessible outside of manuscript libraries, is the Vivendier, a short manuscript containing some 66 recipes of unknown authorship presumably from the northeast of France and compiled in the mid fifteenth century.[5] A careful reading reveals seven distinct features worthy of note. The first is the utter dominance of a sweet and sour taste through the use of a small collection of ingredients and flavours over the whole of the collection, namely almond milk (the liquid attained by grinding almonds), vinegar, wine, verjuice (the juice of sour grapes, resembling vinegar while being less sharp), sugar, and an assortment of spices, normally grouped together, including ginger, grains of paradise, allspice, cinnamon, pepper, galingale, mace, cumin, saffron, and cloves. The second is the complete absence of the mirepoix that forms the basis of haute cuisines flavours. The third is the complete lack of herbs with the exception of the occasional garnish of parsley, two mentions of sage[6], and two mentions of pennyroyal and hyssop.[7] The fourth is the lack of a single dish meant to show off vegetables, even among the numerous Lenten recipes. The fifth is the near absence of roasting, in favour of boiling and stewing. The sixth is the rarity of dairy, especially of eggs, including only one recipe featuring eggs.[8] The seventh is the practical obsession with sauces, an obsession that goes far beyond even the richness of modern nouvelle cuisine plates. These seven features combine to paint the picture of a cuisine far more reminiscent of, say, traditional English or Scottish fare than elegant haute cuisine.
For the Italian cuisine of the same period the most useful source is the far more referenceable De Honesta Voluptae et Valetudine, a text with the honour of being the first printed cookbook, being published in 1470, 1474, and 1475 by one Bartolomeo Sacchi under the penname Platina with the recipes lifted, with appropriate sourcing, from Martino da Comos De arte coquinaria, which itself is recorded only in manuscript form having never been published.[9],[10] This places itself almost opposite the Vivendier. Firstly, where the Vivendier relies almost solely on the combination of almond milk, grape products, sugar, and spices, Martinos recipes are quite varied in their makeup, taking advantage of the numerous products available in Italys microclimates and through importation, producing a wide range of tastes beyond the sweet and sour of the Vivendier. Secondly, while Martino does not use mirepoix, he does make frequent use of aromatics, including the soffritto. Thirdly, where the Vivendier is lacking in its use of herbs, Martino takes full advantage, using them often, robustly, and from a number of plants. Fourthly, where the Vivendier does not have a single recipe featuring vegetables, Martino only slightly gives favour to meat. Fifthly, where the Vivendier disparages roasting in favour of boiling, Martino does the reverse, preferring that the majority of meats be roasted, rather than boiled.[11] Sixthly, where the Vivendier gives but one recipe featuring eggs, Martino dedicates an entire chapter to them.[12] Finally, whereas the Vivendiers philosophy favours rich and monotonously sauced dishes, Martino prefers natural flavours through quick cooking and light seasoning, making it the chefs job to, rather bluntly, take natures bounty and not ruin it.[13]
In terms of the haute cuisine following Catherine de Médicis, it goes to reason
from the above argument that the best source would not be one from the period, but one that reflects back upon it; for this, there is no better source to turn to than lempereur des chefs himself, Georges Auguste Escoffier. Though he published his magnum opus, Le Guide Culinaire, in 1903[14], the contents were simply a codification of Marie-Antoine Carêmes five major works, all published between 1815 and 1835[15], which intern were collectively a codification of the cuisine that had evolved over decades.[16] In comparing the haute cuisine of Le Guide Culinaire and the recipes of the Vivendier and Martino, it becomes very obvious from the outright that the major affinity lies between Martino and Escoffier, not the Vivendier and Le Guide Culinaire. In reference to the seven points used above to break down the Vivendier and Martino, Escoffier lines almost perfectly with Martino and very little with the Vivendier. The one major difference between Escoffier and Martino lies in the rusticity of Martino and the refinery of Escoffier, but this has more to do with the progression of time and the codifications of Escoffier and Carême than it has to do with any innate nature, especially seeing as Martino is in fact more delicate and refined in flavour than the Vivendier. Meanwhile, the only place where Escoffier and the Vivendier line up is the emphasis on sauces, but even here the similarities are obscured by the fact that Escoffiers use of sauce is light and complimentary while the Vivendiers is heavy and draws away from the main ingredient. Additionally, the single substantial similarity between Escoffier and the Vivendier is simply not enough to provide any substantial counter-argument to the similarities observable between Escoffier and Martino.
So what, exactly, happened on that fateful autumn day when the fourteen year old Catherin de Médicis wed the future King Henri II of France? Through careful cross-analysis and comparison of sources, post and pre 1533, the answer can be gleaned that perhaps it was French gastronomy that was conceived in the nuptial bedchamber under the watchful eye of the father of the groom.[18] Though proponents of the theory that haute cuisine lies solely with French innovations certainly have their arguments, when the problem is approached using the most basic tools of historical scholarship available, direct analysis and interpretation of the available sources, the answer that comes out is clearly that haute cuisine is primarily rooted in the Médicis homeland of Italy.
[1] Leonie Frieda, Catherine de Medici: Renaissance Queen of France (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2003) 45.
[2] Jean-François Revel, Culture and Cuisine: A Journey through the History of Food, trans. Helen R. Lane (New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1982) 117, 119.
[3] Ibid., 119.
[4] Simon Varey, Medieval and Renaissance Italy A: The North In Regional Cuisines of Medieval Europe, edited by Melitta Weiss Adamson (London: Routledge, 2002) 86-87.
[5] Terence Scully, ed., The Vivendier: A Critical Edition with English Translation (Blackawton, Devon: Prospect Books, 1997) 11-12.
[6] Ibid., 38, 52.
[7] Ibid., 38, 70.
[8] Ibid., 88.
[9] Martino da Como, Luigi Ballerini, and Stefania Barzini, The Art of Cooking etc., trans. Jeremy Parzen (Berkley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2005) 1-2.
[10] Varey 86.
[11] Da Como, Ballerini, Barzini, Parzen 49.
[12] Ibid., 96-98.
[13] Varey 93.
[14] Stephen Mennell, All Manners of Food: Eating and Taste in England and France from the Middle Ages to the Present (Oxford: Basil Blackwell Ltd, 1985) 157.
[15] Ibid., 145.
[16] Ibid., 144-163.
[17] Frieda 46.
[18] Frieda 46.
