Meltonville
is part of a team of experimental archaeologists based at Hampton Court Palace, which, far
from regarding the department as “messing about,” values their practical
research into the kind of food that the palace would have seen over the last six hundred
years. By dissecting old recipes, menu lists and banquet records, they are slowly piecing
together exactly how the people who would have cooked and eaten that food would have
lived. “There are things that you can only find out by actually doing them,” he
points out while the other two continue to grapple with the half-roasted hog in the
background.
Tudor
time-warp
The Tudor Kitchens
were re-interpreted in 1991, with the aim of making the visitor feel that they have
travelled back in time and that Henry VIII’s chefs had just left the room for a
moment. This new, realistic feel gave birth to the idea of experimenting, using the
kitchens and utensils themselves to discover how those chefs would have worked.
Each of
Meltonville’s team brings their own specialist skill to the project. They do not all
come from an archaeological background – one is a trained chef, another a blacksmith.
Yet another is a silver worker by trade. Their practical abilities enable them to recreate
items which perhaps are only given a passing mention in a letter or menu from an ancient
feast. They often have to combine skills – for example a ceramics expert may be
forced to use his leatherworking knowledge to fashion a cup from Tudor times after initial
research bears rather different fruit from received knowledge.
How were
things made?
This is where the
real “experimental archaeology” kicks in. In many instances, we just do not know
how something was made, let alone used. “We are often regarded as an “edge
science,” says Meltonville, clearly smarting from the term. He spends a fair bit of
time lecturing to historical societies, explaining how it is a valuable resource.
“With the cult of the “Celebrity Chef, cookery is now an extremely popular
pastime in Britain, and part of that interest is discovering how our ancestors used
ingredients and utensils. Spices in particular are a favourite with visitors and the best
way of finding out how they were used is to actually do it ourselves."
Clues from
the past
Some culinary
records are straight forward – the wreck of Henry VIII’s ship The Mary Rose
has fetched up a number of plain wooden plates stamped with Henry’s initials. It doesn’ take too much imagination to
relate these to the kind of general-use crockery of the time.
Other things are
less clear cut. Meltonville likens the situation to a modern-day kitchen. “What would remain of your utensils in a hundred years’ time?”
he asks. “That favourite knife that you sharpened and sharpened until it wore away
altogether or the spaghetti measure that came free with Woman’s Weekly and stayed unused at the back
of the drawer?”
Nothing
like the hands-on experience
It’s very easy
to get an uneven picture of history if you don’t get your hands just a bit dirty. The
team spend much of their time in libraries digging as much as they can from the archives,
but eventually they have to resort to trying it out to see if it really works as the books
say. It often comes down to trial and error – if one form of twig whisk won’t
make egg whites stiffen, they need to try another – asking themselves what would have
been available at the time. They are further hampered by the authentic costumes they wear
whilst doing so. Although they often work in front of audiences as part of educational
demonstrations, this is not just for the benefit of spectators.
We are NOT
actors,” Meltonville states, with the very slightest signs of irritation. “We
are taking a job from the past and working out how it was done.” He feels that it is
important to know whether puffy sleeves would have been too hot to work in, frilly collars
too restricting or codpieces intrusive in the preparation of pies.
Origins of
the “spit boy”
“Take this
pig,” says team-member Robin Mitchener, in the middle of dismembering the hog that
has fallen off its spit. “We now suspect that the title “Spit Boy” would
have been derogative rather than literal. No small child could turn something this
heavy.” The team are also beginning to realise that the stuffing inside the boar
would not just have been for taste – it would have been instrumental in keeping the
thing on the slender iron rod which is part of the elaborate equipment remaining at
Hampton Court.
Not, of course, that
they are able to use all of the equipment – much of it is far too delicate to bash
around these days. The team makes exact replicas, using traditional methods – which
often have to be researched themselves - and then work with the new utensils. “We can
get very easily sidetracked,” admits Richard Fitch. He then goes on to explain how he
became fascinated by the traditional pins that held together his outfit and wasn’t
content until he’d built a lathe which could replicate them exactly. Another time
they ended up going to the Canary Isles to find saffron substitutes.
The
education factor
Although the team
are often called in by film makers for advice, their main function apart from recreating
Stuart pies and Georgian puddings is educational. As part of the Palace’s educational
resources, they take school parties on “interpretative” tours of the kitchens,
showing the children how things were done, and getting them to join in on some of the
safer tasks. It can be a two-way learning process, the pupils’ questions often
leading to new avenues of research and occasionally the odd answer. The tours are
extremely popular and need to be booked in advance, but aren’t always restricted to
school parties – groups of adults can be catered for too.
Who eats
the food?
 Sadly the public don’t often get to taste the
results of the experiments – modern Health and Safety regulations do not consider
ancient methods of food preparation to be particularly hygienic. Looking at the hog being hauled back onto the spit, this
is probably a good thing, though the team do occasionally have a banquet amongst
themselves.
The
“yeuch” factor is never far away. Stuart food, for example, proves a particular
problem, there being about two-thirds of recipes the team cannot begin to recreate even in
the name of experimentation due to two major ingredients.
Musk – from the private parts of the protected Musk deer – and ambergris
which is the grey mucus that comes out of both ends of the endangered sperm whale.
Meltonville does not seem overly upset at this. “I mean – who was it first
looked at that and thought ‘I think
I’ll put it on my dinner?’” he grimaces.
Marc Meltonville and his team spend Mondays and
Tuesdays at Hampton Court Palace where they are available for pre-booked tours of the
kitchens with school groups. They do three tours each day at 10.30, 11.45 and 13.00 and
can take a maximum of 35 on each tour. To book, schools or interested adult groups, should
call the education booking line at the palace - 020 8781 9540.
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