Food is a time capsule, revealing the quirks, necessities, and creativity of the past. I’ve always been fascinated by how our ancestors ate some dishes sound like they belong in a sci-fi novel, not a kitchen. As L.P. Hartley wrote, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there,” and nowhere is this clearer than in historical diets. From poisonous greens to whale by-products, the foods that were once enjoyed make you ask yourself: what were they thinking? Join us on a tastyly weird tour of some of history’s most unusual dishes and see how hunger and creativity drove culinary odysseys.
A Taste of the Past
What we eat mirrors our surroundings, culture, and at times pure survival. Ancient foods tended to emerge from dearth or spectacle, bending limits in ways my contemporary stomach protests. And yet, there is something strangely inspiring about the ingenuity that went into these meals. Below are some of the most outrageous foods our ancestors prepared, demonstrating how curiosity and an empty stomach can create some unforgettable cuisine.
1. Poke Salad
Hamakua Mushroom Poke Salad
Equipment
- 1 Chef’s knife For precise cutting of all ingredients.
- 1 Cutting Board A stable surface for safe and efficient prep.
- 1 Large Mixing Bowl Essential for tossing ingredients without spillage.
- 1 Salad Spinner Crucial for thoroughly drying lettuce to prevent a watery salad.
- 1 Serving Tongs For easy and hygienic serving of the finished salad.
Ingredients
Main
- 24 ounces washed and cut romaine lettuce
- 8 slices mango
- 4 pieces tomato wedges
- 8 slices cucumber
Instructions
- Thoroughly wash the romaine lettuce, then use a salad spinner to dry it completely. Cut or tear the lettuce into bite-sized pieces and set aside.
- Carefully peel the mango, then cut it into 8 even slices. Ensure the pieces are uniform for consistent texture.
- Wash and prepare the tomatoes, then cut them into 4 wedges.
- Wash the cucumber, and slice it into 8 even pieces.
- In a large mixing bowl, combine the prepared romaine lettuce, mango slices, tomato wedges, and cucumber slices.
- If desired, prepare a simple vinaigrette by whisking together 2 tablespoons of olive oil, the juice of half a lime, a pinch of salt, and a dash of black pepper.
- Pour the dressing over the salad ingredients in the bowl.
- Gently toss the salad with serving tongs, ensuring all ingredients are evenly coated with the dressing.
- Divide the salad evenly among two serving plates or bowls.
- Serve immediately for optimal freshness and crispness.
Notes
Poke salad, a traditional Appalachian dish, isn’t the hip Hawaiian poke you have heard about. Prepped from pokeweed, a green leafy plant, it was boiled (twice, in fresh water both times) to take away its toxic nature. Spiced with bacon fat, it was a survival meal for the poor. I can only imagine the time it required to make a toxic plant palatable, but it succeeded. Popular into the 20th century, it even inspired the 1969 song “Polk Salad Annie.” With foraging making a comeback, could poke salad return? I’ll stick to collards for now.
2. Fish Bladder Jam
Victorians loved their fish bladder jam, made from sturgeon-derived isinglass, a gooey substance once used for glue. Somehow, it became a spread for sweets, slathered on toast or mixed into confections. I attempted to visualize this at a tea party, but my mind short-circuited. Gelatin later became its substitute, but isinglass still slips into some beers for clarification a shock for vegetarians! It’s a reminder that what is disgusting sounding nowadays used to be a delicacy, conceived from making do with what was to hand.
3. Stuffed Dormice
Ancient Romans were fond of dormice plump, succulent ones bred in terra cotta pots known as glirariums. Raised on walnuts and acorns, these little animals were pampered, roasted, and sometimes stuffed with pork and dormouse flesh. A symbol of status at fancy banquets, they were all about bragging. I couldn’t imagine eating a mouse, but in Rome, that was haute cuisine. Some regions of Slovenia and Croatia still savor them, indicating old habits die hard.
4. Tansies
During medieval Lent, when meat and rich foods were off-limits, the English turned to tansies herby, eggy pancakes made with the slightly toxic tansy herb. Mixed with flour and baked, they were a sweet-savory escape from dried fish. Over time, ingredients like almonds and cream joined the mix, but the tansy herb faded, and so did the dish by the 20th century. I’m curious how it tasted, but I’m glad Lent doesn’t dictate my menu anymore.
5. Melas Zomas
Spartans weren’t only tough soldiers; their diet was hardcore as well. Melas zomas, or black soup, was a dark brew of pig meat cooked in boiling water, pig’s blood, salt, and vinegar. Foreigners hated it so much, one joked, “I know now why the Spartans do not fear death.” I admire their toughness, but I’d rather battle a Spartan army than eat a bowl of this. It’s a grim reminder of how food tied into their spartan lifestyle.
6. Openarses
Medieval apple varieties, the openarses, derived their blunt title from the puckered, anus-like calyces on their underside. These russet-hued apples were a staple in the kitchen until the 17th century when they became “medlars” with a less vivid name. I laughed at envisioning a medieval market cry of “Get your openarses!” It’s an odd expression of how frank naming responded to everyday usage, though it still sounds obscene now.
7. Ambergris
Ambergris, a waxy material from sperm whale intestines, was a culinary sweetheart for centuries. King Charles II adored it with eggs, and it flavored everything from coffee to chocolate. Discovered floating on the sea, it was once regarded as “dragon saliva.” Its musky odor made it a perfume superstar also, but I can’t imagine consuming whale by-product. Forbidden in certain areas due to conservation, it’s a reminder of an era when everything consumable was considered fair game.
8. The Cockentrice
Tudor banquets relied on shock value, and cockentrice did not disappoint. This animal hybrid half suckling pig, half capon or turkey was stitched together and spit-roasted. Presented at royal banquets, it was all about theater, not flavor. I can envision the oohs and aahs when it landed on the table at Hampton Court. Fortunately, this Frankenstein meal passed out of fashion, but it’s a crazy glimpse into Tudor decadence.
9. Beaver Tails
Beaver Tails
Equipment
- 2 Mixing Bowls
- 1 Measuring Cups and Spoons Set
- 1 Heavy-bottomed pot or deep fryer For deep frying
- 1 Rolling Pin To shape the dough
- 1 Slotted Spoon or Spider For safe oil draining
Ingredients
Main
- ¼ cups Hot Tap Water
- ¼ cups Granulated Sugar Divided
- ¼ ounces weight Quick Rise Yeast (1 Envelope)
- ¼ cups Milk
- 3 Tablespoons Butter
- 1 whole Egg
- 1 teaspoon Salt
- 2-¼ cups All-purpose Flour
- Oil For Fryer
- Cinnamon Sugar Or Topping Of Your Choice
Instructions
- In a small bowl, combine the hot tap water with ¼ cup granulated sugar and the quick rise yeast. Stir gently and let it sit for 5-10 minutes until foamy, indicating the yeast is active.
- In a separate saucepan or microwave-safe bowl, gently warm the milk and butter together until the butter is melted and the mixture is lukewarm.
- In a large mixing bowl, combine the activated yeast mixture, the warm milk and butter mixture, the whole egg, and the salt.
- Gradually add the 2¼ cups of all-purpose flour to the wet ingredients, mixing until a soft dough forms. Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for 5-7 minutes until smooth and elastic.
- Lightly grease a clean bowl, place the dough in it, turning once to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap or a clean kitchen towel and let it rise in a warm place for about 1 hour, or until doubled in size.
- Punch down the risen dough and divide it into 8 equal portions. On a lightly floured surface, roll each portion into an oval shape, resembling a beaver’s tail, about ¼ inch thick.
- Heat oil in a deep fryer or a large, heavy-bottomed pot to 350-375°F (175-190°C). Ensure there is at least 3 inches of oil depth for frying.
- Carefully place 1-2 beaver tails into the hot oil, ensuring not to overcrowd the pot. Fry for 1-2 minutes per side, or until golden brown and puffed.
- Using a slotted spoon or spider, remove the fried beaver tails from the oil and place them on a wire rack lined with paper towels to drain excess oil.
- While still warm, immediately sprinkle or toss the beaver tails with cinnamon sugar or your preferred toppings. Serve hot.
Notes
In medieval England, meat was forbidden on fasting days, but fish was a target. Beavers, due to their fish-like tails covered in scaly skin, were deviously deemed “fish” during Lent and Fridays. Stewed or roasted, they were a solution to the meatless masses. This allowed beavers to become extinct in England by the 17th century, although now they’re back again. I’m happy I can simply have fish and chips instead.
10. Cock Beer
Medieval brewers pushed beer to an odd extreme with cock beer. A dead (or occasionally live) cockerel was packed into a bag along with herbs and steeped in ale to infuse “strength and vigor.” The herbs covered up the poultry taste, but still chicken beer? I adore a craft brew, but this one is one trend I’m glad never caught on. It’s a reflection of medieval food beliefs regarding foods’ magical properties.
11. Grey Heron
Grey herons used to be an upper-class dish, only surpassable by swans at the tables of nobles. Young herons were fed livers in barns before being roasted slowly to prevent fishy bones. All about status, not taste. I watch herons along the river and can’t even think of eating them, but for the medieval elite, they were a boast. This meal mercifully fell out of favor with shifting tastes.
12. The Toast Sandwich
The toast sandwich, from Mrs. Beeton’s 1861 cookbook, is crazily wonderful: dry toast, salted and peppered, placed between two buttered slices of bread. Occasionally jazzed with eggs or sardines, it was an economical snack. In 2011, it was labeled “Britain’s Cheapest Meal.” I attempted to make one for kicks it’s strangely gratifying, but I’ll stick to avocado toast.
13. Calf’s Foot Jelly
Victorian kitchens adored calf’s foot jelly, a jiggly dessert created by boiling calves’ feet for several hours to get the gelatin out, then mixing with sugar and spice. As a medicine for the ill, it was the first Jell-O, without the fruit. I appreciate the zero-waste thinking, but meat-flavored jelly isn’t my thing. It demonstrates how Victorian diets were fashioned from need.
14. Jell-O Salad
Raspberry Jell-O Salad
Equipment
- 1 9×13 inch Baking Dish
- 2 Large Mixing Bowls One for gelatin, one for cream cheese mixture.
- 1 Saucepan For boiling water to dissolve gelatin.
- 1 Electric mixer or whisk For whipping cream cheese and heavy cream.
- 1 Measuring Cups/Spoons
Ingredients
Main
- 1 6- oz. package raspberry powdered gelatin
- 2 10- oz. bags frozen raspberries
- 2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
- 1¼ tsp. Diamond Crystal or ¾ tsp. Morton kosher salt divided
- 3 graham cracker sheets
- 2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
- 3 Tbsp. sugar divided
- 4 oz. cream cheese room temperature
- 1 cup chilled heavy cream
Instructions
- Crush graham cracker sheets finely, then combine with melted unsalted butter, 1 tablespoon of sugar, and 1/4 teaspoon of kosher salt.
- Press the graham cracker mixture evenly into the bottom of a 9×13-inch baking dish; chill the crust while preparing the other layers.
- In a large bowl, whisk the raspberry powdered gelatin with 2 cups of boiling water until the gelatin is completely dissolved.
- Stir in the two bags of frozen raspberries, fresh lemon juice, and the remaining 1 teaspoon of kosher salt until well combined and the raspberries are partially thawed.
- Pour the raspberry gelatin mixture over the chilled graham cracker crust in the baking dish and refrigerate for at least 2-3 hours, or until fully set.
- In a separate large mixing bowl, beat the room temperature cream cheese with the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar until smooth and creamy.
- In a chilled bowl, whip the cold heavy cream until soft peaks form.
- Gently fold the whipped cream into the cream cheese mixture until just combined, creating a light and airy topping.
- Carefully spread the cream cheese topping evenly over the set raspberry gelatin layer.
- Chill the assembled salad for at least 1 additional hour before serving to allow the topping to set firmly.
Notes
The 1950s Jell-O fad gave rise to congealed salads shrimp, veggies, or even tuna gelatin molds topped with mayonnaise. Tomato and cucumber Jell-O flavors failed, but the “Monterrey Soufflé Salad” (tuna in lemon Jell-O) was the height of weirdness. I found pictures of these old ads and winced, but they represent the period’s fascination with convenience and experimentation.
Food as History
This culinary journey through the ages demonstrates how food mirrors survival, status, and plain creativity. From poisonous pokeweed to ambergris from whales, our grandparents dined on things that make us laugh, cringe, or astound. These meals remind me how fortunate I am to have contemporary grocery stores not a dormouse in sight. What will future generations do with our avocado toast or our sriracha fixation? For the present, I’m just thankful I don’t have to decide between cock beer or a sandwich of toast for supper.
