Ronneburg - a magic tale

It seems I am always a step behind when updating my blog. Life is chasing me from one strange experience to the next, and I hardly have any time to settle down. I am dead tired at the moment, yawning constantly, but this story must be told!

In september we finally got to visit the Ronneburg about 40 minutes drive from Frankfurt am Main in Germany. I dreamt about the place since last year - everyone talked about it. I just had to see it. This year it was time, and our good friends in MiM - lead by Ronnie and Constantin - had made a tremendous job organizing, lasting months before the event took place. I reckon a great number of the MiMs were involved in planning and execution of the event: http://www.14tes.eu/

Generously enough, they invited the whole of the company, and at first there were many of us planning to go, but as the event drew nearer, more and more decided to step down. In the end, we invited friends from Fraternis Militia Carnis to fill the ranks. Carl and Guffe decided to join, and the three of us went by plane from Gothenburg, after quite a drive from Växjö. Alex, Johan and Simon went by car with our equipment.

We were picked up at the airport by Constantin, who was good enough to drive us all the way to the Ronneburg, and then he actually went back to Frankfurt to spend the night with his family. I was a bit touched - such hospitality and friendlyness I have seldom experienced. But the best part was really that he handed us a pilz, first thing when we got to the car. Ah! What a welcome!

After some time we could see the lights of the Ronneburg on a hilltop. It was a splendid sight, and as we parked the car, and hauled our packs up the pathway, through the first gate, I was astonished. Nowadays, I seldom have the feeling of "the middle ages". I have become blasé. Not much amazes me anymore - I have seen a lot of stuff, and experienced many things. But the lantern hanging in the passage outside the guard room gave me shivers down the spine - this WAS the middle ages, even though I saw that the lantern was an electric one. Johan met us half way, and greeted us. He showed us the way into the courtyard, and even before I was there, I felt confused and lost. We were shown to a room where we were going to sleep, and managed to arrange our stuff and make our beds. Then we had food and beer.

I met a lot of familiar people. Kyra, for example. She is really nice. And Anne from Nürnberg. Ages ago she sent me a CD with pics from Nürnberg, and I have yet to return the favor; I already fixed up a CD full of pics, but I never get along to posting it, and I forgot to bring it to the Ronneburg. Don't fret, Anne. You WILL get your pics.

I really can't remember if I went to bed early our late. Early, I believe, as we stood up early as well. We put our armour on, and started Swedish army gymnastics on the courtyard. We were looking for Lars, a young boy, as Johan said he needed the practice - his mother wanted to make a man out of him, and we were determined to try our best. But we just couldn't find him. We looked all over for him, and finally, we spotted him. He saw us first, and dashed to get to safety, away from burly, Swedish soldiers. Eventually we cornered him, and he promised to join us for morning gymnastics. When he came, we started out, lead by Johan.

It turned out, very quickly, that Johan wasn't 20 anymore, and that he hadn't in fact made any harder physical excercises clad in 14th century armour before - as soon as we started the pushups, he wilted and fell like a lump of dough. I tried my best. I think I managed about ten pushups or so, but it became painfully obvious that I myself aint 20 either... The situps were impossible in rigid body armor, so Johan had to pull me up. The gathering crowd had a good time, and so did we. Lars just shook his head, we grunted (like the old men we are becoming) about cocky young boys who should be taught a lesson, preferrably by sword (which we actually did later on, but in the form of proper fighting training). Before the morning PT was over, we ran through the castle, guns held high. It wasn't very far, and I was pleased I could manage, even though I'm getting a bit fat. As we headed back, I nearly threw up. I had to sit down and rest. It's tragic, really. When I was in my early teens, I was the 8th best 800 metre runner in Sweden :-)

As the old Norse Poetic Edda states:

Cattle die, | and kinsmen die | And so one dies one's self

I have one foot in the grave already.

Then - breakfast. German food is like Swedish, only made with love and concern. The Germans have proper butchers, proper bakers, proper brewers - the make food into an artform. It is not often tinged with finesse - the better. It is food for people in general. Robust, tasty, well made, with pride and effort. Cooked to give you strength to work, love and laugh.

One of the best meals I have ever had, was smoked pork, fried in its own fat, eaten along with coarse, freshly baked bread, by the fire, in the mist and drizzle, taking shelter under my kettle hat, my cloak and a couple of pavises. Another was bread, fresh out of the oven, with genuine, salty butter, home brewed, red beer and home made sausages made from lamb, spiced with herbs.

It is all really simple food, but made with the purpose of eating it yourself. I know all German food isn't made like that, but some of it is. And it is divine.

That breakfast was exquisite. The bread and the sausages from Hessen - by the Lord - were they good. I even tried a sausage where the meat was stuffed inside a pigs bladder (rather than from pigs entrails). I love sausages far better than just meat; you can make whatever you want out of them, and that is a wonderful trick!

We took our position in the guard house (one of the inner gateways, really), and set up our dice board, our jugs and our armour, to look like proper guards. Guffe, portraying a knight, had a bit of a problem fitting in, as he really shouldn't hang out with the craftsmen in the halls, the people in the kitchen or the soldiers in the guard room, plus, he didn't know many people except the rest of the Swedes. So he mostly hung out with us anyway. We spent the better part of the day in the guard house, drinking (apple juice - sometimes mixed with a bit of beer - a classic Radler!), gambling and chatting. Some of the boys joining us came from different parts of Europe. Alexander, a MiM, was in charge of the guard operation. There was a handful of other Germans as well, plus a Belgian guy. The guard room connected to the guard house was really something. It was utterly perfect, exactly like I imagined a guard room. Small, but big enough to store weapons and to keep one man on post.

I had time to saunter the castle, and as it was light outside, and as I kept to the parts of the castle I knew, I didn't get lost. I checked the craftsmen in the halls - without exception they were excellently skilled. That is maybe the best thing about the reenactment scene - people have vast knowledge about their specific areas, and you can learn so much. I am not a craftsman, but I love crafts, and to learn about them, so I had a needle maker tell me about how he made pins. It was a proper science! I could never believe all the shrewd tricks and tools used in the making of such tiny things. I believe I bought 18 of those pins for Elisabeth.

But there were loads of other craftsmen too - shoemakers, cobblers, belt makers, painters, chain mail makers, paternoster makers, makers of wax tablets, embroiderers, tailors, dyers - I really believe that I missed some of them out, in spite of that dire list. This photo shows Bertus and Isis, our dear friends from Deventer Burgerscap, sewing and embroidering.

And then, there was the kitchen. Good lord, the kitchen. Lead by Kyra, loads of people worked their fingers to the bone, cooking for well above 50 people (someone told me that we actually were more than 80 people taking part in the event). The kitchen was always bustling, and I might have annoyed more than one kitchen worker when I was trying to get the perfect photo, but I got a few splendid pics. That evening, we were treated with loads of dishes - all cooked in that period kitchen over open fire. They even baked patés, and made their own marzipan - skillfully worked into the shape of an eagle. I'll tell you more about that banquet later on - the day wasn't half finished yet - but before I continue I would like to show you a pic from the ambiguos kitchen - serene, yet pulsating with effort.
The smells, the noise. The words. The sights. Light sifting in through the smoke from the fires. Heat. Sweat. I really love kitchens. I love working with food (did you know? I worked as a chef for nearly two years!). In that aspect I can become what I most desire. I can become a craftsman, and I can make wonderful things.

I stood devotional in that kitchen for at least an hour, snapping photos when I could, trying to keep out of the way (I make people standing in my way in my kitchen into sashimi). Then I had to go. I had duties to perform at the guard house, and soon we were going to take part in a gunnery display. But first, I took a breathtaking (in many ways) tour up the tower. The view was really pretty, but as with most places today, you can always notice the modern world in some way. That meant I could see villages on all sides, roads and other things belonging to the 21st century. Too bad, but still very beautiful.

When I got back to the guard house, nothing had happened. The boys were still gambling and drinking, and admiring the peacocks striding along here and there. I had a seat and joined the game.

Some hours later it was time for us to make ready the guns. First of all we were (a bit unwillingly, I admit) dragged into a fashion display at the inner courtyard. They wanted to show different kinds of warriors, from knights to simpler mercenaries, like ourselves. But after that, we loaded up our guns. We wanted to make a good display, and as we practiced quite a lot this summer, we hoped to really give that audience something to look at.

To my dismay, we hardly made three shots in a minute. I was really disappointed, plus I got a nasty powder burn in my face (that's just manly). This calls for even more practice! We need to get better. We need to impress, otherwise we will not be much more than just regular medieval guys with a couple of guns - and really - most fighters in the reenactment world has bought one. We promised Lars that he could have a go at the guns, under our supervision. Like everyone trying it out, he left as a true believer.

We packed up our gear, and returned to the guard room. During the lull between dinner and display, we took quite a few pictures of each other on the walkways along the battlements (we were later told that we weren't allowed up there, so we have no intention of ever going there again. The pics were nice though.), where some of the boys collected peacock feathers. As dinner drew nearer, we had some sword practice with Lars. He is becoming a proper soldier, and when he gets a bit older, we'll recruit him.

In the dying daylight, we had some more photos taken. We convinced bertus to portray a Swedish Burgher that we assaulted in a gateway (we portray Germans living in Sweden, or Swedes of German descent - in some epoques of the middle ages, the two groups (Swedes and Germans living in Sweden) were bitter enemies). On the left is one by Franziska.

Then it was finally time for the banquet. We drank loads of good beer, and we were amazed by the skills of the kitchen staff. They had worked like slaves in that kitchen, in the heat and smoke for a whole day, and I was really thankful for the food. I hope someday I will be able to repay them. If they ever come to one of our events, I will give them such treats! Heck! I will even do a dirty dance.

The food was good, but what I appreciated the most was the work put into it. People working "below deck" seldom gets even a "thank you", and that is why I am making such a big deal out of it.

I stayed up late, drinking and chatting and probably bragging, and then came morning. And really, that was more or less the end of it. We didn't have much time to do anything but get up, pack our stuff, eat and leave. Our plane was leaving much too early, so we had to go. Oh, yeah - I had time to give Johan a shave as well, but that was it. We said quick goodbyes to people, and then headed for the car. Constantin drove us to a nearby train station, we took the train to the airport, and suddenly we landed in Gothenburg again. And gone was the magic...

My dearest thanks goes out to the MiMs, and in particular Ronnie and Tino, for having us. Furthermore, I'd like to thank everyone taking part in this splendid happening. Hope to see you soon!

Feast of St Stefanus

The 12th of december the company will host our traditional feast of St Stefanus, an important saint in Scandinavia (and the first christian martyr). Usually we gather and eat medieval sweets and drink hypocras until we feel sick from sugar overdose, while we watch a mysetryplay picturing the martyrdom of St Stefanus, or as he is known in Sweden - Staffan Stalledräng.

All readers are very welcome, provided you can come up with a late 14th century outfit, and that you tell us that you want to join before the 5th of december.

Welcome!

A trip to the land of stroopwafels, episode 1

We went to Nijmegen. It was time for a new trip to the land of beer and stroopwafels. We missed it last year, so we were really looking forward to it. At first we were supposed to be enough people to fill up at least two cars. We ended up with three adults and one toddler.

We wanted to leave early, but because of life being as it is, we didn't leave Sweden until 2 in the afternoon. The trip south was kind of alright, although we went into a traffic queue, plus it was raining a lot. We arrived in Nijmegen at night, about half past 12, and put up our tent plagued by stormwinds and heavy rain. Thomas Schatek from MiM was up using the "bathroom", and greeted us as we tried to negotiate the canvas against the wind. He offered his help, we said thanks but no thanks, and he went quickly to bed - a smart man!

There were three of us, but we still managed to get the tent up alright. That was so good, as we usually need at least four to fix it. We pegged one part to the ground before stretching it out on three sides. In 37 minutes we managed to put up the tent and make straw beds for all of us - it must be a new record. Eli and Isolde were dead tired, so they instantly went to bed. The rain whipped the tent, but they kept dry and warm between the blankets. Lunda and I wiped the rain from our faces and went over the square to our favourite pub - Camelot (http://www.cafecamelot.nl/). Our camp is situated by the church in the background, by the way - this is a map of the surroundings:

Visa större karta

As you can see, we camped in the middle of the town!

Camelot gave us the warmth we needed. We tried a couple of different brews (and realized that they no longer serve the delicious/disgusting Duchesse de Bourgogne; with each sip you have to decide whether it's utterly excellent or magnificently gross) and had a chat about life, before heading home to our tent. We went to bed abou 2 in the morning.

Morning light woke us up, and we rose to have breakfast with the Schateks - Thomas and Franziska. They had bread, coffee and tasty German sausages - a good start on the weekend. I planned the food for the weekend with Franziska - a way to practice my bad German - and then we went to shop food at the market. Thomas, fluent in Dutch, accompanied us to help us with interpretation - especially the names of different spice should prove difficult to figure out, although I managed to work it out in the end, with the help of Thomas and friendly bypassers, interested in my strange clothes.

We shopped a lot. We bought sausages and delicious cheese along with dried ham - we have found that it is a good idea to have food you don't need to use pots and pans for when it is intended for the last meal of the event. It is heaven not having to do the dishes just before leaving. Once again I planned the cooking from En sås av ringa värde and hence, the shopping was aimed at chickens and some vegetables, plus bread, wine and beer. And stroopwafels! If you don't know what that is - go to the Netherlands. You haven't lived until you tried them! An I found Duchesse de Bourgogne (or however it's spelled)! Our usual outlet didn't carry them anymore, so I had to scour Nijmegen for them. I eventually found them in a really nice wine store and bought ten of them. You can never decide whether they taste divine or utterly disgustning; each sip you have to ask yourself *yuk* or *yum*. This makes drinking Duchesse kind of fun - I never really stop being fascinated by it.

It was very windy during the Saturday. It was windy enough to blow plates off the tables. The wind made it nigh impossible to do any crafting at all. I cooked instead, and that worked alright. It is lovely to work with fine ingredients, and I cooked great food as well. This time I got to try out the recipe for En sås av ringa värde - "a sauce of lesser value" - a broth, really, served with bread, parsley and red onions. I also tried the so called Vitt mos - a porridge, more or less, made by eggs, milk, bread, sugar, cinnamon and saffron. It was a lovely change from porridge, and it let us use the old bread, which otherwise had been thrown away.

Two English scribes who were really nice (and really quite old - in their 60's and 70's!) also camped at the square, and during the day a happy few from the Deventer Burgerscap showed up: Lea, Isis, Marisca (with Oriande and Zenaïde), Laurens, Nijso and Bertus. I might have forgotten someone. Sorry.

As we were really few, we consorted a lot more than we usually do; we shared kitchen with the Schateks and had the Dutch about five metres across the square. This gave rise to a very familiar feeling that I really enjoyed, and we constantly "visited" each other.

Isolde kept busy with Oriande, Marisca's daughter. They kept holding hands and ran around the camp site to everyone's enjoyment, while us grown ups did this and that. As the day went to evening, we had our evening meal, and something to drink. As it grew late, we (the men) decided to have a boy's night out. Franziska didn't like this at all - she wanted to be a part of it, but you can't have a girl tagging along on a boy's night out. So we named her Bertus instead, as the real Bertus was stayiung behind anyway. We called her Bertus and made her drink like Bertus.

We went to a pub called In de blauwe hand. It is many centuries old, and if I understand it correctly, it was the hangout for indigo dyers. Now it's just a great pub; it's crammed, warm, murky and comfy. And they have great beer. I got a bit tipsy. But Franziska - sorry - Bertus got drunk, so we asked him if she wanted to leave. We didn't want to press him into drink anymore. But then she got a little sour:
"That's what you want, isn't it? You want me to leave! You didn't want me to come along from the beginning!" There, there Bertus...

She/he and Thomas left eventually. Me, Laurens and Lunda stayed for a bit, and when Lunda went to the loo, me and Laurens decided we wanted to teach him a lesson for being tardy. We rolled up our hoods into hard knots, and held them in the end of the liripipes. This way they resembled flails. We waited outside until he came out, and then we gave him the thrashing of his life. He tried to defend himself of course, and soon we were running through the backstreets and alley-ways, having an all-out war all against each other, stealing each others caps, smacking each other with our liripipe flails and having a grand time.

Ystad

Ystad. A small town at the south coast of Sweden. Outside - the castle of Bjersjöholm, the site of one of the biggest (the biggest?) 14th century events in Sweden, spanning over four and a half days. Our friends in Fraternis Militia Carnis are kind of co-organizers of the event; they have the responsibility to set up the battle. The event was set in the beginning of July, but I haven't had time or motivation to write anything about it yet. But here I go!

Me and my daughter Isolde was first on the spot of the guys from Albrechts Bössor. Elisabeth had business elsewhere, so she couldn't come.

I more or less set our whole camp myself (with some help from our friends in Fraternis Militia Carnis), and I was about finished when some of the others turned up. We made straw beds in the tents. Me, Morgan and Isolde were to bunk together. I made the tent as comfy as possible, with blankets and sheeps fleece. The small tents really are a bit small when you want to bring your equipment along; you won't feel that it is roomy if you are more than two people. Luckily we finally finished our bigger tents, which means we have space enough for the whole of the company.

The light was fading, but as Swedish summer nights almost never go quite dark, there was still light enough to make Isolde think it was day. And she behaved that way, plus she was really really tired. I put her to bed, and made up a story about a cow and a calf. She still likes
that one.

I had a couple of beers and a chat with the other guys, as the camp was beginning to form - even in the dark people arrived, and set up their tents. White shapes were risen against the night sky as I sat shivering from the chilly air with a mug in my hand. It is a funny thing to let your ears do all the "looking round" - it gives a whole new perspective. You know what happens, and you can picture it in your head, even if your eyes can only see shadows and a lonely lantern here and there.

At Thursday the event started. We were to have one battle each day, and we were having kitchen duty at least one of the days. As I used to work as a chef, I had the honor and the responsibility to organize the food one of the days. Sebastian, a more or less well known character at this blog, had planned it all before, and he had a lorry come all the way out to the area, and unload food enough for more than 60 people. He didn't want to cook, though, as that is what he does all day long. I'll get to the cooking part further down.

The day was used to check out the market for a bit. There weren't much for the serious reenactor, although some of the stalls had some stuff that could pass as decent.

Furthermore, we practiced gunnery. During calm, focused conditions, our best gunnery team can fire 4 shots in one minute and 3 seconds. That is exceptional, but we WILL be able to fire four shots in a minute blank. It is a matter of routine and practice, so we'll get there. We were very proud of ourselves, and of course it looked stunning.

The rest of the day, we built barricades for the battle. Henrik, a pyrotechnist, made up holes in the ground, which were filled with blackpowder and charcoal - these small harmless "bombs" were to be ignited by electricity when the cannons fired at the barricades - and it created a marvellous effect!

I mostly fired handgonnes during each battle, although I picked up my sword from time to time; when the fight came closer I had to protect myself. I'd rather not, if I can choose - My gauntlets have never really fit me, probably due to the crappy leather gloves I have as a base for the metal. They are really uncomfortable and restrain my movements. I am going to sew a pair that really fits - then I'll be happy to pick up the falchion and ward off the scabrous dogs that assail me!

Lots of groups took part in the fighting, among others our pals in Tyska Orden, our great friends of Deventer Burgerscap (it was really a blast to see them - they came all the way from the Netherlands!) and some other groups that are new to the Swedish 14th century scene. It is really good to see new groups emerge; it will be a blast when we get to work with them!

One of the guys from the great Norwegian tournament group Frilansene has made a quite decent film of the battle. It can be seen here. Be sure to check out the "bombs" exploding (Oi! Have a look after you finish reading)!

I could write on and on about the fights, the good company, the drink and the late nights, but I'm afraid I would only be repeating myself. That's why I'm going to tell you more about my day as a head chef in a kitchen serving more than 60 people, three times a day over an open fire.

First of all - the kitchen. It was the biggest reenactment field kitchen I have seen. The cooking fire was big enough for three or four pots, and the fireplace was made by bricks. We had lots of working space, and I had maybe ten people at my command. I was prepared for hard work as we began cooking breakfast; porridge, smoked susages, cheese and bread.

Second I'll present the menu for the event as a whole, although I was only responsible for two of the following meals (I guess I already broke my promise about spamming you with food details. Sorry. I am a terrible person...):

- Russet soup, from Le Viandier
- Legs of duck a'la Dodine, from Le Viandier
- Pork, cabbages and apples seasoned with cumin (one of mine!)
- Salmon covered in herbs served with frumenty, from Faite de cuisine (also one of mine! :-))
- Onion soup served with sausages and bread, from the Forme of Curye
- Grilled lambs and piglets along with root vegetables and camelina sauce
- Chicken with onions and almonds

And third I'll tell you more about the two dishes I was in charge of making.

The first dish we prepared was the pork seasoned with cumin. This was easy enough. We cut the pork into dice, 2x2 centimetres or so big. It was already seasoned with cumin seeds. At the same time we cut like a million cabbages and fried them with butter and honey, plus some vinegar. When it was close to finished, we started to boil the pork for some minutes - in the meantime we cut the apples and put them in the pot with the sliced cabbages. I tried it with salt and pepper - and it was a huge success!

Next dish (for the evening meal) was salmon covered with herbs. A time consuming process was to prepare the frumenty. The problem is that the barley always stick in the pot when it starts to swell and become thick. We solved that in an easy way: we boiled chicken stock and poured it over a big trough filled with barley. And lo and behold! The barley swelled, and was finished to eat in just a matter of about ten minutes. In the mean time, I used my skills as an old sushi chef to fix up the salmons. I got quite decent filets, but I saved the skin - it protects the meat when you fry the fish. My trusty helpers started to fry the fish, as I mixed the now finished barley with cream and more chicken stock. The result was a lovely, thick stew. Sadly it lacked salt. I'll do better next time.

Something that put a bit of damper on my dinner mood was that one of our boys came running from one end of the camp to the other - he was running from the training grounds. He came running back with another members personal effects in his hands. This usually means trouble, and boy, was I right.

Scan, one of our prospects, was down and out. I wanted to throw everything aside to go check on him, but I didn't; several of the boys are old combat medics - and Dr Bob was about, which meant me getting involved would only complicate things. So I took a deep breath, grasped my ladle and continued to stir my pots in the chilly wind.

One of the company members brought me a damage report. Scan had been cut in the face during practice. Three teeth had been broken, and he had a wide Joker grin, as the sword had cut his left cheek open. The cut was about three centimetres long, and he was taken to the Ystad hospital for serious patching up. I didn't have the focus to eat just then, so I finished cooking and put a couple of guys to do the dishes, so I had the possibility to get in the car and drive to pick the guys up at the hospital.

Scan had been fixed up real nice, but he was a bit down, as the effect of the adrenalin and the painkillers were wearing off. We bought soup for him, so that he could eat, and in the same time we tried to get hold of emergency dentists to fix up his teeth.

As far as I know, all is well with Scan, his cheek and his teeth. You just can't forget about that cut - nowadays we call him Smiley :-)
The most perfect thing was that the man actually stayed the whole event through! Pure and utter quality! He was even fighting the next day. No matter what happens, that man will have my respect for not stepping down, and for not submitting to fear. I am certain I would not have been as strong and composed.

Cheers to you, Smiley!

Varberg - recipes

A sauce for noble men
- Cloves
- Nutmeg
- Cardamom
- Peppers
- Ginger
- Cinnamon
- Roasted bread crumbs
- Salt
- Vinegar

How to:
- Mix it all. Finished.

Chicken boiled with sage and smoked pork
- A chicken
- Salted/smoked pork
- Sage
- Salt
- A little vinegar

How to:
- Chop the pork in small dice
- Chop the sage
- Put it together with the chicken in a pot, and boil for about an hour

Grön sås (Green Sauce - a sauce made from vinegar with different herbs)
- Parsley
- Sage
- Thyme
- A pinch of cinnamon
- Vinegar

How to:
- Grind the herbs
- Add the cinnamon
- Add the vinegar

Simple chicken
- A chicken
- Lard or butter
- Wine
- Black pepper
- Water
- Salt

How to:
- Boil the chicken for about an hour
- Pick the meat of the bones. Fry the meat
- Add some wine, salt and pepper
- Let it boil for a short time

Kaliis
- Diced bread
- Egg yolks
- Fatty milk

How to:
- Mix egg yolks and milk
- Pour eggs/milk over the bread
- Fry slowly until thick enough to cut

Späckad mjölk
- Lots of eggs
- Fatty milk
- Smoked pork
- Saffron

How to:
- Chop the pork in small dice
- Beat eggs and milk
- Mix it with the pork
- Boil the mixture, and let simmer until it resembles wet scrambled eggs
- Let it cool
- Put in a cloth and a sieve, and strain the water over night
- Cut it into slices
- Fry it in butter

There (*pant*). I'll never do this again. It was a bit tedious...

Varberg - menu

Friday evening:

Meats:
- Fried sausages
- Bread
- Butter
- Sauerkraut

Veg:
- Eggs
- Olive oil
- Salt

Preparations:
- Making of En sås för herremän - a sauce for noble men
- Frying meat
- Pickling the above meat in the above sauce

Saturday morning:

- Porridge
- Honey
- Milk
- Butter
- Bread

Preparations:
- Soaking peas in water

Saturday lunch:

Meats:
- Späckhöns (chicken boiled with sage and smoked pork)
- Grön sås (a sauce made from vinegar with different herbs)
- Bread
- Butter

Veg:
- Frumenty
- Boiled carrots

Preparations:
- Reducing the stock left from the chicken

Saturday evening:

Meats:
- Enkla hönor (simple chicken)
- Bread
- Butter

Veg:
- Peasoup

Preparations:
- Späckad mjölk (a dish consisting of eggs and milk heated up, then mixed with pork and put in pressure over night)

Sunday morning:

Meats:
- Kaliis (a dish made from dried bread and eggs)
- Bread
- Cheese
- Butter

Veg:
- Kaliis made with water instead of milk

Sunday lunch:

Meats:
- Pickled meat, prepared almost 48 hours before (and yes - it kept fresh in spite of the heat!)
- Späckad mjölk

Veg:
- Boiled and then fried root vegetables
- Fried eggs

Preparations:
- Saving the stock from the boiled root vegetables
- Saving four eggs

Sunday evening:

Meats:
- Assorted cheese
- Ham
- Sausages
- Apples
- Pears
- Raisins
- Nuts

Veg:
- Stock saved from lunch
- Eggs
- Bread
- Apples
- Pears
- Nuts
- Raisins

There you go. A menu. Next step - the recipes (yeah - I know this is bull shit boring. I'll try not to do it anymore, OK?).

Varberg

We had a great time in Varberg, at the west coast of southern Sweden. The event was hosted at Varberg Castle - which also houses a museum where the Bocksten finds are on display. We had two different kinds of display - fighting and a fashion show. The fashion show was not as good as Johan wanted it, but it gave us some ideas for the future. The public was really interested to check out our clothes and how they were made; stitches seem to be really cool :-)

The fighting wasn't bad either. Me and Morgan made a very good show when it came to wrestling. Johan followed up with dagger techniques, and I displayed the longsword. The display ended with Johan and Thomas beating each other to bloody pulp in a full contact clash. The audience was struck with awe, as the monster-fight-extravaganza took place.

For some reason, we didn't get a lot of photos from the event, but the few we have can be viewed here.

The main thing about the Varberg event was, however, one of my biggest challenges as a camp cook. I'd like to point out that it is something that is important to me, although I am a bit afraid you guys don't feel the same way. Please bear with me.

I put together two menues (one for the vegetarians and one for the regular omnivores), three meals a day for two days and one evening. Almost all of the recipes were from the book En sås av ringa värde, written by Daniel Serra and Hanna Tunberg, based on a Danish cookbook from around 1300. It was a serious piece of planning to be able to fix everything together. I planned to use the same broth several times, but I didn't have the means to store it, so I had to plan the different dishes with my mind set on that. Plus - I didn't want to serve similar meals in a row, and a lot of the food could turn bad in the extremely hot weather - I would say it were the hottest days this summer - over 30 degrees celsius! The meat and the chicken had to be cooked as soon as possible, and some of the dishes prepared more than one day ahead.

All in all everything went really well, except for the späckad mjölk - I'll present the recipe further down, but first I'll list the menu for the weekend, along with my working schedule. In the next post.

New skillet

Some time ago Anders, one of the company members, and I had a chat about skillets. I wanted to buy one from a caster, but he (the maker) told me that it would cost about 5000 euros just to make the mold, as I wanted a special skillet from Sweden. I wanted a cast one, and had finally decided that a Mary Rose model was looking similar enough to a 14th century one. It wouldn't be very expensive, as the maker already had a mold for it. At this time I spoke to Anders. Earlier I had found pictures of forged skillets, but I had the notion they were rare in comparison to forged ones. Anders talked me into abandoning the idea of a cast skillet, and I started looking for forged ones.

It was slow work. There are not many skillets in pictures from the time, and not many findings either. However, at one point I hade found enough pictures to order a reproduction. One of these pictures was a picture of a skillet from Vreta Kloster in Östergötland, a province in Sweden. The skillet is dated too 1100-1500 - a broad time frame really, but it shares aspects with late 14th- and early 15th century ones, like these below. They are all from French manuscripts from the end of the 14th century and the beginning of the 15th. The original skillet is quite small, but as we are becoming quite a few members in the company, I asked Anders to make it bigger. And he did. We have been using it during the season, and I am very happy with it.

Anders have been posting a description, including pictures, of his work at his blog, which can be found here. Check it out!

New cauldron

We have a new cauldron. On the picture it is filled with enough porridge to feed the whole of Lund. It contains 25 litres and it is really, really heavy. And I love it. Robin, the blacksmith of Kulturen, made a handle for it. Now it's complete, and I am looking forward to years of good use, together with the steadily growing collection of kitchen utensils.

New knives

I have been lobbying for a set of knives for the company. Up until now we have been chopping onions with daggers and hunting knives, which is creative, but not very practical. Besides I am going ballistic if I have to chop another onion with a weapon.

First of all, I ordered a couple (the first two) from a business dealing in reenactment/LARP-stuff. They were really cheap, so I decided it couldn't hurt much if they sucked. I worked a couple of hours to sharpen them (I had to remake the edge totally), and then I found that they worked satisfactory. The steel isn't very good though - you have to sharpen them quite often for them to stay sharp enough to use. I like their shape (especially when cutting meats) and balance, but they are a bit too light for me. My days as a chef has left me really picky when it comes to knives.


The second buy isn't really a buy yet. I have lent a couple of knives made by Simon's pal Kristoffer. He seems a good man, interested in joining the company one day. The knives are kind of rough to the finish, and the sharpening is uneven, plus I'm not sure I like the shape (either I really like it or I really don't - I haven't decided yet) and size of them (they should be a bit shorter). The most important thing is how they will work when they are properly sharpened. A great and significant difference between the first ones and the second ones are that the second ones seems to be made from a much better steel - they will be able to keep their edge a lot better than the others. We'll see.

It is however a good thing that we have decent knives - it will greatly improve the cooking.

Happy days in Lund - arriving and setting up camp

It was time for our "own" regular event - Medeltidsdagarna i Lund (http://www.kulturen.com/medeltidsfestivalen/). It is a small, cozy event in the middle of the open air museum Kulturen in the south Swedish city of Lund. The site is special, as houses from different parts of Sweden have all been disassembled and reassembled in Lund. Some of the buildings are medieval, and some are from later days, but most of them look exactly as medieval farmsteads. They are built in the same way as during the 14th century and with the same techniques. It's beautiful and we like it there.

The boys and girls of Albrechts Bössor are invited each year, to have displays and to add to the general mood of the festival. This year, we had a fashion show, a display regarding medieval fire arms and to fighting displays.

We arrived on friday evening and started to put up camp. John and Hannah from The Company of Chivalry (http://www.yecompaynyeofcheualrye.com/cc/) were waiting for us, along with Lunda and some of the others. We had a problem with putting up the tents, as we left the centre poles in Italy, to keep the weight down, but after some looking we managed to scrounge up enough poles of the right dimension to put up the tents. Next step was filling them with straw, to make beds. It turned out that the organizers hadn't brought enough straw for all to go around. We shared it amongst us, and we had kind of thin, but OK beds in the end.

It was growing dark, and it started to drizzle. Morale was kind of low, but Lunda and the Brits had been cooking potatoes and chopping chives to go with the massive amount of herring that I pickled. It's traditional summer food in Sweden, and as I use my grandmothers old recipe, it always turn out good. Thing was that 75% of the company just left the site to go for a falafel, because they didn't like the herring - before even tasting it!

I was bloody pissed. I had been working hard for this, and I was really disappointed that noone would eat it - except for John. He really loved it and ate a good part. Even Hannah, who doesn't like fish, tried it, and kind of liked it. But not too much though. To go with this we had bought a classic Swedish lager for the Brits, and a nice aquavit - a spiced vodka - both traditional additions to pickled herring. We sat up drinking in the Dean's House ("Dekanhuset" or "Dekanen"), a 15th century building furnished with some nice reproductions of chests, benches and tables. John stitched on his shoes, we told jokes and had a really good time. I went to check on Isolde, who (finally) slept sound under a sheep's fleece, while the rain and wind whipped the tents. When I finally went to bed, it was more early morning than late night. I was happy that our tents, both new and old, could stand the rain.

I slept well until morning, and stood up to face a grey, rainy morning. Most of our stuff was put under roof, but some lay scattered about the camp (it's always like that - in spite of my, and others, honest attempts to keep the camp tidy). I managed to get a fire going, and put our new cauldron on the fire; it was time to initiate it to the company. Breakfast was to be porridge, and as the food was slowly heating up, I tried to tidy up. The others came out from the tents. Johan seemed really tired (and later told me that he had fallen into some kind of diet-coma or coma-light, which ever expression fits).

As it was finally time for breakfast, it was also time for me to get groceries. Me, and a handful of the others, went for the store, where we bought a whole salmon, a couple of kilos of smoked pork, bread, flour, rolled oats for porridge, apples and other stuff we needed. As we got back to camp, the festival had started - and the rain had stopped. We immediately started too cook lunch - frumenty with fried, smoked pork - an old favourite! Then - lunch. I can't remember what we had, but it might have been frumenty, an old time favourite (boiled barley served with salted pork - it's a lot better than it sounds). It was good to use the new monster cauldron, but it really looked a lot like - iron. It was almost shiny. Simon fixed it up, with a load of grease and 10 minutes on the fire. It was black as sin when he was finished. As soon as the food was on the boil, the sun had begun to shine, and to dry our minds and clothes. Our humours rose, and it was time for the first display - the fashion show.

Sweets

This weekend I tested out a handful of 14th century recipes for sweets. It came down to a pie, two kinds of deep fried pastries, an early form of gingerbread biscuits, Lebkuchen, a warm drink called Caudel (I'm not sure this one is 14th century though...) and two kinds of hypocras. It took the better part of the day to fix it all.

Thanks to Astrid and Daniel Serra, I had access to grains of paradise (oh, sweet, rare grains!), and some tips on how to make the best of the hypocras. A lesson learnt is that the original recipes certainly must be divided into three or four - to use all that spice makes a porridge out of it all, and it is mortally expensive. Although I noticed this from the beginning and divided the amounts, it was still too much, and as the cinnamon powder started to react with the alochol, it became slimy like I don't know what. Hence, it was nigh impossible to sieve. Therefore: Second lesson learned is to not use powdered spice, but rather to grind the spice yourself, and make it kind of coarse. Earlier experiences tell me the same, but I guess I looked into the recipes a little bit to anxiously. As a cook, I should have trusted my instincts... Well. Better luck next time, I suppose.

If you don't know what Hypocras is, it is sweetened wine, spiced with a lot of different spices. I used a recipe from Le Menagier de Paris and a recipe from Curye on Inglish, a French and an English cook book from the latter 14th century. The recipe contains, among other things, cinnamon, nutmeg, mace, cloves, ginger, long pepper and so on. These recipes can easily be found online. Just google Le menagier de Paris hypocras (or click this link. When looking through the book, note that hypocras is spelled hippocras), or click this link to download the Forme of Curye, which is a part of the Curye on Inglish, if I'm not mistaken. Watch out for strange interpretations though. Try to use the original recipe if possible, though weights and volumes might differ quite a lot from our modern ones.

When it came to Lebkuchen (which is from first quarter of the 15th century), I learned that I probably should boil the honey a bit longer, to make the cookies a bit stiffer. Furthermore, I should have ground the dried bread a little bit better. Last but not least, I shall be a little bit more careful with the white pepper. It is quite easy to make - boil honey for five or ten minutes (don't let it burn), skim it, and let it cool just a bit. Then mix in breadcrumbs enough to make the mixture stiff, saffron and ground white pepper. Grease up a baking plate with butter, pour the thick, hardly running mixture on to it, and let it cool in a dry place. Before it is completely settled, though, cut lines in it, so that you can easily divide it in cookie-sized portions.

When making Caudel (a hot drink), remember this: You must NOT let it boil. If you do, you are left with sweet, scrambled eggs... Caudel is made with sweet wine or sweet beer, depending on who you ask. I used a recipe that looks like this:

5 egg yolks
1,5 decilitres of sweet beer (I used Boddington this time - it was good enough)
Enough sugar
Enough saffron
An optional pinch of salt

I whipped the beer and the yolks together, put in the saffron and sugar, and started to heat it up. I was not paying attention when making the Caudel, and it started to boil. The result was a very runny batch of scrambled eggs. The mixture is supposed to thicken and get warm. It is not supposed to boil.

It was easy enough to make Crispels. Take pastry dough and go at it with a rolling pin. Deep fry it. Dip it in boiling honey (watch your fingers). Done.

Next one - tourteletes in fryture - wasn't hard, but craved some work. Chop up figs, 5-6 of them would make about ten tourteletes. Mix with saffron and powder forte (a medieval blend of spice, consisting of "hot" spice like ginger, black pepper and cloves - google it, and make up your own mind about what you like). Cut two circles of pastry dough (use a drinking glass as measure) per tourtelete, put the fig-mixture in the centre of one of the dough circles, and use the other circle to cover it up. Make a small package out of it, and make sure it is well closed - otherwise the filling will not stay put. Deep fry the packages, and when they are finished, swab them with molten honey.

The last one - Leche Frys in Lentoun - is a fruit pie made from almond milk (almond milk is roughly 1 part finely ground almonds and two parts of water boiled together for maybe five minutes).

Chop up apples and pears, along with dates, prunes and currants (I couldn't find currants, so I used strawberrys with good result). Mix it with enough sugar, with powder forte, with cinnamon, mace and cloves. Add the almond milk and perhaps some olive oil and a pinch of salt. Mix it all well together, and put it in a prebaked pie-shell. Bake until ready (it should be golden brown at the top, and not runny). Keep the oven kind of hot.

All together I was happy with the results, not least because I learned a lot from them. As I write this, it is not even two weeks left until the Feast of Saint Stefanus, an annual celebration held by Albrechts Bössor. You have probably already made out that I am supposed to make the sweets for that party...

Haggis - a complicated person

Today I rinsed the stomach thoroughly, and left it in pure water.

Then I started on the filling.

150 grammes of oatmeal
is to be put in the oven until golden coloured. They should not be brown or black.
250 grammes of beef suet
is to be finely chopped. Suet is like, hard, hard fat/tallow that insulate the kidneys. It is easily available in Great Britain, although not in Sweden. I used lard, as an old recipe said it could be used instead.
The liver
should be grated or coarsely chopped.
The lungs and heart
should be minced.
3 onions
should be finely chopped.
The water you cooked the pluck in
is coming to use. Pour it over the other ingredients and make the mixture watery. I used about 6 decilitres, and it turned out really good, but this will vary depending on the size of the sheep's pluck.
Last step is to add
2 tablespoons of salt, along with a teaspoon of pepper and half a teaspoon of cayenne pepper and enough lemon juice to make the mixture tasty (I should have fried some of the mixture and tasted it, to know I got the proportions right, but I didn't. Still, the result was alright).

I will present the following steps with pictures. Commentary on the pics are found below it.


When everything is mixed into a paste, it is time to put it in the stomach. First of all, take a big pot and fill it halfways with water. Put it on a boil.

Fill the stomach about half full. I made the mistake of filling it all the way (Pic 1 - yes, it looks like...). Press out all air from the stomach, but leave a LOT of room (I didn't - see pic 2) - the stomach is shrinking by at least 50%, and the oatmeal swells a lot.

I looked at pictures of haggises on the web, and they seemed to be tied shut with a string (although it is a crappy pic, look at pic 3). I did the same, and lowered my happy haggis into the boiling water, and looked on as the stomach transformed (pic 4-5). I realised that it was going to burst in a matter of seconds, so I pierced it with a needle (pic 6). It was too late however, and the string fell off. The filling started to leak out in the pot, and my spirit sunk.

My clever wife however, took the situation under control, and took the pot of the heat. She put it all in a sieve, and in a matter of minutes we could refill the stomach. It had shrunk immensely. This time, we stitched it closely shut with whip stitches (pic 7-9). Also, we had cut off a bit of the stomach ("This is way too big. Lets cut the redundant material."), and we stitched the bottom together, filled it up, and left as much space as we could. Then we stitched it shut, and sunk both haggises into the water again.

This time, we had better luck. The original haggis had already shrunk, and was OK, but the other one shrunk considerably. We pricked it with a needle a couple of times, but eventually, it burst. This time it was not the stitching, but the stomach itself - I had scraped it too vigourously. I took it out of the water (it was only a small hole in it), and put it into a plastic bag, whereafter I put it back into the water again. I didn't want it all to go to waste, so I hope you forgive me if I cheated just a tad.

The Haggis is supposed to boil slowly for three hours. I boiled mine for about 2,5 hours, as they were kinda small. The finished Haggis was very good to the texture - as you don't eat it with sauce, I like mine a bit "juicy" (yes, I know it sounds disgusting). Every chef would of course have his Haggis different, but I like mine the way it turned out. During cooking, the water in the pot will evaporate. Keep hot water nearby to top up your pot as time passes, as the Haggis must always be covered with water.

Haggis is served with "neeps and nips" - mashed turnips and a dram of whisky. We found out that a glass of stout is an excellent companion to haggis and mashed turnips. It tasted a lot better than it looked, a real treat I must say, and it was certainly not disgusting as some of you probably think. You don't eat the stomach - it just acts like a vessel for cooking the other meats.

It had a buttery taste, not dissimilar to Bolognese. Salt was needed, maybe because of most of the filling leaked out in the boling water in the early process.

I had a couple of sceptic friends over, and they left like true believers.

My lessons learnt is to:

- Fry some of the mixture to make sure it tastes alright
- Leave lots and lots of room for shrinking and swelling, but make sure no air is left within the stomach
- Stitch the stomach together meticiously - just tiing it won't do the trick
- Be careful when you scrape the stomach - it can't be holed, and not even too thin
- Don't be afraid to prick the stomach with a small needle if it looks like bursting

Follow these advice - it is way too much effort put in to let the Haggis go wrong just because you are careless like I.

To use every single bit

A couple of months ago me, my wife and my daughter went to a couple of friends' place in the deep forests of Småland. We had a terrific time, had lots of apples from their plantation, had great meals and hung out with the sheep at the place. A couple of days ago, Katarina visited, kinda late. And she brought at body wrapped in black plastic bags. I put the blinds down, and started to cut the body in pieces with a saw. It was quite bizarre - a regular thursday evening I stood in my kitchen with an apron, hair pointing in all directions, with a saw put to a sheep's body.

Today, Sunday, my dad visited, to help me butcher the sheep into good, choice meat. And then I had an idea. I have never tried to cook Haggis, so I dug up an old recipe I had when I worked in Scotland. Magnus and Katarina (special thanks to Katarina's mother for being a relentless slaughterer - she emptied the sheep's stomach, and put heart, liver and lungs into bags for me).

First step when making haggis, is to soak the stomach of the sheep in really, really salt water over night. The same day, you can also cook the liver, the heart and the lungs. They are to boil slowly in nothing but pure water for 1,5 hours. Make sure that the windpipe of the lungs are always above water - impurities are ventilated through it, and, if possible, put the liver on top of the lungs. As the lungs are filled with air, they have a tendency to float to the surface, which means that only about 60% of the lungs are in the boiling water. If this happens, try to turn the lungs from time to time. In this picture, note the windpipe hanging over the edge of the pot. Top up with water if necessary.

When the boiling is finished, remove the pluck (lungs, liver and heart) from the pot, and pour the water into a container - it is going to be used later in the process.

The next step is the yuckiest one. Put your hand in the sheep's stomach, and use a table knife to scrape of the "fluff" on the outside of it. Make sure not to pierce it. I found that it is best to work in small circles, and to have lots of water nearby. This is a stiff work. I guess the experts have no problem doing this, but I am quite certain that i spent at least 1,5 hours scraping the surface completely clean. The lowermost picture show the difference between unscraped stomach and scraped.

When it is good and clean, turn it inside out and wash it thoroughly, scraping if necessary - this is the surface where the sheep's shit is produced (hey - it is a stomach!), so you would like to be really meticulous when cleaning this. It has been soaked in salt, and that would take care of most (hopefully all) harmful micro organisms, but that is no excuse to be sloppy about it - work-work, as the peon said.

A stomach is peculiar, by the way. Really stretchy. Really smelly. Really yucky. It is fascinating. And you find yourself amazed by what you are doing a regular evening, with your arm half way into a sheep's digestive system, scraping frantically with a table knife.

Great experience, despite of the smell and the "oh-so-gross-factor". I learn a lot these days, and I am pretty positive no one of my friends have ever done this.

Tomorrow's the big day, when the actual making of the Haggis is taking place. I will of course report on every disgusting detail. Stay tuned for next episode of "Chieftain o' the puddin' race"!
And by the way - the smell still hasn't gone of my hands...

Party pics

Johan Looks grim. He always does, but this time - he is hungry.















All of a sudden - the pig arrives!



















Everyone is happy.

















Particularly Johan.





















What barbarism!












Don't look ladies! It is not a pretty sight! Poor animal...

Party

Last weekend I attended a party held at the "medieval" pub Sjätte Tunnan in Stockholm. It was a five hour drive from home, but I was real excited to go. The party promised lots of old friends, and a handful of new ones. The setting: Our old friends of Fraternis Militia Carnis were having a 10-year-anniversary. At the same time, a new group dealing with the year 1412, a group of people called Stadsvakten ("The city guards") wanted to present themselves to the scene. This was of course welcome, as new late 14thC and early 15thC groups are always appreciated in Sweden, where reenactors are scarce and 14-15thC ones are even more scarce. This was a rare opportunity to have a look at new people and start interesting cooperations.

The people of Albrechts Bössor met up at Maria's place, where we had a couple of drinks. It was good to see them all, and to look at new stuff they had made since last time. It was particularly nice to meet Alex after a long summer without his burly company.

We went into central Stockholm, to Old Town, where we met other friends, ad had a change of clothes into our medieval gear. I had my new shoes and my new coat on (yes, yes, I will post pictures as soon as I can - I finished the damned shoes!). I re-used an old hat of mine - the so called blue-bell-hat - it is bright blue, and might remind you of a blue bell, if you really want it to.
In my new, fresh outfit I felt ready to tackle the evening - heck - even the world.

We went to the venue, and was welcomed by Sebastian, the head chef and an old friend - also member of Fraternis Militia Carnis (for short - Carnis, henceforth) - without any doubt one of the finest "medieval chefs" of the world.

We put our behinds down in a dark, cosy part of the pub, where the staff had made the table for us. First up was a guy, really interested and schooled in the theory of medieval music. I can't say I enjoyed it as much as I should have - he went deeply into the technical aspects of music and went on for a long time without catching my interest, so I was kinda relieved when he was done.

Then one of the guys from Stadsvakten presented the members of his group. They seemed decent enough, particularly for beginners.

Next step - the food. And the beer! I was hungry and thirsty, and when the plates were put down I was happy! The beer was served forth in big, big jugs, and it was not bad at all. I drank and chatted with people around the table and was quite content with life.

First course was pea soup with saffron, followed by a plate of assorted fish - smoked eel among other things. The other servings contained various meats with a grand finale - a whole piglet, painted in chequers, green and red. I had a back leg and ate until I nearly became sick.

Whilst eating I spoke with one of the guys from Stadsvakten, but sadly I can't say he impressed me much. He rather jeered at me, and tried to tell me off to show that he was better than me, and that he knew everything better than did I, even though I got the impression that he hadn't been reenacting at all before. Too bad. I was hoping for new comrades, but this guy more or less shamed the rest of them. Hopefully, other members will show that they indeed are good guys worth cooperating with in the future - I guess you can't blame the group for the individual.

This put me in kind of a bad mood (I was hoping for so much, and was disappointed), and one of our colleagues in Carnis had to pay for it. I over reacted to one of his jokes and slapped him before I really knew what was happening. It is really nothing I am proud of - on the contrary I feel a bit ashamed even as I write this. I begged his pardon of course, and as far as I know he accepted it; at least we hugged and sorted things out immediately. Sorry again, Ludde. It just happened.

On the good note, two German colleagues from More Majorum showed up, and brought me greetings from Fabse, an acquaintance from Morimondo, as well as from Roland, in charge of arranging the Bachritterburg event 2009.

All in all though, I thought the night was a bit too expensive in comparison to what I got, plus I forgot my "ordinary" jacket and had to go get it the morning after, still really hung over... I'll post some photos when I get around to it.

Seeth-Ekholt, chapter 1

On popular demand, I will try to write this blog in English, even though I'd rather not. Maybe I'll slip back to Swedish when I get tired of misspelling everything, but that is a different story, to tell on another blog.

Well, let me tell you about Seeth-Ekholt, and the trip to get there and back.

We started up Friday morning early (me and Eli sent thoughts of thanks to my mother-in-law for babysitting Isolde the whole weekend), and went over the bridge to Denmark. The trip to Rödby, Denmark, went smooth as a whistle, and we went by ferry to Puttgarden. On German soil we stopped to buy alcohol (that's an old Swedish tradition - all Swedes buy alcohol in Germany, as much as they can possibly carry), and then we were off towards Seeth-Ekholt again. After a couple of mishaps I was personally responsible for, we were finally able to roll up to the camp site, about 1600 hours. A few of the other groups had already arrived, and we started to make camp. Before long, we had a place for doing the dishes, along with a hole for waste. Our three tents went up, and were furnished with straw until we had made cozy beds. A pavise shield put on four stakes forced into the ground became our table, and a handful of chests were our benches. A great camp, in short.

People were becoming hungry, and even though the excellent people of Historia Peregrini were cooking as fast as they could, it was clear that the food shouldn't be ready for some time. We therefore decided to dispatch a foraging patrol. Me and Lunkan left camp and went to the nearby Elmshorn to shop groceries. We started by getting ourselves some bread. We bought a huge loaf weighing in at 2,7 kilos - by far the biggest hunk of bread I have ever seen. In addition we bought some lovely pasties with strawberries and vanilla cream. We loaded it all in the car, and went back to shop. We bought sausages (three different kinds), two kinds of cheese, a load of different weissbier, and some small stuff, like spice, sour cream and the like. In short, we loaded up for a feast.

As we came back, we fed the dogs the pasties - and there was much rejoyce! Somebody even took a photo of them. When spirits where higher, we started to cook a bit of food, and as the evening was rolling in on us, we could serve smoked mackerel, sausages (some of them were fresh - not cooked or spiced, but a raw meat product! I spiced them up with loads of thyme, salt, cardamom, black pepper and salt, boiled them half-ready and then fried them - and they were glorious!), cheese, bread, beer, sauerkraut, wine cooked cabbage, mead and wine.

By this time, some of our friends had started arriving. Kyra, from Bürgerliches Leben um 1400, came over to keep us company, along with Nijso, Bertus and Laurens from Deventer Burgerscap (we were a bit disappointed that none of the girls joined). Soon Lorentz from Elvelüüt Hamborch and some of the guys from MiM (Mensch im Mittelalter) also joined. Lorentz had his laptop with him, and we could watch his excellent film from Morimondo, Italy. It became a quite pleasant evening, with a couple of drinks, good friends, lots of laugh and enough food to go around.

The mist started to whirl and twirl around our legs and our shoulders, and finally it was time to go to bed. The moon shone eerily and beautiful when I went up to have myself a piss in the early morning hours. It was hauntingly hidden behind the almost solid barriers of heavy fog. I stood watching for a bit, until the chilly air drove me back to Elisabeth and the warmth of our bed. I felt very much alive as I closed my eyes and went back to sleep.