Appulmoy c.1390

Oh good, January’s here again.

Long time followers (hi mum) will know that January is far from my favourite month. I’m not sure what it is that’s so heinous about this month – perhaps it’s the incessantly cold weather? The brutal return to work? The fact that after a month of eating trifle like it’s a competitive eating contest, nothing buttons up anymore?

I sometimes feel sorry for Jesus, being born on Christmas day and all, but I feel especially sorry for people who have their birthdays in January. Most people are still struggling to haul themselves out of their Christmas postprandial stupor, or have overspent in the preceding month, and the last thing they want to do is add to the misery of it all by going out for another meal or purchasing another gift. So those people who had the misfortune to be born in January must suffer the indignity of a birthday cake frosted with yoghurt rather than cream and regifted stocking fillers, as well as having absolutely nothing left to look forward to for the rest of the year.

Of course, despite being born in December it was 6th January when Jesus actually got to open his famously useful and much-loved newborn birthday presents. I can only imagine Mary’s delight when Balthasar handed over his gift to the infant and sang “Myrrh is mine; its bitter perfume breathes a life of gathering gloom; sorrowing, sighing, bleeding, dying, sealed in the stone-cold tomb.” Oh, she must have been so grateful and not at all Deeply Disturbed.

Someone who perhaps received slightly more appropriate gifts for his birthday on the 6th January was King Richard II (although he almost definitely still got gold.) In Richard’s day the 6th January marked the end of the festivities and followed twelfth night, which would have been the traditional feast day of the season (rather than Christmas day). So poor Richard would have had to deal with the fact that while he was trying to muster up some birthday cheer, everyone around him would be dreading the return to normality after the celebrations of twelfth night misrule.

Okay, I’ve probably exaggerated that slightly but it did get me thinking: what would a king, trying to stave off some January blues whilst also indulging for his birthday, eat for the occasion?

Luckily for me, we have an account of the food that was likely consumed at the king’s court in the Forme of Cury, the earliest English recipe book compiled by the master cook of Richard II’s court in c.1390.

In the records there’s a recipe for Appulmoy which caught my eye as a potentially decadent yet healthy-ish dish fit for a royal birthday, while also being a nod to dreadful ‘New Year New You’ mantras.

Take Apples and seeþ hem in water, drawe hem thurgh a straynour. take almaunde mylke & hony and flour of Rys, safroun and powdour fort and salt. and seeþ it stondyng

Forme of Cury, c1390

Fortunately, the brilliant Dr Monk had already written a post about Appulmoy here so I was able to use his method (as well as delve into the etymology if the dish – definitely worth a read!)

Initially this dish looked like it was going to be a fancy apple puree, sweetened with honey and spices. However, the addition of rice flour transformed it into a sort of gelatinous paste, which was delicious warm and when set cold was thick enough to slice. In fact, the instruction “seeth it stondyng” meant to cook it until it was thick enough for it to hold its own shape (Although I originally thought it meant thick enough for a soon to stand up in!)

Overall, this was a delicious and quick and easy dish to make. It was perfect for the bitter January weather, and a pleasant antidote to weeks of roasted meat and potatoes. Who knows how Richard II sent his birthday 635 years ago, but if it was with a bowl of appulmoy he can’t have gone far wrong.

E x