The Flowing Bowl: A Treatise on Drinks of All Kinds and of All Periods, Interspersed with Sundry Anecdotes and Reminiscences — John Shaqi
The Flowing Bowl: A Treatise on Drinks of All Kinds and of All Periods, Interspersed with Sundry Anecdotes and ReminiscencesSpencer, Edward
History
The Flowing Bowl: A Treatise on Drinks of All Kinds and of All Periods, Interspersed with Sundry Anecdotes and Reminiscences
Spencer, Edward
Alcoholic beverages; Liquors; Wine and wine making
In order to make this, the _Compleat Housewyfe_ instructs us to take
ten gallons of ale, and a large {42} cock, the older the better.
Parboil the cock, flea (flay?) him, and stamp him in a stone mortar
till his bones are broken (you must craw and gut him when you flea
him), then put the cock into two quarts of sack, and put to it three
pounds of raisins of the sun stoned, some blades of mace, and a few
cloves; put all these into a canvas bag, and a little before you find
the ale has done working, put the ale and bag together into a vessel;
in a week or nine days bottle it up, fill the bottles but just above
the neck, and give it the same time to ripen as other ale.
I have frequently read of the giving of “body” to ale and stout, by
means of the introduction of horseflesh; and an old song used to tell
us that upon one of the paupers in a certain workhouse happening,
inadvertently, to fall head-foremost into the copper,
dreadful to tell, he was boiled in the soup,
which, on that account, in all probability so strengthened the
constitutions of the other paupers as to render them impatient of
workhouse discipline. The man who disappeared mysteriously—this is Mr.
Samuel Weller’s story—and who unwittingly furnished “body” for the
sausages supplied to the neighbourhood, was, after all, benefiting his
fellow-men. But to put the rooster into the ale-cask smacks somewhat of
barbarism; and thank goodness we do not work off our surplus poultry in
that fashion nowadays. But these barbarians were not ashamed; for lo!
facing me is “another way” for the manufacture of rooster-beer.
Take an old red, or other cock, and boyle him {43} indifferent well;
then flea his skin clean off, and beat him flesh and bones in a stone
mortar all to mash, then slice into him half a pound of dates, two
nutmegs quartered, two or three blaids of mace, four cloves; and put
to all this two quarts of sack that is very good; stop all this up
very close that no air may get to it for the space of sixteen hours;
then tun eight gallons of strong ale into your barrel so timely as
it may have done working at the sixteen hours’ end; and then put
thereinto your infusion and stop it close for five days, then bottle
it in stone bottles; be sure your corks are very good, and tye them
with pack-thread; and about a fortnight or three weeks after you may
begin to drink of it; you must also put into your infusion two pound
of raisins of the sun stoned.
Holy Moses! What a drink!
“It is necessary,” wrote a chronicler of the day, “that our English
Housewife be skilfull in the election, preservation, and curing of all
sorts of wines, because they be usuall charges under her hands, and by
the least neglect must turne the Husband to much losse.”
This was written, I may interpolate, before the bicycle craze had set
in, and before the era of ladies’ clubs. Fancy asking the New Woman to
elect, preserve, and cure all sorts of wines!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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