Toby in the frosty field at dawn.James
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Saturday, July 10, 2010
How to ... build a brand-new castle
One of the areas of history I find particularly interesting is known as 'experimental archaeology', or, in more comprehensible terms, trying out historical methods and equipment to see how they really work and what is different to how we thing they work. Aristotelian bending the brain alone has its place, but as anyone who works with their hands will tell you, book learning and theory won't cover all you need to do the job for real.
Large examples of experimental archaeology include the modern replica of an ancient Greek Trireme, Olympias (details here) and the modern recreation of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre (an earlier post on that here). In both cases they are not exact recreations of what they are exploring, but the compromises are (mostly) known and the lessons that have appeared as a result of building a recreation of 'the real thing' have changed our understanding of both Shakespearian theatre and Classical naval warfare - interestingly explaining some aspects of contemporary accounts that puzzled modern scholars and also opening avenues of questions and study previously unconsidered. I'd love to see Olympias in action, but maybe not be a rower (I'm too big to be an ancient Greek, since you ask) but I'm proud to have been a modern 'groundling' on the South Bank.
From the Chateau's website.
One might assume we know all there is to know about building a castle, and a new castle would be the ultimate in follies.
And they are building a castle, in France as the BBC reports:
The BBC report here, and the official website is here and a Wiki entry here.
James
Large examples of experimental archaeology include the modern replica of an ancient Greek Trireme, Olympias (details here) and the modern recreation of Shakespeare's Globe Theatre (an earlier post on that here). In both cases they are not exact recreations of what they are exploring, but the compromises are (mostly) known and the lessons that have appeared as a result of building a recreation of 'the real thing' have changed our understanding of both Shakespearian theatre and Classical naval warfare - interestingly explaining some aspects of contemporary accounts that puzzled modern scholars and also opening avenues of questions and study previously unconsidered. I'd love to see Olympias in action, but maybe not be a rower (I'm too big to be an ancient Greek, since you ask) but I'm proud to have been a modern 'groundling' on the South Bank.
From the Chateau's website.One might assume we know all there is to know about building a castle, and a new castle would be the ultimate in follies.
And they are building a castle, in France as the BBC reports:
What's interesting is what is coming out of the experiment already:Deep in the forests of central France, an unusual architectural experiment is half-way to completion, as a team of masons replicates in painstaking detail the construction of an entire medieval castle.
The Chateau de Guedelon was started in 1998, after local landowner Michel Guyot wondered whether it would be possible to build a castle from scratch, using only contemporary tools and materials.
Experts are fascinated by what the experiment can teach about medieval building methods.One example concerns lime kilns, used for making the mortar. Archaeologists had often wondered why they found traces of two separate kilns at construction sites.
Experience at Guedelon showed that, in a day's work, builders often needed to top up the mortar brought in from the main kiln with small amounts made close at hand. Hence the small second kiln actually inside the castle.
The discolouring of lime-based mortar is another revelation. Within one or two years of being laid, Guedelon's walls are already showing streaks of unsightly white where the lime is leaching.
Archaeologists think this is a clue to why medieval castles were very quickly plastered and painted: it was to hide the mess.
BBC
While currently it is being treated as an academically rigorous exercise, it started out as an 'eccentric pipe dream'. Also revealing is the need for a theoretical mediaeval 'owner' to centre the project around, rather than being able to run it as an abstract model. As one of the guides said:
"Funnily enough, we found that even though we knew we were being accurate, somehow the castle lacked soul. So we invented a character - the owner - who would have likes and dislikes, wanting this and not wanting that," says Ms Preston.So how cool is that? Certainly it would add a je ne sais... mais exactement to studying a castle in school.
The BBC report here, and the official website is here and a Wiki entry here.
James
Friday, July 9, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
More red food
Maybe it's something to do with keeping warm, but I am loving the bitter warmth of winter veggies at the moment -- like those strong green rocket leaves we're plucking from the garden a few times a week. Or radicchio.
Where radicchio runs free (briefly, pursued by eager Italian cooks)
I never used to like radicchio. It wasn't until we went to Treviso and saw its jewel colours there, and when I started reading about all the shapes and types of radicchio, well, I got curious.
As luck would have it, it's prime season for them now, and we've had a few of the firm bullet-shaped radicchio trevisano in the last few weeks.
Look, it's just like the picture!
I had it in a lunch salad, with sweet dollops of soft goat's cheese, some halved grapes, and a gentle vinaigrette.
Hmm, it goes well with sweet things. My books say olive oil, definitely a lover of oil and some salt. So the first time I used it, that's what we had: salad of beautiful leaves, crisp but well-coated in olive oil and with little bits of goat's cheese snuggled into the pockets formed by the leaves. I sliced some of it finely, sauted briefly (I think with a shallot?) and we had that on top of sweet lamb chops. Yum. We might have it that way again tonight. Bring the red wine.
So as for red foods, this one pops nicely between the beetroot dip and the pomegranates. (I made a batch of muffins today, with oatmeal, brown sugar, marsala-soaked raisins and pomegranate seeds. Mmm.) Now how do I get my fingertips back to a normal colour?
Where radicchio runs free (briefly, pursued by eager Italian cooks)As luck would have it, it's prime season for them now, and we've had a few of the firm bullet-shaped radicchio trevisano in the last few weeks.
Look, it's just like the picture!I had it in a lunch salad, with sweet dollops of soft goat's cheese, some halved grapes, and a gentle vinaigrette.
Hmm, it goes well with sweet things. My books say olive oil, definitely a lover of oil and some salt. So the first time I used it, that's what we had: salad of beautiful leaves, crisp but well-coated in olive oil and with little bits of goat's cheese snuggled into the pockets formed by the leaves. I sliced some of it finely, sauted briefly (I think with a shallot?) and we had that on top of sweet lamb chops. Yum. We might have it that way again tonight. Bring the red wine.
So as for red foods, this one pops nicely between the beetroot dip and the pomegranates. (I made a batch of muffins today, with oatmeal, brown sugar, marsala-soaked raisins and pomegranate seeds. Mmm.) Now how do I get my fingertips back to a normal colour?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Beetroot, bags of crisps, and other things I don't blog about during normal blogging hours
If there's one thing a happy commuter does, it's to eat well. All that running for trains and sitting on your duff-el bag in the mornings can instigate a three-week long craving for sea salt chips in packets to be snuffled on the way home. For sanity and waistline, eat well and resist. That makes me happier.
We've been trawling the local farmers' markets (early winter produce) and enjoying what little we can get from our garden. I'm grateful to whoever planted the leeks and rocket in our garden. We're having leek and potato soup for dinner tonight, and that rocket - wow, it's got bite. I think it'll go into an eggy pie with ricotta and parmesan tomorrow.
So this is what we are eating, and enjoying:
Beetroot dip
(from Stephanie Alexander's The Cook's Companion 2e)
This is one of those little recipes in the margins of the second edition. If you love beetroot (hands up) tat's me - cant type wih one hnd in the air - then this is divine. Even if you don't go for beetroot, this might be an mmmm experience. It's the garlic.
When you get your bunch of beetroot, all you do is rinse them briefly, hack off the green parts of the leaves (not the stem or the root), put them in a dish wrapped tightly with foil, and bake them for one or two hours. It helps proceedings in my house if there is a cake on the top shelf of the oven for the first hour.
If you haven't broken the skins, they will steam in their own jackets. You know they're done when they are soft enough to poke successfully with a fork. The skins will slide right off and you will look like Lady Macbeth as you do it.
The same day or a couple of days later, whack one or two of the peeled, roasted beets in a food processor with a small clove of garlic, a pinch of salt and a few seeds (not pods, just the black seeds) of cardamom. I like a 1/4 tsp of cumin, too. Blend it up, drizzle in olive oil and blend again. Keep adding oil until it's gloppy enough to dandle on the end of a breadstick. You're done.
I'm keen to try it in pitta sandwiches, with jacket potatoes, and even with those aubergines and carrots I've got roasting in the oven. Oh, and I steamed a handful of the younger beet greens, drizzled them with olive oil and stirred in a spoonful of this garlicky goodness -- divine.
We've been trawling the local farmers' markets (early winter produce) and enjoying what little we can get from our garden. I'm grateful to whoever planted the leeks and rocket in our garden. We're having leek and potato soup for dinner tonight, and that rocket - wow, it's got bite. I think it'll go into an eggy pie with ricotta and parmesan tomorrow.
Love the rocket's bitterness. You will work with and loooove the rocket's bitterness.
So this is what we are eating, and enjoying:
Beetroot dip
(from Stephanie Alexander's The Cook's Companion 2e)
This is one of those little recipes in the margins of the second edition. If you love beetroot (hands up) tat's me - cant type wih one hnd in the air - then this is divine. Even if you don't go for beetroot, this might be an mmmm experience. It's the garlic.
When you get your bunch of beetroot, all you do is rinse them briefly, hack off the green parts of the leaves (not the stem or the root), put them in a dish wrapped tightly with foil, and bake them for one or two hours. It helps proceedings in my house if there is a cake on the top shelf of the oven for the first hour.
If you haven't broken the skins, they will steam in their own jackets. You know they're done when they are soft enough to poke successfully with a fork. The skins will slide right off and you will look like Lady Macbeth as you do it.
The same day or a couple of days later, whack one or two of the peeled, roasted beets in a food processor with a small clove of garlic, a pinch of salt and a few seeds (not pods, just the black seeds) of cardamom. I like a 1/4 tsp of cumin, too. Blend it up, drizzle in olive oil and blend again. Keep adding oil until it's gloppy enough to dandle on the end of a breadstick. You're done.
I'm keen to try it in pitta sandwiches, with jacket potatoes, and even with those aubergines and carrots I've got roasting in the oven. Oh, and I steamed a handful of the younger beet greens, drizzled them with olive oil and stirred in a spoonful of this garlicky goodness -- divine.
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