Jean-Baptiste Debret (1768-1848)
A Brazilian dinner, 1827. Watercolor, 15,7 x 21,9 cm
Museus Castro Maya, Rio de
Janeiro – IBRAM – MinC
A Brazilian Dinner
Paulo Seidl
Université François Rabelais
Abstract
The watercolor A
Brazilian dinner painted by Jean-Baptiste Debret and the homologous text
the artist has written provide substantial information on the eating habits and
table manners of upper class Brazilians in the 19th century. Among
them, the type of food they ate indicates a large amount of meat, the presence
of manioc meal on the table, and the lack of rice as a staple side dish. Also,
it confirms the Caucasian, African, and Indigenous influences of Brazilian
cuisine.
Resumo
A aquarela Um jantar brasileiro de Jean-Baptiste Debret e o texto homólogo que escreveu forneceram diversas informações sobre os hábitos alimentares e as maneiras à mesa da classe alta brasileira no século XIX. Entre essas, o tipo de comida que comiam revela uma grande quantidade de carne, a presença da farinha de mandioca na mesa, e a ausência de arroz como alimento básico. Além disso, confirma as influências europeias, africanas e indígenas da cozinha brasileira.
1. Introduction
The objective of this short article is to provide insight
on Brazilian eating habits and table manners in the 19th century, in
light of the analysis of the watercolor A
Brazilian Dinner by Jean-Baptiste Debret, who lived in Brazil between 1817
and 1831. This was a critical historical time for Brazil, when a number of
important historical events took place and marked the birth of a nation.
Debret was a keen observer of Brazilian society. He
was particularly interested on street scenes, food trade, and people of all
walks of life, including enslaved black people, who were the object of a great
many art works he produced during his long stay in the tropics (Straumann, 2002).
Upon his return in France, he wrote Voyage
pittoresque et historique au Brésil, which was published in 1834 (volume I)
and 1839 (volume II). In his book, extremely detailed information is given on
each of his paintings, adding a substantial surplus to the already rich
collection of information he had left by means of his paintings.
The watercolor A
Brazilian Dinner is among those commented works. It stands out as a unique
piece, as most of his works depict the underprivileged class and popular
events. Instead, the Brazilian Dinner
portrays a wealthy family, but at the same time provides paramount input for
the study of eating habits of a society at its wake.
2. Brazilian society in the 19th century
Debret painted the Brazilian
Dinner in 1827, when the
independence of the country had been proclaimed only five years before. Rio de
Janeiro was a bustling city at that time, with an estimated population of
500,000 inhabitants (Gomes, 2007). Slavery was still legal, and Africans
dominated the street scenes because they were in charge of supplying the
household of their masters with food, water, charcoal, and other basic needs of
the carioca families. As a result,
slaves were a very common site on the streets, shops, and markets.
Most families, regardless of their economic status,
had at least one slave in the household.
Wealthy families, naturally, had more than one and it was customary for
masters to send their slaves to the street to sell food in order to supplement
the domestic income. Freed men equally carried out these tasks.
Life was rough for the slaves. Deprived of freedom and
sometimes of their language and culture, they could be severely punished for
small misdemeanor, depending on the rigidity of their patrons. Living a life
with no rest, their only hope was to raise enough money to buy their freedom,
sometimes at an exorbitant price. They did so by putting aside part of the
profit they made from the selling of food on the street, a deal previously
arranged with their masters. Farm slaves could not contemplate this dream due
to the fact that they had no contact with people or currency.
In addition to blacks, who could be overwhelming in
number, whites, mestizos, and
indigenous were among a multi-ethnic and growing society in Rio de Janeiro.
White men could be Brazilian-born or foreigners, most often Portuguese, but
also French, Italian, and German, among other European nationals who came to
the tropics to venture new opportunities.
3. Iconography analysis
A Brazilian dinner
Among the many
watercolors painted by Debret abundantly describing Brazilian food culture in
the 19th century, the only one that portrays a meal is the Brazilian Dinner. The table is set with
a number of foods on it. The master of the house is sitting at the table
accompanied by his wife while three slaves stand around and two nude black
children sit on the floor. Thus, table manners may be identified, such as the
use of tableware (very long forks and knives), a wine glass, a water pitcher,
individual plates and several platters with food. The atmosphere is relaxed,
perhaps a little too casual for the artist’s European manners, excused by high
temperatures which ‘abandons the good
manners’ and ‘neglects the dress code’
(Debret, 2014, p 166).
A number of
items in the dining room suggest that the family is well-off, such as their
garments, the furniture, the white tablecloth, as well as the wine glass and
platters on the table. The poor hardly ever had a table, and usually ate on the
floor. If they were to drink an alcoholic beverage, it would be cachaça, a sugarcane spirit. Likewise,
they would not have a tablecloth and ate most often ate with their hands, habits that
remind those of European peasants in the Middle Ages (Laurioux, 2002).
The description
the artist wrote accompanying the watercolor is equally insightful. In it, Debret
expresses his disgust when compares one of the children, who is being fed by
the housewife, to a dog, which has been repeatedly painted by European artists
from the Middle to the Modern Ages (…la
femme s’amuse de ses petits negrillons, qui remplace la famille presque éteinte
de petits chiens carlins en Europe, p. 166).
The differences
between the meals of higher and lower classes are also present in his
description, mainly concerning the variety of food. The meal of the family
consisted of several dishes, including a breaded soup (whose recipe reminds
that of the famed Parisian soupe restaurante),
boiled meats, a shrimp coulis,
chicken rice, cooked vegetables, a roast, and a pile of oranges. This could
have been a meal in any European country if not for two items, namely the escaldado and the chili sauce. The
former is manioc meal plunged with hot stock while the latter is made with malagueta (bird-eye) chili and vinegar.
As a good
Frenchman, Debret observes that there is no bread on the table. Actually, although
bread is consumed by the Brazilian elite, its lack could be justified
by the consumption of manioc meal, here presented in the form of an escaldado. Cascudo (2008), in his Anthology of the Brazilian Foods, lists a
number of 19th century foreign writers who endorsed Debret’s observations
on bread, such as Von Martius and Marcgrave. Others imply that corn flour was an
equally good replacement, like Saint-Hilaire and Derby.
While the
well-off Caucasians had abundant food on their tables, lower classes, including
poor Caucasians, enslaved or free Africans, as well as mestizos, had to content themselves with a one-dish meal, a
porridge-like food prepared with manioc or corn floor, vegetables and pieces of
meat, referred to as angu.
Interestingly, in Brazilian Portuguese, this word today has a rather pejorative
connotation, implying something like dog food, or food made haphazardly.
Debret’s
depiction of a Brazilian dinner is consistent with the description of John
Luccock (2008), an Englishman who lived in Brazil between 1808 and 1818 and
traveled in the Brazilian countryside. Luccock also points out that manioc
was a substitute for bread on Brazilian tables, and peasants often ate it with
their hands, making use of a knife only to cut the meat. Tables were
inexistent, for meals were served upon a board set over two trestles, revealing
table manners similar to those in the Middle Ages (Laurioux, 2002).
If we compare
today’s meal of the upper class with that of 200 years ago, similarities and
differences could be pointed out. Firstly, it is important to bring out that
what Debret calls ‘dinner’ (dîner) is
actually an afternoon meal, which would occur as from 12 or 1 pm. As for
similarities, most of the dishes illustrated would not be a surprise to any
Brazilian. The meats and their techniques, such as stewed or roasted, the
vegetables, the hot sauce, the fruit, and above all the omnipresence of the
manioc meal, here in form of a purée (although the word pirão is of a more updated usage than escaldado, as used by the author).
The striking
difference, however, is two-pronged. First, the amount of food seems rather
excessive for two people, as today a couple would not be likely to serve such
substantial amounts in an ordinary dinner (or lunch, if terminology is to be
adapted). It is conjectured that leftovers would be consumed by the large
entourage, which today is inexistent or at least substantially reduced, or
saved for the next day. Secondly, the variety of food and the combination
thereof is rather out of the ordinary for current standards. It does not seem
likely that soup would be eaten in an afternoon meal nowadays, or shrimp, beef,
and poultry be served in the same meal. It seems like the menu presented, and
the order in which it appears has an influence of eating habits of Modern Age’s bourgeoisie.
Finally, another
striking difference is the lack of white rice, which today dominates the scene
on any Brazilian tables. Although rice is
present on the menu of the Brazilian
Dinner, it is cooked with chicken and functions more like a main meat dish
than a side dish, as it is normally served today. These observations, despite
having an anecdotal side, are seconded by the findings of Barbosa (2007), who
carried out substantial research on the Brazilian food habits of the early 21st
century.
Jean-Baptiste
Debret witnessed a critical time for the formation of Brazilian society. The
arrival of the Portuguese Royal Family with the transfer of the Portuguese
court to the colony in 1808 brought about significant changes in Brazilian eating habits. By means of his art works, Debret illustrated the birth of a cuisine
Brazilian multi-ethnic
society and their pluralistic cuisine started to be defined at that time. The
influences the Brazilian dinner illustrate are noticeable, such as European table
manners and meats, the constant African touch of the cooks, and the indigenous
heritage like the manioc meal and chili.
As a suggestion
for further development, a closer analysis of dozens of the artist’s work,
accompanied or not by their description on Voyage
Pittoresque could reveal precious findings on Brazilian food habits of the
19th century.
5. References
Barbosa, L. 2007. Feijão com arroz e arroz com feijão. O Brasil no prato dos brasileiros. In Horizontes Antropoloógicos, Porto Alegre, 13, 87-116
Debret, J.B. 2014 (1834, 1839). Voyage Historique et
Picturesque au Brésil, (Introduction by Leenhardt,
J.). Arles, Impremeries Nacionales
Derby, O. 2008. Farinha
de milho e mandioca em São Paulo e Minas Gerais. In Cascudo, L. C.
Antologia da Alimentação no Brasil (pp 208). São
Paulo, Global Editora.
Gomes, L. 2007. 1808.
São Paulo, Ed. Planeta.
http://museuscastromaya.com.br/colecoes/brasiliana/ last visited April 01, 2016
Laurioux,
B. 2002. Manger au Moyen Âge. Pratiques
et discours alimentaires en Europe aux XIVe et XVe siècles. Paris,
Hachette.
Luccock, J., 2008. As
refeições no Rio de Janeiro no princípio do século XIX. In Cascudo, L. C.
Antologia da Alimentação no Brasil (pp 194 to 1998). São Paulo, Global Editora.
Marcgrave, J. 2008.
Cardápio do indígena nordestino. In Cascudo, L. C. Antologia da Alimentação
no Brasil (pp 284 to 287). São Paulo, Global Editora.
Saint-Hilaire, A., 2008. O passadio em Minas Gerais. In Cascudo, L. C. Antologia da
Alimentação no Brasil (pp 203 to 205). São Paulo, Global Editora.
Straumann, P. (ed)., 2002. Rio de Janeiro - la ville
métisse. Paris, Editions Chandeigne.
Von
Martius, C. F. F., 2008. Dieta carioca em 1817. In Cascudo, L. C. Antologia da Alimentação no Brasil
(pp 288 to 289) . São Paulo, Global Editora.
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Blog de um amante da cozinha, pesquisador de hábitos alimentares e cozinheiro quando possível.
quarta-feira, 27 de abril de 2016
A Brazilian Dinner
terça-feira, 9 de fevereiro de 2016
A deliciosa cozinha marroquina
MEP do chá |
Cores, sabores, texturas, temperos, tagines, tagines, tagines... eis um apanhado muito básico da cozinha desse lindo país, um lugar caótico, exuberante, machista, interessante, paradoxal, caliente. Não, não estou falando do Brasil, mas do Marrocos, um país localizado no norte da África, ali do lado da Espanha, encravado entre o deserto Saara, o mar Mediterrâneo e o oceano Atlântico.
Salada marroquina com pão e suco de laranja espremido na hora
|
Café da manhã - tirando as azeitonas, igual ao nosso |
Minha primeira refeição |
Cacho de tâmaras secando ao sol
|
O tagine, entretanto, nunca é o primeiro
prato. Talvez por influência da França, de cujo país o Marrocos foi um
protetorado por anos, eles gostem de um serviço à la française, com vários pratos sendo servidos em sequência.
Pode-se começar por uma sopa, em geral vegetariana, com legumes, leguminosas e
cereais. As sopas, que são igualmente condimentadas e espessas, são também
vendidas na rua por preço irrisório, algo como quatro dirhams (0,4 euros). São
invariavelmente acompanhadas por pão.
Tajine autêntico, servido na rua, um dos melhores que comi |
Finalmente
serve-se o prato principal, que pode ser o tagine,
mas também o cuscuz marroquino. Aqui, coloco o acento na maneira como o cereal
é preparado. Ao contrário do ‘cuscuz marroquino’ que se encontra nos
supermercados brasileiros e europeus, que é aquele grão amarelinho semipronto,
o verdadeiro cuscuz marroquino é artesanal e está longe de ser um prato rápido.
Trata-se de uma farinha de sêmola com granulação maior, sobre a qual se borrifa
água e mais farinha de sêmola, desta vez bem fina, fazendo-se subseqüentes camadas
de farinha que vão aos poucos se aderindo ao grão. Tudo isso é feito pelas
hábeis mãos das mulheres marroquinas sobre uma mesa ou tabuleiro, cujo processo
recebe o nome de ‘rolar o cuscuz’.
Sopa de lentilha, cenoura, batata, grãos e temperos |
Comida
marroquina não é marroquina se não for servida ou seguida de chá de menta. É chá
verde importado da China, com menta fresca, quase sempre já adocicado e feito
com um charme especial. Primeiramente, o chá fica em infusão em um bule típico,
decorado com as gravuras tradicionais. Após a infusão, despeja-se o chá nos
copinhos (semelhante aos nossos copos de pinga) de uma altura considerável, de
um a dois palmos, para que o chá faça espuma. Chá sem espuma não é chá. Todo
mundo faz o chá dessa maneira.
Banhado
por dois mares diferentes, o Marrocos não poderia deixar de servir peixes e
frutos do mar. Consumi-os bem frescos, tanto na famosa Praça como no porto de
Essaouira, uma belíssima cidade murada na costa Atlântica, também Patrimônio da
Humanidade. Fritos ou grelhados, foram camarões, lulas, caranguejos e vários
tipos de peixes. Para acompanhar, um molhinho à base de tomate e rodelas de
limão siciliano. São invariavelmente servidos com pão.
Curiosamente,
embora o azeite reine entre as matérias gordurosas, não é costume levá-lo à
mesa, e os garçons sempre estranhavam quando eu pedia azeite. Demoravam para
trazê-lo, visto que claramente não contavam com um galeteiro. Vinha à mesa em
uma vasilhinha com uma colher. Outros exemplos de gordura são a manteiga salgada
de ovelha e o óleo de argham, uma preciosidade da cozinha e uma panacéia da
fitoterapia e perfumaria. Com gosto de avelã e de café, lembra nosso óleo de
babaçu.
Pão comercializado na rua - cena comum |
Não
pude deixar de perceber certa semelhança com nossa cozinha. Embora o tempero
seja completamente diferente, as técnicas são bastante parecidas, já que a
maioria dos preparos são guisados. A mais, o frescor dos legumes e das frutas,
além da grande presença de leguminosas, como feijões ou lentilhas e os sucos
espremidos na hora chegaram a dar saudades. Mas é certo que a cozinha
marroquina tem suas particularidades, sendo de excelente sabor e frescor. Uma
comida sã, saborosa e honesta que vale a pena experimentar.
sábado, 6 de fevereiro de 2016
quinta-feira, 4 de fevereiro de 2016
Calandrier des cours de cuisine 2016
COURS DE CUISINE 10
Soirée brésilienne - la cuisine de Bahia avec le chef invité Paulo Seidl
Inscriptions
quarta-feira, 27 de janeiro de 2016
Cozinha africana da Bahia e comida de santo
por Paulo Seidl
Fazer oferenda de comidas ou animais sacrificados a deuses e santos não
foi inovação dos seguidores do candomblé.
Já o faziam outros povos, como os incas, que ofertavam lhamas ao
deus sol, os hindus, os egípcios e os europeus pagãos, apenas para mencionar o
que seria início de uma longa lista. Melhor
exemplo, entretanto, é própria premissa do cristianismo, segundo a qual o
sacrifício de Cristo na cruz teria sido um mal necessário para expiar os
pecados do homem, não deixando de ser herança dos hebreus, que sacrificavam
cordeiros imaculados a Jeová, de acordo com o apóstolo João, que anunciou o Cristo
como o cordeiro de Deus que tira o pecado do mundo.
Dessa forma, desde o século XVI, os escravos trazidos da África, em seu
culto jejê-nagô, já faziam oferendas de pratos aos seus deuses, o que veio a
ser futuramente a base das oferendas nos terreiros de candomblé, a partir do
século XIX.
Mas comida votiva é, na verdade, apenas um dos expoentes da culinária
baiana. Inserida em um maior contexto, o da ‘cozinha africana da Bahia’, ela
divide espaço com a cozinha sertaneja e a cozinha praiana, tendo como berço os
terreiros da cidade de São Salvador da Bahia. Terreiros, os quais, atualmente,
são considerados responsáveis por salvaguardar uma culinária única, de caráter
extremamente cultural, e que, infelizmente, está desaparecendo da farta e rica
mesa dos baianos.
A cozinha africana da Bahia, ao contrário do que se pode imaginar, não é
uma cozinha exclusivamente africana, mas sim o fruto da miscigenação de três
culturas, a saber, a portuguesa, a indígena e a própria africana. É chamada de cozinha africana, entretanto,
por ser de todas as cozinhas regionais, a que mais sofreu influência do
continente negro, principalmente pelo uso de seus ingredientes vindos do
outro lado do Atlântico, como o dendê, a pimenta malagueta e o quiabo, além do
coco, inhame e temperos como o coentro.
Curiosamente, outros estados do Brasil, como São Paulo, Rio de Janeiro e
Minas Gerais, que fizeram uso igual de escravos africanos (idem para outros
países americanos, como Estados Unidos e Cuba), não desenvolveram uma
gastronomia africana, como aconteceu na Bahia. Isso pode ser parcialmente
explicado pela comercialização na Bahia do azeite de dendê, e posteriormente
seu plantio e cultivo.
A literatura brasileira nos traz uma boa ilustração da cozinha africana
da Bahia e conseqüentemente das comidas de santo. Jorge Amado, à guisa de
exemplo, começa a descrevê-la timidamente em seus primeiros romances, como
Jubiabá, para mais tarde tecer um verdadeiro compêndio dessa culinária, com
receitas inclusive, em livros como Dona Flor e seus dois maridos, Tocaia
Grande ou O sumiço da santa, e finalmente criar o protagonista Pedro
Archanjo, de Tenda dos Milagres, um pai de santo que escreve um livro de
culinária.
Igualmente, Câmara Cascudo e Gabriel Soares de Souza, descreveram pratos baianos, como o caruru e o vatapá, em seus clássicos da literatura gastronômica.
Livros específicos sobre a cozinha baiana, entretanto, só chegam aos leitores
no século XX, com os 4 pilares dessa literatura – Manuel Quirino, Sodré Viana,
Darwin Brandão e Hildegardes Vianna. Foram eles que acompanharam a transição da
cozinha baiana das mãos das cunhãs, sob a supervisão das senhoras portuguesas,
para as das mucamas, que africanizaram a comida baiana, com os ingredientes
vindos da senzala, transformando esparregados em carurus, ensopados em moquecas
e açordas em vatapás.
Abaixo, apresentam-se o descritivo e algumas informações sobre pratos da
cozinha baiana africana, trazidos pelo Mestre Guilherme Radel. Muitos deles
desapareceram da mesa do baiano. Outros, nem sequer são ofertados nos
terreiros, tendendo à extinção.
- Abará, ofertado a Obá e Oxum, é um bolinho
de feijão cozido na folha da bananeira. Juntamente com o acarajé, é um dos
raros pratos africanos de fato, tendo suas contrapartidas na Nigéria e em
Angola, com os nomes de moin moin e abalá, respectivamente.
- Acarajé,
oferecido a Iansã, tem a mesma massa do abará, só que é frito em dendê.
Conhecido na Nigéria e no Benin com o nome de akára, é tombado pelo
Iphan.
- Arroz da
Hauçá não é oferecido a santos, talvez por conter carne de charque. Seu nome deriva dos Hauçás, povo
sudanês.
- Bobó,
originalmente ofertado aos orixás com inhame e camarão seco, na mesa do
baiano vem na versão com camarão fresco e fruta-pão ou mandioca em vez do
inhame.
- Caruru,
também conhecido como amalá, é oferecido a Ibeji, que quer dizer gêmeos.
No sincretismo brasileiro, é associado à festa de São Cosme e São Damião,
em 27 de setembro, data de grandes festividades na Bahia.
- Humulucu ou
Omolocum, recebe também a alcunha de feijão de azeite e é oferecido a Ewá.
Na versão com ovos, é o preferido de Oxum.
- Aberém, para
Oxumaré, é uma pasta de milho cozida na folha de bananeira, semelhante a
uma pamonha.
- Acaçá,
bolinho de milho, oferecido a Oxalá.
- Ado, farinha
de milho com mel e dendê, é oferecido a Oxum.
- Afurá, bebida
feita a partir de massa de arroz fermentada, não é mais oferecida em
terreiros.
- Badofe,
ensopado de fígado, coração e bofe de boi.
- Bolas de
inhame, ausentes na mesa baiana, são bolas preparadas a partir de uma
massa de inhame.
- Efó,
semelhante ao caruru, é um preparo com folhas, como a taioba, castanha de
caju, camarão seco, e o invariável dendê.
- Ipetê é um
preparo à base de inhame, camarão seco, cebola e pimenta, oferecido a
Oxum.
- Ochin-chim de
galinha – galinha guisada com camarões, temperos e sementes de abóbora, é
oferecido a vários orixás.
- Olubó,
espécie de pirão de mandioca, não é mais oferecido a orixás e nem servido
nas mesas baianas.
- Quibebe,
espécie de sopa de abóbora, oferecida a Oxossi, é um dos raros pratos da
cozinha africana da Bahia que não leva dendê nem pimenta.
- Vatapá, um
dos pratos mais emblemáticos da Cozinha Baiana, é presente nas mesas
baianas pobres e ricas, bem como nos terreiros. Podendo ser de galinha ou de peixe, é
preparado segundo inúmeras receitas, tendo o pão, o fubá, o camarão e a
castanha de caju e o dendê como um de seus ingredientes principais.
BIBLIOGRAFIA
Brandão, Darwin. A cozinha baiana. Livraria Universitária, Salvador,
1948
Cascudo, Luiz da Câmara. História da alimentação no Brasil. Companhia
Editora nacional, 1967.
Costa, Paloma Jorge Amado. O livro de cozinha de Pedro Archanjo. Ed
Maltese, São Paulo, 1994.
Querino, Manuel. Costumes africanos no Brasil. Ed. Civilização
Brasileira, Rio de Janeiro, 1938.
Radel, Guilherme. A cozinha africana da Bahia. Salvador, 2006.
Soares de Souza, Gabriel. Notícia do Brasil. Livraria Martins Editora,
São Paulo, s.d.
Vianna, Hildegardes. A cozinha baiana. Salvador, 1955.
Vianna, Sodré. Caderno de Xangô. Salvador, 1939.
Crédito da ilustração https://catracalivre.com.br/salvador/dica-digital/indicacao/guia-afetivo-da-culinaria-de-rua-baiana-ganha-versao-online/
.
quinta-feira, 21 de janeiro de 2016
Cocanha, o país da fartura eterna/ Cockaigne, the country of endless abundance
Oskar Herrfurth (1862-1934)
"Das Märchen vom Schlaraffenland",
series of six postcards, Uvachrom. 354, no. 5086, pre-1934
This article intends to examine literature on the land
of Cockaigne, an imaginary country where food abounds, work is prohibited,
sexuality is free, and their inhabitants are everlastingly young. The
literature analysis is meant to provide base for a specific iconography
examination, which is offered at the last part of the article.
II.
The
Mythical land of Cockaigne
The idyllic idea of a land where work is needless and
food is lavish was not created with Cockaigne. Several Greek-Roman authors
fancy similar utopian lands, such as Plato and Euripides in the 5th
century b.C. The Bible tells us the story of the Garden of Eden where work and
pain did not exist and fruit trees were plentiful. The Coram also promises a
post-life heaven not only teemed with food, but also with free sexuality,
guaranteeing 500 spouses and 4,000 virgins for each male. The medieval story of
The Holy Grail inspires lifelong youth, and perhaps the Brothers Grimm were
influenced by Cockaigne when they described the witch’s gingerbread house in
the famous fairy tale Hans and Gretel.
Cockaigne has been part of people’s imaginary since
the 12th century, from oral tradition, and since the 13th
century, in literature, with the publishing of the French poem Le Fabliau de Cocagne. Since then,
several other publications appeared in different Western European countries.
Different versions offered distinct views on the magical land, and were
consequently adapted to the cultural environment of the country where the story
was duplicated.
In all versions, however, Cockaigne has always been
depicted as a utopian land with four main characteristics: the abundance of
food at no effort, the lack of necessity to work, eternal life and youth, and free
sexuality.
The High Middle Ages were marked by famine, pest, and
struggle, especially among the least privileged classes. It is no wonder that
Cockaigne gained so much space in the imaginary of the population as well as in
literature and iconography. At times of penury and severe moral restriction, commoners
needed an escape of fancy to forget their own struggles for survival and their
miserable life.
Interestingly, each version of Cockaigne was adapted
according to the local culinary culture. For instance, in France flans would
drop like rain and sausages were picked up from trees. Italian poems portrayed
houses made of lasagna and mountains of Parmesan cheese. The cultural
adaptation of each version provides paramount input to understand the local
cuisines and food habits of each nation.
The writings and iconography in Cockaigne, which have
always been intended to the lower classes, describe exactly the opposite of
what the population ate. One clear example is meat, one of the most present
food items in the reports on Cockaigne. Roasted flying poultry and walking
braised animals are central in the description of Cockaigne. It is well know
that meat was a privilege of the high class, particularly roasted meat. Losing
precious animal fat to the flames of the oven was a luxury the poor could
definitely not afford. They had to do with small pieces of cubed meat, usually pork, mixed in their cabbage stews and soups.
In addition to meat, Franco (2013) describes three
other food items that were omnipresent in the reports of the mythical land:
fish, wine, and sweets. As meat was restricted to the upper class, fish was not
a common peasant food either. During Lent, when the Church imposed restriction
on meat consumption, fish and seafood were restricted to the rich. But in
Cockaigne, salmon, sturgeon, herring, and other luxury fish were abundant.
Although the poor did have access to wine, the drink
was also quite present. Why is that, if the menu on Cockaigne seems to be the
reverse of that in real life? One possible explanation is that wine has always
been associated with happiness, well being, and torpor. A land with free
permissiveness could not do without the red drink. One of the most
representative portraits of Cockaigne, a 1567 oil painting by the Flemish
painter Pieter Bruegel, shows three lying satiated men.
The men are half awake
and one of them has his pants unbuttoned probably from overeating. But an empty
wine jug on a tree shelf provides evidence that in addition to more than plenty
food, the three men also drank a considerable amount of wine.
Oil on panel. Alte Pinakothek, Munich, Germany.
The last food item that overwhelms in the depictions
of Cockaigne is sweets. Sugar, which is only known to French Cuisine as of the
14th century, was considerably expensive at that time, so dessert items, such as pastries, pies, and cakes were never on the table of the
peasants. This was, instead, a luxury of which they could only dream, and thus
quite present in the representations of Cockaigne.
It is not difficult to imagine that what was part of the
real diet of the lower classes would not be part of their fancy. Likewise,
Cockaigne had no space for bread, by far the most consumed food item of the
poor, responsible for a vast majority of the 2,000 daily calories consumed per
day (Franco, 2013). For the same reason, vegetables, fruit, soup, butter, and
milk were not on the menu of Cockaigners either.
Other food items that were not available on the menu
of Cockaigners were spice and olive oil.
Oskar Herrfurth (1862-1934),,
series of six postcards, Uvachrom. 354, no. 5087, pre-1934
Spice, like cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg
and pepper, was known to be expensive and its use represented a social
distinction until shortly after the Renaissance. So was olive oil, regarded by
the well-off as a substitute for butter, which was frowned upon. But in
Cockaigne, those food items were not necessary, simply due to the fact that no
one had to cook! The pigs wandering on the street and the poultry flying in
from the sky to the dishes of the people were ready to eat. No oil was needed
to prepare a dish that was certainly already seasoned.
And so Cockaigne remained for many centuries as a
small haven of luxury for the struggling Medieval lower class, leaving hints of
what those people fancied eating and what they actually put on their table.
III.
Iconography
analysis
Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1553)
“The fountain of youth,” 1546 (Berlin – Gamaeldegalerie)
“The fountain of youth” by Lucas
Cranach depicts one of the characteristics of Cockaigne, eternal life and
youth. The portrait has a clear clockwise sequence: Before the bathe, during
the bathe, and after the bathe. Then the people move onwards to a tent,
followed by a lush banquet, and then a promenade in the woods.
We can see on the left of the
fountain a number of elderly and sick people. Some of them are so old or sick
that they must be helped to get into the water. An old man is brought in a
wheelbarrow, while others are in a chariot and one is on a horse. Another old
man sits on the steps of the fountain and is aided by an already refreshed
young woman. All of them still have their clothes on, except by an old man who
has help to take his clothes off – he is about to enter the fountain.
The portrait also depicts several
nude women in the fountain, who have already been exposed to the magical effects of
the water. In the upper part of the pool stands a fountain sprinkling the
mystic water. This may indicate that the water is ever-flowing, and its waters
are eternal. The rejuvenated women are happily swimming, enjoying their new
status. Two women are embracing, depicting that Cockaigne is so sexually free
that homosexuality is not only tolerated but welcome. Some women are washing
their hair, hoping, perhaps, to rid of their old white hair.
To the right of the pool we can
observe an usher leading the now young women out of the water and into a tent.
Once dressed, the rejuvenated men and women have a banquet awaiting them.
Someone is bringing a large platter of food onto the table, an indicator that
the food is abundant and infinite.
After the banquet, we can see two
couple dancing. One of them is going towards the bushes, leaving to fancy what
their business is out there. Some people are under a tree, which carries
perhaps sweets and pastries instead of fruit.
Finally, Lucas Cranach’s painting
is interesting because it shows all the characteristics Cockaigne usually
displays in literature, namely, abundant food, eternal youth, and free
sexuality.
IV. Conclusion
An imaginary, utopian land, Cockaigne had everything mankind had always
fancied: food, sex, and eternal young life at no effort. Part of the imaginary
of Western Europeans for centuries, it was represented in the Middle Ages in
oral tradition and literature. In the Modern Age, a substantial number of
portrays depicted the mythical country. While some of these works of art
focused on one aspect, like eternal youth, others depicted food, wine or even free sexuality the land offered their inhabitants.
But Cockaigne represents more than that. It brings forth the need to
escape the tough reality lived by a struggling population, who had little to
eat under a very strict moral imposed by the constant surveillance of the
Church. And fortunately it provides us with substantial input on the type of
food that population ate – or did not eat.
V. References
Delumeau,
J. (org.) 1976. La mort du pays de
Cocagne. Paris, Publications de la Sorbonne.
Ferrières,
M. 2002. Histoires des peurs
alimentaires. Paris, Seuil.
Franco,
H. Jr. 2013. Cocagne – histoire d’un pays
imaginaire. Paris, Arkhê.
Quellier,
F. 2010. Gourmandise – histoire d’un péché
capital. Paris, Armand Colis.
_The_Land_of_Cockaigne_-_WGA3507.jpg last visited on January 12, 2016.
http://www.ealimentarium.ch/en/magazine/pleasure/amazing-feasts/land-cockaigne last visited on
January 17, 2016
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