The Gastronomic Order of Pomiane
There is a curious award badge, called the Order of Pomiane (Order Pomiana in Polish), which occasionally turns up at numismatics-and-phaleristics auctions in Poland.[1] It has never had the status of a state decoration, yet its badges were produced by the Polish National Mint and the award ceremony was at times hosted at a Polish embassy with all the customary fanfare.
The badge has the form of a little shield in the roughly triangular shape of a goblet, measuring 57×45 mm. The shield is adorned with a bull’s or bison’s head in black enamel overlaid with a crossed knife and fork. The badge would be hung around the recipient’s neck on a yellow-and-red ribbon and fastened with a metal buckle in the shape of a filled dumpling. It came in a decorative box, whose lid bore the bison’s head again, along with the Latin motto: “Materiam superat opus” (“The workmanship surpasses the material”).[2]
The knife, fork, goblet and dumpling suggest that the award must have had something to do with eating and drinking. But whom was it awarded to – and for what achievements? Who conferred this peculiar honour – and why? Where did the idea and the name for this decoration come from? And what the heck is a bison’s head doing in the design? These are the questions I will try to answer in this post.
The Namesake: The Guru of Gallic Gastronomy
First things first, so let’s begin with the man who lent the Order of Pomiane its name.
He was born in 1875 in Paris, in a Polish noble family, and his real name was Edward Pożerski.🔊 His parents were refugees who had fled Poland after the failed anti-Russian uprising of 1863. They sent him to a Polish high school in the French capital, where he was raised as a Polish patriot, but fed rather poorly. He would later write in his memoirs that he was hungry most of his youth. The hunger kept him thinking about food to such an extent that once he had graduated from school, he chose to study gastrointestinal physiology at the university. He became a doctor of medicine in 1902. By that time he had already worked at the Pasteur Institute for a year and this is where he would keep doing research on digestive juices for most of his life.
His academic work on digestion led him to take interest in healthy nutrition, which in turn led him to the question of rational food preparation techniques. It was another Frenchman whose parents had been political refugees from Poland, albeit a generation older, who became Pożerski’s mentor in culinary matters. His name was Henryk Babiński🔊 and, although he was a mining engineer by trade, he also authored cookbooks under the pen name Ali-Bab. His monumental work, Practical Gastronomy (Gastronomie pratique),[3] was a best seller in the French culinary literature of the early 20th century.
Encouraged by Ali-Bab, Pożerski decided to publish his own thoughts on how to cook meals that are both tasty and healthy: an essay on theoretical gastronomy. The author of Practical Gastronomy penned a foreword to the book, where he stated that Pożerski was walking in the footsteps of “the master of us all, the immortal author of The Physiology of Taste”, meaning Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin🔊 (1755–1826), who was a famous gourmet, but not really a scientist. Brillat-Savarin’s work, contrary to its title, doesn’t actually say much about the physiology of the sense of taste; it was more of a suggestion for future scientists to delve into the matter.[4] Pożerski’s book, entitled, Eat Well to Live Well (Bien manger pour bien vivre), was a first step towards taking this suggestion up. Pożerski argued that cooking ought to be a marriage between the art of gastronomy and the science of gastrotechnique (a word of his own coinage) whose ultimate goal would be to a create a dish providing maximum pleasure, thus inducing the healthy secretion of digestive juices. “The discovery of a new dish,” wrote Pożerski, quoting Brillat-Savarin, “does more for the happiness of the human race than the discovery of a star.”[5]
In those times, however, culinary matters were considered trivial and unbecoming of a scientist. For this reason, Pożerski, who always signed his academic papers with his Polish name, decided, not unlike Babiński, to use a pen name when writing about gastronomy and gastrotechnique. Unlike Babiński, though, he chose a nom de plume which wasn’t as fairy-talish as “Ali-Bab”. He forged his pseudonym from the French version of his first name and the French spelling of “Pomian”, the name of his nobility clan, ending up with “Edouard de Pomiane”.🔊
Soon, under this name, he started to publish cookery books, putting the theoretical tenets of gastrotechnique into practice. He was also the first person to host a culinary radio show. Edouard de Pomiane would shortly become a gastronomic celebrity.
Unlike earlier culinary authorities, Pomiane didn’t write for great chefs whose ambition was to rise to the summit of culinary artistry and to prepare feasts worthy of monarchs and aristocrats. His target audience consisted of ordinary housewives who wished to cook healthy, thrifty and tasty meals for their families, and still have time left for other pursuits. His novel approach is already evident from the titles of his books, such as: Cooking in Six Lessons (La cuisine en six leçons) or Cooking in Ten Minutes (La cuisine en dix minutes). Older masters of the pot and pan must have scratched their heads when reading that a daily supper could very well do without one meat and one fish course.
Even though Pomiane carried out his culinary revolution in France in the first half of the 20th century, he did it in a romantic Old Polish style he had been brought up to love. If, for example, his recipë called for a bunch of parsley, he would specify that it had to be the size of a bouquet of violets.[6] With his bald dome and bushy white whiskers, he even looked like a character out of an illustration to Pan Tadeusz, the Polish national epic by Adam Mickiewicz that is set in the early 19th century. And apparently, this was no coincidence. His father, after whom he would increasingly take after with age, was friends with Michał Elwiro Andriolli, an Italian-Polish artist who etched well known illustrations to Pan Tadeusz and who used the elder Pożerski as a model for a typical old-time Polish gentleman.[7]
Pomiane is also responsible for having smuggled some Polish touches into French cuisine. He even wrote an entire book whose purpose was to familiarize the French with Polish dishes and foodways, Polish Cookery as Seen from the Banks of the Seine (La Cuisine polonaise vue des bords de la Seine). When entertaining guests at home, he would often regale them with “Polish dinners”, which could include, for example, a shot of bison-grass vodka and a piece of dried sausage for an apéritif, meat with Tartary buckwheat and cognac-infused sauce or croquettes with fresh strawberries.[8] And whenever he wanted to brew some tea, he did it in an old samovar, the same that his father shared with Fyodor Dostoyevsky when they were both serving time in a Russian penal colony.[9]
First Course: Pozhersky Cutlets, Anyone?
According to food journalist Jan Kalkowski, Edward Pożerski was the inventor of a delicacy known as kotlety pożerskie, or Pozhersky cutlets.[10] The same information is even repeated in the Polish Biographical Dictionary (Polski Słownik Biograficzny).[11] This isn’t true, however.
First of all, there is no such thing as “Pozhersky” cutlets. There is, however, a dish known as Pozharsky cutlets. Some sources, such as Maciej Halbański’s 1987 Dictionary of Culinary Arts (Leksykon sztuki kulinarnej), claim that they’ve been named after Prince Dmitry Pozharsky,[12] the national hero of Russia who, together with Kuzma Minin, lead the uprising which liberated Moscow from Polish occupation in 1612. Halbański referenced this claim to what he called “serious historians of culinary arts”, even though, back in the 1980s, there were still very few serious historians who would have deemed culinary arts to be a topic worthy of serious historical research. Anyway, the idea that Pozharsky cutlets have anything to do with Dmitry Pozharsky, isn’t accurate either. The only thing that is true, so far, is that Pozharsky cutlets originate from Russian – not Polish – cuisine.
Historical sources indicate that pozharskiye kotlyety🔊 were first created in Torzhok, a town in the Tver Region, on the road from Moscow to Saint Petersburg. It was there that, in the first half of the 19th century, a man called Yevdokim Pozharsky ran an inn, famous for its signature chicken cutlets.
This is what one can read about the town in an 1843 Russian guidebook:
| In Torzhok, two things deserve special attention: firstly, Morocco-leather products […] The second item relates to gastronomy: at Pozharskaya Inn, they make very tasty chicken cutlets that will melt in your mouth. I advise everyone who passes through Torzhok to sample them. A single portion, or two cutlets, costs only a ruble. | ||||
— Михаил Павлович Жданов: Путевые записки по России, Санктпетербург: В. Поляков, 1843, p. 25–26, own translation
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As you can imagine, there were many famous and influential people travelling up and down the road between Russia’s two major cities and many of them would stop in Torzhok for lunch, helping spread the fame of the local cutlets far and wide. Alexander Pushkin, for instance, included the following advice, in verse, in a letter to his friend, Sergei Sobolevsky:
In Torzhok, at your leisure, | ||||
— Александр Сергеевич Пушкин: С.А. Соболевскому, in: Собрание сочинений в 10 томах, vol. 9. Письма 1815–1830, РВБ, p. 242, own translation
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Pozharsky cutlets were also praised by foreign visitors, including French novelist Charles-Victor Prévost d’Arlincourt🔊[13] and Scottish writer Leitch Ritchie. The latter wrote that in Torzhok he had “the satisfaction of eating the finest veal [sic] cutlets in Europe” and that the Russian “empress herself burned with curiosity to taste them”, so much that she had the woman who cooked them “brought to St. Petersburg express, to make veal cutlets for majesty.”[14] “The woman”? Yes, because it wasn’t Yevdokim Pozharsky himself who created the recipë; it was his daughter, Darya Pozharskaya, who worked at her father’s inn as a chef. But why does the quote mention veal, rather than chicken, cutlets? Well, because they were made from chicken, but meant to look and taste as though they were made from veal. There’s even a legend about Emperor Nicholas I himself calling at Pozharsky’s inn and ordering veal cutlets for his meal, upon which, not having any veal in her pantry, Darya quickly devised a new recipë using chicken instead.[15]
By Carl Timoleon von Neff
In the second half of the 19th century, once a railway line linking Moscow with Saint Petersburg had been opened, the Torzhok inn lost much of its traffic. By that time, however, the recipë for côtelettes Pojarsky🔊 was already taking France by storm and from there it would soon spread all over Europe. Here’s a Polish version of the recipë from the early 20th century:
| Use only [poularde] breasts for the cutlets; it is most thrifty to buy just the breasts from kosher butchers. Detach each half of the breast, together with the wing, from the bone. Scrape the bone as for a veal cutlet. Remove veins and skin from the meat, salt and pound thin with a mallet. […] Spread each cutlet with stuffing made from ground veal and bone marrow mixed with egg yolk, fold in half, then fold the edges in, baste with whisked egg, cover with flour mixed with an equal part of sieved breadcrumbs, and fry in clarified butter. Once they are nicely browned, put them into an oven for five more minutes until they are done inside. Before serving, sprinkle with lemon juice and douse with strong bouillon. Serve with cauliflowers, green peas or a mash of white mushrooms or chestnuts. | ||||
— Maria Ochorowicz-Monatowa: Uniwersalna książka kucharska, Lwów: Księgarna H. Altenberga, Warszawa-Łódź: Ludwik Fiszer, 1910, p. 417–418, own translation
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The Founder: The Last Nobleman in Communist Poland
Some time ago, Prof. Jarosław Dumanowski,🔊 head of the Culinary Heritage Centre at the History Department of the Copernicus University in Toruń, advised me to take interest in the collection of old hand-written recipës held in the archives of the Przypkowski Museum in Jędrzejów. But wait, I said, isn’t it a museum of sundials?
Yes, the unique collection of sundials, said to be the world’s third largest, is what the museum is best known for. It was the local doctor, Feliks Przypkowski, who started collecting sundials in 1895, a hobby later taken up by his son, Tadeusz Przypkowski.🔊 Tadeusz, however, a true Renaissance man, didn’t just continue his father’s passion; he also had several of his own. His interests included the histories of art and astronomy, printmaking and bromoil photography, bibliophilia and bookplates, heraldry and numismatics… as well as the enjoyment of good food and drink.
Before World War II, Tadeusz Przypkowski obtained his PhD in art history at the Jagiellonian University in Cracow and followed his studies with extensive travels (including to Germany, Italy, France, Belgium, the Netherlands, England, Spain, Portugal, North Africa, the Balkan Peninsula, Norway and Estonia). Back in Poland, he got a job as a cultural propaganda specialist – first in Cracow and later in Warsaw. Back then, the word “propaganda” didn’t yet carry the negative connotation it does today; think of it as equivalent to “promotion” or “public relations”. His duties as a cultural propagandist in Cracow included showing high-ranking foreign visitors around the historic monuments of Poland’s former capital (he even had the questionable honour of serving as a tourist guide to Josef Goebbels, the German Minister of Propaganda). Eventually, once the war broke out, he settled down back home in Jędrzejów🔊 – a small town on the road from Kielce🔊 to Cracow – but still kept in touch with numerous interesting people in various countries, especially in France. “I am to be found either in Paris,” he was fond of saying, “or in Jędrzejów.”[16]
When in Jędrzejów, Przypkowski helped his father collect, research and design sundials. After his father’s death, he took over the care of the collection, housed in a private museum near the town square, over from him. He went on to become one of the world’s foremost gnomonists, or experts on sundials. The sundials placed in some historic landmarks, including St. Mary’s Basilica in Cracow, the Royal Castle in Warsaw and the Royal Observatory in Greenwich, are of his design.
Janusz Roszko,🔊 a journalist who was a close friend of Przypkowski’s, described him as “the last nobleman of the Polish Commonwealth”, who swapped the sabre for a professor’s umbrella, wore his suit as aloofly as if it were a 17th-century gentleman’s robe and every now and then raised a pinch of snuff to his bewhiskered face.[17][18] Przypkowski was also a master of the Old Polish art of banter and humbug. You could never know for sure whether he was joking or being serious. And if truth ever happened to stand in his way of telling a good anecdote, well, then it was tough luck for the former. He used to claim, for example, to be a cousin to Queen Elizabeth II of Britain.[19] Once, he made efforts to open a “Museum of the Prehistory of Communism” in what he maintained was a newly discovered former Calvinist church, until it turned out it had never been a church in the first place, but a synagogue.[20]
In 1962, Przypkowski donated the sundial collection to the People’s Republic of Poland, thus giving rise to the State Przypkowski Museum in Jędrzejów. It may very well have been a preëmptive move to avoid forced nationalization, allowing him to gain access to public funding, while keeping actual control over the collection in the hands of House Przypkowski, where the post of the museum director is passed from father to son (currently in the third generation). It’s just one of many examples proving that, his Old Polish charm notwithstanding, Tadeusz Przypkowski was resourceful enough to successfully make do in the grim reality of post-war communist Poland.
His head was always full of fantastic ideas, which he persistently pitched to the communist authorities. Many of these schemes were way too far-fetched to have any chance of ever materialising, but Przypkowski never lost heart and just kept coming up with new ones. His own design for a new national coat of arms fell through.[21] So did his suggestion to use Warsaw’s Palace of Culture and Science, the tallest building in Europe at the time, as part of a giant sundial, so that its shadow would not remain “unemployed like the shadows of skyscrapers in capitalist cities”. He was able to bring at least some of his concepts to fruition, though, and the Order of Pomiane was one of them. But where did he get that idea from?
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Przypkowski Museum as seen from the town square of Jędrzejów -
Astronomical observatory -
Garden with water cascades, enclosed by a wall decorated with astronomical symbols -
Sundials standing among beds planted with culinary herbs
The Idea: A New Order
Considering both men’s fondness for tasty food and Old Polish gentry styles, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Edouard de Pomiane became friends with Tadeusz Przypkowski, even though the latter was thirty years his junior. During his visits to Paris, the gnomonist was among those invited to the Polish dinners held by the famous gastroenterologist. Years later, Przypkowski would still fondly remember Pomiane’s Baccarat crystal decanter filled with Polignac cognac, half of which the host poured into a pot while preparing the sauce for one of his dishes.[22]
Przypkowski, conversely, must have also made quite an impression on Pomiane. Strong enough, in any case, that in 1964, when Pomiane died in a car crash at the age of 89, it was revealed that he had bequeathed some of his belongings to his friend from Jędrzejów. The Przypkowski Museum thus acquired a sizeable collection of vintage kitchen and tableware (including the crystal decanter), as well as Pomiane’s library collection, which consisted of old cookbooks, restaurant menus, dinner invitations and celebrity gourmet memorabilia (including a letter signed by none other than Brillat-Savarin, back when he was an officer in the French Revolutionary Army).
It was this inheritance which most likely inspired Przypkowski to build his own gastronomic collection. As a result, Jędrzejów is now home to Poland’s largest assemblage of culinary manuscripts, mostly from the 19th century. I’m going to write more about these in the future. Przypkowski himself, on the other hand, wrote surprisingly little on the subject of food and cooking.
In 1968, he made plans to attend the 12th International History of Science Congress in Paris. At previous editions of the event he had talked about the astronomical instruments used by Copernicus, but this time he intended to give a speech on the history of Polish cookery and its relations to French cuisine. Unfortunately, he was impeded by ill health, so all he could do was to send his lecture in writing. He typed the account of the evolution of Polish foodways – from 13th-century Cistercian monks planting grapevines in Jędrzejów Abbey, to Queen Bona Sforza, King Henry Valois, King Stanislas Leszczyński, all the way to Edouard Pożerski de Pomiane – on four pages in French. Przypkowski asked for the text to be read out by his friend, culinary journalist Edouard Longue,🔊 but the paper was rejected by the congress organising committee.[23] He would later rewrite the text in Polish and in a more popularising tone, which was then published as a foreword to a little book entitled A Spoon in a Boot Leg and a Fork on the Table (Łyżka za cholewą, a widelec na stole). The book’s main part consisted of stories by Magdalena Samozwaniec🔊 about the eating habits of Old Polish nobility, illustrated with racy artwork by Maja Berezowska.🔊 In his “prologue tale”, Przypkowski presented his view of the culinary art as a creative art in its own right (“the world’s first artpiece was a piece of meat!”) and warned against the dangers posed to it by industrialization and standardization.[24] The same text was also published in Przekrój, a Cracow-based cultural weekly.[25] This is all I’ve been able to find regarding books or papers written by Przypkowski on gastronomic topics.
Przypkowski, who owed much of his gastronomic collection to Pożerski, was looking for a way to commemorate his late friend and eventually came up with the idea to establish the Order of Pomiane. I believe he got the notion to celebrate the great gastronome in this particular way from another specialist order. He was, as it happened, already an active member of the Order of the White Raven. Founded in Cracow, in 1930, the Chivalric Order of the White Raven was a society of bibliophiles. According to its charter, “the highest virtue of the Order is the love of books”.[26] Its monastic rule, patterned on those of medieval orders of knights, the exclusivity and secrecy, the hierachy and titles, the symbols and rituals – all of this must have captured Przypkowski’s imagination and inspired him to found a similar organization, only in the realm of gastronomy.
Right: Edouard Pożerski de Pomiane’s bookplate, designed by Tadeusz Przypkowski.
He started by recruiting his friend, Tadeusz Gronowski,🔊 for the project. Gronowski was an artist, known, among other things, for designing the logo of LOT, Poland’s national airline. It fell to him to design the order badge, which he modelled on a bookplate Przypkowski had created for Pomiane. The bookplate was based on the historical coat of arms of Clan Pomian, which features, in a golden field, a black water buffalo head (although one medieval source says it was a bison head instead, with a nose ring at that) pierced diagonally with a silver sword.[27] Przypkowski only replaced the sword with a table knife crossed with a fork. The chalice-shaped shield which bears this armorial achievement was designed to be used as a sort of rest to be put under a plate for the sauce to flow to one side.
And the silver buckle for fastening the order ribbon was designed in the shape of a kind of dumpling known as kołdun “in order to commemorate a fact of historic importance, namely that Pomiane loved to eat kołduny”.🔊[28]
Second Course: Divine Dumplings
Kołduny (singular: kołdun) is the Polish term for a kind of Lithuanian dumplings (similar to pierogi) filled with raw forcemeat and cooked in boiling water. They are typically served in soup or at least in the water in which they were boiled. Naturally, Pomiane included a recipë for his favourite dish in the cookbook he wrote to familiarize the French with Polish cuisine (or rather Lithuanian in this case). He even added a legend about the divine origin of kołduny (or koldūnai in Lithuanian), which mortals came to know thanks to a simple Lithuanian peasant who married the pagan goddess Milda.
And here’s the recipë:
| Kołduny: pierogi whose filling consists of equal parts raw beef tenderloin and beef kidney suet, chopped and mixed together. Season with salt, pepper, fried onion and, obligatorily, dried and powdered marjoram (Origanum majorana). Boil in the same way as you would pierogi. Ladle onto hot plates and serve doused with the cooking water. Kołduny are eaten with a spoon. Never cut them open on the plate. They are meant to open inside your mouth, flooding it with aromatic and scorching fat. The kidney suet may be advantageously replaced with beef bone marrow. | ||||
— Edouard de Pomiane: La cuisine polonaise vue des bords de la Seine, Paris: Société polonaise des Amis du Livre, 1952, p. 52, own translation
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Caviar and Champagne vs Sausage and Vodka
While the Order of the White Raven had always been shrouded in a cloud of Masonic-style secrecy, Przypkowski assumed from the start that the chief purpose of the Order of Pomiane would be to advertize Polish cuisine (as well as himself and his museum). And for this to work, he knew he had to get the national authorities on board. But how do you sell an idea rooted in the feudal tradition of chivalric orders to a communist government? Przypkowski decided to present his project as a way to improve the state of Polish gastronomy, which under communist rule had become only a shadow of its former self. Everybody agreed that the food in People’s Poland had become monotonous, bland and grey. Przypkowski claimed that the Order could be used to promote “the improvement of public catering without changing the system of government”. There remained the question, however, of who among the authorities would be the best person to reach out to. So allow me now to write a few words about what kind of people ruled Poland at the time.
Throughout the 1960s, the People’s Republic of Poland was run by the same two men. The man number one was Władysław Gomułka,🔊 also known as Comrade Wiesław, First Secretary of the Polish United Workers’ Party. The man number two was Józef Cyrankiewicz,🔊 the longest-serving prime minister in Polish history. But even though they stood at the helm together, they remained quite different from one another. Gomułka came from a working-class background and had been a genuine communist even before the Second World War. He was, in fact, one of the few pre-war Polish communists to survive a Stalinist purge of 1937–38; Comrade Wiesław failed to appear at the invitation to Moscow at the time, as he was lucky enough to be serving time in a Polish prison. Cyrankiewicz, on the other hand, was a socialist intellectual who only decided to coöperate with the Soviet-imposed communist regime after the war, because he would rather do that than go to prison or into exile.
The two politicians were also as different as night and day when it came to their attitudes towards the finer things in life. Gomułka was known for his modest, almost ascetic lifestyle and morbid frugality, while Cyrankiewicz loved to indulge in refined foods, expensive drinks and beautiful women. Gomułka tolerated his decadence to some extent, on account of the Prime Minister being an Auschwitz survivor. “In my opinion, Cyrankiewicz was broken by the camp,” the First Secretary explained. “He got out of Auschwitz with his moral and political backbone shattered and with one desire only: to enjoy his life.”[29] Sumptuous feasts hosted by “Comrade Cyrano” were the stuff of legends:
| It is said that during one of the Prime Minister’s stays at a government retreat in Łańsk [on the Masurian Lakes], Gomułka made a sudden visit as well. Cyrankiewicz had all of the delicacies, like caviar, salmon and French cognac, immediately hidden away, with blood sausages, cheese and cereal coffee brought out instead. And it wasn’t the only time when the Prime Minister had to conceal his sybaritic inclinations from the First Secretary. | ||||
— Andrzej Klim: Jak w kabarecie: Obrazki z życia PRL, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2016, quoted in: Adam Miklasz: Luksus w PRL-u: Jak naprawdę żyła wtedy władza?, in: Ciekawostki Historyczne, 21 June 2016, own translation
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In another version of this anecdote, the staff replaced caviar, prawns and champagne with wieners, bigos (meat-and-sauerkraut stew) and vodka.[30] In yet another variant, they took away caviar, roasted quails and wine, and in their place whipped out bread with jam and farmer’s cheese.[31]
Third Course: Cuper’s Super Carp
When travelling between Warsaw and his family home in Cracow, Cyrankiewicz would often make a stop at the Ratuszowa🔊 (“Townhall”) restaurant in the town of Szydłowiec, drawn by the carp in cream that the place was famous for. Eventually, the “Eternal Premier” had a new, bigger restaurant, called Biesiada🔊 (“Banquet”), opened inside a local department store, featuring a little VIP room upstairs, commonly known as Cyrankiewiczówka.🔊 Stanisław Cuper,🔊 who had previously cooked at Ratuszowa, was quickly employed as the head chef at Biesiada.[32] In 1970, Cuper was even sent to a culinary competition in Venice, where he won a cup for his signature carp.[33]
| 1,500 g carp fillets, 50 g each of butter and lard, 50 g flour, 1,000 g potatoes, 100 g Parmesan, breadcrumbs, butter for basting, [parsley] greens. Divide the carp into 100 g portions, fry in lard, then remove the lard, add butter and place in an oven. For the sauce, take melted butter, browned onion, sprinkle with flour and douse with sour cream, season with salt and pepper to taste. Place the carp on a heated platter, surround with boiled potatoes and cover with the cream sauce. Sprinkle with Parmesan and greens before casseroling. Serve on heated plates with the sauce piping hot. | ||||
— Stefania Przypkowska: Garść kulinarnych polskich przepisów, in: Maja Berezowska, Stefania Przypkowska, Tadeusz Przypkowski, Magdalena Samozwaniec: Łyżka za cholewą, a widelec na stole: mała kulinarna silva rerum, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1977, p. 85, own translation
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The Chapter
It was obvious that Cyrankiewicz made a perfect candidate to join the chapter, or governing body, of the new gastronomic order. On the other hand, it would have been best, if Gomułka never heard about the whole thing. Przypkowski and Gronowski must have thought that the best way to get to the Prime Minister was through Lucjan Motyka,🔊 the Minister of Culture and a personal friend of the Prime Minister’s. In order to strengthen their position when talking with the ministry, they first recruited a few well known writers (who were looked on favourably by the government), such as Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz,🔊 Jan Brzechwa🔊 and Mirosław Żuławski.🔊 From the cabinet, they eventually managed to enlist not only Motyka, but also Foreign Minister Adam Rapacki🔊 and Internal Trade Minister Edward Sznajder.🔊
Przypkowski planned to hold the Chapter’s inaugural meeting on 26 January 1965, the first anniversary of Edouard de Pomiane’s death. In the invitation letter he sent to Minister Rapacki, he made it a point to mention that the Party Regional Committee for Kielce had already agreed to introduce traditional aristocratic specialities into local restaurant menus.
| Onion soup à la Przypkowski, beef olives à la Radziwiłł and blancmange à la Sobieski are going to be introduced first. The Regional Committee has already instructed local bakeries to bake the kind of wholemeal rye bread that the beef olives and the soup require. | ||||
— Tadeusz Przypkowski in a letter to Adam Rapacki, between 16 July 1964 and 26 January 1965; quoted in: Janusz Miliszkiewicz: Przypkowski i PRL, in: Spotkania z Zabytkami, 116, Warszawa: Ministerstwo Kultury i Sztuki, Towarzystwo Opieki nad Zabytkami, 1996, p. 35
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In the end, Rapacki had a scheduling conflict and the meeting didn’t come to pass. Przypkowski, being Przypkowski, however, started acting as if the Order had already been instituted and proceeded to send letters to France – all typed on special Order-of-Pomiane letterhead stationery printed on handmade watermarked paper – informing prospective awardees of this new establishment.
The Chapter only met for the first time on the second anniversary of Pomiane’s death. The gathering was hosted by Tadeusz Gronowski in his Warsaw flat. The government was represented by Minister Motyka and his Deputy Minister, Zygmunt Garstecki. Gronowski was elected the Grand Master of the Chapter, while Przypkowski became its Chancellor. The Chapter also adopted a special resolution, written in a language that was an obvious parody of Gomułka’s speeches. It read as follows:
| A unanimous decision has been taken to strive for bringing Polish Cuisine, as a signal branch of Polish Culture, back to its former glory through precise definition and realization, upon a new systemic base, of its notion as an art founded on scientific, empirical and research-based groundwork, contrariwise to its heretofore treatment as a bureaucratized craft or industry, which has led to its universally discussed downfall. It is the foremost task standing before the Chapter of the Order of Pomiane. | ||||
— Resolution adopted by the Chapter of the Order of Pomiane on the second anniversary of Edouard de Pomiane’s death; quoted in: Jan Kalkowski: Order Pomiana, in: Przekrój, No. 1095–96, Kraków: 1966, p. 8
Original text:
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The Chapter’s first meeting, even if belated, was still a success. Przypkowski was glowing with optimism and was already making big plans for the future. Four days later he wrote to the Grand Master about the idea of recreating the famous Thursday Dinners, originally hosted by King Stanislas Augustus for Poland’s leading Enlightenment-era intellectuals at his summer residence known as the Royal Baths.
| At the next dinner, I think we can expect that, in place of the ailing Jan Brzechwa, we shall be eventually joined by Cyrankiewicz and that we shall discuss with him the possibility, already raised by Motyka and Garstecki, of the Chapter having Thursday dinners at the Royal Baths. | ||||
— Tadeusz Przypkowski in a letter to Tadeusz Gronowski, 30 January 1966; quoted in: Miliszkiewicz, op. cit.
Original text:
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Ultimately, over a dozen people were inducted into the Chapter. Most of its members had no particular connection to gastronomy, other than having a taste for good food (but then, who doesn’t?). Below is a full list (at least as full as I’ve been able to ascertain) of the members of the Chapter of the Gastronomic Order of Pomiane.
| Image | Name (born – died) |
Notes |
|---|---|---|
 |
Tadeusz Gronowski🔊 (1894–1990) |
Painter and printmaker.[35] Grand Master of the Chapter. |
 |
Tadeusz Przypkowski🔊 (1905–1977) |
Gnomonist, historian of science and art. Chancellor of the Chapter. |
 |
Anatol Hanftwurcel🔊 (1921–2006) |
Food-processing technician, editor-in-chief of several trade magazines, translator, amateur cook, gourmet and author of cookery books and articles. Secretary of the Chapter.[36][37] |
 |
Józef Cyrankiewicz🔊 (1911–1989) |
Prime Minister |
 |
Lucjan Motyka🔊 (1915–2006) |
Minister of Culture and Arts |
 |
Adam Rapacki🔊 (1909–1970) |
Minister of Foreign Affairs |
 |
Edward Sznajder🔊 (1920–1978) |
Minister of Internal Trade |
 |
Zygmunt Garstecki🔊 (1912–1988) |
Deputy Minister of Culture and Arts |
 |
Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz🔊 (1894–1980) |
Poet and writer, diplomat, member of parliament |
 |
Stefan Bratkowski🔊 (1934–2021) |
Journalist, co-author of a book about the Przypkowski family[38][39] |
 |
Jan Brzechwa🔊 (1898–1966) |
Poet and writer, intellectual-property lawyer. Died within two years from the founding of the Order.[40] |
 |
Stanisław Konopka🔊 (1896–1982) |
Historian of medicine, founder of the National Medical Library in Warsaw |
 |
Andrzej Michałowski🔊 (b. 1934) |
Regional Heritage Conservation Officer for Kielce |
 |
Aleksander Szczygieł🔊 (1906–1983) |
Physiologist, founder of the Food and Nutrition Institute (Instytut Żywności i Żywienia) in Warsaw |
 |
Damazy Jerzy Tilgner🔊 (1904–1997) |
Agricultural engineer, professor of meat-processing technology |
 |
Mirosław Żuławski🔊 (1913–1995) |
Writer, diplomat, Poland’s representative to Unesco |
Fourth Course: Lobster in the Polish Style
The menu of that delayed inauguration dinner at Gronowski’s included onion soup à la Przypkowski, roast duck with peaches, a “vegetable bouquet” à la Gronowski on the side and an orange torte for dessert.[41] We’ll get back to the onion soup in a while. As for the vegetable bouquet, sadly, I haven’t been able to find a recipë.
What I have found, however, is a recipë for another dish which was the pride of the Gronowski household and which may have been served at some of the subsequent meetings of the Chapter. It’s a typical example of Communist-era Polish cookery, a seemingly exquisite dish made from those simple ingredients which happened to be available in the poorly stocked grocery shops of the time. The name of the dish was “lobster in the Polish style” (“homar po polsku”).
The picture comes from the blog Królestwo garów (The Kingdom of Pots).
Divide the cod into small pieces, removing all of the bones. Peel and finely grate the carrots. Mix the fish and the carrots together with mayonnaise and sprinkle with lemon juice. Decorate with parsley leaves. If you really wish to make an impression, you can add some authentic tinned lobster or crab meat, but even without it, no one will be any the wiser as the dish will be just as pink as real lobster meat and equally tasty, while not as fattening. This cheap, yet elegant and delicious appetizer is the speciality of the household of Prof. Tadeusz Gronowski, who is not only a famous graphic artist, but also a knight of the Order of Pomiane (an award for gourmets). | ||||
— Irena Gumowska: Obiad w pół godziny, Warszawa: Watra, 1980, p. 135, own translation
Original text:
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The Recipients
The Order of Pomiane was a very exclusive award. So exclusive, in fact, that the number of recipients is comparable to the headcount of the Chapter which gave out the award.
Przypkowski intended from the beginning to award the decoration primarily to foreigners, his protestations that the purpose of the Order was to promote Polish cuisine notwithstanding. The first people he nominated for the Order were two Frenchmen: Parisian restaurateur Roger Topolinski🔊 and food writer Jean-Dominique Arnaboldi.🔊 The Foreign Ministry instructed the Polish ambassador in Paris to provide a venue for the ceremony, along with customary toasting tipples. Przypkowski, as Chancellor of the Chapter, decorated both awardees personally.
In order to help him in his role as Poland’s gastronomic ambassador of sorts, the ministry supplied him even with hard currency for his travels across the Iron Curtain. And whenever ministry officials hesitated to give him as much as he said he needed, he would threaten them with his connections to Rapacki, Cyrankiewicz or even the Central Committee.[42]
During the ceremony, each knight of the Order of Pomiane would have the order badge hung upon a ribbon around his neck and receive an ornate diploma, written in French, which read as follows:
| The Chapter of the Polish Gastronomic Order of Pomiane certifies that [recipient’s name] has merited, by a unanimous decision of the Chapter, the distinction of Pomiane in recognition of his great achievements for gastronomic culture. | ||||
— Diploma of the Order of Pomiane, as found in: Zdzisław T. Nowicki: Powrót Orderu Pomiana, in: Przegląd Gastronomiczny, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Czasopism i Książek Technicznych SIGMA-NOT, November 1998, p. 12–15; own translation
Original text:
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Chefs and restaurateurs decorated with this exotic order would then invite Przypkowski to their restaurants and everyone was happy.
The order was only awarded to a few Polish people who either lived and worked abroad (Stanisław Kozioł🔊 in London, Grzegorz Tomaszewski🔊 near Copenhagen) or who were most likely nominated by other members of the Chapter. I believe that the elderly chef Władysław Kucharski🔊 may have been nominated by Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz, for whom Kucharski had cooked before the war while Iwaszkiewicz served as a secretary at the Polish embassy in Denmark. As for Stanisław Cuper, he may have been nominated by Premier Cyrankiewicz.
In 1969, the Chapter also awarded two legal persons, both from Poland. The order was bestowed on Pudliszki fruit-and-vegetable-processing company and on the Przekrój editorial board.
And here’s the full list (again, to the extent I’ve been able gather) of those decorated with the Order of Pomiane:
| Image | Name (born – died) |
Country of residence* | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|
 |
Ang Kim Khoan🔊 (1910–1978) |
 Cambodia |
Hotel manager, Cambodian Minister of Tourism,[44] Director General of the Khmer Company of Royal Inns (Société khmère des Auberges royales, a hotel network).[45] The decoration took place in Paris.[46] |
 |
Jean-Dominique Arnaboldi🔊 (1919–1974)[47] |
 France |
Gastronomic journalist, one of the jurors in the Golden Pan (Poêle d’or) tournament.[48] |
 |
Gian Giuseppe Brenna🔊 (1920–2006) |
 Italy |
Dentist by trade, gastronome by hobby, representative of the province of Como (Lombardy) at the Italian Culinary Academy (Accademia Italiana della Cucina)[49] |
 |
Henry Clos-Jouve🔊 (1908–1981) |
France |
Co-founder of Académie Rabelais,[50] President of the Society of Chroniclers of Gastronomy and Tourism (Chroniqueurs de la Gastronomie et du Tourisme), first organizer of a competition for the best sommelier in France,[51] co-founder of the Friendly Association of Authentic Andouillette Sausage Lovers (Association Amicale des Amateurs d’Andouillette Authentique, or AAAAA)[52][53] |
 |
Stanisław Cuper🔊 |  Poland |
Chef at the Biesiada restaurant in Szydłowiec, best known for his carp in cream, one of Józef Cyrankiewicz’s favourite dishes[54] |
 |
André Hurtrel🔊 (1917–1995) |
France |
Journalist, founder of the National Trade Union of Press Officers, President of the National Gastronomic Committee (Comité National de la Gastronomie), head of the jury in the Golden Pan tournament.[55] He, in turn, decorated Przypkowski with a necklet of the Golden Pan in recognition of his work on Polish-French culinary relations.[56] |
 |
Kazimierz Jaroszyński🔊 (1931–2013) |
Poland |
Chef at Hotel Europejski and Spatif (actors’ club) in Warsaw[57] |
 |
Stanisław Kozioł🔊 (1899–1974) |
 Britain |
Polish émigré, owner of the Lucullus restaurant in London[58] |
 |
Władysław Edward Kucharski🔊 (1879–1973) |
Poland |
True to his surname, which comes from the Polish word for a cook, he was an accomplished chef, as were his grandfather, father, brother and son. He cooked for monarchs, aristocrats and diplomats (including Jarosław Iwaszkiewicz).[59] After World War 2, he worked as a chef at the Grand Hotel in Sopot and at a conference and recreation centre of the Polish Academy of Sciences in Jabłonna.[60][61] |
 |
Édouard Longue🔊 (1908–1989)[62] |
France |
Journalist, writer, culinary critic, founder of the French Association of Gastronomic and Tourist Press (Association française de la Presse gastronomique et touristique),[63] President of the French Union of Gastronome Journalists, Writers and Editors (Union française des journalistes, écrivains et éditeurs gastronomes),[64] Vice President of the International Gastronomic Press Federation (Fédération internationale de la Presse gastronomique),[65] awarded in 1980 with a Golden Feather (Goldene Feder) by the Gastronomic Academy of Germany (Gastronomische Akademie Deutschlands). Edouard de Pomiane’s nephew.[66] |
 |
Gianni Mantero🔊 (1897–1985) |
Italy |
Architect, printmaker, bookplate collector.[67] No ties to gastronomy established. |
 |
Roger Roucou🔊 (1921–2012) |
France |
Owner of the La Mère Guy restaurant in Lyons, President of the White Hats of Lyons (Toques Blanches Lyonnaises, 1983–87),[68] President of the Master Chefs of France (Maîtres Cuisiniers de France, 1988–91)[69] |
 |
Claude Terrail🔊 (1918–2006) |
France |
Owner of the La Tour d’Argent restaurant in Paris[70] |
 |
Grzegorz Stanisław Tomaszewski🔊 (1927–1999)[71] |
 Denmark |
Polish Danish chef, co-founder of Jensens Konserves, a Danish canned-soup company.[72] He would later set up the Gastronomic Institute (Gastronomisk Institut), a gastronomic consulting company, in Hørsholm near Copenhagen.[73] In Denmark he was known as Georges, a pseudonym he had used during the Warsaw Uprising of 1944.[74] |
 |
Roger Topolinski🔊 (1905–1994) |
France |
Owner of the Lapérouse restaurant in Paris,[75] President of the Union of Parisian Restaurateurs. Said to be a descendant of a Polish court chef to King Stanislas Leszczyński at Lunéville.[76] |
 |
Przekrój🔊 | Poland |
Przypkowski and his journalist friends often wrote of his activities on the pages of Przekrój (Cut Open), a weekly cultural magazine. The decoration was received by Deputy Editor Jan Kalkowski🔊[77] (1922–1989), author of books and articles on culinary topics.[78] |
 |
Pudliszki🔊 | Poland |
I touched on the pioneering role of the Pudliszki fruit-and-vegetable-processing company in my post about the history of ketchup. The decoration was received by Executive Director Zbyszko Trzeciakowski🔊[79][80] (1913–1989). |
*) At the moment of being awarded the Order of Pomiane
Good Spirits at the Stove
You may have noticed by now that the Order of Pomiane was strictly a men-only affair. The Order had its knights – but not a single dame. Where were the ladies then? Well, knowing the social norms still prevailing in the 1960s, I suppose the answer is simple: the women were in the kitchen! After all, someone had to cook for all these gourmet gentlemen.
Journalist Janusz Miliszkiewicz wrote of “Gronowski’s wife and accomplished translator, Maria Erhardt-Gronowska,” as “the good spirit” of the Chapter meetings held in the Grand Master’s apartment.[81] Like a true ghost, however, she is nowhere to be seen in any of the pictures taken at these meetings. I’d bet that while the members of the Chapter were busy with their banquets and erudite conversations, it fell to her to prepare all those vegetable bouquets and mock-lobster salads. When it comes to dinners held in Jędrzejów, we need not even guess. Tadeusz Przypkowski’s son had this to say about his father’s culinary prowess:
Right: Elżebieta Chodkiewicz-Przypkowska, Tadeusz Przypkowski’s daughter-in-law.
| My father never cooked. He didn’t have the skill. He never even made any attempts in this matter. He was simply a gourmet. He knew his food, he would write about it and he would talk about it most of all. And he would, of course, eat. | ||||
— Piotr Maciej Przypkowski, quoted in: Piotr Adamczewski: Mistrz propagandy, in: Polityka, 3 November 2006, own translation
Original text:
|
Most likely the only thing Tadeusz Przypkowski ever produced himself that was fit for human consumption was his homemade angelica (wild celery) liqueur.[82] He shared his gastronomic and historiosophical reflections in the foreword to the aforementioned A Spoon in the Boot Leg, but it was his wife Stefania who added a practical chapter at the end of the same book. Next to recipës for Pomiane’s kołduny or Cuper’s carp in cream, she also divulged directions for preparing family specialities which had been tested by all the housewives faithfully catering to three generations of Przypkowski men.
| A handful of Polish culinary recipës tried out multiple times over the last one hundred years or more in the Przypkowski, Ossowski and Gawroński families by: Mrs. Feliks Przypkowski, née Zofia Horst […]; Mrs. Józef Ostrowski, née Zenobia Gawrońska; Mrs. Tadeusz Przypkowski, née Stefania Ossowska, first married to Witold Hulewicz; and Mrs. Maciej Przypkowski, née Elżbieta Chodkiewicz; all currently served at the seat of the Chapter of the Gastronomic Order of Pomiane, at the Przypkowski Museum in Jędrzejów. | ||||
— Stefania Przypkowska: Garść kulinarnych polskich przepisów, in: Maja Berezowska, Stefania Przypkowska, Tadeusz Przypkowski, Magdalena Samozwaniec: Łyżka za cholewą, a widelec na stole: mała kulinarna silva rerum, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1977, p. 79, own translation
Original text:
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Fifth Course: Good King Stanislas and Przypkowski Onion Soup
One recipë that could not have been omitted from the book was for a dish which was the absolute pièce de résistance in the Przypkowski household, the culinary pride of the family, served at all important gatherings in their Jędrzejów home (and now also in local restaurants): the onion soup à la Przypkowski. Yes, I know, onion soup is typically associated with French cuisine. Its Przypkowski version is a little different, though, as it’s thickened with crumbled wholemeal rye bread and seasoned in the Old Polish manner with ginger, cloves and nutmeg.
By Tadeusz Przypkowski
| Onion soup à la Przypkowski, which, under this name, has already gained popularity among Parisian gourmets and is even served at the best restaurant in Madrid, has been an heirloom of the Przypkowski family for generations. While it possesses all the features of Old Polish cuisine, it is not listed in any printed cookbooks. Take one and a half litres of lean beef stock, 6 large sweet onions (if the onions are too sharp, the soup may require a little sweetening), 6 slices of dark wholemeal rye bread, 30 to 40 g butter, and to taste: nutmeg, ginger, cloves, black pepper and salt, and if possible, some curry, which is at last becoming available in Poland! Fry the finely sliced onions in butter until golden, separately fry the bread slices until crispy, crumble them and cook together with the onions in the stock, then strain through a fine sieve and add the seasonings to taste. If it has cooled down, heat it before serving in deep bowls with crispy cookies. Alexandre Dumas, in his gastronomic musings, recounts an anecdote about Stanislas Leszczyński arriving two days late for his daughter’s banquet in Versailles because he was busy seasoning, in the Polish manner, this excellent onion soup, which had been served to him at an inn along the way.
|
| Crispy cookies for the onion soup. Take 3 cups of wheat flour, half a cup of milk, 40 g yeast, 250 g butter, 1 egg for brushing, 2 teaspoons very finely ground caraway seeds, salt to taste. Knead the dough together with the caraway powder and roll into finger-thick sticks. (For special celebrations, the dough used to be rolled out very thinly and shaped, with special moulds, into the guests’ armorial devices. In our time, when one is more likely to entertain non-armigerous visitors, it is safer to cut out Zodiac signs for each guest to pick according to their own date of birth.) Brush with egg and bake in a well-heated oven. | ||||
— Ibid., s. 82–83, own translation
Original text:
|
By Maja Berezowska (1970)
So apparently, while the soup bears the name of the Przypkowski family, it dates back all the way to King Stanislas Leszczyński in the 18th century! Provided, of course, that it’s really the same kind of soup. And provided the anecdote about a soup cooked personally by the monarch is true. Which it most likely isn’t. The author of The Three Musketeers and The Count of Monte Cristo was undoubtedly blessed with a vivid imagination. And Przypkowski certainly wouldn’t have minded if the anecdote didn’t really square with historical truth.
Alexandre Dumas, while best known as a great swashbuckling novelist, is also the author of the Great Culinary Dictionary (Grand dictionnaire de cuisine) which he penned toward the end of his life. Many of the delicacies he described in his work are supposedly linked to Stanisław Leszczyński or his entourage. The former Polish monarch and Louis XV’s father-in-law was responsible, according to Dumas, not only for introducing the rich yeast cake known as “baba” or the buttery shell-shaped cookies called madeleines, but he was also involved in inventing turkey wings à la Stanislas and the rack of lamb in gooseberry sauce, the latter credited to Leszczyński’s cook. He adds that it was the Poles at the Lunéville court who taught the French to gather and appreciate king bolete mushrooms. Generally speaking, if any element of French cuisine had even the slightest connection to Poland or Lorraine, Dumas could not imagine King Stanislas not having had his plump fingers in the pie when it came to bringing that dish to France.
As for the onion-soup anecdote, it goes like this:
| On his journeys from Lunéville to Paris each year to visit his daughter the Queen, ex-King Stanislaus of Poland stopped at the inn in Châlons, where he was served such a fine, delicate onion soup that he refused to continue on his way without learning how to make it. His Majesty, wrapped in his dressing gown, went down to the kitchen and insisted that the chef perform before his eyes. Neither the smoke nor the onion fumes that made his eyes tear distracted his attention. He observed carefully, took notes, and went on his way only when he was certain he had mastered the art of making excellent onion soup. | ||||||
— Alexandre Dumas: Dictionary of Cuisine, translated by Louis Colman, London and New York: Routledge, 2013, p. 176
Original text:
|
The recipë given by Dumas, however, differs from Przypkowski’s: it contains no spicy, exotic spices — not even pepper, let alone ginger. Moreover, Dumas does not even allow bouillon to be added to the soup, as in his view such an addition would make it too nourishing and less delicate.
Moving On
After Tadeusz Przypkowski’s death in 1977, his son Piotr Maciej Przypkowski took over as the new museum director. The Chapter, however, now without its original driving force, found it was unable to function anymore and decided to put their activities on hold – for an unspecified period of time.
There was an attempt to reactivate the Chapter two decades later, after the fall of Communism. It was started by two of the few people in Poland who had been somehow connected to the Order (either as member of the Chapter or as an awardee) and were still alive at the time: Andrzej Michałowski and Kazimierz Jaroszyński. The two veterans of the project met in 1998, in the Jędrzejów museum at Piotr Maciej Przypkowski’s🔊 invitation, with several other people who expressed interest in reinvigorating the Order. They discussed, over herring salad and walnut-and-chocolate torte among other delicacies, the need to resume the Chapter’s activities “as a means to foster the art of Polish cuisine in the new economic and political realities of the Third Polish Commonwealth.” To this end, an Organizing Committee for the Reëstablishment of the Chapter of the Order of Pomiane was created. And this time, there were even a few women among its members: Elżbieta Chodkiewicz-Przypkowska,🔊 head of the Przypkowski Museum publishing house; Krystyna Kaszuba,🔊 editor-in-chief of Twój Styl (Your Style), a lifestyle magazine; and Magdalena Nieżychowska🔊 who co-authored, together with her husband, a book about the eating habits of Old Polish landed gentry.[83][84]
Unfortunately, I was unable to find any information regarding whether a second meeting of this committee ever took place. It seems that this noble initiative came to nothing, and that the Order of Pomiane was never awarded again.
References
- ↑ Janusz Miliszkiewicz, Rafał Belke: Mafia kolekcjonerska pod młotkiem, in: Rzeczpospolita, 22 June 2012
- ↑ Michał Niemczyk: Aukcja 30. Jubileuszowa, Warszawa: Antykwariat Numizmatyczny, 25 September 2021, p. 353
- ↑ Ali-Bab: Gastronomie pratique : études culinaires suivies du Traitement de l’obésité des gourmands, Paris: Ernest Flammarion, 1923
- ↑ Jean-Anthelme Brillat Savarin: Physiologie du goût, Paris: G. de Gonet, 1848
- ↑ Édouard de Pomiane: Bien manger pour bien vivre : Essai de gastronomie théorique, Paris: Editions Albin Michel, 1948
- ↑ Margaret McArthur: Desperately Seeking Edouard: A Passion for de Pomiane, in: Gastronomica, Vol. 4, No. 4, University of California Press, 2004, p. 62
- ↑ Dorota Pietrzkiewicz: Francusko-polskie życie Edwarda Aleksandra Pożerskiego, in: Studia Polonijne, vol. 41, Towarzystwo Naukowe KUL i Katolicki Uniwersytet Lubelski Jana Pawła II, 2020, p. 89
- ↑ Ibid., p. 82–83
- ↑ Ibid., p. 89
- ↑ Jan Kalkowski: Dwa Pomiany, in: Przekrój, No. 1268, Kraków: 1969, p. 1–2
- ↑ Teresa Ostrowska: Edward Aleksander Pożerski, in: Internetowy Polski Słownik Biograficzny, Warszawa: Instytut Historii PAN
- ↑ Maciej E. Halbański: Leksykon sztuki kulinarnej, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Watra, 1987, p. 89
- ↑ Le Vicomte d’Arlincourt: L’étoile polaire, Paris: Dumont, 1843, p. 305
- ↑ Leitch Ritchie: A Journey to St. Petersburg and Moscow Through Courland and Livonia, London: Longman, 1836, p. 179
- ↑ Дарья Евдокимовна Пожарская, in: Torzhok.pro, 16 December 2021
- ↑ Janusz Roszko: Ostatni szlachcic Rzeczypospolitej, in: Przekrój, No. 1374, 1971, p. 4
- ↑ Ibid.
- ↑ Janusz Roszko: Przypkowskiemu panegiryk ostatni, in: Przekrój, nr 1711, 1978, p. 11
- ↑ Janusz Roszko, Stefan Bratkowski: Ostatki staropolskie, Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1966, p. 21
- ↑ Stanisław Marian Brzozowski: Tadeusz Konrad Przypkowski, in: Internetowy Polski Słownik Biograficzny, Warszawa: Instytut Historii PAN
- ↑ Tadeusz Przypkowski: Kto był autorem godła?, in: Przekrój, nr 1362, Kraków: 1971, p. 8
- ↑ D. Pietrzkiewicz, op. cit., p. 82
- ↑ Tadeusz Przypkowski: L’art et la science de la gastronomie dans les relations entre la France et la Pologne, 1968, manuscript at the Library of the Institute of Advanced Education (École normale supérieure) in Paris (IUHPS 55.3)
- ↑ Tadeusz Przypkowski: Prologowa gawęda, in: Maja Berezowska, Stefania Przypkowska, Tadeusz Przypkowski, Magdalena Samozwaniec: Łyżka za cholewą, a widelec na stole: mała kulinarna silva rerum, Kraków: Wydawnictwo Literackie, 1977, p. 5–16
- ↑ Tadeusz Przypkowski: Łyżka za cholewą, a widelec na stole…, in: Przekrój, No. 1514, Kraków: 1974, p. 10–11
- ↑ Rycerski Zakon Białego Kruka, in: Salon Tradycji Polskiej, 8 May 2022
- ↑ Andrzej Kulikowski: Wielki herbarz rodów polskich, Warszawa: Świat Książki, 2005, p. 270–271
- ↑ Janusz Miliszkiewicz: Przypkowski i PRL, in: Spotkania z Zabytkami, 116, Warszawa: Ministerstwo Kultury i Sztuki, Towarzystwo Opieki nad Zabytkami, 1996, p. 36
- ↑ Andrzej Klim: Jak w kabarecie: Obrazki z życia PRL, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 2016, quoted in: Adam Miklasz: Luksus w PRL-u: Jak naprawdę żyła wtedy władza?, in: Ciekawostki Historyczne, 21 June 2016
- ↑ Korkosz Michał: Dieta reżimowa – Realia PRL-u a Kuchnia Polska; Część VI: Kulinaria centralnie sterowane, in: Rozkoszny, 10 January 2018
- ↑ P. S.: Byłem gorylem Gomułki i Gierka, in: Dzieje.pl, Muzeum Historii Polski, Polska Agencja Prasowa, 3 November 2019
- ↑ Karp w śmietanie, in: Szydłowiec dla turystów, Facebook, 21 November 2017
- ↑ Jan Kalkowski: Spod znaku Pomiana, in: Przekrój, No. 1307, Kraków: 1970, p. 9
- ↑ According to a list located in the archive of the Przypkowski Museum in Jędrzejów. The list, most likely made in 1969, does not include the names of those inducted later, including S. Bratkowski and A. Hanftwurcel, nor does it include J. Brzechwa, who had died before that year. Information about their membership in the Chapter comes from other sources.
- ↑ Adrian Sobieszczański: Twórczość Tadeusza Gronowskiego w latach 20. na przykładzie wybranych realizacji, in: Varsavianista, Warszawa: Fundacja Hereditas, 12 May 2024
- ↑ Tadeusz Rathman: Pożegnania: Anatol Hanftwurcel, in: Przegląd Techniczny, 3, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Czasopism i Książek Technicznych SIGMA-NOT, 2007, p. 30
- ↑ Zdzisław T. Nowicki: Powrót Orderu Pomiana, in: Przegląd Gastronomiczny, Warszawa: Wydawnictwo Czasopism i Książek Technicznych SIGMA-NOT, November 1998, p. 12
- ↑ Piotr Adamczewski: Mistrz propagandy, in: Polityka, 3 November 2006
- ↑ Janusz Roszko, Stefan Bratkowski: Ostatki staropolskie, Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1966
- ↑ Mariusz Urbanek: Brzechwa nie dla dzieci, Iskry, 2023
- ↑ Jan Kalkowski: Order Pomiana, in: Przekrój, No. 1095–96, Kraków: 1966, p. 8
- ↑ Janusz Miliszkiewicz: Na początek – zupa cebulowa przypkowska, in: Rzeczpospolita, 3 April 1999
- ↑ According to a list located in the archive of Przypkowski the Museum in Jędrzejów. The list, most likely made in 1969, does not include the names of those awarded later, including S. Cuper, K. Jaroszyński and R. Roucou. Information about their decoration with the order comes from other sources.
- ↑ Ang Kim Khoan (1910–1978?), in: Nasir Abdoul-Carime: Association d’échanges et de formation pour les études khmères
- ↑ La société khmère des auberges royales : Un équipement touristique de grande classe, in: Le Monde diplomatique, Paris: October 1963, p. 15
- ↑ Tadeusz Przypkowski: Przypkowski dekoruje, in: Przekrój, no. 1240, Kraków: 12 January 1969, p. 8
- ↑ Jean Dominique Arnaboldi : Base de données des décès de l’insee, in: Généafrance
- ↑ Ghislaine Kapandji, Élie Morhange: Vente aux enchères gastronomique sous les auspices de Bacchus et de Comus…, Paris: 2016, p. 50–51
- ↑ Andrea Bambace: Campo di Tremezzina, una piazza dedicata a Gian Giuseppe Brenna, in: Espansione TV, Como: 27 September 2018
- ↑ Membres, in: Académie Rabelais
- ↑ 1907–1969 Les origines des l’association, in: Association des sommerliers de Paris Ile-de-France
- ↑ Clos-Jouve (Henri Belin, known as Henry), in: Gastronomiac
- ↑ Z.T. Nowicki, op. cit., p. 13
- ↑ Z.T. Nowicki, op. cit., p. 13
- ↑ Le Souillagais Pierre Arnal « Poêle d’Or » 1969, in: Souillas.net
- ↑ Jan Kalkowski: Order Pomiana, in: Przekrój, no. 1095–96, Kraków: 1966, p. 8
- ↑ Z.T. Nowicki, op. cit., p. 13
- ↑ Andrzej W. Kaczorowski: Służba Bezpieczeństwa na tropach Tola z Łyczakowa, in: Wschodni Rocznik Humanistyczny, vol. X, 2014, p. 80–81 (footnote 45)
- ↑ Agnieszka Kuś: Pawłowa i Kucharski: Kto serwował Iwaszkiewiczom kurę po literacku?, in: Polskie Radio Czwórka, 25 October 2021
- ↑ Biographic note attached to the list of the Order of Pomiane awardees, Przypkowski Museum in Jędrzejów
- ↑ Rafał Degiel: Nasza Historia: Władysław Kucharski (1879-1973) – dzierżawca kasyna oficerskiego w Legionowie, kuchmistrz w pałacu w Jabłonnie, in: Gazeta Powiatowa, Legionowo: Agencja Reklamowo-Wydawnicza Błękitne Centrum, 26 November 2020
- ↑ Acte de décès à Paris 18e arrondissement (75018) pour l’année 1989, in: Acte Décès
- ↑ Le Souillagais Pierre Arnal « Poêle d’Or » 1969, in: Souillas.net
- ↑ Édouard Longue: Respect du goût d’autrui en gastronome, in: Feuille d’Avis du Valais, No. 19, Sion: 23 January 1968, p. 9
- ↑ Gastronomy and Gastronomes, in: H. L. Cracknell, G. Nobis: Practical Professional Gastronomy, London: Palgrave, 1985, p. 330
- ↑ Hervé This: Pourquoi la cuisine n’est pas une science ?, in: Sciences des aliments, 26, Lavoisier, 2006, p. 203
- ↑ Gianni Mantero, in: British Museum
- ↑ Guide Toques Blanches Lyonnaises 2021, ed. Hervé Bal, France Médias Internationnal, 2021, p. 26
- ↑ Notre histoire, in: Association des Maîtres Cuisiniers de France, Paris
- ↑ Frank J. Prial: Claude Terrail, 88, Model of a Restaurateur, Dies, in: The New York Times, 7 June 2006
- ↑ Grzegorz Stanisław Georges ’Georg’ Tomaszewski, in: Kendtes Gravsted
- ↑ Polsk kok fyldte Jensen på dåse, in: Bjarne Jensen: Bogen om Jensen, Turbine, 2017
- ↑ Samling af anmeldelser til handelsregistrene, No. 5, Handelsministeriet, 1968, p. 89
- ↑ Jan Kalkowski: Dwa Pomiany, in: Przekrój, No. 1268, Kraków: 1969, p. 1–2
- ↑ Roger Topolinski : restaurant Lapérouse à Paris (France), in: È molto goloso, WordPress, 2 May 2021
- ↑ Z.T. Nowicki, op. cit., p. 13
- ↑ Jan Kalkowski: Z przyjemnością informujemy Czytelników, że…, in: Przekrój, No. 1285, Kraków: 1969, p. 9
- ↑ Andrzej Klominek: Życie w Przekroju, Warszawa: Oficyna Wydawnicza Most, 1995, p. 324–325
- ↑ Z.T. Nowicki, op. cit., p. 15
- ↑ Ludzie z pierwszych stron gazet, reż. Wiesław Karaś, Telewizja Polska, Oddział we Wrocławiu, 10 April 1976
- ↑ J. Miliszkiewicz, op. cit., p. 36
- ↑ Janusz Roszko, Stefan Bratkowski: Ostatki staropolskie, Warszawa: Czytelnik, 1966, p. 32
- ↑ Antoni Stefański: Nieżychowski mniej i bardziej prywatnie, in: Szczeciner, 22 maja 2024
- ↑ Z.T. Nowicki, op. cit., s. 15
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- Carp in cream
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