This is another post in a series about food in ''Pan Tadeusz'', the Napoleonic-era Polish national epic by Adam Mickiewicz. While wandering around Europe after his exile from Russian-ruled Poland, Mickiewicz always kept in his travelling library an "``old, worn cookbook", which he would read from time to time "``with great pleasure", hoping to one day give a "``truly Polish-Lithuanian banquet" according to "``the ancient recipës".<ref>Excerpts quoted from a letter by Antoni Edward Odyniec, Mickiewicz's travel companion, dated 28 April 1830, quoted in: {{Cyt
| nazwisko = Jarosińska
| imię = Izabela
}}</ref> I will write about the title of this book [[Epic Cooking: The Perfect Cook#“A Dear Souvenir of Righteous Customs”|in a different post]]. For now, it suffices to say that the poet never had the occasion to fulfill his dream of hosting a real-life Old Polish-Lithuanian feast and had to satisfy his culinary fantasies by conjuring up a perfect traditional banquet on the pages of ''Pan Tadeusz'' instead.
He placed his description of an old-fashioned "``Polish dinner" in the books (chapters) XI and XII of the poem. In the earlier books, on the other hand, we can find depictions of the kind of meals the author could remember from his own youth in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania (a constituent nation of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, which covered not only the territory of the modern-day Republic of Lithuania, but also the much larger Belarus). To him, this was just the ordinary, daily fare of the "``land of [his] childhood". To us, though, it is what the cookery described in his treasured little book was to Mickiewicz – the forgotten world of Old Polish cuisine. And just like Mickiewicz would fantasize about recreating an Old Polish banquet, so would I like to share with you my own vision of a ''Pan Tadeusz''-style supper. Someone someday may actually try to prepare a meal based on the menu I propose here; but for now let’s stick mostly to our imagination.
== “They Supped Inside the Castle” ==
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Why was it only for men, though? Why didn’t the women get any vodka? After all, already in the 18th century, did the Rev. Jędrzej Kitowicz write of Polish noble ladies that they would "``often get drunk on vodka".<ref>{{Cyt
| tytuł = Opis obyczajów i zwyczajów za panowania Augusta III
| nazwisko r = Kitowicz
This ritual repetitiveness of Soplica’s meals was adjusted only to the season and to the Catholic calendar of feasts and fasts. In this case, it’s Lithuanian cold borscht, a summertime soup that is still as popular on hot days in both Lithuania and Poland as ''gazpacho'' is in Spain.
There is a linguistic problem here, though. Mickiewicz has used two different terms, "``''chłodnik''" `` (pronounced {{pron|HWawd|neek}}) and "``''chołodziec''" `` ({{pron|Haw|Waw|jets}}). Both words derive from the adjective "``''chłodny''"``, or "``cold", but while Mickiewiczologists have no doubt that "``''chłodnik''" `` refers to a cold soup, there is some disagreement as to what kind of dish ''chołodziec'' was.<ref>{{Cyt
| tytuł = Pamiętnik Literacki: czasopismo kwartalne poświęcone historii i krytyce literatury polskiej
| url =
| wolumin = 87/1
| strony = 141–151
}}</ref> Is it a regional name for the same soup or does it refer to an aspic dish? After all, the similar Russian word "``холодец" (''kholodets'') refers to a meat-based jelly. It could be possible that this term had filtered into the eastern dialects of Polish. Besides, veal feet in aspic would have paired perfectly with the vodka.
[[File:Forma do galarety.jpg|thumb|left|upright|An old aspic mould]]
On the other hand, the vodka was served to men only, but the ''chołodziec'' was consumed by all. What’s more, there’s no evidence that, in the 19th century, the word was used for aspic anywhere outside certain regions of Russia proper; it’s not attested in either Polish or Belarusian of the time (of course, aspic dishes themselves had been known since the Middle Ages, albeit under other names). Anyway, the oldest translations of ''Pan Tadeusz'' into both Russian and Belarusian treat both "``''chłodnik''" `` and "``''chołodziec''" `` as referring to a soup. It looks like both Mickiewicz himself and his contemporary translators had no doubts that these two words were synonymous.
There’s another interesting difference, though. On the third day, the cold borscht was "``whitened", or clouded with sour cream, but on the first and second days, it wasn’t. Why? One possible explanation would be that the first two days were Friday and Saturday, that is, lean days. In Polish tradition, dairy products, as well as meat, were proscribed on lean days. It was only on Sunday that the same cold borscht was served again, but this time, enhanced with the luxurious additive. Except that if the Soplicas fasted on Saturday, then they must have done it only in the afternoon, because [[Epic Cooking: Breakfast at Judge Soplica's|for breakfast they'd had not only cream, but even smoked goose breasts, beef tongues, ham and steaks]]! This may be explained away only by the poet’s inconsistency.
So how do you prepare this whitened Lithuanian cold borscht? Here’s a recipë from ''The Lithuanian Cook'', a Polish-language cookbook by Wincentyna Zawadzka. The first edition was published two decades after Mickiewicz had penned ''Pan Tadeusz'', but I suppose the recipë would have been quite similar in his times. Heck, even today Lithuanian cold borscht is still made in pretty much the same fashion.
== Second Course ==
[[File:Jedzą, piją, a milczą wszyscy.jpg|thumb|In the film, the Count, Telimena, Thaddeus and Sophie are having something that looks more like string beans, known in Poland as "``asparagus beans", than actual asparagus.]]
Now that we know what they had for soup, let’s find out what was served as the second course.
[[File:Szparagi w occie.jpg|thumb|upright=.5|Asparagus which I pickled in a fashion inspired by Syrenius's recipë]]
"``Disturbed, shaken, uncertain," we begin to doubt the realism of the epic’s setting. But no, "``such master errs not!"<ref>Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book 12, verse 710</ref> It’s perfectly possible to defend the presence of asparagus in early September. After all, the poet didn’t specify that it was fresh asparagus. And the art of pickling the vegetable had been known in Poland for ages. Here’s a recipë for vinegar-cured asparagus from a 17th-century herbal written by a Polish Renaissance botanist, Prof. Simon Syrenius (Szymon Syreński):
{{ Cytat
}}, own translation }}
Very well, but how do you combine these pickles with chicken and crayfish into one dish? Let’s consult ''The Lithuanian Cook'' once again. We can find there a recipë for "``chicken with mayonnaise", elegantly garnished with, that’s right, asparagus and crayfish (and cauliflower to boot).
[[File:Chłodnik, raki i szparagi.jpg|thumb|upright|Vodka, cold borscht, crayfish and pickled asparagus]]
}}
And, from the same book, a recipë for "``stewed cucumbers to be served with mutton":
{{ Cytat
| źródło = Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book II, verses 430–435<br>* The Polish adjective “majowej”, here mistranslated as “May”, was actually used by Mickiewicz in the now largely forgotten sense of “vividly green”. }}
But even if cukes were no longer in season, Zawadzka assures us that "``brine-pickled cucumbers may be stewed in the same way".<ref>{{Cyt
| nazwisko = Zawadzka]
| imię = [Wincentyna
Alas, all that we know about the fourth course served at Judge Soplica’s is that it was there. The poet doesn’t tell us anything about what exactly was being eaten. Instead, we have a description of a drunken brawl which broke out during the second supper in the castle. Glasses, bottles, knives, tables, even organ pipes were all used as weapons. When the dust settled, the diners had gone, leaving behind a battlefield strewn with remnants of the feast. Perhaps from these food scraps we can read what had been served towards the end of the meal?
[[File:Podniosłszy w górę ławę ramiony silnemi.jpg|thumb|Gervase (Gerwazy) tilting the table with "``his strong arms",<ref>Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book V, verse 727</ref> offering a better view of what was served for the fourth course]]
{{ Cytat
| <poem>No loss there of life human, but benches and chairs
}}
As with many minor characters in ''Pan Tadeusz'', her name is telling; "``''Kokosznicka z domu Jendykowiczówna''" `` could be translated as "``Mrs. Hen ''née'' Turkey". Anyway, she had a little, well-meaning, even if sometimes overzealous, helper in Sophie, who fed the poultry with expensive pearl barley.
{{ Cytat
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In other words, "``tenth water on ''kisiel''" refers to a very distant relation. The saying is still used in modern Polish, just as ''kisiel'' is still a popular dessert. It’s also a very ancient one, although originally it wasn’t sweet at all. The very word "''``kisiel"''" comes from the verb "''``kisić"''", "``to make sour". The ancient Slavic ''kisiel'' was a mouth-puckering white jelly made from a fermented mixture of water and oat or rye meal. A similar concoction is still used in Poland as the basis for ''żurek'', or white borscht, one of the most popular Polish soups. It was made just as Mickiewicz described it: by pouring water on oatmeal and leaving the starchy solution to ferment until it becomes sour and gelatinous enough to be cut with a knife. For ancient Slavs, this was one of the principal staples. A mythical land of plenty is described in Russian fairy tales as rivers of milk between banks of ''kisiel''. ''The Tale of Bygone Years'', a 12th-century chronicle of Kyivan Ruthenia (or Kievan Rus’), even tells a story of how ''kisiel'' saved the city of Belgorod from an invasion by the nomadic Pechenegs. During the siege, a respected old Belgorodian man advised his compatriots to dig a deep well, fill it with water and oat starch, and wait until it went sour. Then they invited Pecheneg envoys into the city to show them the well, let them try the ''kisiel'' and convince them that they were getting their food straight from the ground, so any further siege made no sense and it would be best for the Pechenegs to go back to the steppe and leave Belgorod alone.<ref>{{Cyt
| tytuł = Древняя Русь в IX–XI веках: контексты летописных текстов
| nazwisko r = Елена Токарева
}}</ref>
Łukasz Gołębiowski, one of the first Polish ethnographers, said that "``the Poles had been always partial to tart dishes, which are somewhat peculiar to their homeland and vital to their health",<ref>{{Cyt
| nazwisko = Gołębiowski
| imię = Łukasz
}}
And finally, just to make the dessert a tad more diverse and make use of some other autumn fruits, let’s add one more recipë from the same source, this one for pear compote. In modern Polish, "``''kompot''" `` refers to a popular watery drink made from fruits boiled with sugar. In the 19th century, though, the meaning was closer to the French original, that is, a thick and very sweet fruit syrup. In fact, you could simply buy a tin of pears in syrup, pour them into bowls, add some spices and the effect would be almost the same.