Epic Cooking: The Perfect Cook: Difference between revisions

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Let’s start by saying a few words about the Tribune, one of the more colourful characters in ''Pan Tadeusz''. We don’t know his first name, but we do know that his surname was Hreczecha.{{czyt|Hreczecha}} “Tribune” (Polish ''“wojski”'', Latin ''“tribunus”'') was a medieval title, originally used by officials who took care of knights’ wives and children while their husbands were away at war; in Hreczecha’s case, it was an unofficial honorific awarded by the local gentry out of respect for the old man. He was a middle-income nobleman, also known as a ''grykosiej'', or “buckwheat-sower” (in fact, Hreczecha’s own surname comes from ''“hrechka”'', the Belarusian word for buckwheat). Even though he had his own estate (he could afford to give his younger daughter, Tekla, a village in dowry), he preferred to live, along with Tekla, in the household of Judge Soplica, his more affluent friend, distant relative and might-have-been son-in-law (the Judge, in his youth, had been engaged to Marta, the Tribune’s elder daughter, but she died before the wedding could take place and he would never marry anyone else). In Soplicowo, the Tribune had the role of a kind of seneschal, managing the Judge’s domestic servants.

The Tribune spent much of his life at political gatherings of the local gentry where he mastered the ancient Lithuanian art of knife throwing. But it was in the realm of hunting that the Tribune was considered a real expert. He had learned this skill as a young man serving at the court of Tadeusz Rejtan, a Polish national hero. The Tribune, however, remembered him primarily not as a model patriot, but as a master hunter. As for his choice of game, he would always go for one of two extremes: on the one hand he believed that only large animals with horns, claws or fangs were worthy of being hunted by a nobleman. In his view, chasing hares was a good sport for youngsters and servants. “Hreczecha is my name – was his saying – since King Lech, it’s no habit of a single Hreczecha to follow a rabbit.”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book I, verses 816–817</ref> On the other hand, he was spending a lot of time hunting flies. He would always carry a flyswatter around and, when mushroom picking (a popular Polish pastime, then and now), [[Epic Cooking: The Decorous Rite of the Mushroom Hunt#Mushroom War|he would forage for fly agarics]], a species of fungus used for killing the pesky insects.

The Tribune spent much of his life at political gatherings of the local gentry where he mastered the ancient Lithuanian art of knife throwing. But it was in the realm of hunting that the Tribune was considered a real expert. He had learned this skill as a young man serving at the court of Tadeusz Rejtan, a Polish national hero. The Tribune, however, remembered him primarily not as a model patriot, but as a master hunter. As for his choice of game, he would always go for one of two extremes: on the one hand he believed that only large animals with horns, claws or fangs were worthy of being hunted by a nobleman. In his view, chasing hares was a good sport for youngsters and servants. “Hreczecha is my name – was his saying – since King Lech, it’s no habit of a single Hreczecha to follow a rabbit.”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book I, verses 816–817</ref> On the other hand, he was spending a lot of time hunting flies. He would always carry a flyswatter around and, when mushroom picking (a popular Polish pastime, both then and now), [[Epic Cooking: The Decorous Rite of the Mushroom Hunt#Mushroom War|he would forage for fly agarics]], a species of fungus used for killing the pesky insects.

The Tribune was also a big talker. He could talk for hours on end about astrology, flies’ mating habits, local assemblies and, most of all, about hunting. The poem is interspersed with the Tribune’s chatter – often in episodes, as he keeps getting interrupted. He manages to finish only some of his stories by the end of the epic, but there’s also one whose ending the poet had to recount in a footnote. Silence made the Tribune feel tired, so whenever he couldn’t find anyone to converse with, he would run off to the noisy kitchen.

Line 90:

| inni r = English translation by Thomas Hobbes

| rozdział = Iliads

| adres rozdziału = https://~~en.wikisource~~.org/~~wiki~~/~~Homer%27s_Iliads_in_English#LIB._II.~~

| adres rozdziału = https://archive.org/details/englishworksofth029318mbp/page/12/mode/2up

| wydawca = Longman, Brown, Green, and Longman

| miejsce = London

| rok = ~~1839–1845~~

| rok = 1844

| tom = X }}

| tom = X

| strony = 13 }}

| oryg = <poem>Inni spali, bogowie i ziemscy rycerze;

Oczu tylko Jowisza sen słodki nie bierze:

Line 109:

Line 110:

| tom = I

| strony = 135 }}

| jęz = Polish

| oryg2 = <poem>Ἄλλοι μέν ῥα θεοί τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἱπποκορυσταὶ

εὗδον παννύχιοι, Δία δ᾽ οὐκ ἔχε νήδυμος ὕπνος,

ἀλλ᾽ ὅ γε μερμήριζε κατὰ φρένα ὡς Ἀχιλῆα

τιμήσῃ, ὀλέσῃ δὲ πολέας ἐπὶ νηυσὶν Ἀχαιῶν.</poem>

| źródło-oryg2 = Homer, ''[https://el.wikisource.org/wiki/%CE%99%CE%BB%CE%B9%CE%AC%CF%82/%CE%92 Ἰλιάς, Ῥαψωδία Β]''

| jęz2 = Greek

}}

The rhyme is the same, but here we’ve got the god of all gods making plans for the Troyan War, while there we have a simple nobleman making plans for ~~a ~~dinner. Mind you, it’s not the only such parallel; in fact, much of ''Pan Tadeusz'' is a parody of an 18th-century Polish translation of the ''Iliad''. Interestingly, Mickiewicz is most likely to paraphrase Homer when he’s writing about the Tribune. This is no coincidence; for every time the Tribune gets busy in the kitchen, we’re in for some epic cooking!

The rhyme is the same, but here we’ve got the god of all gods making plans for the Troyan War, while there we have a simple nobleman making plans for dinner. Mind you, it’s not the only such parallel; in fact, much of ''Pan Tadeusz'' is a parody of an 18th-century Polish translation of the ''Iliad''. Interestingly, Mickiewicz is most likely to paraphrase Homer when he’s writing about the Tribune. This is no coincidence; for every time the Tribune gets busy in the kitchen, we’re in for some epic cooking!

== “A Dear Souvenir of Righteous Customs” ==

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}}

In a footnote, Mickiewicz adds that it’s “now a very rare book, published over a hundred years ago by Stanisław Czerniecki.”{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}<ref name=obj>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Poet’s explanatory notes, own translation</ref> And this is where it gets tricky. A Polish cookbook entitled ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Excellent Cook'' or ''The Perfect Cook'', depending on how you translate it) did exist, but it was first published only in 1783, which was less than half a century rather than “over a hundred years” before ''Pan Tadeusz''. What’s more, it wasn’t written by Stanisław Czerniecki. It was actually ''La cuisinière bourgeoise'' by Menon, translated into Polish and published by Wojciech Wielądko,{{czyt|Wojciech Wielądko}} a man who otherwise had little to do with catering business. All the Tribune would have found there were French culinary novelties rather than time-honoured Old Polish ~~recipës~~.

In a footnote, Mickiewicz adds that it’s “now a very rare book, published over a hundred years ago by Stanisław Czerniecki.”{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}<ref name=obj>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Poet’s explanatory notes, own translation</ref> And this is where it gets tricky. A Polish cookbook entitled ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Excellent Cook'' or ''The Perfect Cook'', depending on how you translate it) did exist, but it was first published only in 1783, which was less than half a century rather than “over a hundred years” before ''Pan Tadeusz''. What’s more, it wasn’t written by Stanisław Czerniecki. It was actually ''La cuisinière bourgeoise'' by Menon, translated into Polish and published by Wojciech Wielądko,{{czyt|Wojciech Wielądko}} a man who otherwise had little to do with catering business. All the Tribune would have found there were French culinary novelties rather than time-honoured Old Polish classics.

[[File:Compendium ferculorum.jpg|thumb|left|upright=1.15

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So what was it about Czerniecki? Well, he was indeed an experienced chef, responsible for setting up aristocratic banquets for thousands of guests and also the author of the <s>first</s><ref>Turns out, it wasn't the first after all. See: [[Even Older Polish Cookery for Complete Beginners]] (note added on 13 May 2024).</ref> cookbook printed in the Polish language. Only that this book – or, rather, a booklet, as it was small enough to fit into a pocket on one’s chest, which was where the Tribune held it – had the bilingual, Latin-Polish title: ''Compendium Ferculorum albo Zebranie potraw'' (both parts meaning ''A Collection of Dishes''). And it was – as we shall see in the next post – precisely from this book that the Tribune got the recipës for all the dishes he would serve at the great banquet in Book XII.

Besides, it wasn’t only the recipës that Mickiewicz took from the ''Compendium''. The mention of the dinner given by the “Count of Tęczyn” to Pope Urban VIII in Rome was also inspired by the same cookbook, and specifically, by the dedication its author addressed to his employer, Princess Helena Tekla Lubomirska. Princess Lubomirska, the wife of Prince Aleksander Michał Lubomirski, took active part in Polish political life; she was also a great patroness of arts. Wacław Potocki and Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, whom I have quoted in some of my previous posts, dedicated their poems to her, while Czerniecki did the same with his cookbook. In the dedication, he recalled the time when, in 1633, her father, Prince Jerzy Ossoliński, Grand Chancellor of the Crown (roughly equivalent to a prime minister), was sent by the king of Poland as an envoy to the Holy See. At the time, the Polish Commonwealth was at the peak of its might and glory, a fact Ossoliński was not going to let anyone fail to notice. His retinue included the famed winged hussars, crimson-and~~-gold-upholstered carriages~~, ten camels carrying opulent presents for the pope, while the prince’s mount was dressed in diamonds, pearls and rubies, and deliberately shod with loose golden horseshoes – so that the horse could lose them along the way for everyone to see. The banquet which Ossoliński gave to the pope was without a doubt no less osstentatious. This is how Czerniecki described it:

Besides, it wasn’t only the recipës that Mickiewicz took from the ''Compendium''. The mention of the dinner given by the “Count of Tęczyn” to Pope Urban VIII in Rome was also inspired by the same cookbook, and specifically, by the dedication its author addressed to his employer, Princess Helena Tekla Lubomirska. Princess Lubomirska, the wife of Prince Aleksander Michał Lubomirski, took active part in Polish political life; she was also a great patroness of arts. Wacław Potocki and Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, whom I have quoted in some of my previous posts, dedicated their poems to her, while Czerniecki did the same with his cookbook. In the dedication, he recalled the time when, in 1633, her father, Prince Jerzy Ossoliński, Grand Chancellor of the Crown (roughly equivalent to a prime minister), was sent by the king of Poland as an envoy to the Holy See. At the time, the Polish Commonwealth was at the peak of its might and glory, a fact Ossoliński was not going to let anyone fail to notice. His retinue included the famed winged hussars, carriages upholstered in crimson and goldwork, ten camels carrying opulent presents for the pope, while the prince’s mount was dressed in diamonds, pearls and rubies, and deliberately shod with loose golden horseshoes – so that the horse could lose them along the way for everyone to see. The banquet which Ossoliński gave to the pope was without a doubt no less osstentatious. This is how Czerniecki described it:

{{ Cytat

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|''“The volume was entitled: ''The Excellent Cook'', every known Polish dish was writ down in this book…”''<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 117–118</ref><br>{{small|Title page of ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Perfect Cook'') by Wojciech Wielądko}}]]

~~Distinguished Mickiewiczologist,~~ Prof. Stanisław Pigoń, once suggested a rather convincing solution to this puzzle: the book that Mickiewicz loved to read when pining for Polish cuisine and dreaming of having an actual Old Polish banquet was indeed ''Compendium ferculorum'', but it was old and tattered, and missing its title page. So Mickiewicz knew very well the contents of the work and the dedication, as well as the author’s name, but he was ignorant of the book’s title. On the other hand, he probably never read ''The Perfect Cook'', but he might have heard about it; the title could have stuck in his head and he may have later associated it with the mysterious treasure-trove of Old Polish recipës that had somehow found its way into his hands.

Prof. Stanisław Pigoń, a distinguished Mickiewiczologist, once suggested a rather convincing solution to this puzzle: the book that Mickiewicz loved to read when pining for Polish cuisine and dreaming of having an actual Old Polish banquet was indeed ''Compendium ferculorum'', but it was old and tattered, and missing its title page. So Mickiewicz knew very well the contents of the work and the dedication, as well as the author’s name, but he was ignorant of the book’s title. On the other hand, he probably never read ''The Perfect Cook'', but he might have heard about it; the title could have stuck in his head and he may have later associated it with the mysterious treasure-trove of Old Polish recipës that had somehow found its way into his hands.

And how ''did'' it find its way into his hands? Well, it seems that Mickiewicz intended to tell us that through the Tribune’s mouth. The Tribune thought his cookbook so precious that he considered it a worthy gift for Gen. Dąbrowski. While presenting the book to the general, he was also going to recount the itinerary the book had travelled until it wandered into Soplicowo.

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}}

So what came out of this marriage of plenty and art? That we shall see in the ~~next~~ post.

So what came out of this marriage of plenty and art? That we shall see in the [[Epic Cooking: The Last Old Polish Feast|following post]].

@@ Line 18: / Line 18: @@
 Let’s start by saying a&nbsp;few words about the Tribune, one of the more colourful characters in ''Pan Tadeusz''. We don’t know his first name, but we do know that his surname was Hreczecha.{{czyt|Hreczecha}} “Tribune” (Polish ''“wojski”'', Latin ''“tribunus”'') was a&nbsp;medieval title, originally used by officials who took care of knights’ wives and children while their husbands were away at war; in Hreczecha’s case, it was an unofficial honorific awarded by the local gentry out of respect for the old man. He was a&nbsp;middle-income nobleman, also known as a&nbsp;''grykosiej'', or “buckwheat-sower” (in fact, Hreczecha’s own surname comes from ''“hrechka”'', the Belarusian word for buckwheat). Even though he had his own estate (he could afford to give his younger daughter, Tekla, a&nbsp;village in dowry), he preferred to live, along with Tekla, in the household of Judge Soplica, his more affluent friend, distant relative and might-have-been son-in-law (the Judge, in his youth, had been engaged to Marta, the Tribune’s elder daughter, but she died before the wedding could take place and he would never marry anyone else). In Soplicowo, the Tribune had the role of a&nbsp;kind of seneschal, managing the Judge’s domestic servants.
-The Tribune spent much of his life at political gatherings of the local gentry where he mastered the ancient Lithuanian art of knife throwing. But it was in the realm of hunting that the Tribune was considered a&nbsp;real expert. He had learned this skill as a&nbsp;young man serving at the court of Tadeusz Rejtan, a&nbsp;Polish national hero. The Tribune, however, remembered him primarily not as a&nbsp;model patriot, but as a&nbsp;master hunter. As for his choice of game, he would always go for one of two extremes: on the one hand he believed that only large animals with horns, claws or fangs were worthy of being hunted by a&nbsp;nobleman. In his view, chasing hares was a&nbsp;good sport for youngsters and servants. “Hreczecha is my name – was his saying – since King Lech, it’s no habit of a&nbsp;single Hreczecha to follow a&nbsp;rabbit.”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book I, verses 816–817</ref> On the other hand, he was spending a&nbsp;lot of time hunting flies. He would always carry a&nbsp;flyswatter around and, when mushroom picking (a&nbsp;popular Polish pastime, then and now), [[Epic Cooking: The Decorous Rite of the Mushroom Hunt#Mushroom War|he would forage for fly agarics]], a&nbsp;species of fungus used for killing the pesky insects.
+The Tribune spent much of his life at political gatherings of the local gentry where he mastered the ancient Lithuanian art of knife throwing. But it was in the realm of hunting that the Tribune was considered a&nbsp;real expert. He had learned this skill as a&nbsp;young man serving at the court of Tadeusz Rejtan, a&nbsp;Polish national hero. The Tribune, however, remembered him primarily not as a&nbsp;model patriot, but as a&nbsp;master hunter. As for his choice of game, he would always go for one of two extremes: on the one hand he believed that only large animals with horns, claws or fangs were worthy of being hunted by a&nbsp;nobleman. In his view, chasing hares was a&nbsp;good sport for youngsters and servants. “Hreczecha is my name – was his saying – since King Lech, it’s no habit of a&nbsp;single Hreczecha to follow a&nbsp;rabbit.”<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book I, verses 816–817</ref> On the other hand, he was spending a&nbsp;lot of time hunting flies. He would always carry a&nbsp;flyswatter around and, when mushroom picking (a&nbsp;popular Polish pastime, both then and now), [[Epic Cooking: The Decorous Rite of the Mushroom Hunt#Mushroom War|he would forage for fly agarics]], a&nbsp;species of fungus used for killing the pesky insects.
 The Tribune was also a&nbsp;big talker. He could talk for hours on end about astrology, flies’ mating habits, local assemblies and, most of all, about hunting. The poem is interspersed with the Tribune’s chatter – often in episodes, as he keeps getting interrupted. He manages to finish only some of his stories by the end of the epic, but there’s also one whose ending the poet had to recount in a&nbsp;footnote. Silence made the Tribune feel tired, so whenever he couldn’t find anyone to converse with, he would run off to the noisy kitchen.
@@ Line 90: / Line 90: @@
    | inni r          = English translation by Thomas Hobbes
    | rozdział        = Iliads
-   | adres rozdziału = https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Homer%27s_Iliads_in_English#LIB._II.
+   | adres rozdziału = https://archive.org/details/englishworksofth029318mbp/page/12/mode/2up
   | wydawca  = Longman, Brown, Green, and Longman
   | miejsce  = London
-  | rok      = 1839–1845
+  | rok      = 1844
-  | tom      = X }}
+  | tom      = X
+ | strony   = 13 }}
 | oryg = <poem>Inni spali, bogowie i&nbsp;ziemscy rycerze;
 Oczu tylko Jowisza sen słodki nie bierze:
@@ Line 109: / Line 110: @@
   | tom      = I
   | strony   = 135 }}
+| jęz = Polish
+| oryg2 = <poem>Ἄλλοι μέν ῥα θεοί τε καὶ ἀνέρες ἱπποκορυσταὶ
+εὗδον παννύχιοι, Δία δ᾽ οὐκ ἔχε νήδυμος ὕπνος,
+ἀλλ᾽ ὅ γε μερμήριζε κατὰ φρένα ὡς Ἀχιλῆα
+τιμήσῃ, ὀλέσῃ δὲ πολέας ἐπὶ νηυσὶν Ἀχαιῶν.</poem>
+| źródło-oryg2 = Homer, ''[https://el.wikisource.org/wiki/%CE%99%CE%BB%CE%B9%CE%AC%CF%82/%CE%92 Ἰλιάς, Ῥαψωδία Β]''
+| jęz2 = Greek
 }}
-The rhyme is the same, but here we’ve got the god of all gods making plans for the Troyan War, while there we have a&nbsp;simple nobleman making plans for a&nbsp;dinner. Mind you, it’s not the only such parallel; in fact, much of  ''Pan Tadeusz'' is a&nbsp;parody of an 18th-century Polish translation of the ''Iliad''. Interestingly, Mickiewicz is most likely to paraphrase Homer when he’s writing about the Tribune. This is no coincidence; for every time the Tribune gets busy in the kitchen, we’re in for some epic cooking!
+The rhyme is the same, but here we’ve got the god of all gods making plans for the Troyan War, while there we have a&nbsp;simple nobleman making plans for dinner. Mind you, it’s not the only such parallel; in fact, much of  ''Pan Tadeusz'' is a&nbsp;parody of an 18th-century Polish translation of the ''Iliad''. Interestingly, Mickiewicz is most likely to paraphrase Homer when he’s writing about the Tribune. This is no coincidence; for every time the Tribune gets busy in the kitchen, we’re in for some epic cooking!
 == “A Dear Souvenir of Righteous Customs” ==
@@ Line 142: / Line 150: @@
 }}
-In a&nbsp;footnote, Mickiewicz adds that it’s “now a&nbsp;very rare book, published over a&nbsp;hundred years ago by Stanisław Czerniecki.”{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}<ref name=obj>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Poet’s explanatory notes, own translation</ref> And this is where it gets tricky. A&nbsp;Polish cookbook entitled ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Excellent Cook'' or ''The Perfect Cook'', depending on how you translate it) did exist, but it was first published only in 1783, which was less than half a&nbsp;century rather than “over a&nbsp;hundred years” before ''Pan Tadeusz''. What’s more, it wasn’t written by Stanisław Czerniecki. It was actually ''La cuisinière bourgeoise'' by Menon, translated into Polish and published by Wojciech Wielądko,{{czyt|Wojciech Wielądko}} a&nbsp;man who otherwise had little to do with catering business. All the Tribune would have found there were French culinary novelties rather than time-honoured Old Polish recipës.
+In a&nbsp;footnote, Mickiewicz adds that it’s “now a&nbsp;very rare book, published over a&nbsp;hundred years ago by Stanisław Czerniecki.”{{czyt|Stanisław Czerniecki}}<ref name=obj>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Poet’s explanatory notes, own translation</ref> And this is where it gets tricky. A&nbsp;Polish cookbook entitled ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Excellent Cook'' or ''The Perfect Cook'', depending on how you translate it) did exist, but it was first published only in 1783, which was less than half a&nbsp;century rather than “over a&nbsp;hundred years” before ''Pan Tadeusz''. What’s more, it wasn’t written by Stanisław Czerniecki. It was actually ''La cuisinière bourgeoise'' by Menon, translated into Polish and published by Wojciech Wielądko,{{czyt|Wojciech Wielądko}} a&nbsp;man who otherwise had little to do with catering business. All the Tribune would have found there were French culinary novelties rather than time-honoured Old Polish classics.
 [[File:Compendium ferculorum.jpg|thumb|left|upright=1.15
@@ Line 149: / Line 157: @@
 So what was it about Czerniecki? Well, he was indeed an experienced chef, responsible for setting up aristocratic banquets for thousands of guests and also the author of the <s>first</s><ref>Turns out, it wasn't the first after all. See: [[Even Older Polish Cookery for Complete Beginners]] (note added on 13 May 2024).</ref> cookbook printed in the Polish language. Only that this book – or, rather, a&nbsp;booklet, as it was small enough to fit into a&nbsp;pocket on one’s chest, which was where the Tribune held it – had the bilingual, Latin-Polish title: ''Compendium Ferculorum albo Zebranie potraw'' (both parts meaning ''A Collection of Dishes''). And it was – as we shall see in the next post – precisely from this book that the Tribune got the recipës for all the dishes he would serve at the great banquet in Book XII.
-Besides, it wasn’t only the recipës that Mickiewicz took from the ''Compendium''. The mention of the dinner given by the “Count of Tęczyn” to Pope Urban VIII in Rome was also inspired by the same cookbook, and specifically, by the dedication its author addressed to his employer, Princess Helena Tekla Lubomirska. Princess Lubomirska, the wife of Prince Aleksander Michał Lubomirski, took active part in Polish political life; she was also a&nbsp;great patroness of arts. Wacław Potocki and Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, whom I have quoted in some of my previous posts, dedicated their poems to her, while Czerniecki did the same with his cookbook. In the dedication, he recalled the time when, in 1633, her father, Prince Jerzy Ossoliński, Grand Chancellor of the Crown (roughly equivalent to a&nbsp;prime minister), was sent by the king of Poland as an envoy to the Holy See. At the time, the Polish Commonwealth was at the peak of its might and glory, a&nbsp;fact Ossoliński was not going to let anyone fail to notice. His retinue included the famed winged hussars, crimson-and-gold-upholstered carriages, ten camels carrying opulent presents for the pope, while the prince’s mount was dressed in diamonds, pearls and rubies, and deliberately shod with loose golden horseshoes – so that the horse could lose them along the way for everyone to see. The banquet which Ossoliński gave to the pope was without a&nbsp;doubt no less osstentatious. This is how Czerniecki described it:
+Besides, it wasn’t only the recipës that Mickiewicz took from the ''Compendium''. The mention of the dinner given by the “Count of Tęczyn” to Pope Urban VIII in Rome was also inspired by the same cookbook, and specifically, by the dedication its author addressed to his employer, Princess Helena Tekla Lubomirska. Princess Lubomirska, the wife of Prince Aleksander Michał Lubomirski, took active part in Polish political life; she was also a&nbsp;great patroness of arts. Wacław Potocki and Jan Andrzej Morsztyn, whom I have quoted in some of my previous posts, dedicated their poems to her, while Czerniecki did the same with his cookbook. In the dedication, he recalled the time when, in 1633, her father, Prince Jerzy Ossoliński, Grand Chancellor of the Crown (roughly equivalent to a&nbsp;prime minister), was sent by the king of Poland as an envoy to the Holy See. At the time, the Polish Commonwealth was at the peak of its might and glory, a&nbsp;fact Ossoliński was not going to let anyone fail to notice. His retinue included the famed winged hussars, carriages upholstered in crimson and goldwork, ten camels carrying opulent presents for the pope, while the prince’s mount was dressed in diamonds, pearls and rubies, and deliberately shod with loose golden horseshoes – so that the horse could lose them along the way for everyone to see. The banquet which Ossoliński gave to the pope was without a&nbsp;doubt no less osstentatious. This is how Czerniecki described it:
 {{ Cytat
@@ Line 188: / Line 196: @@
 |''“The volume was entitled: ''The Excellent Cook'', every known Polish dish was writ down in this book…”''<ref>A. Mickiewicz, ''op. cit.'', Book XI, verses 117–118</ref><br>{{small|Title page of ''Kucharz doskonały'' (''The Perfect Cook'') by Wojciech Wielądko}}]]
-Distinguished Mickiewiczologist, Prof. Stanisław Pigoń, once suggested a&nbsp;rather convincing solution to this puzzle: the book that Mickiewicz loved to read when pining for Polish cuisine and dreaming of having an actual Old Polish banquet was indeed ''Compendium ferculorum'', but it was old and tattered, and missing its title page. So Mickiewicz knew very well the contents of the work and the dedication, as well as the author’s name, but he was ignorant of the book’s title. On the other hand, he probably never read ''The Perfect Cook'', but he might have heard about it; the title could have stuck in his head and he may have later associated it with the mysterious treasure-trove of Old Polish recipës that had somehow found its way into his hands.
+Prof. Stanisław Pigoń, a distinguished Mickiewiczologist, once suggested a&nbsp;rather convincing solution to this puzzle: the book that Mickiewicz loved to read when pining for Polish cuisine and dreaming of having an actual Old Polish banquet was indeed ''Compendium ferculorum'', but it was old and tattered, and missing its title page. So Mickiewicz knew very well the contents of the work and the dedication, as well as the author’s name, but he was ignorant of the book’s title. On the other hand, he probably never read ''The Perfect Cook'', but he might have heard about it; the title could have stuck in his head and he may have later associated it with the mysterious treasure-trove of Old Polish recipës that had somehow found its way into his hands.
 And how ''did'' it find its way into his hands? Well, it seems that Mickiewicz intended to tell us that through the Tribune’s mouth. The Tribune thought his cookbook so precious that he considered it a&nbsp;worthy gift for Gen. Dąbrowski. While presenting the book to the general, he was also going to recount the itinerary the book had travelled until it wandered into Soplicowo.
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-So what came out of this marriage of plenty and art? That we shall see in the next post.
+So what came out of this marriage of plenty and art? That we shall see in the [[Epic Cooking: The Last Old Polish Feast|following post]].
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