Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Medieval Bochet Mead Honey Liqueur Recipe Making Cooking 1
Medieval Bochet Mead Honey Liqueur Recipe Making Cooking 1
Get Tickets
Stand back when caramelizing honey or face the wrath of an erupting sugar volcano. G E M M A TA R L AC H F O R G A ST RO O B S C U R A
I
t starts with a cauldron, an open flame, and a good measure of raw honey. Then
—double, double, toil and trouble—stir constantly until the honey spits black
steam at you. Add water and stand back as it erupts, volcano-like. Throw in
some yeast and spices and, after it ages a bit, behold: bochet, a mysterious and lost
style of mead.
My path to recreate this ancient and mysterious beverage would take me on a deep
dive into the nitty-gritty of medieval yeast strains, and turn my tiny kitchen into a
mad scientist’s lab. It would have me digging through scant archival records about
obscure systems of measurement in 14th century France. This experiment would
require my biggest stockpot—and nerves of steel.
In This Story
D E ST I N AT I O N G U I D E
France
“It truly is a lost style. It’s not a historical style that has survived into the modern
era,” says Heit. “It’s literally something that disappeared.”
AT L A S O B S C U R A T R I P S
The recipe called for water and honey, plus “brewer’s yeast” and an assortment of
spices, including ginger and cloves. That’s standard fare for medieval mead, as were
the steps describing fermentation. But the very first few steps were unique: “Put it
in a cauldron on the fire to boil” and stir until the honey blisters and bursts, “giving
off a little blackish steam.” Unlike any other mead, which is based on raw or gently
warmed honey, bochet requires the honey to be caramelized.
A preserved recipe for an extinct beverage is a rarity, and its unique method
tantalized historic reenactors and homebrewers alike, including myself. While I’ve
made small-batch meads in the past, they have all been based on modern ratios,
and none involved a cauldron. Commercial meadmakers have been particularly
intrigued by the idea of caramelization: The process offers new possibilities,
unlocking “all those roasty, toasty, nutty flavors,” says Jen Otis of KVLT Mead in
Tacoma.
For some homebrewers, the danger of recreating bochet may be the very thing that
attracts them to it. “People who like rollercoasters and jumping off cliffs like
bochet,” says Verberg with a laugh. “You can make a sugar volcano that will
explode, violently.”
To recreate bochet—at least the version detailed in Le Ménagier, the only full recipe
to survive—I started at the source. Most modern interpretations call for a ratio of
3–4 pounds of honey per gallon of water. Le Ménagier calls for one quart of honey
(about 3 pounds) per septier, an antiquated measurement that varied from one
region to the next. Digging through the scant historical records available online, I
found that, in Paris, a septier equaled about four gallons. Modern versions use four
times the honey, or more, as the 1393 version.
“The Beekeepers” by Pieter Bruegel, 1565, shows cone-shaped skeps, made of coiled hay or dried grass, used to house honey
bees. Beekeepers often crushed the entire skep, bees and all, to harvest the honey. T H E P R I N T CO L L E C TO R /G E T T Y I M AG E S
Then there’s the honey itself. “Honey as diverse as what they had access to then,
when monoculture was not a thing, was very different,” says Verberg. Harvesting
techniques have also changed: Today, commercial beekeepers and most hobbyists
use extractors that pull honey out of the wax comb through centrifugal force. Back
in medieval times, says Verberg, “They weren’t extracting the honey, they were
crushing it.” In addition to bits of wax, the medieval meadmakers also had pollen
and the occasional squished bee in their raw material—components missing from
modern honey that would have added more flavor. For example, propolis, a sticky,
antibacterial compound that bees produce for colony health, has a zingy taste, and
beeswax itself can impart a fuller mouthfeel. “I found that that contamination is
really good, and we’re really missing it,” says Verberg, a beekeeper who has made
traditional meads.
As a beekeeper, I have access to raw honey produced from a wide range of flowers.
Instead of using honey I’d extracted and strained the modern way, however, I
crushed some comb taken from a colony that had unfortunately not survived
winter—the bees’ lasting legacy would be to provide honey close to what was
available in the 14th century, including the occasional stray leg or wing.
To avoid the chlorine, fluoride, and other additives found in modern tap water, I
opted for distilled water. The spices called for in the Le Ménagier recipe include
supermarket staples such as ginger and cloves, but also long pepper and grains of
supermarket staples such as ginger and cloves, but also long pepper and grains of
paradise. I used a pepper blend that included grains of paradise and added some
cardamom, which, combined with black pepper, is often cited as a long pepper
substitute.
The toughest thing to recreate from 1393 is the yeast, which, next to the
caramelization of the honey, would have had the most impact on a bochet’s taste.
Unlike medieval yeasts, which were not cultured in clean labs, modern commercial
yeasts are typically single strains bred for reliability and characteristics specific to
their use: A commercial wine yeast will perform very differently, and create
different flavors, than bread yeast. While most modern bochet recipes use a wine or
champagne-style yeast, Le Ménagier called for beer (or, in a pinch, bread) yeast.
Heit, Verberg, and others who’ve dabbled in historic bochet suggested trying
everything from English-style ale yeast to Norwegian Kveik, now commercially
available after being used by farmhouse brewers “for over a thousand years,” says
Heit. “It’s not the yeast historical to the France area, but it might be closer to what
they had.”
The array of commercial yeasts I used. Not shown: wild yeast coaxed to participate in the experiment. G E M M A TA R L AC H F O R
G A ST RO O B S C U R A
I also added a few organic raisins, which would help the yeast get started. The
concept is the same as adding a lab-derived yeast nutrient powder, called for in
many modern bochet recipes; the difference here is that medieval meadmakers
would have had access to raisins or other dried fruit.
With a big enough pot, caramelization was a safe and stress-free process—though,
full disclosure, I’ve worked as a pastry chef and this was not my first time to the
sugar volcano rodeo. Once measured into their glass jars, each batch bubbled away
happily for a month before being strained and moved into new, clean containers for
the duration of fermentation.
My mad experiment. G E M M A TA R L AC H F O R G A ST RO O B S C U R A
“You have to do a decent amount of conjecture as you try to get close to what they
did,” says Jereme Zimmerman, author of Make Mead Like a Viking. “In some cases,
you really try to recreate what they did historically, and it doesn’t come out that
great.”
The experiment was not a disappointment. Unlike many beers, meads are generally
meant to be aged, and most don’t reach their potential for a year. So I’ll bottle
these batches when they stop bubbling, and set them aside to see what develops.
All of them taste of caramel, honey, and history.
Bochet
Adapted from Le Ménagier de Paris, 1393
Yields 1 gallon
Ingredients
1 pint (24 ounces by weight) good quality, raw honey, preferably local and multi-source,
such as wildflower honey
1 gallon plus 1 pint water, distilled or spring (do not use tap water)
4 grams (about 1 rounded teaspoon) of commercial wine, beer, or bread dry yeast, either
single-strain or a combination per preference (do not use rapid-rise bread yeast)
1 ounce (28 grams or about 3 tablespoons) organic raisins, chopped
6 grams (about one tablespoon) fresh ginger, skin on, chopped
4 cloves, whole
20 green cardamom pods, lightly crushed
8 grams (about one tablespoon) whole black peppercorns, or peppercorn blend (preferably
including grains of paradise), lightly crushed
Step 1
The first step toward making bochet is the most important and potentially most
dangerous: Caramelize the honey. Boiling honey, or any sugar, can be messy and, if
done improperly, can cause severe burns (unlike water, boiling sugar adheres to the
skin). Choose a tall pot at least three times larger than the volume of the honey.
Place the pot on stove and add one gallon of the water. Make a mental note of the
waterline on the pot for later reference (if using a pot that has quarts and gallons
marked on the side, skip this step). Pour the water out into another container but
keep it within easy reach. Wipe the pot dry.
Turn the burner on medium-high heat and add the honey to the pot. Monitor the
honey closely; when it starts to bubble, begin stirring it gently with a long-handled
stainless steel or wood spoon, making sure that the spoon touches the bottom of
the pot. Avoid sloshing or splattering honey up the sides of the pot, where it can
burn. The edges of the honey will begin to darken when caramelization starts; the
bubbling will then slow and the honey will take on a foamy appearance. The
bubbles will start to pop and emit steam; to avoid scalding your eyeballs, do not
lean over pot. If the honey begins to swell, lower the heat but do not stop stirring.
As the honey continues to darken, you can test its color by letting a drop of it fall
from the spoon onto a plate, where it will quickly harden. Do not stick your finger
from the spoon onto a plate, where it will quickly harden. Do not stick your finger
in the boiling honey. Do not touch the drop of honey, which will remain hot for
several minutes.
When the honey is a deep mahogany color (after 20–30 minutes, depending on the
type of pot and burner setting), turn off the burner. Do not lean over the pot.
Slowly pour in about two cups of the water while continuing to stir. The
caramelized honey will swell dramatically and sputter intensely for a few seconds,
shooting up a lot of steam. If you have chosen your pot wisely and are not leaning
over it, you’ll be fine.
Continue stirring and gradually add the remaining water. Bring to a boil and reduce
to the level noted earlier (or to the gallon mark on the inside of the pot). Turn off
the burner and remove the pot from the heat. Let it cool to room temperature,
which may take a few hours or even overnight. Do not refrigerate, since
fermentation will only occur at or slightly above room temperature.
Step 2
While the caramelized honey syrup is cooling to room temperature, wash and
sanitize the fermentation vessel and lid. To make a gallon batch of bochet without
investing in specialized homebrewing equipment, use a wide-mouth gallon glass jar
and a silicon fermentation lid. Be sure the jar and lid are dry before proceeding.
Prep the spice sachet by adding the spices to a square of cheesecloth, folding up the
sides and tying it with kitchen twine to make a little bag.
Add about ¼ cup of distilled or spring water to your vessel. The water should be
between room and body temperature, neither cool nor hot. Add the chopped
raisins. Sprinkle the yeast into the water and let it sit for a few minutes until the
yeast dissolves and the water looks cloudy.
Pour in the caramelized honey; you may strain it through cheesecloth if you wish
but this is optional. Leave about an inch of space at the top of the jar. Place the
spice sachet in the jar and then cover with the fermentation lid and outer ring. You
want an airtight fit so that undesirable microbes can’t get in. Swirl gently and place
it out of direct sunlight but somewhere you can keep an eye on it. Do not place the
jar near a heat source. After an hour or two, you should start to see lots of tiny
bubbles shooting up through the liquid. The top of the developing mead may foam
or get scummy-looking. Just let it be. If liquid overflows through the fermentation
lid’s one-way valve, wipe it with a clean cloth but do not open the jar. After two
days, open the jar briefly just to remove the spice sachet, which you can toss or
reuse if making another batch at the time.
After two to four weeks, you will notice the bubbles slow. Wash, sanitize, and dry
another gallon jar and place a funnel with a double layer of cheesecloth in its
mouth. Remove the fermentation lid and gently pour the liquid into its new home.
Discard the semi-solid material in the original container. The liquid should appear
clearer once transferred. Close the new container with the fermentation lid and
store in a dark, cool place for at least a month, preferably three or more. You can
transfer the liquid to a new vessel monthly for a clearer finished product, but this is
optional.
To bottle the bochet, wash and sanitize flip-top beer bottles; be sure they are dry
before using. Using a funnel and cheesecloth, gently pour the bochet into each
bottle but do not fill completely. Leave at least two inches of space. Close using
flip-top and store upright in a cold, dark place. Avoid shaking.
Excessive gas can build up in the bottle if you overfill it or bottle it before
fermentation has finished. This may cause the bottle to explode. For this reason, I
store my bottled mead and bochet in a large bin in the basement, with the bin lid
weighted down so that, if it does explode, it won’t make too much of a mess. When
opening a bottle of homemade bochet, do so outside or with the bottle in the
kitchen sink, just in case built-up pressure causes a geyser-effect.
Gastro Obscura covers the world’s most wondrous food and drink.
Sign up for our email, delivered twice a week.
READ NEXT
M E D I E VA L
Keep Exploring
WINE
The Battle to Bottle Palm Wine
It’s delicious, cherished, and difficult to commercialize. These entrepreneurs are bringing it to the United States.
R E I N A G AT T U S O
SCIENCE
How a 'Bubble Expert' Decoded the Physics of Making Mezcal
Exploring a traditional technique with high-speed cameras.
M A R Í A PAU L A R U B I A N O A .
SCIENCE
Care for a Taste of the World's First Tofu-Based Alcoholic Beverage?
Finally, you can get loaded on soybeans.
N ATA S H A F RO ST
WA R H I STO RY
Plants, Heavy Metals, and the Lingering Scars of World War I
A closer look at the hardy residents of some of our most damaged landscapes.
C A L F LY N
PA R I S , F R A N C E
Au Roi de la Bière
Once a 19th-century brasserie, this McDonald's exterior celebrates Alsatian design and the "King of Beer."
PLANCHERINE, FRANCE
Tamié Abbey
At this monastery, monks make raw-milk cheese and use excess whey to create methane that powers their hot-water system.
PA R I S , F R A N C E
Roger La Grenouille
This frog-themed restaurant was frequented by Picasso, Saint-Exupéry, and more.
WA N T TO S E E F E W E R A D S ? B E CO M E A M E M B E R .
Sponsored Links by Taboola
Learn More
GET OUR EMAIL NEWSLETTER F O L LOW U S