What Medieval Peasants Really Ate In A Day

Here's a question: how do we know what people ate? It's not like there was a medieval version of Instagram where people could upload their food photos, and when it came to literacy, they weren't so great in that department, either. Spartacus Educational estimates that in the late part of the Middle Ages, only around 10 percent of men and one percent of women were literate. Even then, they weren't writing about their breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so researchers have had to get creative.

That involves studies like the one done in 2019 and published in the Journal of Archaeological Science. They were able to take samples of medieval pottery from West Cotton, Northamptonshire and analyze the residue left inside. The molecular analysis allowed them to put together a picture of what was cooked. 

What did they find? Staples were meat (mostly sheep and cattle) and cabbage stews, cooked in the pots over an open hearth. There were also a lot of dairy products, which the study notes were affectionately referred to as "white meats of the poor." 

English Heritage followed a reenactor as they made traditional medieval stew, and it would look pretty familiar to 21st-century cooks. Meat — often hare or bacon — was first browned over an open fire, then transferred to a large dish. Carrots, onions, and other available veg were added, and so was cider. It was sometimes seasoned with whatever herbs were foraged, then barley was added, too — a staple grain. That was then left to cook over an open fire or a hearth. That doesn't sound so awful, does it?

It's one of those things that we hear a lot about the medieval era: people tended to drink a lot of beer, because it was safer than drinking the perpetually dirty water. That's true, right? Not at all, says food historian Jim Chevallier on his blog, Les Leftovers. He did a deep dive (ahem, no pun intended) into the claim, and found some fascinating things.

For starters, there's a ton of references in medieval texts to people drinking water. Those range from one writer's description of water in Italy ("clear, without odor, and cold") to excerpts like one from Gregory of Tours, who wrote in the 6th century of a man arriving in his village and asking for some water. Gregory also writes about hermits drinking from streams and says that water was far from feared — it was linked with holy figures and miraculous cures. And some texts from the 14th century even recommended drinking only water.

Some people — like the Gauls — preferred to drink water that had been run through a beehive and slightly sweetened. The medical authorities of the medieval era did issue some warnings about water, but they were along the lines of, "Don't drink the yucky-looking stuff." If it was cold, clear, didn't have a funky smell, then it was absolutely fine. In fact, it was recommended for those who were suffering from an imbalance of their humors. Simply put? If one was hot, drink some cold water.

In the 8th century, Irish law was outlined in tracts called the Bretha Crólige, and part of that law involved the distribution of food. According to Trinity College Dublin, part of the tract specified that if a wife was sick, she was entitled to half of her husband's food while on "sick-maintenance." (A concubine, though, could only claim a third to a quarter, so there's a good reason to get married.)

While research from The National University of Ireland: Maynooth found that while texts definitely tended to divide the right to food by rank and social standing, sick people of any and all rank were allotted a large portion of celery. That makes a lot of sense: it's an inoffensive food, and it has a high water content that could be life-saving if you're getting dehydrated. Texts also suggest that many places planted herb gardens solely to grow plants and herbs for the sick, although history is sadly incomplete on just what those herbs were. 

Another medieval text — Prose Rule of the Celi De — contains instructions for menstruating women to be given something extra: a mix of heated milk, oatmeal, and herbs. And by the 9th century, texts were also documenting the phenomenon of pregnant women craving certain foods.

Quick, imagine a medieval peasant. There's probably a small village or some farms involved, right? That's true, but that's only part of the story. According to Radford University anthropology professor Cassady Yoder (via Medievalists), there were a ton of medieval peasants living in large cities, too. She also found that where you lived made a huge difference when it came to what you were eating.

Yoder looked at the diets of medieval peasants from three places: Ribe, Denmark's largest medieval city, the mid-sized metropolis of Viborg, and the small rural community around a Cistercian monastery. Her findings (which were compiled by analyzing bone samples) were surprising.

In a nutshell, the people with the most varied diet were those who lived near the rural monastery. They didn't have much in the way of meat, but they did eat a variety of cereal grains and vegetables. On the other hand, the peasants of Ribe and Viborg had a more narrow range of foods, but their diets were much higher in meat and protein. They were eating a lot of fish, pigs, and cows.

History says that the Middle Ages was characterized by a rise in the power of the Catholic Church, and that meant more people were observing Lent and all its restrictions. For medieval peasants, those restrictions were hardcore. According to Alimentarium, the faithful were forbidden from eating meat and other animal-based products during the 40 days of Lent — which also meant no milk, cheese, eggs, cream, or butter.

Wine and liquor were also forbidden, but let's go back to the meaty restrictions. That takes a lot of core foodstuffs off the menu for a long time, and Atlas Obscura says there was a bit of a work-around. Fish were, of course, exempt from the rule and could be eaten, so logically, certain animals were just re-classified as fish. Puffins, like the one pictured, are sea birds who spend most of their time by water, so, therefore, they're fish. Clearly. Beavertails were scaly like fish, so they were approved, and also unborn bunny fetuses were allowed. The most creative has to be the barnacle goose, so named because of an old belief that they hatched from loose barnacles found on driftwood. (They migrated, and no one knew where they went to reproduce, so it wasn't as far-fetched as it sounds.) And since they hatched from water-bound barnacles? Fish!

Interestingly, there were other substitutions made, too: almonds were incredibly popular, and the ultra-trendy idea of almond-based products actually has medieval roots.

Fast food seems like a distinctly modern idea, but the concept goes back to the medieval era. Unfortunately, rules about health and safety didn't go back that far.

The peasants of medieval urban cities had it rough, says Penn State University. Many were living in super crowded conditions and didn't have access to what they needed to cook their own food, so they relied on what was essentially medieval fast food. What does that mean? There was one area on the Thames, for example, that was essentially a group of shops that were open 24/7, and sold a variety of foodstuffs at all different price points.

The urban peasant could expect to find things like meat pies and pasties, bread, pies, pancakes, hotcakes, pies, wafers, and more pies. And more pies. Why were pies so popular? Because they contained everything in a handy pocket, and they could be eaten on the run.

Sounds delicious, but there was a major problem. Unscrupulous vendors quickly discovered that they could hide all kinds of things in pies and no one would know the difference until it was too late. They paid, they left, and they got food poisoning. Laws were put in place against the selling of diseased or rotten meat, reheating pies, and against claiming meat was something that it wasn't. And that gave rise to a medieval saying: "God sends the meat, but the devil sends the cooks."