The links have been piling up again, so here you go - a whole stack of them:

An article about the education of upper-class women in the Middle Ages - I found that very interesting.

Diachronic Design is a blog and webpage concentrating on computers in archaeology - there's not too much content yet, but it could be worthwhile to watch.

Pompeii is crumbling (German blog Archaeologik posts links to Italian articles about collapses).

Doug has done the roundup and synopsis of the (many!) answers to his first Blogging Archaeology Carnival, "Why do you blog".

In case you haven't seen the box-turns-something-else yet, here is the link. (I think this is way, way cool. The only question I have in regards to similar folding thingies is - where in hell do you put the mattress? You still have to store that somewhere, right? And it will be... bed-sized. So no actual space-saving takes place.)

The British Library has a medieval manuscripts blog, covering for example the marginalia of the Gorleston Psalter.

A very interesting post on sharing data: Archaeology and Github (over on Powered by Osteons).

And finally, a (German-language) repository and database of old cooking recipes, dated 1646 until the 20th century.

Enjoy!

I have what feels like about a gazillion of possible blogging topics or links or pages on hold in the readmelater-thingie, but haven't gotten around to looking at even one of them closely enough to decide (much less blog) about it.

So here's a sweet stopgap: Carlisle Castle recreated in... biscuits.

And here is a food history timeline - I will not vouch for its accuracy, though (since I have not had time to check it out in detail). Obviously, there's more detail on the later times than the earlier - makes for an interesting scroll through, and it might give you (like me) one or two ideas on what to cook - or try cooking.

That's it for today. Now I'll enjoy a cup of coffee (blessings of modern times) and try to get that list of things that need to be done shortened to a reasonable length!

I grew up in a house without a microwave - mostly because nobody in my home felt like this would be necessary, but partly also because my gran, many years ago, had head surgery with an inset metal plate and was not allowed near working microwaves.

So my first contact with microwaves, apart from a few times of seeing them in use at a friend's house, was when I studied; and the most I used it was for warming up the milk for my coffee (I'm fond of coffee with lots of milk, and it's much nicer when said milk is warm).

Our kitchen later was more or less too small to conveniently fit a microwave in, so we never got one. I was thinking about getting one approximately, oh, once or twice a year or so, whenever it would have gotten in really handy... but now, I don't think I will ever want one.

Why? A young lady, several years ago, conducted an experiment with plants for her school science fair. Two plants were watered with pre-boiled (and then cooled-down) water, one boiled in a pot on the oven, one boiled in the microwave. This seems to have made a small tour of the Internets back in 2011, but I only stumbled across it these days.

There is also a lot of weird pseudo-scientific information tossed around regarding microwaves, with a goodly-sized bit of scaremongering. Things like microwaving your food will make you more receptive to thought-control. Reading the comments on some of these articles... they are quite hilarious quite often.

Anyway, there is an easy way to test whether the plant-death thing is true (provided you have a microwave): just do it for yourself. It's an experiment, it is meant to be reproduced for sake of outcome verification. Take two healthy plants, keep them in a similar place, water them both with normal water for a bit until they have acclimatised and you can be sure they are both well, and then start the test. (And if you do, please let me know what the outcome was!) Myself? I will add "is possibly not good for you" to my list of things that speak against getting a microwave. That, by the way, has other things on it like "no proper space for it", "will take up lots of space while only getting used rarely" and "means production of another appliance which is not very green". And then I'll go on like before, with my trusty oven and my set of pots and pans.

Remember that I said food is a tricky thing for archaeologists? It has gotten even tricker very recently, since a group of archaeologists discovered, per experiment, that cooking fish can screw up radiocarbon dating. (They write about dating pots in the article; technically it's dating the organic residue trapped in the pot that is dated.) The article has links for more info in Danish.

Speaking of cooking: Daniel Serra and Hanna Tunberg are working on publishing their collaborate research about Viking food and cooking in a book, called "An early meal". There is an info page on facebook (you do not need to have an account for that) if you want to read more.

And now... coffee.

Food is a difficult topic for archaeologists. Not because we are notoriously picky about our food or because we don't appreciate it. In fact, archaeologists are more like locusts only with an even wider spectrum of what they eat, a rather larger belly than your average locust has and an additional penchant to swipe bits of the buffet decoration if it is properly archaeology-themed.

Food is a difficult topic because it's so perishable. It's a very rare thing to find food residue in an archaeological excavation; a bit similar to textiles: you can find tools (spindle whorls or pots), sometimes you find tiny little bits of evidence pointing roughly in a direction (like a small bit of fabric that allows you to determine fibre type and weave, or charred and thus preserved grains that allow you to determine the species), and very very rarely, in a very lucky situation, you find something that really allows you to reconstruct a tiny part of daily life back in history (such as an almost complete garment, or the residues of a meal that can be analysed completely).

In some cases, we know what was eaten - charred grains, animal bones and fish bones can give a hint as well as the pits and stones of fruit. But we still don't know how stuff was combined, and much of the evidence is not collected at all, because the small bits (fishbone? grape pit? both really small) can only be found if the soil is put through fine sieves or even sluiced to recover small bits. That's a lot of work, needs the appropriate equipment, and is usually only done for a very small part of the excavation where there is a high probability of a good yield of small stuff, if at all.

All that said, here is a link to a blog/webpage where someone has collected the archaeological evidence for food finds in Britain, making it available via web and a database. Go foodies!

Actually, to be honest, the title of this blog entry should rather read "Baking disasters that could have been completely avoided by thinking a little before substituting one leavening agent by a different leavening agent".

I was baking scones this weekend and used a powder that was not the usual baking powder but baking soda. What I did not know when I substituted the exact amount of baking soda for the amount of baking powder stated in the recipe: Baking powder is soda mixed together with a diphosphate that, upon contact with moisture and heat, will turn into an acidic substance that in its turn reacts with the soda. According to the order of ingredients on the packets, baking powder contains at least as much phosphate as soda, if not more. (Then, in addition, there is some starch in there serving as a stabiliser and separating agent, which according to the Intarwebz can be up to 30% of the total.)

So the result of my scone baking? Inedible scones (tasting weird and really bitter), a little chemistry lesson delivered by the internet, more knowledge about how kitchen chemistry works, a thorough understanding that:

baking soda != baking powder
and that
dosage of baking soda != dosage of baking powder.

Oh, and the total corroboration that our friends are really, really cool and wonderful. Because, when faced with the inedible scones, they took it very calmly, worked out together with me why this had happened, and then one just went to cuddle the cat while the other one helped me whip up a new batch of scones with less raisins (since there were not so many left) but with normal baking powder this time. Which turned out perfectly nice and very, very edible. (Plus that was the fastest scone-baking action ever - it took about 10 minutes until they were in the oven.)

And in the aftermath... I realised that I had used "baking soda" instead of "baking powder" in the recipes on this blog. Which has now been rectified - they all say "baking powder", as they should. So should you have tried one of the recipes (the lemon things or the nougat spritz things) and they turned out... weird (and possibly not very fluffy and/or less than yummy), the blame is totally on me and I am really sorry. I promise that both baked goods are really very, very edible if produced with baking powder.

A few years ago (about three or four, I think) I got introduced to very yummy, very lemony things that formed part of the Christmas cookie collection a friend's mum was baking yearly.

I fell in love with those things, and thus asked for the recipe - and now it has become one of my Christmas baking staples as well. (Though it also makes a nice summer sweet, due to the lemon taste). And now, very recently, I made some more people fall in love with these things - so here, upon request, is the recipe.

Originally, it was for half the amount it is now, equalling half a normal German baking sheet (which is about 30 x 40 cm in size). Adjust the amount to your preferences and baking equipment. (Me, I prefer large batches, especially for things that keep well - and the Lemon Things will keep well. Unless they get eaten. Then they only keep one well fed for a while.)

Ingredients:
Shortcrust Dough: 500 g flour, 150 g sugar (including vanilla sugar, if desired), 250 g butter, 2 eggs, 2 level teaspoons baking powder
Filling: 250 g ground almonds, 300 g sugar, juice of 5-6 lemons, grated peel of 1-2 lemons
Glazing: juice of c. 1/2 lemon, icing sugar

Mix the ingredients for the filling; it should be a spreadable mixture, but not too liquid.
Make a shortcrust dough from the dough ingredients; contrary to the normal procedure, do not let the dough rest. (If you do not know how to make a shortcrust pastry, there are gazillions of instructions on the internet. Basically, you mix fat and flour (in this case, flour with the baking powder mixed in) together to form small crumbs, then add sugar and eggs, then knead to make smooth dough.) Divide dough in two halves; roll the first half to a sheet and place in baking sheet, covering the sides of the sheet as well. Spread the filling on this bottom dough, then roll the second half to a sheet and cover the filling with it.
Close the edges by pinching with your fingers. (You can then puncture the upper dough layer with a fork - I have also omitted this and found no great difference in the result.)

Bake for about 30 min at 170°C (convector fan oven). When cool (or at least not hot anymore), mix lemon juice and sugar together for the glaze/icing, spread on top.

I like to cut these into slim lozenges, but you could also do squares, fingers, or larger pieces and serve them as cake. I find they make a lovely addition to the Xmas cookie plate, but they are a refreshing summer confectionery as well.
Enjoy!