We wish you peace, plenty, good health, and a happy Christmas!

We hope that you’ve not been stricken by the Christmasageddon (or whatever it’s being called today) shortages which we mentioned recently, but if you have, fear not, for the helpful Wright History elves are at hand!

Not been able to get a turkey? Well how about a nice bit of badger? Obviously, we do not advocate illegally killing a badger, but should you happen upon one recently deceased…. ‘The badger,’ we are assured, by one Mr. R. T. of Leicestershire, via Professor Richard Bradley in 1736, ‘is one of the cleanest Creatures, in its Food, of any in the World, and one may suppose that the Flesh of this Creature is not unwholesome. It eats like the finest Pork, and is much sweeter than Pork’.

Alas I’ve not been able to discover an image of Mr. R. T.’s Gammon of a Badger roasted, but I have learnt that badger remains a popular delicacy in certain quarters of the world, and that - contra Mr. R. T.’s reassurance - it tastes like ‘some dodgy meat substitute from a long-expired Army ration pack, and despite the lengthy cooking it remain[s] tooth-breakingly tough’.

If that sounds like the sort of thing you might want to inflict upon to which you might like to treat your Christmas guests, voila the receipt:

Just when a Badger is killed, cut off the Gammons, and strip them; then lay them in a Brine of Salt and Water, that will bear an Egg, for a Week or ten Days; then boil it for four or five Hours, and then roast it, strewing it with Flour and rasped Bread sifted. Then put it upon a Spit, as you did before with the Westphalia Ham. Serve it hot with a Garnish of Bacon fry'd in Cutlets, and some Lemon in slices.

[Richard Bradley, The Country Housewife and Lady's Director in the Management of a House, and the Delights and Profits of a Farm, Part II from the 6th edition, here from the 1736 edition, pp. 145-6]

If badger’s not your thing, this may yet be a useful resource for you - Veal Glue or cake-soup, to be carried in the pocket, anyone? Or perhaps the Jelly of Health or, for the vegetarians, pickled Nasturtium Seeds? If so, a digitized copy is yours to browse at leisure, courtesy of the Library of Congress here.

Personally, I think I’ll pass on the Gammon of Badger. I was a strict vegetarian for nearly 20 years, and when I stopped being so, determined to only eat humanely-reared meat, and wherever possible on a nose-to-tail basis (the latter caused Robert a good deal of discomfiture until I learnt and adjusted to his squeamishness levels). But I find that even I draw the line at a roadkill-badger sandwich.

But worry not - I have other Wright History-tastic options to tickle your tastebuds.

I’ve not forgotten my erstwhile vegetarian comrades. There’s plenty for you to get your teeth into too (sorry-not-sorry). My first suggestion - Fasces - requires a little tweaking to render it vegetarian, but as a former long-standing vegetarian, hey - that’s no problem, right? It’s why the good Lord made lentils. So with just a little ingredient substitution, why not try this beauty from Fillippo Marinetti, from his Futurism manifesto of 1932, aka The Futurist Cookbook?

Come on. You know you want to… so voila the recipe:

Several stalks of cardoon or celery measuring 10 cm in length, when pre-cooked in water placed straight, so that they form an empty cylinder. These are fixed on top of a semisphere of white rice, with half a lemon on top. The interior of the cylinder is filled with minced meat [your favourite lentilly mix], oil, pepper, and salt. The rice is decorated with a piece of cucumber, a piece of banana and a piece of beetroot.

Don’t fancy Fasces? Why not try his classic, Aerofood?

Recipe:

The diner is served from the right with a plate containing some black olives, fennel hearts and kumquats. From the left he is served with a rectangle made of sandpaper, silk and velvet. The foods must be carried directly to the mouth with the right hand while the left hand lightly and repeatedly strokes the tactile rectangle. In the meantime the waiters spray the napes of the diners’ necks with a conprofumo of carnations while from the kitchen comes contemporaneously a violent conrumore of an aeroplane motor and some dismusica by Bach.

I’m pretty sure that I had this, mutatis mutandis, in my pre-Robertian gourmand life, and jolly nice it was too.

Intrigued by Marinetti and his Futurist cooking? Well don’t worry - we’ve got you covered there too! Watch this space for details of a new course (pun intended). But back to our present concerns…

For those of you who prefer something more understated, how about looking to Salvador Dali for inspiration? Les Dîners de Gala, his illustrated cookery book of 1973, offers a veritable cornucopia of possibilities.

Perhaps a pescatarian option might be appropriate. Bush of crayfish and Viking herbs, anyone…?

NB If you’re intimidated by the majesty of this option, don’t worry: the internet assures me that this is often recreated.

Errr… OK. That might be an exaggeration. Let’s just say that it has been recreated, and more than once. See, for example, here.

NB The crayfish are cooked as crayfish often are here, so please don’t follow that link if that would be upsetting.

Finally, we leave you with a more traditional Christmas image.

Long-standing Denizens of Wright History may recall that we have a penchant for medieval Nativity scenes. In this beauty, Joseph has his traditional “Hmmm… I’m really not quite sure what’s going on here” face, but this Mary looks more laid-back - quite possibly because the Baby Jesus isn’t as intimidatingly huge as He was in our Nativity scene of last year.

Finally, thank you all for your support, encouragement, and goodwill in this, our first full calendar year as Wright History. We’ve had a wonderful time of it, and hope that you have too!

Here’s to a happy and healthy 2022 for you all!