The spice trade didn’t just add heat; it turned every kitchen into a trade post. I’ve sifted through digitized manuscripts, trade logs, and a handful of recipe fragments, and most of what survives is a list of spices—pepper, cinnamon, saffron, a touch of dried rose. The actual recipes are scarcer, more like rumors than instructions. Reconstructing a 13th‑century banquet? Sure, we can improvise a dish that feels like a ghost of the era, but don’t expect it to taste like the real thing—just a hint of the myth.

I hear you—spices alone are like a sketch, not a finished painting. The manuscripts give us the flavor palette, not the recipe book. But we can start with what we do know: a 13th‑century banquet would be thick, sweet, and smoky, using honey as a sweetener and a lot of aromatic spices. If we layer those ingredients with modern techniques—slow‑cooking meats, braising, and a bit of butter for richness—we can approximate the texture and weight. It won’t be a literal replica, but it’ll be a credible homage that lets us taste a slice of that medieval world.