Finland Stone Age Trip. Part Two. ‘What did we eat?’
As with all of these ‘skills’; it really takes a village. Foraging for all of your calories alone would just not be possible every day. You’d burn far more than you’d actually be able to find; whether plant, mammal, or fish.
Also, fat is so important! This has been such great learning for me. Since I grew up in a larger body, I’d always learned to demonize fat and to try to avoid it but oh my, my body loves fat and I feel so energized when I incorporate animal fats into my diet. The reindeer we’d been gifted didn’t have a lot of fat on it, only a bit around the organs, since it was harvested after the winter stores had burned up. So, we had to buy some butter from the shop to get the extra calories. We also bought some eggs and extra nuts from the shop and about 10kg of wild-harvested lingon and blueberries from local pickers who’d kept some frozen from the autumn harvest. With all of this included, we more than covered what our bodies needed to keep us warm, energized, and healthy for the week ahead.
What did we cook and how did we cook?
So, here’s our menu from the week, in no particular order. I had a large bag of dehydrated wild herbs which were liberally added to each meal along with the wild stock cubes I’d made (recipe below) and usually a large handful of dehydrated and powdered mushrooms and roots.
A menu spanning four seasons and weeks of picking, digging, cutting, drying, pounding, fermenting, winnowing, and soaking. Eaten in one week by roasting, boiling, cracking, sucking, frying, smoking, and licking our fingers.
I was particularly excited about making a kind of Acorn pasta that I’d seen ‘Fergus the Forager’ experimenting with. It didn’t quite work out as planned but it still tasted delicious and eating anything made from acorns you’ve processed yourself is always such a delight after the hours of work that goes into the preparation. They need to be picked, dried, shelled, winnowed, ground, cold leached, dried and then ground again. Another blog entry for sure! I mixed the flour with Carrageen moss, which was gifted to me by native Irish herbalist Margaret Kitty, helping it to stick together and gave it a kind of sticky-pasta-y texture. This, combined with the reindeer blood sausage, was a Stone Age dish from heaven. The Reindeer blood pudding was made by stuffing the large intestine with the blood which had been mixed with cat tail root flour and a range of other wild goodies (listed above) until it tasted just right. We made a good few tester pancakes before committing to one combination. We mixed another with lignon berries to have a savoury and a sweet blood pudding. Who says our Ancestors didn’t eat well?!
The reindeer, skinned and gutted, hung beside the fire side, gently smoking. Its proximity to the fire stopped it from freezing in the night, apart from the one night when it reached -17 degrees. Slowly, though not too slowly, the reindeer grew smaller. Using our flint tools (A bi-face worked particularly well) we would take different parts for different days. Warning: If you’re not into reading about eating meat, you might want to skip this bit!
After the organs, we moved on to the neck and legs which were mostly cut and used for stewing or roasting. The ribs were hung over the fire and roasted. The spine was lain around the fire pit to slowly roast and then suck out the delicious spinal cord. The same happened with the bones which were cracked open to reveal the nutritious and delicious bone marrow. Like a French restaurant… only different…
With the reindeer looking severely depleted by this stage, we moved on to the back strap. The long piece of tender meat where our sirloins come from. This piece is covered with the longest stretch of sinew in the animal’s body (The back legs are also a good source). The sinew is carefully peeled away, scraped, and dried to then become an extremely strong sewing thread.
A lot of the meat, including the back strap, just went straight onto birch sticks and roasted directly over the fire. The taste of this back strap was incredible; it was so soft it almost didn’t seem like it had come from an animal at all!
The front legs were the last parts to go into the stew and on to our skewers.
We cooked mostly in one big clay pot which was carefully placed on the embers to cook the food held inside. We had one large fire pit and usually had about three fires on the go at the one time. One with a mix of flames and embers to cook the never-ending reindeer meat skewers (to feed the hollow 2 year old- she must have been hollow because I don’t know where else she was putting that meat!), another fire of mostly flames was used to create new embers, and one of only embers on which the clay pot would sit. We would (very) carefully move the clay pot on to new embers, rather than moving the embers to the pot.
The beginning of the Neolithic period is demarcated by the appearance of ceramics in Finland. I can’t imagine not having this clay pot. It held everything. Of course, we could cook our meat just on sticks but the welcome feeling of hot broth when you’ve been out playing in the snow all day just can’t be paralleled.