If you have read or seen at least one Harry Potter story, you are familiar with the word cauldron, that large black vessel where potions are developed and spells are cast. The truth, however, is that the first recorded use of a cauldron--yes, a rather large iron, brass, or copper kettle used for holding liquids, can be traced to the late Bronze Age period and was used primarily for cooking. Cauldrons were extremely valuable and would have been passed on in wills.
The word cauldron derives from 13th Century Middle English, but the word was actually borrowed from the Norman, meaning "hot bath." Prior to cauldron, it was cetel, kessel, ketel, and chetel, making it easy to see its connection to kettle.
Today cauldrons are seldom used for cooking. Dutch ovens that are a bit smaller than the large kettles have taken their place on the stove or in the oven, and cauldrons have become a cliché popularized by fiction stories of witches and leprechauns. But this wasn't always the case for centuries, as history has proven with a number of valuable archeological finds.
The Gundestrup cauldron is a Bronze Age vessel, a richly decorated silver cauldron believed to be from between 200 BC and 300 AD. It was found in a peat bog in Denmark where anthropologists believe a burial or ritual may have taken place.
The Battersea cauldron, a large bronze vessel dated to 800 BC to 700 BC found in Great Britain, now in the British Museum, is estimated to be 3000 years old and is made up of bronze sheets melded together. It was found in the River Thames near Chelsea Bridge that connects Chelsea to Battersea. It is thought to have been used for communal feasts and deliberately placed in the river as a religious sacrifice.
Cauldrons were important family possessions for cooking, brewing, and simply holding hot water. Their connection to the hearth, the fireplace considered to be the heart of the home, increases their symbolism throughout history. The Greek goddess Hestia was the symbol of the hearth and fire, the importance of domesticity, the family, the home. The Greeks believed Hestia helped to keep peace in the family that gathered around her hearth to share meals. Newborn babies were taken to the hearth as a token of respect and gratitude to Hestia. Because cauldrons on the hearth accompanied healing, they were also associated with good magic.
All early American fireplaces boasted a cast iron cauldron hung from spit dogs, long poles from which could be hung kettles or pots. The cast iron Dutch oven was also a typical container for cooking. The fire never went out. Embers might be covered by a brass or copper curfew and pushed to the back of the fireplace to be rekindled the next morning. Small piles of hot coals would be pushed to the front of the fireplace and smaller pots with covers would be set on them. Cauldrons had no cover. Instead stopping sides kept the liquid from boiling over. Dutch ovens were the first ovens used for baking. Coals would be placed on their flat lids as well as underneath.
Chuck wagons became necessary on cattle drives where food might have been scarce and hungry cowboys needed to eat. When a clever fella equipped a wagon with the necessary tools and supplies, a large cast iron vessel--perhaps a smaller cauldron, was an essential item. I doubt those cowboys would call what was in that pot magic, but the absence of a meal after a hard day's ride would have caused potent distress!
When my daughters were in Girl Scouts, I volunteered to be the camp-trained mom who would accompany their troop on numerous camping trips. My training happened to fall on a cold, rainy weekend in January. Needless to say, I shivered for two days, but cooking outdoors was great fun and delicious relief. On the second day we dug a hole in the ground, arranged coals and made a fire, and placed a black cast iron Dutch oven filled with peach cobbler ingredients in it. We covered it with more coals and waited. May I tell you, dear friends, that this dessert will never be eclipsed by any other dessert. It's possible that the comfort of that cobbler may have had due influence, but after all these years I remember it as if it were yesterday, my cauldron cobbler, superseding that cold, miserable weather in my book of greatest memories.
My mother had a reputation for creating magic in her kitchen. Her black cast iron Dutch oven, passed down to me, was the cauldron of her day. The shrimp and crab gumbo, beef stews, roast beef with roasted root vegetables, and vegetable soups she made in it cast a spell over her family. It might have been a food coma we all experienced at the end of one of her feasts, but the memory of the camaraderie and affection of that precious family time--and incredibly delicious food, too, will always remain magical in my heart.
Jungian analysts believe that breaking bread with others is reminiscent of the Eucharist, partaking of the body and blood of Christ. Whether or not you are Jungian, Episcopalian, or Anglican and accept this belief, I think you will agree that sharing communal food can be sacred as we give and receive that which brings newness of life to us all. As much as I love Harry Potter, I choose to think of a cauldron not in a mischievous or evil way, not even for my beloved Shakespeare and his Macbeth witches, but as a vessel of nurture and love.
No comments:
Post a Comment