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It has often been said that 'the past is a foreign country.' But when we take a look at the bizarre eating habits of the Victorians, the past feels almost like an entirely different world. In this article, we'll uncover some of the most revolting, grotesque, and downright stomach-turning dishes that were common during the Victorian era.
Beyond the initial wave of disgust and 'ick-factor' that some of these Victorian foods bring, there is also a captivating narrative about their relationship with food. The 19th century saw a blend of ancient traditions and emerging modern values, and some of the foods reflect this uneasy intersection of old and new. We'll explore this cultural and nutritional clash through the lens of these strange and unsettling dishes.
This is where the true horror lies—these peculiar foods give us insight into the lives, hardships, and societal norms of the time. Many dishes were born out of necessity or a desperate need to feed the masses, which often led to rather unappetizing creations. Sometimes, they reveal the darker side of life during the era.
10. The Unsettling Diet of the Urban Poor
During the Victorian era, those less fortunate faced great hardships, often struggling with hunger.
Right, so what's the latest news on that?
In earlier times, England's poorest lived in a cycle of feast or famine, either having basic foods like bread, cheese, and meat or going without. By the Victorian era, things had changed, thanks to industrialization, which stabilized food production, reducing the likelihood of famine (at least in England).
Although starvation was still a rare occurrence, the high cost of food made it difficult for many. Even the emerging middle class spent nearly half of their income on food. For the poorest families, their meals often consisted of little more than potato peelings, cheap animal fat on poor-quality bread, rotten vegetables, and the toughest meat scraps—if they were lucky. This diet led to stunted growth and shortened life expectancy among the urban poor. Add to this food scandals, minimal safety regulations, and rapid population growth, and the stage was set for disaster (a pun intended).
But they still enjoyed their tea, after all, this was England.
9. A Zombie's Perfect Meal
Whether you're enjoying a burger at a fast-food joint, grilling it in the backyard, or indulging in wagyu patties topped with wasabi mayo, gold leaf, and truffles at a fancy restaurant, everyone loves a good burger. Some things never change—if you were a Victorian housewife preparing for an elegant event, you might have made ‘braincakes’—fried meat patties made from brains, similar to a burger.
This recipe is taken from 'Modern Cookery for Private Families' by Eliza Acton, a woman whose name sounds quintessentially Victorian:
“First, wash and soak the brains in cold water, then in hot water. Remove the skin and large fibers, and boil them in salted water for two to three minutes. Next, mash the brains with seasonings and egg yolks, and fry them in butter. To finish, you can add a teaspoon of flour and some lemon zest, if desired.”
Yes, that hint of lemon zest will undoubtedly enhance the flavor—prion diseases are famously treated with lemon, as every doctor is aware…
8. Gruel? Meet Stirabout
Orphans, workhouse dwellers, and prisoners chained by circumstance, all forced to subsist on gruel—this image embodies the harsh reality of Victorian times. Thanks for that, Dickens!
But that’s a myth. The diet of these unfortunate individuals was actually quite nourishing, especially when compared to the nutrient-starved meals of the working poor. They also had a somewhat more varied menu—whole grain bread, small beer, and occasionally fish and dairy (as depicted).
However, this doesn't mean their meals were always enjoyable. Gruel might have been simple, but it was downright gourmet compared to the dreaded 'Stirabout'—the bland, grim, and oddball cousin of gruel. Sure, if you pair a daily ration of watery slop made from cornmeal, oatmeal, and salt with a long day of hard labor, you'll walk out with a lean physique, washboard abs, and bulging triceps like baby heads. But your taste buds? They'll be desiccated remnants on a barren desert of a tongue.
7. Ass Milk
If we can drink the pale milk from cows, goats, and, well, soybeans, why not donkey milk? In fact, there's not much wrong with donkey milk itself. It’s making a bit of a comeback as both a healthy milk alternative and a key ingredient in high-end cosmetics. Donkey milk has been a staple in various cultures since ancient times. So how did it end up on the list of foods that make you shudder? Brace yourself for a disturbing mental image…
The Victorian era had its share of orphaned babies. In France, motherless infants were often neglected, leading to an alarmingly high mortality rate. One man who recognized this problem was Dr. Parrot of the 'Hospital des Enfants Assistés' in France. His brilliant solution? Solve both the lack of maternal care and the nutritional deficiencies in orphaned babies at once. Genius!
Parrot’s solution was to take babies directly to a donkey and let them suckle straight from the beast’s teat. Yikes.
Donkey milk was used across Europe for treating sick patients, the elderly, and infants well into the twentieth century. Thankfully, allowing babies to suckle from donkey teats never quite became a widespread trend.
6. Love In Disguise
Paul Simon's iconic song 'Mother and Child Reunion' draws its name from a peculiar dish he spotted on a Chinese restaurant menu. This dish, featuring chicken and eggs, cleverly symbolizes the reunion of mother and child. If you find the title unsettling, just wait until you hear the backstory behind the curious Victorian dish, 'Love in Disguise.'
Found in 'The Complete Economical Cook, and Frugal Housewife' by Mary Holland (1837), this 'side dish' features a calf's heart that has been thoroughly cleaned and stuffed with forcemeat—a smooth blend of lean meat, reminiscent of sausage filling—and wrapped in crushed vermicelli noodles. The creation is then cooked in a little water, resulting in a flavorful heart-juice liquor to serve with it. But there's still one mystery left...
'Stuffed' with what exactly?
5. Yes, This Is Indeed Food, We Promise! To an American, a biscuit is a soft, fluffy dough base, ready to be drizzled with rich, silky gravy. To an Englishman, they are crunchy, sweet delights best dipped in tea before being devoured. However, to a Victorian seaman, these biscuits were a form of torment—tough, plain, and impossible to chew dullcakes.
In the Victorian era, the simple biscuit was so hard that it was considered practically indestructible. Its blandness, its lack of flavor, made it infamous among sailors, who were forced to endure the dry, tough 'dullcakes' as part of their rations.
Ship’s biscuits, also known as hardtack, were a common food source for sailors on English ships dating back to the Tudor period. These dense, long-lasting biscuits became a staple in the kitchens of the Victorian-era Royal Navy as it grew more professional, prized for their high caloric content, ease of mass production, and ability to sustain morale, even if the latter didn’t always pan out. After all, months or years of chewing on these brick-like biscuits wasn’t the most appetizing experience.
At least the sailors could count on a bit of extra protein from their ship’s biscuits, thanks to the unavoidable weevil infestation caused by the lack of modern storage options. These insects provided an unexpected crunch and a bitter taste to the otherwise bland biscuits – or, perhaps, they helped sailors consider that drowning might not be the worst fate.
It wasn’t until the late 1800s that experts finally found a solution to the weevil problem: the biscuit tin!
4. Chaudfroid Delights
The term ‘Chaudfroid’ (meaning ‘hot-cold’) is used in French cuisine to describe a dish or sauce that is prepared hot but served cold.
Using gelatin or aspic. Naturally.
Considering some of the bizarre and elaborate dishes from this period, it seems more like schadenfreude than anything resembling chaudfroid. The renowned gastronaut Monsieur Antonin-Carême presents this classic French sauce, guaranteed to give you chills. Here's an updated version of the recipe:
“First, remove the skin from the chicken and let it cool in the strained cooking liquid. Soak 3 gelatin sheets in cold water until softened. Submerge half a bunch of tarragon in the cooking liquid and reduce it to 40 cl (about 1 2/3 cups). Add the gelatin to dissolve. Stir in 30 cl (about 1 1/4 cups) of cream, 1 egg yolk, and the juice from half a lemon. Spread a thin layer of the sauce onto a plate. Place it in the refrigerator to check if it sets. Cut the chicken into eight portions. Bone the thighs. Dip each piece of chicken individually into the cooled sauce, then drain them on a rack placed over aluminum foil. Refrigerate for 30 minutes. Cover the chicken with a second coat of sauce, followed by a third layer, letting each layer firm up before adding the next. Garnish with pine nuts and a few tarragon leaves. Leave it aside for 5 to 6 hours. Serve with a salad of fine French beans or a well-seasoned purslane salad.”
If you find the idea of cold, jelly-covered chicken unappealing, why not opt for ‘turbot chaudfroid’? Cold, jellied fish—what are you, a cockney?
3. All The Little Birdies
In the Victorian era, when many children were expected to work in mines or chimneys, it's easy to assume that the concept of 'childhood' didn’t exist. But you'd be mistaken!
In reality, children living in the countryside had the freedom to explore nature. However, their form of fun wasn't always as innocent as picking blackberries with their grandmother. In 1852, Charles Francatelli, Queen Victoria’s chief cook, described how boys in rural England would entertain themselves:
‘Hardworking and clever boys from rural areas often became skilled in catching small birds… removing their feathers, cutting off their heads and claws, and carefully extracting their gizzards with a small knife. They’d then hand over the birds to their mothers to be fried in butter, wrapped in suet, and boiled.’
This scene isn't quite the ‘Tom Brown's School Days’ you might imagine—it's more akin to Chairman Mao’s ‘Four Pests Campaign,’ but with toddlers wielding knives.
2. Frontier Foods
Some foods once eaten at the edges of the expanding colonial world might seem a bit unappetizing, even if they weren’t all that bad in taste – we’re talking about you, ‘pemmican’; dried reindeer meat mixed with rendered fat and wild berries, anyone? Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad at all.
On the outer edges of 19th century empires, the job of managing foraged food was often left to those who had been living in those areas for centuries. Curious about those purple berries, traveler? Brace yourself for a taste that might just burn your insides. Lack of knowledge (or wisdom) could lead to a painful death by poison. No amount of fancy maps, elephant guns, or mustaches will save you from ignorance’s deadly consequences, my dear fellow.
Take, for example, the ill-fated 1860-61 expedition of Burke and Wills. After crossing Australia, the men found themselves without food. The local Yandruwandha people offered to help, preparing 'cakes' made from nardoo, a fern seed pod. But Burke, overcome by a surge of ‘Victorian-gentlemanly-rage-at-the-indigenous’ (a common affliction back then), drove away their would-be saviors. When the men tried to make their own nardoo cakes, they forgot one crucial detail – they had no idea how to cook them properly. The cakes were improperly made, leaving deadly enzymes behind, unlike how the aboriginal tribes did it. Burke and Wills died, their bellies full yet starving to death. Only one member of their party, Mr. King, survived. How? By returning to the Yandruwandha, who knew exactly how to prepare the cakes.
1. A Big Plate Of Burlington Whimsey
What a wonderfully charming name for a dish! This perfectly exemplifies the Victorian tendency to give the most unappealing foods the most delightful names.
Allow half of a calf’s head, prepared according to the previous recipe, to cool completely. If the gelatinous portion is not tender enough upon cutting, carefully trim it off, weigh it, and mince it. Then, simmer it gently for 10 to 15 minutes in a pint of quality gravy. Next, mince additional portions of the head, trimming the edges and removing excess fat, until you have one pound of minced head. Add some spices and a bit of grated ham... using your reliable ham grater.
The recipe continues by stating, 'Arrange the slices of tongue evenly, and once it has cooled completely, it will solidify quite firmly. Before serving, garnish with dry branches of parsley. When served for supper or luncheon, accompany it with a salad dressing.'
