Before sugar, gelatin, or corn syrup, marshmallows were made from the root of a marsh plant and sweetened with honey. In the ancient world, marshmallow root was prized for its soothing, medicinal properties, used to calm sore throats and inflammation.
In Egypt, where honey was sacred and reserved for rituals and the elite, a marshmallow-like confection would have been dense, sticky, and deeply intentional. I recreated what an early marshmallow may have looked like using marshmallow root, honey, egg whites, and almonds.
The result is nothing like the modern version. It’s herbal, nutty, and rich, with a subtle bitterness beneath the sweetness. More medicinal than dessert. More ceremonial than snack.
The modern marshmallow still carries the name, but none of the root. This was the confection before factories made it weightless and disposable.
A taste of the marshmallow before it became candy.
If there’s one dish that truly feels like Venezuela, it’s Pabellón Criollo. This isn’t flashy restaurant food or a special-occasion showpiece. It’s everyday cooking that became symbolic through repetition, memory, and meaning. Shredded beef cooked down with aromatics, creamy black beans, fluffy white rice, and sweet fried ripe plantains may sound simple, but together they tell the story of an entire country.
What makes pabellón so powerful is that it wasn’t invented. It evolved. Each component reflects the realities of colonial Venezuela, where Indigenous foodways, African survival cooking, and Spanish ingredients were forced to coexist. Over time, those necessities became tradition, and tradition became identity.
The dish didn’t appear fully formed. Beef was shredded because tougher cuts needed time and moisture. Beans were essential because they were filling, affordable, and deeply rooted in Afro-Caribbean and Indigenous cooking. Rice arrived as trade expanded and became a staple. Plantains were already beloved, especially when fried ripe and sweet. Eventually, these foods began appearing together on the same plate, not by design, but because it worked.
Even the name carries weight. Pabellón means “flag,” and many Venezuelans see the plate as a reflection of the nation itself, with contrasting colors and components standing side by side. It’s a reminder that identity is often built from contrast, not uniformity.
This is comfort food with history behind it. A dish born from necessity that grew into a symbol of home, resilience, and belonging.
Rome’s Most Addictive Street Food Was Named After a Surprise
If you’ve ever bitten into a Roman supplì and watched molten cheese stretch like lava, you already understand the magic. But what most people don’t know is that this iconic street food got its name during the Napoleonic occupation of Rome. When French soldiers encountered these fried rice croquettes in the early 1800s, the gooey mozzarella center reminded them of a military telegram cord. They called it surprise — and Romans turned it into supplì.
Supplì were born as practical food for working Romans. Rice cooked slowly in tomato sauce, enriched with butter and cheese, then stuffed with mozzarella and fried until crisp. Cheap ingredients, maximum satisfaction. They were sold in bakeries and tavole calde, eaten standing up, and designed to keep people full for hours.
The texture is everything. Crack one open and you get a shattering crust, creamy rice, and that signature cheese pull that made them famous long before social media ever existed. It’s indulgent without being fancy, and that’s exactly why it survived centuries of change in Rome.
I learned to make these properly while eating my way through Rome, and recreating them at home is surprisingly doable. Slow-cooked tomato rice, a cube of mozzarella, breadcrumbs, and hot oil. That’s it. No shortcuts, no gimmicks.
Sometimes the best food stories aren’t about kings or empires. They’re about street food that refuses to disappear.
Long before protein powders and shakes, the Vikings were eating skyr.
Skyr is often marketed today as a modern “superfood,” but in Iceland it has been fueling people for over a thousand years. This thick, tangy cultured dairy traces back to the Viking Age, when Scandinavian settlers brought dairy preservation knowledge to Iceland and adapted it to survive long, cold winters.
Unlike most yogurts, skyr is made from skim milk and traditionally set with rennet, placing it closer to a fresh cheese than a yogurt. That process creates a food that’s naturally high in protein, filling, and easy to digest—exactly what you’d want in a land where food needed to work hard for you.
What makes skyr remarkable is how little it’s changed. Historically, households reused cultures from previous batches, warmed milk near the hearth, and let time do the rest. Today, we can replicate the same process safely and reliably at home with a thermometer and a bit of patience.
I made my own skyr by heating skim milk, cooling it to culture-friendly temperatures, adding live skyr and a touch of rennet, then letting it ferment overnight. The result was thick, clean, and deeply satisfying—proof that one of the Viking Age’s most practical foods still fits perfectly into a modern kitchen.
Finished with oats, lingonberry jam, and honey, this bowl is both ancient and modern at once: simple ingredients, steady energy, and a reminder that some of the best “new” health foods are actually very old.
Sometimes the strongest fuel isn’t flashy. Sometimes it’s been around for a thousand years.
From January 18th–29th, I’ll be traveling through Athens and Naxos to film new episodes exploring the deep connection between food, history, and culture.
And I need your help.
If you know: • Exceptional local restaurants or tavernas • Traditional dishes with real historical roots • Bakers, cheesemakers, fishermen, farmers, or winemakers • Archaeological sites, museums, monasteries, or food-linked historical locations • Family recipes, regional specialties, or disappearing food traditions • Anything that tells the story of Greece through food
…I want to hear about it.
I’m especially interested in experiences that go beyond tourist lists and get closer to how food was eaten historically and how it’s still prepared today.
If you have a recommendation or want to connect us with someone who fits the channel, please send details to:
This is what dinner looked like at the table of Charlemagne, the most powerful ruler in Europe around the year 800.
No gilded banquets. No exotic spices. No Renaissance excess. The Carolingian court ate food that was practical, seasonal, and deeply tied to the land. One of the most plausible meals from Charlemagne’s world would have been braised rabbit served over a simple barley and lentil pottage.
Rabbit and hare were common game across early medieval Europe, especially for the elite who hunted regularly. The meat was lean and often braised slowly with butter, onions, garlic, wine, and herbs to make it tender. Grains and legumes formed the backbone of the meal, providing sustenance and balance rather than luxury.
This dish reflects a ruler known for discipline and moderation. Charlemagne valued strength, health, and clarity over indulgence. His food did the same. Simple techniques. Honest ingredients. Nothing wasted.
I recreated this early medieval dish to taste what power, restraint, and empire might have eaten like in the year 800.
This is what dinner looked like at the table of Charlemagne, the most powerful ruler in Europe around the year 800.
No gilded banquets. No exotic spices. No Renaissance excess. The Carolingian court ate food that was practical, seasonal, and deeply tied to the land. One of the most plausible meals from Charlemagne’s world would have been braised rabbit served over a simple barley and lentil pottage.
Rabbit and hare were common game across early medieval Europe, especially for the elite who hunted regularly. The meat was lean and often braised slowly with butter, onions, garlic, wine, and herbs to make it tender. Grains and legumes formed the backbone of the meal, providing sustenance and balance rather than luxury.
This dish reflects a ruler known for discipline and moderation. Charlemagne valued strength, health, and clarity over indulgence. His food did the same. Simple techniques. Honest ingredients. Nothing wasted.
I recreated this early medieval dish to taste what power, restraint, and empire might have eaten like in the year 800.
Benjamin Franklin’s Cheesecake Wasn’t What I Expected
Most people think of Benjamin Franklin as a statesman, inventor, and philosopher. Few realize he was also deeply obsessed with food, especially Parmesan cheese. While traveling through Europe, Franklin became fascinated with aged cheeses and the knowledge behind how they were made, valuing that practical wisdom as highly as ancient monuments.
Franklin once wrote that discovering the recipe for Parmesan would give him more satisfaction than copying any inscription carved in stone. That was not an exaggeration. It took him four years of inquiry before, in 1773, he finally received a detailed explanation of how his beloved cheese was produced. To Franklin, this was knowledge worth preserving.
That fascination carried into the kitchen. In Benjamin Franklin: Book of Recipes, a Parmesan cheesecake appears that reflects eighteenth-century European tastes, where sweet and savory were often blended. Cheesecakes of the period frequently used aged cheeses, sugar, eggs, and citrus, creating desserts that were rich, complex, and far less sugary than what we expect today.
I’ll admit, I approached this recipe with hesitation. Parmesan in a cheesecake sounds strange to modern ears. But the result is surprisingly familiar. The texture is classic cheesecake, smooth and custardy, with just a subtle savory bite from the Parmesan that deepens the flavor rather than overpowering it.
This isn’t a novelty dish meant to shock. It’s a reminder that historical cooking followed different rules, and that Franklin’s curiosity extended well beyond politics and science. Food was another system to understand, experiment with, and enjoy.
Before meal kits, food influencers, and viral recipes, there was Julia Child. She didn’t just teach Americans how to cook. She taught them not to be afraid of it. At a time when French cuisine felt intimidating and out of reach, Julia invited everyday home cooks into her kitchen and showed them they were capable of more than they thought.
What made her revolutionary was not perfection, but honesty. Her television show had no flashy edits and no illusion of ease. She made mistakes on camera, laughed them off, and kept going. That simple act gave millions of people permission to try something new without fear of failure.
Her 1961 cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking became the foundation of modern American home cooking, and within it lived her most iconic dish: beef bourguignon. Traditional French cooking, yes, but translated clearly and patiently for the modern home kitchen.
This dish is slow, deliberate, and deeply rewarding. Beef is browned properly, then gently braised in red wine and stock with herbs and aromatics until it becomes fork tender. Bacon adds savory depth, pearl onions soften until nearly melting, and mushrooms bring an earthy finish. It is rich, comforting, and surprisingly approachable.
I kept close to Julia’s original method, including boiling the bacon to soften its smokiness, but let the stew thicken naturally instead of straining the sauce. The result is rustic, deeply flavorful, and exactly why this recipe became legendary. Beef bourguignon isn’t famous because it’s fancy. It’s famous because it teaches patience, confidence, and trust in the process.
Julia Child didn’t just give America a classic French stew. She gave it courage in the kitchen.
Before oliebollen became a powdered-sugar-covered New Year’s Eve staple, they were something far more practical. The earliest written version appears in 1667, in De verstandige kock, where they’re called oliekoecken, or “oil cakes.” No sugar. No eggs. No spices. Just flour, yeast, warm liquid, and sometimes apples or dried fruit, fried in hot fat to get people through the winter.
These early oliebollen weren’t festive treats. They were survival food. Fried dough made sense in cold months when grain was plentiful, fat was stable, and the body needed calories. Sweetness came only from fruit, because refined sugar was still expensive and not an everyday ingredient.
Over time, these oil cakes became tied to the end of the year. Winter markets sold them hot. Families fried them at home. By the 18th and 19th centuries, sugar became cheaper, eggs were added, and powdered sugar became the defining finish. That’s when oliebollen shifted from sustenance to celebration.
I recreated the 1667 version as faithfully as possible, then finished them with powdered sugar to reflect the later tradition. The result is heavier, more bready, and far less sweet than modern oliebollen. They taste like history. Honest, rustic, and built for cold nights, not indulgence.
Eats History
Marshmallows didn’t start as candy. They started as medicine.
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/the-history-of-the-marshmallow.../
Before sugar, gelatin, or corn syrup, marshmallows were made from the root of a marsh plant and sweetened with honey. In the ancient world, marshmallow root was prized for its soothing, medicinal properties, used to calm sore throats and inflammation.
In Egypt, where honey was sacred and reserved for rituals and the elite, a marshmallow-like confection would have been dense, sticky, and deeply intentional.
I recreated what an early marshmallow may have looked like using marshmallow root, honey, egg whites, and almonds.
The result is nothing like the modern version. It’s herbal, nutty, and rich, with a subtle bitterness beneath the sweetness. More medicinal than dessert. More ceremonial than snack.
The modern marshmallow still carries the name, but none of the root. This was the confection before factories made it weightless and disposable.
A taste of the marshmallow before it became candy.
Rating: 7.6 / 10
2 days ago | [YT] | 1,008
View 10 replies
Eats History
Pabellón Criollo: Venezuela’s History Served on a Single Plate
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/pabellon-criollo-venezuelas.../
If there’s one dish that truly feels like Venezuela, it’s Pabellón Criollo. This isn’t flashy restaurant food or a special-occasion showpiece. It’s everyday cooking that became symbolic through repetition, memory, and meaning. Shredded beef cooked down with aromatics, creamy black beans, fluffy white rice, and sweet fried ripe plantains may sound simple, but together they tell the story of an entire country.
What makes pabellón so powerful is that it wasn’t invented. It evolved. Each component reflects the realities of colonial Venezuela, where Indigenous foodways, African survival cooking, and Spanish ingredients were forced to coexist. Over time, those necessities became tradition, and tradition became identity.
The dish didn’t appear fully formed. Beef was shredded because tougher cuts needed time and moisture. Beans were essential because they were filling, affordable, and deeply rooted in Afro-Caribbean and Indigenous cooking. Rice arrived as trade expanded and became a staple. Plantains were already beloved, especially when fried ripe and sweet. Eventually, these foods began appearing together on the same plate, not by design, but because it worked.
Even the name carries weight. Pabellón means “flag,” and many Venezuelans see the plate as a reflection of the nation itself, with contrasting colors and components standing side by side. It’s a reminder that identity is often built from contrast, not uniformity.
This is comfort food with history behind it. A dish born from necessity that grew into a symbol of home, resilience, and belonging.
4 days ago | [YT] | 996
View 12 replies
Eats History
Rome’s Most Addictive Street Food Was Named After a Surprise
If you’ve ever bitten into a Roman supplì and watched molten cheese stretch like lava, you already understand the magic. But what most people don’t know is that this iconic street food got its name during the Napoleonic occupation of Rome. When French soldiers encountered these fried rice croquettes in the early 1800s, the gooey mozzarella center reminded them of a military telegram cord. They called it surprise — and Romans turned it into supplì.
Supplì were born as practical food for working Romans. Rice cooked slowly in tomato sauce, enriched with butter and cheese, then stuffed with mozzarella and fried until crisp. Cheap ingredients, maximum satisfaction. They were sold in bakeries and tavole calde, eaten standing up, and designed to keep people full for hours.
The texture is everything. Crack one open and you get a shattering crust, creamy rice, and that signature cheese pull that made them famous long before social media ever existed. It’s indulgent without being fancy, and that’s exactly why it survived centuries of change in Rome.
I learned to make these properly while eating my way through Rome, and recreating them at home is surprisingly doable. Slow-cooked tomato rice, a cube of mozzarella, breadcrumbs, and hot oil. That’s it. No shortcuts, no gimmicks.
Sometimes the best food stories aren’t about kings or empires. They’re about street food that refuses to disappear.
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/suppli-recipe-romes-crispy-rice...…
6 days ago | [YT] | 881
View 8 replies
Eats History
Long before protein powders and shakes, the Vikings were eating skyr.
Skyr is often marketed today as a modern “superfood,” but in Iceland it has been fueling people for over a thousand years. This thick, tangy cultured dairy traces back to the Viking Age, when Scandinavian settlers brought dairy preservation knowledge to Iceland and adapted it to survive long, cold winters.
Unlike most yogurts, skyr is made from skim milk and traditionally set with rennet, placing it closer to a fresh cheese than a yogurt. That process creates a food that’s naturally high in protein, filling, and easy to digest—exactly what you’d want in a land where food needed to work hard for you.
What makes skyr remarkable is how little it’s changed. Historically, households reused cultures from previous batches, warmed milk near the hearth, and let time do the rest. Today, we can replicate the same process safely and reliably at home with a thermometer and a bit of patience.
I made my own skyr by heating skim milk, cooling it to culture-friendly temperatures, adding live skyr and a touch of rennet, then letting it ferment overnight. The result was thick, clean, and deeply satisfying—proof that one of the Viking Age’s most practical foods still fits perfectly into a modern kitchen.
Finished with oats, lingonberry jam, and honey, this bowl is both ancient and modern at once: simple ingredients, steady energy, and a reminder that some of the best “new” health foods are actually very old.
Sometimes the strongest fuel isn’t flashy.
Sometimes it’s been around for a thousand years.
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/skyr-recipe-the-high-protein.../
1 week ago | [YT] | 1,178
View 11 replies
Eats History
🇬🇷 Eats History is coming to Greece 🇬🇷
From January 18th–29th, I’ll be traveling through Athens and Naxos to film new episodes exploring the deep connection between food, history, and culture.
And I need your help.
If you know:
• Exceptional local restaurants or tavernas
• Traditional dishes with real historical roots
• Bakers, cheesemakers, fishermen, farmers, or winemakers
• Archaeological sites, museums, monasteries, or food-linked historical locations
• Family recipes, regional specialties, or disappearing food traditions
• Anything that tells the story of Greece through food
…I want to hear about it.
I’m especially interested in experiences that go beyond tourist lists and get closer to how food was eaten historically and how it’s still prepared today.
If you have a recommendation or want to connect us with someone who fits the channel, please send details to:
📩 business@eatshistory.com
1 week ago | [YT] | 615
View 9 replies
Eats History
This is what dinner looked like at the table of Charlemagne, the most powerful ruler in Europe around the year 800.
No gilded banquets. No exotic spices. No Renaissance excess. The Carolingian court ate food that was practical, seasonal, and deeply tied to the land. One of the most plausible meals from Charlemagne’s world would have been braised rabbit served over a simple barley and lentil pottage.
Rabbit and hare were common game across early medieval Europe, especially for the elite who hunted regularly. The meat was lean and often braised slowly with butter, onions, garlic, wine, and herbs to make it tender. Grains and legumes formed the backbone of the meal, providing sustenance and balance rather than luxury.
This dish reflects a ruler known for discipline and moderation. Charlemagne valued strength, health, and clarity over indulgence. His food did the same. Simple techniques. Honest ingredients. Nothing wasted.
I recreated this early medieval dish to taste what power, restraint, and empire might have eaten like in the year 800.
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/medieval-recipe-dining-with.../
1 week ago | [YT] | 771
View 3 replies
Eats History
This is what dinner looked like at the table of Charlemagne, the most powerful ruler in Europe around the year 800.
No gilded banquets. No exotic spices. No Renaissance excess. The Carolingian court ate food that was practical, seasonal, and deeply tied to the land. One of the most plausible meals from Charlemagne’s world would have been braised rabbit served over a simple barley and lentil pottage.
Rabbit and hare were common game across early medieval Europe, especially for the elite who hunted regularly. The meat was lean and often braised slowly with butter, onions, garlic, wine, and herbs to make it tender. Grains and legumes formed the backbone of the meal, providing sustenance and balance rather than luxury.
This dish reflects a ruler known for discipline and moderation. Charlemagne valued strength, health, and clarity over indulgence. His food did the same. Simple techniques. Honest ingredients. Nothing wasted.
I recreated this early medieval dish to taste what power, restraint, and empire might have eaten like in the year 800.
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/medieval-recipe-dining-with.../
1 week ago | [YT] | 690
View 2 replies
Eats History
Benjamin Franklin’s Cheesecake Wasn’t What I Expected
Most people think of Benjamin Franklin as a statesman, inventor, and philosopher. Few realize he was also deeply obsessed with food, especially Parmesan cheese. While traveling through Europe, Franklin became fascinated with aged cheeses and the knowledge behind how they were made, valuing that practical wisdom as highly as ancient monuments.
Franklin once wrote that discovering the recipe for Parmesan would give him more satisfaction than copying any inscription carved in stone. That was not an exaggeration. It took him four years of inquiry before, in 1773, he finally received a detailed explanation of how his beloved cheese was produced. To Franklin, this was knowledge worth preserving.
That fascination carried into the kitchen. In Benjamin Franklin: Book of Recipes, a Parmesan cheesecake appears that reflects eighteenth-century European tastes, where sweet and savory were often blended. Cheesecakes of the period frequently used aged cheeses, sugar, eggs, and citrus, creating desserts that were rich, complex, and far less sugary than what we expect today.
I’ll admit, I approached this recipe with hesitation. Parmesan in a cheesecake sounds strange to modern ears. But the result is surprisingly familiar. The texture is classic cheesecake, smooth and custardy, with just a subtle savory bite from the Parmesan that deepens the flavor rather than overpowering it.
This isn’t a novelty dish meant to shock. It’s a reminder that historical cooking followed different rules, and that Franklin’s curiosity extended well beyond politics and science. Food was another system to understand, experiment with, and enjoy.
👉 eatshistory.com/benjamin-franklins-parmesan.../
2 weeks ago | [YT] | 777
View 14 replies
Eats History
The Stew That Taught America How to Cook: Julia Child’s Beef Bourguignon
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/julia-childs-legendary-beef.../
Before meal kits, food influencers, and viral recipes, there was Julia Child. She didn’t just teach Americans how to cook. She taught them not to be afraid of it. At a time when French cuisine felt intimidating and out of reach, Julia invited everyday home cooks into her kitchen and showed them they were capable of more than they thought.
What made her revolutionary was not perfection, but honesty. Her television show had no flashy edits and no illusion of ease. She made mistakes on camera, laughed them off, and kept going. That simple act gave millions of people permission to try something new without fear of failure.
Her 1961 cookbook Mastering the Art of French Cooking became the foundation of modern American home cooking, and within it lived her most iconic dish: beef bourguignon. Traditional French cooking, yes, but translated clearly and patiently for the modern home kitchen.
This dish is slow, deliberate, and deeply rewarding. Beef is browned properly, then gently braised in red wine and stock with herbs and aromatics until it becomes fork tender. Bacon adds savory depth, pearl onions soften until nearly melting, and mushrooms bring an earthy finish. It is rich, comforting, and surprisingly approachable.
I kept close to Julia’s original method, including boiling the bacon to soften its smokiness, but let the stew thicken naturally instead of straining the sauce. The result is rustic, deeply flavorful, and exactly why this recipe became legendary.
Beef bourguignon isn’t famous because it’s fancy. It’s famous because it teaches patience, confidence, and trust in the process.
Julia Child didn’t just give America a classic French stew. She gave it courage in the kitchen.
2 weeks ago | [YT] | 1,086
View 14 replies
Eats History
The Dutch New Years Eve Delicacy: Oliebollen
Before oliebollen became a powdered-sugar-covered New Year’s Eve staple, they were something far more practical. The earliest written version appears in 1667, in De verstandige kock, where they’re called oliekoecken, or “oil cakes.” No sugar. No eggs. No spices. Just flour, yeast, warm liquid, and sometimes apples or dried fruit, fried in hot fat to get people through the winter.
These early oliebollen weren’t festive treats. They were survival food. Fried dough made sense in cold months when grain was plentiful, fat was stable, and the body needed calories. Sweetness came only from fruit, because refined sugar was still expensive and not an everyday ingredient.
Over time, these oil cakes became tied to the end of the year. Winter markets sold them hot. Families fried them at home. By the 18th and 19th centuries, sugar became cheaper, eggs were added, and powdered sugar became the defining finish. That’s when oliebollen shifted from sustenance to celebration.
I recreated the 1667 version as faithfully as possible, then finished them with powdered sugar to reflect the later tradition. The result is heavier, more bready, and far less sweet than modern oliebollen. They taste like history. Honest, rustic, and built for cold nights, not indulgence.
Full Recipe: eatshistory.com/oliebollen-oringinal-recipe-the...…
2 weeks ago | [YT] | 651
View 10 replies
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