One Great Big Bird, Hold the Feathers

The Greeks and Romans rarely ate swans, though they used the fat of these stately giant cousins of the duck for medicinal purposes. But in the Middle Ages, European rulers became obsessed with swans and peacocks as symbols of royal majesty and splendor, and a really hot banquet had to feature one or both.

So to own swans was a royal privilege; the count of Holland made a pretty penny selling these fashionable birds to would-be banquet-throwers. In England, it was probably King John--always short of money--who started selling commoners the right to raise swans for a fee called swannage. Later English kings also bestowed swan rights on various monasteries and favored vassals.

This led to fierce quarrels about who owned which swan and the development of a body of swan law, adjudicated in special swan courts. The swans had to be marked in a ceremony called swan-upping (the baby swans, or cygnets, were lifted out of the water, you see), overseen by a representative of the Crown. There were registries of swan marks comparable to the brand books of the American cattle country.

A full-grown swan made the best display if you were serving it in the French fashion. The French liked to roast swans (peacocks, too) and then sew their feathered skins back onto them for full grandeur. Surprisingly, the English were more elegant gourmets when it came to swan cookery--they roasted the bird quite simply and served it with a sauce called chawdoun, a sort of spiced giblet gravy thickened with bread crumbs and colored red with a little of the swan’s blood.

Cygnet was said to be even tastier, especially if fattened on oats. That way, it didn’t pick up a swampy flavor from the aquatic plants that swans normally eat.