In my last post I wrote about the use of food for diplomatic purposes in The Mirror and the Light, the final volume in Hilary Mantel’s Thomas Cromwell trilogy. I wrote about a meal that is eaten early in the novel, when Cromwell invites Eustache Chapuys, ambassador to the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles V, for dinner. At the meal the two men, with their contrasting allegiances, discuss how to reconcile Mary Tudor to her father, Henry VIII, following the execution of Anne Boleyn, the woman who had in effect removed Mary’s mother – Katherine of Aragon – from her position as wife of Henry and Queen Consort of England. Whilst the meal is enjoyed by both men, little progress is made politically.
Fast forward three years – and 600 pages of Mantel’s epic novel – and food again appears as a political tool, though this time with additional romantic associations.
It is now winter 1539. Henry’s third wife – Jane Seymour – whom he married only 11 days after Anne Boleyn’s execution, has been dead for more than two years (after giving birth to the longed-for male heir, the future Edward VI). The fourth wife is on her way to England from Germany – Anne of Cleves, the daughter of a German duke. Unsurprisingly Henry’s interest in her is not simply romantic: Anne’s brother, William, was a leader of the Protestants of Western Germany, and an alliance with him would strengthen Henry’s position against potential attacks from Catholic France and the Holy Roman Empire. Anne speaks little English and is on her way to a strange country, travelling through the dark cold winter months – she arrives in England on 27th December 1539 and marries Henry less than a fortnight later on 6th January 1540. Mantel imagines that baked goods are sent to her and her retinue to fortify them on their travels: ‘In the bakehouse they are making Striezel to take to Anna and her ladies, and the smell of cloves and cinnamon and orange peel has crept through the house.’
Striezel is a traditional Austrian bake – a sweet yeasted dough flavoured with spices and dried fruit – not dissimilar to the Christmas bake stollen, though without the marzipan that runs through that. It’s a thoughtful foodstuff to send to a foreign princess which will remind her of home, and perhaps persuade her that this marriage will be a good one.
Because it’s easy to imagine that Anne might have been feeling some trepidation about what was to come. Mantel suggests – perhaps motivated by the fact that more than two years passed between Jane Seymour’s death and Henry’s marriage to Anne of Cleves – that this fourth marriage was considerably more difficult to secure, despite Henry’s status as King of England.
Mantel imagines scenarios in which the widowed Henry expresses his interest in a number of available – and in some cases unavailable – women from all over Europe: Christina, Duchess of Milan and niece of Charles V; Madame de Longueville; or one of her two sisters, Louise and Renee; the Duke of Lorraine’s daughter. As one of the king’s negotiators reassures his clerks: ‘Don’t fret… you don’t need to remember all these ladies individually; not till the king changes one and chooses her fate. They are all cousins, mostly papists, and mostly called Marie or Anne.’
But Henry’s hubris is swiftly punctured as his overtures are repeatedly knocked back. Castillon, the French ambassador, gives short shrift to Henry when he suggests that various French noblewomen should make their way to Calais and he will pop over the Channel and see which one pleases him:
‘What?’ Castillon can no longer contain himself. ‘Do you think it is a horse fair? You want us to trot them out like fillies, the noblest dames of France? Perhaps your Majesty would like to mount them too, before making choice?’
Castillon then goes one step further by pointing out to Henry a very valid reason why the women might not be rushing to be married to him:
‘Has your Majesty considered that it might be difficult to find any lady to marry you at all?’
‘Why?’ the king asks.
‘Because you kill your wives.’
At last Cromwell himself – who initially was determined to keep out of the marriage negotiations – manages to arrange the marriage between Henry and Anne of Cleves. And perhaps the ‘striezel’ is a mark of how relieved Henry – and all the royal household – is that an agreement has been struck.
However, the relief does not last long. This was a very short-lived marriage: after 6 months the marriage was declared unconsummated and was annulled. The traditional story is that Henry was disappointed when he met Anne in the flesh, having been misled by an over-favourable portrait of her (a 16th century version of photoshopping your portrait for a dating site!).
Mantel, however, adds a twist, suggesting that the person who was first repelled by what she saw in the flesh was Anne. Gregory, Cromwell’s son, who is present at the first meeting between the couple reports it to his father thus:
‘The king bowed low.’ Gregory takes a gulp of his wine. ‘And addressed her but she did not turn. I think she took him for – I do not know what – some Jolly Jankin dressed up for the festival . … then her people swarmed in, and someone called out “Madam”, and a phrase to alert her…And then she turned. And she knew who he was. And as Christ is my Saviour, Father, the look in her eye! I will never forget it. … Nor will the King. … She flinched from him. He could not miss it.’
Whatever the truth, this was not a match made in heaven… and Cromwell will pay the price.
Despite that, the sources note that Henry and Anne remained on good terms following the annulment. Henry paid her a generous settlement and she was known as ‘the King’s beloved Sister’. Perhaps that striezel set them on the right path after all. Anne also outlived not just Henry, but also his fifth and sixth wives, so she had the last laugh!
ANNE OF CLEVES’ STRIEZEL
Ingredients (makes 1 loaf – approx. 8 slices):
150ml milk, warmed (not too hot – you should be able to still dip your finger into it)
325g strong bread flour
¼ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
50g caster sugar
2 teaspoons active dried yeast
1/4 teaspoon salt
110g softened unsalted butter
1 egg, beaten
50g glace cherries, quartered
50g raisins
25g mixed candied peel
grated zest of 1/2 a lemon
For the decoration
100g icing sugar, sieved
1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon flaked almonds
Method:
Sieve the flour, cinnamon and ground cloves into a large mixing bowl, stir in the salt and sugar and then sprinkle on the yeast and mix in.
Make a well in the centre of the dried ingredients and pour in the wamed milk, butter and beaten egg. Mix everything together – either with your hands or a wooden spoon – until the mixture comes together into a whole and comes away cleanly from the sides of the bowl. Work in the cherries, raisins, peel and lemon zest so that they are evenly distributed throughout the mixture. Then knead the dough – either by hand on a lightly floured work surface or in a food mixer – for 5-10 minutes until it is springy and elastic.
Place the dough in a lightly oiled bowl, cover with a tea towel and leave in a warm place until it has doubled in size (depending on how warm the setting is, this could take anywhere between 1 and 2 hours).
Turn the risen dough out onto a lightly floured work surface, knock it back down with your fists to remove the air and knead for another minute or so until it is smooth and elastic.
Divide the dough into three more or less equal portions and, using your hands, roll out each one to a long rope (each should be more or less the same length). Arrange the three dough ropes close to each other vertically on the work surface. Stick together the tops of the three ropes – you may find a little water helps – and then you are ready to begin plaiting – start with the rope on the outer right and bring it over the middle rope, then bring the rope on the left over the middle, and so on until you get to the bottom of the ropes – then stick the ends together (just as you did the tops).
Carefully lift the dough plait onto a greased baking sheet, cover with a tea towel and leave in a warm place for another hour to rise again.
When the dough is nearly ready preheat the oven to 190C/ 170C (fan)/ Gas mark 5. Bake the striezel in the oven for 35-40 minutes until it is golden brown. Let it cool on the baking tray for 10 minutes and then transfer to a wire rack to finish cooling.
When the striezel is cold you can decorate it. Mix together the icing sugar and water, and spread it over the plait using a knife that you have run under the hot water tap. Scatter flaked almonds over the icing and leave to set.
Cut into thick slices and spread with plenty of butter.
