We all know the French love their food and believe it to be the best in the world. In fact, French haute cuisine was once again voted the best in the world by the judges of Bocuse d’Or, a fine-dining competition held every two years. Their love affair with food and wine is known worldwide.
But what would medieval food in Paris have looked like? Would they have held the prize for the best gastronomy? And I wonder what a Parisian medieval foodie’s Instagram would have looked like?
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Medieval Paris wasn’t the beautiful city it is today. It didn’t have the bevy of restaurants or cafes we have access to today. And there was a big difference between the food on the tables of the affluent Bourgeoisie and the common people. From peacocks to porridge, we’re taking a look at what you might have had for breakfast, lunch, and dinner during the Middle Ages.
A Glimpse into Medieval Paris
Paris in the 1300s was loud, smelly, but very much alive. The streets were narrow, uneven, and packed with people shouting, selling, hauling, and begging. If you were anywhere near Les Halles, the city’s main market, you’d have heard the clang of butchers’ cleavers, the haggling of fishwives, and the steady chant of monks passing by with baskets full of bread.
Overhead, laundry flapped from windows and smoke curled from chimneys. Below, you’d be dodging everything from chamber pots being emptied to the odd pig nosing through the muck. This wasn’t the Paris of elegant boulevards and croissants that we know and love today.
The University was attracting scholars from all over Europe. Merchants brought in spices from the East and barrels of wine from Burgundy. The Seine bustled with riverboats, unloading goods straight into the heart of the city. Paris was a magnet for wealth, ideas, and people, which meant its food scene was more diverse than anywhere else in France.
Compare that to the countryside, and it’s a different story. Rural diets were based almost entirely on what you could grow or raise. Bread, beans, onions, and a handful of herbs, if you were lucky. Meat was rare and typically reserved for special occasions, such as feast days. The village oven was communal, and meals were often stews that could stretch over several days. There weren’t carts rolling in with sacks of pepper or saffron.
Paris had the population, the money, and the connections. Which meant you could find a whole different menu depending on which side of the street, or which side of the river, you were on.
The Social Divide: Tables of the Rich and Poor
What ended up on your plate depended entirely on your place in the world. If you had money or titles, you ate to impress. If you didn’t, you ate to survive. The city was filled with contradictions. Gilded banquets took place just a few streets away from smoky rooms where people scraped burnt bread crusts into their stew. Everyone was hungry for something, but the flavors were far from equal.
Nobility and the Affluent Bourgeoisie
If you were lucky enough to be born into wealth in medieval Paris, your dinner table was less about feeding your hunger and more about showing off. Meals weren’t quick affairs. They were long, layered performances. And every dish told a story about who you were, who you knew, and how much you could afford to waste.
Lavish Banquets: A Feast as Performance
Banquets were where it all came together, often featuring five, six, or sometimes ten courses. You’d start with a “potage” to warm the stomach, maybe a spiced wine or a thick soup with herbs and almond milk. Then came the meat: roasted swan, fat capons, rabbits stuffed with figs.
They were rubbed with cloves and ginger, glazed with honey, or served swimming in sauces thick with saffron. These spices didn’t come cheap. They came overland from Asia, through Venice, then up into France, and by the time they made it to your plate, they were worth more than gold.
Presentation and Prestige: Food as a Flex
Presentation mattered too. It wasn’t unusual for a roasted boar to be brought out wearing its own head, jaw open in a grim little grin. Sometimes the skin was reattached to the cooked animal to make it look whole again. Brightly colored sauces, dyed with parsley, egg yolk, or powdered sandalwood, made the table look like something between a feast and a work of art. They even gilded food in gold leaf. Not because it tasted better, but because it impressed the guests.
Common Dishes: What the Elite Actually Ate
The pastries were just as dramatic. Not desserts the way we think of them today, but savory pies crammed with pigeon, eel, or even tiny songbirds. The crusts were often discarded or used as trenchers to soak up the juices. Sugar, when it did show up, was used sparingly and often treated more like a spice. One popular delicacy was marzipan molded into shapes such as castles, knights, even miniature animals, set out for guests to admire before eating.
And while nobles dined in private halls lit by candlelight and musicians played in the corner, the growing bourgeoisie were trying hard to copy them. Wealthy merchants in Paris were beginning to host their own banquets, featuring nearly as many spices, servants, and sugar sculptures. They may not have had titles, but they had money, and food was the quickest way to prove it.
The Common Folk
For most Parisians, there were no feasts, no courses, no sugar sculptures. A typical day started with coarse bread made from rye or barley, if you couldn’t afford wheat, sometimes dipped in thin ale if you had it. Lunch and dinner were often the same thing: pottage. A thick stew of whatever you could get your hands on. Cabbage, onions, leeks, beans, and perhaps a bit of bacon rind or bone to add flavor during boiling. Meat was rare. Eggs were a treat. And butter? That was for the richer tables.
Cooking at Home (Or Not)
Most poor households didn’t have ovens. Firewood was expensive, and cooking fuel was rationed. People relied on communal bakehouses or purchased hot food from street vendors. You might grab a warm meat pie from a stall or a bowl of hot gruel on a cold morning. These vendors were a lifeline for the working poor, especially in winter, when fresh food was scarce and storing anything without spoiling was a constant battle.
What Was in the Pot?
Vegetables were seasonal and local, and that hasn’t really changed in rural France, where I live. No tomatoes, no potatoes, no corn. Those hadn’t reached Europe yet. You had turnips, carrots, garlic, and sometimes dried herbs like thyme or parsley. Lentils and broad beans were common, both cheap and filling. Fermented and pickled foods helped keep things edible a bit longer.
A Bit of Celebration
On feast days or saints’ days, things got a little better. The Church calendar gave people an excuse to cook something more special. Maybe a roast chicken shared among neighbors or a sweet dish made from boiled grain, honey, and dried fruit.
Culinary Staples and Ingredients
Bread: The Base of Every Meal
Bread was the backbone of the medieval diet, no matter who you were. But not all loaves were equal. The wealthy got soft, white bread made from sifted wheat flour. The poor made do with coarse loaves from rye, barley, or a mix of whatever grains were on hand. These were dense, dark, and filling. Stale bread was never wasted. It soaked up broth, lined trenchers, or got crumbled into pottage. You didn’t throw it out. You used it until it crumbled in your fingers.
Meat and Fish: For Those Who Could Afford It
Meat was a regular part of the upper-class diet, from fatty cuts of pork and beef to exotic birds like swan or crane. It was often dressed up with spices and fruit, served in pies or skewered on elaborate platters. The Church calendar restricted the consumption of meat on many days, but allowed fish, so wealthy households often maintained fishponds or paid for fresh deliveries from the river.
For the poor, meat was a luxury. Offcuts, scraps, and bones were more common. If you lived near the river, freshwater fish might appear in your diet, either fresh, dried, salted, or boiled. Herring and eels were widely eaten, partly because they were cheap and easy to preserve.
Vegetables, Legumes, and Grains
Cabbage, leeks, onions, turnips, and garlic were common in every class of kitchen, but their use varied. The poor boiled them into one-pot meals. The rich added them as side dishes or stewed them with wine and spices.
Grains such as oats, barley, and spelt were essential for porridge and stews. Lentils, peas, and broad beans were the main source of protein for those who couldn’t afford meat. You’d see them in thick soups or mashed into paste with a little oil.
Spices and Flavor: Worth Their Weight
If your kitchen had pepper, cinnamon, saffron, cloves, or ginger, you weren’t scraping by. These came from far-off lands and passed through dozens of hands before they landed in a Parisian cook’s pouch. The wealthy used them to flavor food and showcase their wealth. Some believed spices balanced the humors in the body, so they were thought to be both delicious and medicinal.
The poor flavored their food with whatever they could afford or find. Fresh herbs like parsley, thyme, and sorrel were often foraged from the edges of town or bought in small bundles at market. If someone had a bit of space near their door or access to a shared plot, they might grow a few plants in pots or tucked against the wall.
Monasteries sometimes kept larger herb gardens, and wealthier homes often had enclosed spaces where herbs were grown alongside flowers and fruit trees. Mustard seeds were ground into paste for a bit of kick, and vinegar or sour wine added some tang when fresh ingredients were thin on the ground.
Authentic Recipes to Relive the Past
You can read about medieval food all day, but there’s nothing quite like trying it for yourself. The flavors are different—sometimes surprising, sometimes oddly familiar—but they give you a real taste of how people once lived. These two dishes were popular across social classes, with variations adapted to suit what was on hand. One is a creamy comfort food from noble tables, the other a humble staple that could stretch through the week.
Blancmanger: A Medieval Comfort Dish for the Wealthy
This was a favorite among the medieval elite. It sounds simple—chicken, rice, almond milk—but it was creamy, mild, and surprisingly rich. Spices like cinnamon or ginger gave it a warm depth, and if you were trying to impress, you’d top it with a little sugar and silver leaf. It was often served to the sick or elderly because it was soft, easy to digest, and felt a bit luxurious.
Ingredients:
- 1 large chicken breast, poached and shredded
- 1 cup short grain rice (like Arborio or pudding rice)
- 2 ½ cups unsweetened almond milk
- 1 cup chicken broth (from poaching the chicken)
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- ½ teaspoon ground ginger
- Pinch of salt
- 1 tablespoon sugar (optional)
Instructions:
- Poach the chicken in lightly salted water until fully cooked. Set aside to cool, then shred it finely.
- Cook the rice in the almond milk and chicken broth over medium heat, stirring often so it doesn’t stick.
- When the rice is soft and thick, stir in the shredded chicken and spices. Simmer for another 5–10 minutes until creamy.
- Taste and adjust. If you want a hint of sweetness like some wealthier households did, stir in a little sugar.
- Serve warm. If you’re feeling fancy, top with chopped almonds or a sprinkle of extra cinnamon.
Frumenty: The Porridge That Fed Everyone
Frumenty was the medieval version of a do-it-all dish. At its core, it was boiled grain, but people found ways to make it work for breakfast, dinner, and even special occasions. The poor ate it plain or with a bit of broth. The wealthy added cream, spices, and sometimes meat. It was cheap, filling, and kept well.
Ingredients:
- ¾ cup whole wheat grains (or bulgur wheat or pearled barley if easier to find)
- 2 ½ cups water or light broth
- 1 cup whole milk or almond milk
- 1 tablespoon honey
- ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
- Pinch of salt
- Optional: dried fruit like raisins or currants
Instructions:
- Soak the grains overnight if you’re using whole wheat berries. It cuts down the cooking time and helps soften them up.
- Boil the grains in water or broth over medium heat for about 30–40 minutes, until they’re soft and plump.
- Stir in the milk, honey, salt, and cinnamon. Let it simmer another 10–15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
- If you’ve got dried fruit, toss some in near the end so it plumps up a bit.
- Serve warm. You can add a splash of milk or another drizzle of honey if you like it richer.
Bringing the Past to the Table
In medieval Paris, the food told that story better than anything. Whether you were feasting on gilded game birds or scraping the last bit of pottage from your bowl, what you ate revealed your place in the world. But across every table, there was a shared effort to make the most of what you had, to stretch ingredients, and to find comfort in the familiar.
