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It finally happened: The Siege of Paris dinner!
Last Thursday, April 3, my family and I got dressed in historically-inspired formal wear and headed off to The Buckland Club’s Siege of Paris dinner.
The dinner was over a year in the making, and I’m still so proud, honored, and amazed to say that I’ve been involved from nearly the start of it.
In March 2024, I was contacted by Andrew Morris, Chairman of The Buckland Club, a club that meets twice every year in Birmingham, England, for unusual themed dinners. Named for Frank Buckland, a 19th century British naturalist who famously ate countless different kinds of animals, their motto is Semper in ventrem aliquid novi. (Always something new in the stomach.).
Andrew explained that the theme of the Club’s spring 2025 dinner would be the Siege of Paris, and he wanted to know if I’d like to be its sponsor.
The role wasn’t a financial one (much to my relief - my love of the Siege of Paris is boundless, but alas, my budget is not), but rather more like an organizer and lecturer. I would help plan the menu (including, I’d find out, the images on the actual paper menus and place mats), and then, on the night of the dinner, I’d discuss each course and the history behind it in 5-7 minutes in front of a hungry and curious crowd.
I was very honored - and all in. I loved the idea of bringing food from the Siege to life…even though it was notoriously terrible.
That, though, Andrew explained to me, was exactly why The Buckland Club’s members wanted to try it out.
Over the past year, Andrew, as well as Club president Roger Hale and deputy chair Hazel Riggall, have been frequent online companions. We’ve spent hours discussing things like how to acquire edible and ethically sourced zoo animals to eat, the history of Parisian bread, and the availability of potatoes and cheese during the Siege.
As you might imagine, I was thrilled to be able to talk about and dissect (no pun intended) these topics. And it was always such a pleasure to receive their friendly and curious messages, and to see them “live” on Zoom calls.
We had some challenges along the way, just as you would with any major undertaking. For instance, Roger, who does the page layout for the Club’s menus, needed a more high-definition copy of the Café Voisin menu from the Siege. Luckily, we were able to reach out to the Musée Escoffier, who has an original copy and very kindly sent us an actual photo of it.
There were also long email exchanges about the bread. If you read this blog, you probably know I’m a tiny bit obsessed with Siege bread, to say the least. When white flour ran out during the Siege, bread was made with ingredients like potato flakes, crushed peas, and even straw. Intrepid bread makers Roger and Hazel were able to come up with several variations of Siege bread, based on contemporary accounts we have of it. But most of it had to be edible…more edible, that is, than actual Siege bread, which notoriously caused indigestion and was so horrible that pieces of it were saved as souvenirs of the hardship Parisians endured during the Siege.
That kind of adaptation sums up what the dinner became. On the one hand, the members of The Buckland Club are boundlessly curious and open-minded when it comes to food. But on the other hand, we didn’t want anyone to leave the dinner hungry or sick. So, some compromises were made.
In the end, the dinner ended up being a wonderful, Siege-inspired affair. And while each course may not have been an exact replica of what someone would have eaten during this time, it was an intriguing jumping-off point for me to discuss during my speeches and a very cool homage to that era.
The Buckland Club members were attentive and enthusiastic listeners, which truly warmed my heart and made the evening even more fun. And they’re just great people in general. It was an unforgettable experience.
If you’re curious about what exactly we ate, here’s a breakdown of the menu (with photos of each course).
The paper menus and place mats
Okay, these weren’t edible parts of the Siege of Paris dinner, but they were definitely important. Roger Hale had asked me to send him images I thought would illustrate the Siege and our particular dinner. We had limited space, so it was a challenge, but in the end, I sent him:
~ one of my favorite cartoons from that time, an illustration by Cham of a man at a dinner table who’s just had a cat jump down his throat. The French caption translates to: "The risk of eating mice is that your cat might chase after them."
~ a drawing of a line in front of a Municipal Butcher’s. Parisians would redeem their increasingly meager meat (or, as the Siege continued, dried fish) rations here. Sometimes, supplies would run out and the people would complain and even try to storm the butcher’s, hence the presence of members of the National Guard. Getting your ration often meant queuing for hours during a winter with record-breaking cold temperatures.
~ a drawing of one of the city’s infamous cat, dog, and rat butcher stands. These animals, along with horses, were the main sources of meat for Parisians, outside their small ration from the municipal butchers (if the ration was still available and they were able to brave hours-long lines and freezing temperatures).
~ another cartoon by Cham, of a well-dressed man holding a loaf of bread beneath his arm as he walks along the street. This was from a moment fairly early in the Siege where non-government bakeries or possibly one’s own kitchen could still provide white-flour loaves. People were being asked to bring their own bread to restaurants, and having your fine white flour bread was a status symbol.
~ a photo of one of my Siege of Paris bread souvenirs.
~ a famous image and relic from the Siege: The December 25, 1870 menu from the Café Voisin, which, like many Parisian restaurants, still operated during the Siege, though their offerings had to be adapted based on what food was available. Sometimes, restaurants showed a sense of honesty and humor, as in this case. Among other Siege-era offerings, you’ll find “Le Chat flanqué de rats” (cat flanked by rats), as well as meat from zoo animals. This menu was also one of the main sources of inspiration for our Siege of Paris dinner.
~ one of the cover images from Album du siège par Cham et Daumier, a collection of cartoons by Cham and Daumier that cover the experience of the Siege. This particular image shows an allegorical representation of Paris (recognizeable by both her tower crown and the convenient word “Paris” written on it) eagerly gathering rats into her mouth while surrounded by a pot with a dog and a cat in it.
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| The place mat |
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| Front cover of the menu |
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| Back cover of the menu |
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| The inside of the menu. On one side is the menu from the Café Voisin, the Buckland Club menu on the other. |
Roger also added photos of the Siege bread-inspired loaves he and Hazel had made for the dinner, on a special insert page that featured my translations of some of the contemporary accounts and recipes we have for Siege bread.
I can’t tell you how moved I was when I came into the dining room at the Edgbaston Golf Club and saw those place settings with these familiar and beloved illustrations. It felt like a real way to honor the people who experienced the Siege of Paris, and to celebrate their humor and resilience. Everything also just looked really great.
I felt blown away, as you can see from the expression on my face in this photo, which my son snapped just as we sat down.
Canapés
But I’m getting a bit ahead of myself, because we didn’t enter the dining room right away. First, there were drinks and canapés.
The drinks ranged from water to alcohol, which were all available during the Siege. There wasn’t Coke at the time, but my son was still happy to be offered a glass, and hey, other kinds of sugary treats were also usually easily obtainable during the Siege, including chocolate and jam.
The canapés themselves consisted of scoops of sardine pâté with a slice of radish on top. Sardines are included in the Café Voisin’s menu, but were likely canned or dried. We had discussed using some kind of dried fish, which was what was mostly available during the Siege. In fact, towards the end of it, many municipal butcher’s had run out of meat and were giving out dried cod instead. But that would have been a bit tricky to eat.
The radish slice was inspired by the Café Voisin menu, where radishes are listed among the hors d'oeuvres. Vegetables were hard to come by during the Siege, since no one had been prepared to stockpile those that might last, and since the bitterly cold autumn and winter wasn’t the best time to grow anything. And yet, some Parisians or refugees from nearby suburbs did have small gardens or small stockpiles of vegetables from before the Siege. Some of them cultivated gardens just outside the city wall, or might even have ventured back to their evacuated suburban homes to see what they could gather (if the place hadn’t been looted already). Others, including restaurant owners, may have procured vegetables from the black market.
So, while not every Parisian was regularly enjoying vegetables, it was possible, especially for the clientele of an upscale restaurant like the Café Voisin, who had different ways of obtaining them, from possibly growing them or relying on their own stock, to paying exorbitant prices for them legally or through black market sellers.
The canapés were served on modern-day Siege bread. This was made by Roger and Hazel, based on recipes and accounts from the Siege, including:
”One pound of this bread contains: An eighth of common wheat flour, 4/8 of a mixture of potato flakes, rice, lentils, split peas, vetches, oats, and rye ground up in abnormal portions, 2/8 of water, 1/8 of straw and vegetable shell remains.” - Jacques-Henri Paradis, in his memoir Journal du siège, par un bourgeois de Paris (my translation)
and
“It seems to have been made with old panama hats picked up out of the gutters.” - courtesy of the often sassy chronicler Henri d’Alméras (my translation)
Hazel’s bread contained Siege-inspired ingredients including rye flour, chickpea flour, and pea flour. Roger created two versions of Siege bread. The first contains ingredients like dried and pounded potato peelings, green and red lentils, buckwheat flour, and rice flour.
The second version of Roger’s bread contained actual straw.
As you can imagine, as someone sort of obsessed with Siege bread, I couldn’t wait to try these. While the sardine pâté stole the show in terms of flavor, I was thrilled to detect little rough, grainy bits in the bread.
Unfortunately, none of these bits were straw. The Club had decided not to serve Roger’s Siege bread batch that contained straw, although some members had tried it during a tasting a few weeks prior. The general consensus of those I talked to was that it lived up to its reputation and was hard to eat. One Club member told me she was still picking bits of straw out of her teeth!
That said, another member pulled me aside towards the end of the evening and confessed that he didn’t think the straw bread was that bad and that if he were ever in a Siege of Paris situation, he’d be fine with the bread.
While I was glad Roger had made it and that some people had actually tasted it and could tell me about it, I have to admit, I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to experience the straw Siege bread myself. Not even to taste, per se -- one of the things we’d all discussed was possibly leaving a small slice of it by each place setting with the option of either tasting it or saving it as a souvenir. But it turns out there wasn’t enough of the straw bread for all 60+ attendees.
Luckily, there would be a surprise for me a little later…..
First Course: Onion Soup without the Onion, and another version of Siege bread
A basket of bread inspired by Siege recipes was on every table for the first course. This bread had been baked by the kitchen staff of the Edgbaston Golf Club, led by Head Chef Chris Haynes. Everyone I met who worked at the Edgbaston Golf Club was kind and amazing. I’m so grateful for their help and to Chris and his team for being so open to making all of these unusual dishes. I can’t thank them enough.
Their version of the bread was more edible and went down smoothly. I think it could have absolutely been served at a regular dinner without raising an eyebrow, and for that, I’m sure our guests were grateful.
As for the soup, the name was inspired by an actual recipe in La Cuisinière assiégée, ou L'art de vivre en temps de siége (The Besieged Cook, or art de vivre in times of siege), a cookbook anonymously published near the end of the Siege or shortly after. The book contains recipes for homemakers and, understandably, focuses a lot on replacing or simply doing without certain ingredients.
Onion soup without the onion has always made me smile a bit. The description is at once practical and honest, and a bit funny - very much in keeping with the sense of grim humor we see in things like the cartoons published during the Siege or on restaurant menus that openly describe the unusual animals they’re serving, rather than being discreet about it (say, by calling cat “rabbit” or simply listing stew, not its ingredients).
The recipe itself, though, isn’t just a joke. It’s an actual option for someone with few ingredients available to them (the book also contains an actual onion soup recipe, if the cook was able to get their hands on an onion or two).
Here’s the recipe for Onion Soup without the Onion, from La Cuisinière assiégée (my translation):
“Melt fat into a frying pain; take slices of bread, that you will toast for a long time; add the necessary amount of water, salt, and pour it over your slices of bread.”
Andrew and I toyed with the idea of actually serving this soup. But seeing that it was a paid dinner and that we didn’t want Club members to actually starve, Andrew came up with a different solution: Why not make a traditional French onion soup and then explain all of the ingredients, including cheese, normal bread, and actual onions, that would not have been in this recipe or have been easily available to most Parisians?
So, that’s what we did.
Although the part of me that longs for authenticity was a bit disappointed, the soup lifted my spirits. I’m actually not a big fan of French onion soup, but this one was seasoned in a way that just really clicked with me. I thoroughly enjoyed it and am glad to have tasted it, regardless of the context.
It was also a fun and unique approach to give my speech about this course and have everyone imagine each of its crucial ingredients missing. I think everyone felt grateful to not be eating onion soup during the Siege.
Main Course: Civet de Kangourou (Kangaroo Stew), Petits-Pois au Beurre (peas in butter), Boiled Potatoes
Our main course was one of the biggest decisions we had to make. Namely, what meat should we choose? Naturally, when you think of the Siege of Paris, meat sources like cat, dog, and, especially, rat, come to mind. But none of us wanted to eat cat or dog (or legally could have in the UK, for that matter).
It turns out that Andrew has tried dog before, during a trip to North Korea, and he could confirm that, as many Siege -era accounts claim, it tastes a bit like mutton. I’ve also heard testimonials by an Italian man who, during World War II, ate cat and said that, as Siege-era Parisians often claimed, it tastes like rabbit.
I haven’t heard much about what rat tasted like, but when you think about it, some cultures do eat other kinds of rodents - for instance, guinea pig in several South American countries, so it must be pretty tasty.
There was some discussion among club members about possibly procuring rat in some way, or replacing it with a similar rodent. But to be honest, that sort of sat heavily with me. I genuinely like rats, as you may know, and felt a bit sad about the prospect of eating one. Luckily, the idea was quickly shot down, since the Club had recently had a dinner where rodents were served and didn’t want to repeat themselves. The same went for horses, another fairly common meat source during the Siege.
When Andrew then suggested pigeon, which people do indeed eat today and would probably be fairly easy to get our hands on, I realized I had truly become immersed in the Siege of Paris, because I felt horrified.
Not just because I also really love pigeons and believe that if I were reincarnated as a bird, that’s what I would be, but because pigeons were considered heroes during the Siege of Paris.
In a city cut off from the world, they were the only way for people to get messages from outside the city walls, through a roll of microfilm inserted into a metal tube attached to a pigeon’s feathers. Although not every homing pigeon made it back to Paris safely, those who did were able to get more than 100, 000 messages to isolated, worried Parisians. That’s why when you look at many images commemorating the Siege, you’ll often see drawings of pigeons included. They were even included on Bartholdi’s monument to the Siege’s balloonists that stood at Porte des Ternes, before it was melted down in World War II.
Not every pigeon in Paris in 1870 and 1871 was a homing pigeon, of course, but they were all respected, because you never knew.
I’m sure some people still ate pigeons - in fact, a Siege memoir by Charles Laurent claims that some people counted their tail feathers to determine whether or not they were homing pigeons in order to try to catch and eat those who weren’t. But even so, this wasn’t something that was accepted or proclaimed or joked about the same way eating just about any other animal was at the time.
So, pigeon was also ruled out for our menu (much to my secret relief).
In the end, we opted to go upscale and choose kangaroo, an animal that is still eaten today and is available in the UK. This wasn’t much of a compromise, though, since civet de kangourou (kangaroo stew) is an actual item on the Café Voisin menu.
Zoo animals from the Jardin des Plantes and the Jardin d’Acclimation, which was located just outside the city and whose animal population had to be relocated to the Jardin des Plantes, unfortunately weren’t able to be fed for very long after the Siege started. In order to keep them from suffering and dying a slow death from starvation, the zookeepers made an arrangement to sell most of the animals, either exclusively or primarily to the upscale Boucherie Anglaise (English Butcher's, appropriately enough for the location of our dinner, English Butcher’s).
These animals could be sold freshly butchered or canned, and they came at a high price, which means most Parisians never got to taste them. But some more privileged ones did, including Victor Hugo, who wrote about eating elephant in his memoirs of the Siege.
Although the menus that offered zoo animals were often honest or humorous about it, many Parisians had a bit of melancholy, especially about eating elephant, since two of those elephants were Castor and Pollux, beloved animals who children used to ride at the zoo. The accounts of their deaths are among the most heartbreaking things I’ve ever read about the Siege.
In addition to elephant consommé and kangaroo stew, you’ll find other zoo animal offerings on the Café Voisin menu, including wolf, which Andrew very cleverly also “included” in our Siege of Paris dinner menu by serving his favorite wines, fittingly called Le Loup Blanc (The White Wolf) and L’Espirt du Loup (The Spirit of the Wolf).
As for our kangaroo stew, I was intrigued to try it (and trying hard not to think about how cool kangaroos are - after all, I eat pigs and cows all the time, and those animals are pretty cool in their own right, too). So was my son. One thing I admire about him is that while he can be a picky eater (for instance, despite being half-French, he did not want the melted Gruyere cheese in his French onion soup), he’s also an intrepid one. He’ll try almost anything, even if he’s not guaranteed to like it.
He had been talking about tasting kangaroo for weeks (maybe it’s a good thing that, unlike me when I was a kid, he’s not too into nature documentaries that feature them), and when the time came, he wasn’t disappointed. He described it as tasting like duck, and said “Mom, you’re going to love this!” as he enthusiastically took another bite.
Andrew was impressed by his comparison, which made me feel better about my son being there. There had been some debate about Edgbaston Golf Club’s policy, since they don’t usually allow children. But since the dinner was a private event, the Buckland Club advocated for us and my son was able to come and taste kangaroo and take lots of pictures of me and wear a suit and thin bowtie inspired by Napoleon III’s son Louis-Napoleon, who my son kind of looks like in one particular photo.
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| (image source) |
And so, Andrew announced at the dinner, my son is as of now the youngest person to attend a Buckland Club dinner, in all the Club’s 73-year history! I’m so grateful to Andrew for advocating for him, and to my son for behaving as well as I knew he would, and I’m glad he liked the food, too.
(My husband was also there, thrilled to wear a replica Civil War Union military jacket he’d gotten years ago as a gift from his American in-laws. I said if anyone asked him, he should tell them it was in homage to Wickham Hoffman, a former Civil War colonel who came to Paris and was American Ambassador Elihu Washburn’s secretary during the Siege. Both men’s diaries and/or memoirs happen to have been valuable sources to me when I was writing Hearts at Dawn, so everything tied nicely together.)
Sorry for hopping to another topic - back to the kangaroo. Although my son said it tasted like duck, we realized that was because he’s never tasted venison. But those of us who had, thought that it was a bit closer to that. It had a soft, pleasant, but slightly stringy texture that reminded me of brisket. Overall, a very good meal and one of the highlights.
The kangaroo stew served at the dinner was a sort of deconstructed version of the dish, which had probably been cooked along with the vegetables in the original version, both due to French tradition and probably the fact that this would have hidden the condition of some of the vegetables, which might not have been great-looking or could have been a bit wilted (for any leafy veggies or herbs that might have been included) at this point in the Siege.
Both peas and potatoes were somewhat available during the Siege. Petits pois au beurre -- peas in butter -- is even on the Café Voisin menu, although I’ve always been curious about the butter. From Berte Ainé , chef at another upscale restaurant, Peter’s, book Les menus d'un restaurant de Paris durant le siège, I know that dairy products could sometimes be procured via the black market (Ainé writes about a man who keeps milk-producing goats hidden in a barn or warehouse, for instance), but I do wonder if there were other places it was produced and sold, maybe legally? I want to do more research into this.
As for potatoes, you’ll sometimes come across them in menus or recipes from the time, but they were also fairly rare, at least rare enough for a sack of them to have been one of the items auctioned off at the Fête de la Charité, a charity event held in late December, around the time the Café Voisin menu was being served.
I haven’t come across many accounts about carrots in particular during the Siege, but they are listed, for instance, in the items and prices section of La Cuisinière assiégée. And they did taste really nice with the kangaroo….
Dessert: Cream of Rice, Coffee Served With Oat Milk
Although I don’t tend to like things like cream of rice, I was very excited to try this version, since it came from a Siege recipe I’d actually tried to make - and very, very badly failed at.
In December 2022, I tried my hand and making the cream of rice recipe included in La Cuisinière Assiégée. The recipe was challenging because there are no exact measurements or amounts of ingredients given, and instructions are cursory. My rice pudding ended up looking (and tasting) like just a pile of white rice with chocolate powder over it.
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| My far less appetizing version |
My blog post about my failed attempt at making crème de riz (cream of rice) was actually how Andrew found me in the first place, so while I didn’t get an edible dessert out of it, I got something so much better.
As I blogged at the time, I have no idea what the actual result of the recipe would have looked like at the time. Maybe this would have been close? Probably not,though, especially according to my French husband, who’s since re-read my blog post and the recipe and thinks there are a few things I should have done differently. We’re actually planning to try the recipe his way soon. I’ll report back on that when it happens.
As for the cream of rice served at the Siege of Paris dinner, it looked worlds away from what I’d made (which is a good thing). It was rich and creamy and comforting, which I’m not sure the original was - but again, I have no way of knowing for sure.
The one thing everyone noted about this one, though, was that you could still feel the rice grains. I don’t know if that has to do with the swap of oat milk (dairy milk was almost non-existent during the Siege, and the recipe calls for essentially making your own oat milk) or some other issue. Whatever the case, most Club members emptied their bowls. My son, who’s usually picky about texture, also really enjoyed it. So at the very least, at least dessert was good.
There was also coffee, which was available during the Siege, but in keeping with the Siege’s hardships, it was served with oat milk. (Sugar was also available for those who wanted it, since it wasn’t scarce during the Siege.)
The evening finished off with my final speech, as well as closing statements from Andrew, and absinthe for those who wanted it. Although absinthe is more associated with the Belle Epoque, it’s been around since at least the early 1800’s and was available during the Siege. My husband and I didn’t partake (nor did my son, I promise), but it was an interesting way to end the evening’s menu.
One of the best gifts ever
But the most amazing food-related conclusion of the evening came to me in the form of a gift. Towards the end of the meal, Andrew handed me a gift from him, Hazel, and Roger (in addition to a gift from the latter two, who had also incredibly kindly surprised me with a letter from January 1870), as well as the rest of the Club.
I opened it to find what is honestly one of the most thoughtful presents I’ve ever received, from anyone.
They had taken a small slice of Roger’s bread that had been made with the straw and mounted it onto a typed card - essentially making a modern-day Siege Bread souvenir.
Like most Siege bread souvenirs, the mounted card reads “Souvenir Historique”, but below the piece of bread, the text becomes wonderfully personal, reading:
THE BUCKLAND CLUB
SIEGE OF PARIS DINNER 1870-1871
SPONSOR: ALYSA SALZBERG
On the lower right-hand side is a picture of Frank Buckland. On the right is the Club’s seal and motto, Semper in ventrem aliquid novi. Between both is written:
Edgabaston Golf Club, Birmingham
Thursday 3rd April 2025
Examples of Siege Bread by Roger Hale
Here's a comparison of a typical 1871 Siege of Paris souvenir shadow box and The Buckland Club's modern-day Siege bread souvenir::
This gesture absolutely blew me away, and always will. I truly can’t express how moved I am by the thoughtfulness behind it.
My husband, son, and I are recovering from the amazing dinner and also a whirlwind 2-day stay in Birmingham where we used just about every free moment to visit and explore the city (huge shout-out to the surprisingly cool, fun, and fascinating Pen Museum, probably our favorite destination), try its famous Indian food, and take advantage of our sort-of guilty pleasure treat whenever we go to the UK, the Tesco meal deal. But as soon as we’re up and running again, my modern-day bread souvenir will join the 1871 souvenir shadow box on my wall.
I know that every time I look at it, I’ll feel a massive sense of joy, gratitude, and appreciation for everyone involved in this Siege of Paris dinner.
It was an amazing, once-in-lifetime experience to have collaborated on this dinner and have had the opportunity to try these Siege-inspired recipes. But best of all was being in the company of such interesting and truly kind people. I’m relieved that the Siege of Paris dinner went so well, but sad that it’s over. Still, I’ve made some memories -- and friends -- I’ll never forget.
A HUGE thank you again to Andrew, Hazel, and Roger, and to everyone at the Edgbaston Golf Club and The Buckland Club for this experience. And also for putting up with my Siege bread obsession.
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A Beauty and the Beast retelling set during the 1870-1871 Siege of Paris, Hearts at Dawn has been selected as a Historical Novel Society Editors' Choice book. It's currently available in Kindle and paperback formats and is part of the Kindle Unlimited Library. I hope you’ll give it a read!
If you're a fan of print books, my friend Rip Coleman, founder of Bohannon Hall Press, recently surprised me by reformatting the print edition of Hearts at Dawn. I can't thank him enough.
I love the improved font, layout, & chapter headings, and hope you will, too!
Whatever the format, if you do pick up Hearts at Dawn, I’d be forever grateful if you left an honest review on Amazon and any other sites or social media platforms where you post. Reviews help books gain more visibility and credibility. Even a review of a short few lines can be incredibly helpful.
I hope you enjoyed this account of the Buckland Club Siege of Paris dinner. I'm still taking a hiatus from regular blogging as I work on my second novel. But I'll be back as soon as I can with more interesting and strange things to share about life during the Siege of Paris. Feel free to subscribe to this blog or follow me on Goodreads or Amazon to find out when I publish new posts.
Until next time!
