Everyone loves a cake, right? Well, if you are a malicious witch, you might want to think again before you take a bite. For a start, the cake you are being offered might have urine in it.
There are two main types of “witch cakes” that occur in folklore. One is more palatable than the other, as we shall see, but neither is something you would want with a cup of tea.
The first type of witch cake in recorded history popped up during the Salem witch trials. In 1692 in Salem, Massachusetts, two young girls (Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams) began to behave oddly. They had fits, screamed, contorted their bodies, and hurled items. There was only one obvious cause of such behaviour – the girls were bewitched.
To identify the source of this devilry, a neighbour called Mary Sibley, instructed the enslaved Tituba (the first female to be accused of practicing witchcraft during the 1692 Salem witch trials) and her husband John Indian, to bake a witch cake. This cake was made from rye meal and urine collected from the girls. This cake was then fed to a dog. The belief was that the curse the girls were suffering under would pass to the dog, and the girls would be healed or that the dog would identify the witch in some way. Alas, the cake proved to be useless. Lucky for the dog. It was less lucky for those who would go on to be accused of witchcraft and hanged as hysteria spread throughout the village.
The idea of making a witch cake to help in cases of witchcraft may have been imported to America from England. Evidence for the origin of witch cakes is tough to pin down, but one may have been employed in 1683 in Yorkshire when a cake made from flour, hair, and urine was used to free a man from vexatious magic. Fortunately, no dogs were harmed in employing this witch cake – it was tossed into a fire.
The other type of witch cake seems to have been a peculiarly British custom. As amateur folklorists began recording strange traditions and charms in the 19th century, they stumbled on a weird type of baked good found in many different counties.
When these folklorists began to look behind doors in country cottages, they saw round cakes with a hole in the middle hanging there. These small cakes were made of dough and baked until they were rock hard. As well as the hole in the middle for hanging, they were decorated with radiating spikes protruding outwards. Perhaps it was the spikes that were meant to ward off witches.
This type of witch cake was not meant to detect a witch but rather to keep them and their mischief out of the house. Witch cakes were hung for a year and then burned before replacing with a fresh cake to ensure that your house remained witch free.
I’ve recently tried my hand at making my own witch cakes (the non-urine versions). I’m quite pleased with the results and can confirm that I have seen a marked drop off in the number of witches barging through the front door.
Ben Gazur is an author and writer with a strong interest in folklore. He has a book about British food folklore, A Feast of Folklore, that is currently crowdfunding on Unbound.com. If you support it, you will help to spread some great old tales and get your name printed in the book! – https://unbound.com/books/folklore/
About A Feast of Folklore
British food has a somewhat dubious reputation. Who in their right mind would eat a Puppy Pie? Is a toad-in-the-hole something edible? I can even imagine some people turning their nose up at my Nan’s Toenail Pudding. The quirky nature of British food is matched by hundreds of years of folklore and folk tales that A Feast of Folklore brings to life.
A Feast of Folklore leads you down the dark alleys of British food history to meet the gloriously eccentric folk and the food they used in everything from magic spells to medicine. They even ate some of it.
Why do people hurl themselves down a hill in pursuit of a wheel of cheese? Why are hot cross buns hung from the rafters of a pub? Why do farmers shoot their shotguns through the branches of apple trees? The questions may be peculiar, but the answers are all peculiarly British.
In twelve chapters packed with more titbits of folklore than a Stargazy Pie has fish-heads A Feast of Folklore brings dark magic and deadly delicacies back into the home, where they belong. Alongside folk tales you’ll find recipes and instructions for those brave enough to give these traditions a go. Here’s a smörgåsbord of what you’ll find inside:
- Bread – How to get perfect bread every time by placing a Pixie Loaf next to your oven.
- Hot cross buns – Why, grated into a drink, they cure all ills.
- Cakes – Are witches really put off by urine in a cake?
- Baking – Why the village of Biddenden makes biscuits in the shape of conjoined twins.
- Eggs – How you can stop a witch using an egg-shell as a boat.
- Dairy – Why a pregnant lady might use a groaning cheese.
- Meat – How not arguing with your spouse could win you a side of bacon.
- Fruit – What day the devil urinates on Britain’s blackberries.
- Vegetables – How to ward off the flu with an onion.
- Drink – Will a live eel placed in a drink really cure alcoholism?
- Spices – How much salt should you place on a corpse’s chest?
- Love spells – How to find your true love with nothing more than an onion under your pillow.
Inspired by Ben’s gourmand appetite for both food and folklore, A Feast of Folklore will have you looking at your Spotted Dick in an entirely new light.
Help to crowdfund A Feast of Folklore and receive rewards via: https://unbound.com/books/folklore/