Menyn / Butter

[Pwt bach o’r bennod ar fenyn o’r llyfr ‘Welsh Food Stories‘ (sy’n barod i’w gyhoeddi ond yn aros i’r storm economaidd ildio digon i gyhoeddwr benderfynu ei argraffu). Mae’n goleuo sawl ambell agwedd o’r gyfres bresennol. Parhawn a honno wythnos nesa…]

Another extract from ‘Welsh food stories’:

…Salty butter, in particular, spread generously on a chunk of fresh, crusty bread, is the taste of home. With abundant rainfall and a mild climate all year round away from the mountainous interior, much of Wales is good butter country and has long been recognised as such. As John Evans, a travel writer visiting Wales in 1804 wrote:

‘The excellency of Glamorgan butter is too well known to need any eulogy…. Great quantities are annually salted and exported to Bristol and other places. This article of luxury seems to have been invented by the natives.’

Butter is of course the product of churning cream, and was traditionally made on most farms or smallholdings in the country. A product valued wherever it was made for its flavour, keeping properties and high fat content, butter seems to have been held in high regard in the Celtic countries. In Ireland, butter was used as a form of currency, and for many poorer people would have been one of the main sources of income and dietary fat. William Camden’s description of Britain, Britannia, published in 1586, makes a point of describing the diet of the population of mountainous north-west Wales, so different in language and culture to his native London; ‘the inhabitants, ….for most part wholy betake themselves to breeding and seeding of cattail, and live upon white meates, as butter, cheese &c’. This upland, pastoral economy, far from meaning that the population lived in poverty, formed the basis for not insubstantial wealth. One of the greatest concentrations of medieval and sub-medieval farmhouses in Wales lies in Snowdonia, with houses like Gwastadannas, Nantgwynant or Egryn, Llanaber visible manifestations of prosperity.[1]

Cattle grazing on the rich Glamorgan lowlands

Early visitors to Wales remarked on the plentiful butter they found there. John Taylor, who visited Carmarthen in 1652, described it as ‘one of the plentifullest townes that I ever set my foot in, for very fair egs are cheaper than small pears’. He goes on to list the prices he found for various foodstuffs at the market there, including, ‘Butter as good as the world affords, two pence halfepenney, for three pence the pound.’ Similarly, Nathaniel Crouch says of the food of Flintshire in the north-east in 1695, ‘fruits are not very common; but of milk, butter, cheese and honey there is plenty’. Along with other dairy products, butter seems to have been ubiquitous in past Welsh diets.

One of the distinctive features of the tradition of butter making is of course its saltiness. Salt was added to butter from prehistoric times as a preservative. The salt content in butter varied traditionally across Europe; in Normandy, the local Isigny butter traditionally has a salt content of 2%, whilst in most parts of Germany most butter has been unsalted since the Middle Ages, as a result of salt taxes. In Wales, surrounded by sea on three sides, people were able to keep their predilection for salty butter; a common benchmark today is 3.5%.

Another notable feature of Wales’ butter making culture is the old, now mostly forgotten tradition of butter presses, or moulds. Each farm or dairy had its own wooden press, used to stamp the name or mark of the farm onto a slab of butter – effectively fulfilling the same function as a label or logo today. These presses are objects of beauty, often inscribed with the pattern of a thistle, a leaf, or other natural objects. Hundreds remain on farmhouse mantelpieces and in museums the length and breadth of the country. They testify to a culture in which people cared about the quality of the butter they bought, and where buttermakers took pride in marketing their ware as theirs.

Through the twentieth century there was a marked decline in the number of local dairies in Wales. Refrigeration combined with low transportation costs combined to to give a significant advantage to companies that could operate at economies of scale. As was widely the case across northern Europe, milk rounds went from being the normal way of having French milk, to being one option among many, to being a comparative rarity.

Ty Tanglwyst

One of the few family farms that still makes its own butter in its own dairy today is Tŷ Tanglwyst, near Porthcawl on the Glamorgan coast. As Rhys Lougher, the latest in a long line of Glamorgan famers, explains, ‘when we were starting out, there were many more farm dairies like this all over Wales. Many of those have closed in the last ten years or so. What’s against us is the economics’.

Four generations of Loughers live on the farm, with its sprawling sub-medieval farmhouse crouching at the centre. Standing in the old orchard behind the house, Rhys’ father John points out his grandfather’s original dairy at its western end. “They made butter for themselves, of course – like they had the apples and the pears and the raspberries and all too – but like eight or nine other farms round here, they were getting their money from supplying the town of Porthcawl with its milk. There were no fridges, see, so twice a day they’d go in with milk, morning and evening.” He stops and reflects a moment, as we stand there in the warm mid-summer sun, before going on. “He had a herd of shorthorns, my granddad did – just twelve cows. Nobody would make a living with twelve cows today.”

Over the course of the twentieth century, like most farms in Wales the herd size increased, and economics pushed the farm to further specialize in dairy. By the 1990s, the herd was 60 cows strong and supplying the independent creamery in Bridgend with milk. But then Dairy Farmers of Britain, which had ended up running the dairy, went bust, as John recalls, “15 milkmen came knocking on our doors the very next morning, more or less! Well, we couldn’t take them all on, far from it – but that was the start of it.”

Even before then, economic pressures had pushed them to look into other sources of income. Some of the old, stone farm buildings had been turned into holiday lets. They put some fields down to pick-your-own strawberries; “that worked and we had lovely strawberries. But then over eight years we saw fewer and fewer customers – it was just when the supermarkets started stocking them all year round and it just became unviable”. They looked into cheese too, visited established cheese producers in West Wales and even started tests for producing soft cheese on site – but the storage, the equipment, and creating a market were significant obstacles. As John said, ‘you can make the cheese all right – but then where do you sell it?’ ” Creating a market for your product is long, slow work.    

Then when the Bridgend creamery closed, suddenly there was a market for their milk – but it needed to be pasteurised and bottled first. “Yes, we were catapulted into it a little,” says Rhys with a chuckle, “and we applied for a grant, and when we got it we thought it was an enormous sum! But it all went just for the capital investment – all the new equipment and facilities we would need if this was going to happen. I mean, you think it’s just going one step up the supply chain, it’s not going to be so different to what you already know, but in fact it’s an entirely different world.”

John hurrying from one job to the next on the farm…

Rhys and John are likeable, affable men, who are obviously very happy to welcome visitors onto their farm – and it’s obvious they are also sharp operators who keep their noses to the ground. The business grew, to the point where they now employ 25 people, making them the largest employer in their village. “Yes, we’ve now got delivery milkmen, farm hands, production staff who do the pasteurising, three people on the butter. We deliver our milk, cream and butter to shops, cafés, restaurants, patisseries, ice-cream parlours all within a 25 mile radius, and most a lot more local than that. And our milk is also going into all the schools here. That’s probably what I am most proud of, because we pushed and pushed for that local procurement from the council. And now, we’ve got those relationships and the kids come up on class visits, to meet the actual cows that produce their milk.”

As Rhys says, they have developed a good brand and they have a good story to tell – one they are proud of. But even so, “the economics are against us. People want cheap food – cheap milk particularly. My ten-year old son is into skateboarding in a big way, and he was telling me recently ‘Dad, when I take over the farm, I’m going to turn it into a skateboard park’. And I can’t argue against it – he’ll have a better business plan than dairy farming!”

Rhys obviously cares deeply about food and farming, and wants to play his part in educating people about what good farming looks like – like the kids he mentions who come on school visits and don’t have a clue that milk comes from cows. And it isn’t just the kids whose food education is lacking. He bursts into laughter as he remembers some of the teachers, “I have had more than one teacher ask me with an entirely straight face ‘Do you get more milk from the cows or the bulls?’ You’ve got to laugh or you’d cry!”

The farm’s 120 acres – which makes it a medium-size family farm in today’s Wales – lies on limestone soils some two miles inland from the coast north of Porthcawl. From the path up to Tŷ Tanglwyst woods you can see north towards the normally cloud-topped Blaenau, the coal-country of the Glamorgan uplands. As your gaze sweeps to the west, you pass Margam Abbey, whose monks owned Tŷ Tanglwyst in the middle ages, and who left their mark not least in the vaulted chamber underneath the original farmhouse. Due north there is a clear view of the now-threatened towers of Port Talbot steelworks, which first more or less created and still sustains that coastal town; that town, in turn, created the neighbouring seaside town of Porthcawl as an August resort for the miners. And then, immediately west lies the sea, stretching westwards past the cliffs of the Gower coast until at a certain point it becomes the Atlantic.

The path up to the woods with the hillfort

This view would have been one of the reasons the Iron Age inhabitants of Wales chose to build a small fort on top of the knoll now covered in ancient oaks, ash and hazel. They would have farmed cattle on the land too of course, with the stealing of cattle one of the primary forms of self-aggrandizement in Celtic society. The Romans left their remains here too, in the form of half a quern, a hand-mill for grain. Of course, the Celts and Romans in question would some of the time have been the same people, even the same individuals.

The cows currently grazing this land are Holsteins, from a long-established herd stewarded and developed for decades by the family. They are a closed herd (bulls are not brought in from outside for breeding), and have won many prizes over the years. And when I ask Rhys about them, he has no hesitation in answering. “I love working with the cows. Seeing them happy, healthy, carrying the tradition on with the hard. I am genuinely proud of what we do here – I think we have the balance right.”

The cows graze outdoors all the way from early April to early November (“though who knows these days, with the weather changing so much”), but as Rhys emphasizes, it’s cow-led and if they want to stay inside because it’s hot or wet, they can do that. When I visit on a warm day in high summer, the cows are lazing about in the shade of a tall ash tree. Milk is a complex liquid, comprised of a variety of minerals, proteins, sugars and fats. But it is universally recognized these days that the highest quality milk comes from animals fed their natural diet – fresh green grass, clover, foliage and herbs. Milk from pasture-fed animals is higher in vitamin E, omega 3 fats and conjugated linoleic acids than milk from animals fed other diets.[2] And for a much longer part of the year than would be possible in most parts of northern Europe, these cattle graze the pastures (and even in the winter, eat much of the fossilized goodness of the summer pastures in the form of hay.)

The farm system, Rhys tells me, is cyclical, and they are working it making it more so with each passing year. “We use the cattle manure itself as fertilizer, and we’re growing more clover. And although I’m not an ecologist, but it does feel to me like we have a healthy ecosystem here. The insects love the dung pats, we’ve got owls and sparrowhawks here. We have wildflower meadows – like right now, there’s one meadow where we have had orchids flowering, so we’ve not mown it yet. We’ll wait till they’ve set seed before we do that.”

“And we’re now making hay again – things have come full circle in a way, back to the way they were in the past. I’m excited this year because we’ve grown peas to mix with barley as an arable silage for the cows for the first time. My grandmother was out yesterday evening picking them as fast as she could – and then there was my grandfather last night shelling some of them for us for supper, for a good hour! Anyway, all of that is reducing our dependence on bought-in cereals for feed, which is also helping to cut our carbon emissions.”

Given all this, I ask Rhys whether the farm has considered becoming organic. He responds with a wry smile. “It annoys me that a lot of people go organic just to charge the premium. We adopt a lot of the organic principles in what we do anyway – but we couldn’t go organic as things are, because there is such a lack of organic grain grown in Wales, and we couldn’t sustain the cows through the winter at the moment without the grain.”

“But am I for cutting emissions, keeping things local, protecting the wildlife? Just look at my farm! Actually, we’ve been restoring some more hedges recently as well, to create more wildlife corridors; one of the reasons we can’t expand is because the M4 cuts through the country right there”, he indicates – two fields down from the farmhouse.

It is perhaps a cliché in a book on food to say that you can taste the quality of the farming, or the artisanship, in the food itself. But the almost-white butter which the Loughers give me to take home, when I taste it, really does have the texture of cream and in its flavour almost a bouquet of vanilla. Although made from pasteurised milk, and made in the sweet-cream tradition of the British Isles, rather than the arguably richer lactic continental tradition, this is a butter that you could eat with a (tea)spoon.

It is churned on the farm, twice a week. “Tuesday and Thursday are our butter days”, Rhys explains, “and yes, the salt content is 3.5%, as it should be for a Welsh butter. It’s been popular ever since we started making it a decade ago. We get shops ringing us up asking to stock it, and we say that they can only stock it if they’ll take our milk too” (which is equally good, but bulkier and more perishable). “We actually won the Golden Fork for it at the Great Taste awards a couple of years ago – which made us one of the 18 winners out of 10,000 products entered.”

Welshcakes – butter cakes

Tŷ Tanglwyst’s butter is used by a number of bakeries; unsurprisingly, given how many baked goods depend on a rich butter flavour for their mojo. And butter has been the key ingredient in traditional cakes and treats from all parts of Wales since time immemorial. Both ‘bara brith’ and ‘Welsh cakes’, the two Welsh ‘sweets’ par excellence, depend on good, rich, salty butter for their mouth-filling moreishness….

[1] Suggett, Discovering the historic houses of Snowdonia, 85 and 111

[2] Lamb, River Cottage: Cheese and Dairy, 18

5. Rhwygiadau cymdeithasol?

Yn yr ysgrif diwethaf edrychon ni ar fwyd y tai mawrion yng Nghymru, a’r tystiolaeth cryf eu bod yn agored i ddylanwadau allanol, ac yn dilyn ffasiynau Llundain (ac Ewrop). Codir y cwestiwn a gâi hyn effaith ar fwyd gweddill y boblogaeth…

Ond mae un wrth-ddadl fwy arwyddocaol y gellir ei chodi, sef mai ychydig iawn o effaith y cai patrymau bwyd y tai mawrion hyn ar fwyd trwch y boblogaeth. Gellir derbyn yn hawdd, fe ddichon, y byddai’r sawl a weithiai i dyfu, paratoi a gweini’r bwydydd danteithiol yn y tai mawrion yn cymryd diddordeb yn y bwydydd hynny – a’u blasu o dro i dro wrth baratoi, efallai! Ond a oes rheswm i gredu na fyddent yn efelychu hyn yn eu ceginau a’u gerddi eu hunain yng Nghymru, yn wahanol i Loegr neu gymdeithasau’r cyfandir cyfagos?

Dau brif reswm i gredu hyn a welwn i: sef yn gyntaf bod y gwahaniaeth diwylliannol a chymdeithasol rhwng y gweision uniaith Gymraeg (yn y rhan fwyaf o Gymru yr oes dan sylw) mor sylweddol fel na fyddai ganddynt ddiddordeb mewn efelychu eu meistri. Mae hyn yn osodiad rhesymol, a gwelir tystiolaeth o rwygiadau fel hyn mewn cymdeithasau cyfoes a hanesyddol yn fyd-eang. Yr ail reswm yw’r posibilrwydd nad oedd modd i’r werin geisio efelychu’r meistri am resymau economaidd; roeddent yn syml iawn yn rhy dlawd.

Dim ond dechrau cylchynu’r pwnc y gallwn yma; byddwn yn dychwelyd dro ar ôl tro iddo wrth fynd yn ein blaenau trwy’r gyfres. Dechreuwn trwy ystyried y cwestiwn cyntaf: a oedd yna fwlch cymdeithasegol sylweddol rhwng y bonedd a’r werin, fel na fyddai’r ail grŵp yn dymuno efelychu’r cyntaf?

Roedd patrwm cymdeithasol Cymru’r cyfnod yn wahanol i un Lloegr, yr Iseldiroedd a’r Almaen, yn y ffaith bod y dosbarth masnachol yn wan ac yn gymharol fach. Roedd ar ei gryfaf yn neau Sir Benfro a Sir Ddinbych (yn enwedig o amgylch tre lwyddiannus Wrecsam), ac roedd yn bresennol i raddau llai mewn trefi fel Caerdydd a Chaerfyrddin.[1] Un o ganlyniadau hyn oedd cymdeithas a nodweddid gan raniad gweddol amlwg rhwng y bonedd a’r tirfeddianwyr mawr â’u cysylltiadau rhyngwladol, ac yna gwerin a oedd ar y cyfan yn  wledig ei natur. Roedd dwy brif garfan yn perthyn i’r ‘werin Gymraeg’ hon; tyddynwyr tlotach, a ffermwyr a oedd at ei gilydd yn fwy sefydlog o beth ffordd. Yn ôl cofnodion treth aelwyd 1670, 24% o boblogaeth Morgannwg a berthynai i’r dosbarth cyntaf hwn (y tyddynwyr tlawd) tra bod y ganran yn cyrraedd 46% yn Sir Benfro (a’r siroedd eraill rhwng y ddau begwn hwn).[2]

Serch hyn, a serch cof gwlad o anghydfod cymdeithasol, ychydig iawn yn unig ohono a welir yn ystod y cyfnod, y tu hwnt i’r Rhyfel Cartref a’r rhwygiadau a ddatblygodd yn raddol trwy dwf anghydffurfiaeth yn y wlad, hynny yw. Perthyn y terfysgoedd enwog – Merched Beca a’r Siartwyr, er enghraifft – i gyfnod diweddarach, pan oedd y wlad yn brysur ddiwydiannu a newidiadau ehangach ar droed. Dilynwn drywydd tri enghraifft penodol i weld fel yr oedd gwerin Cymru yn ystod y cyfnod hwn yn cyfranogi o’r un byd economaidd â bonedd y tai mawrion: y porthmyn, yr ystâd a meithrinfeydd coed.

Er mai’r bonedd oedd yn mwynhau cysylltiadau rhyngwladol, nid nhw yn unig a elwai o’r llewyrch economaidd a ddaeth i Brydain o gyfnod Elisabeth ymlaen. Cododd ffermwyr gwledig Eryri ffermdai carreg sylweddol iddynt eu hunain, a nifer da ohonynt yn dal i sefyll hyd heddiw.[3] Ffynhonnell eu cyfoeth oedd da byw. Roedd menyn a chaws yn gynhaliaeth dda, a gallent ddarparu bwyd da trwy fisoedd y gaeaf, ac o’r cyfnod hwn ymlaen y dechreuodd gynnyrch y llaethdy ennill ei blwyf yn y farchnad Lundeinig. Roedd rhagfarn hirhoedlog wedi bodoli yn Lloegr yn erbyn cynnyrch llaeth, ond yn raddol newidiodd hyn o oes Elisabeth ymlaen.[4] Yn bwysicach na hyn fodd bynnag oedd y farchnad eidion: roedd arian da i’w gael trwy werthu eidion Cymreig i’w fwyta ar fordydd bonedd Lloegr. Mor gynnar â’r 1540au, ceir cofnod o borthmyn – Rhys ap Cynfrig a Rhys ap Llywelyn – yn tyfu’n gyfoethog trwy fynd â’u gwartheg i farchnadoedd Lloegr. Ac roedd nifer o’r dosbarth hwn yn uniaith Gymraeg.[5] Os nad oedd tyddynwyr yn gweithio’n uniongyrchol i deuluoedd y bonedd, y dosbarth hwn o ffermwyr fyddai eu cyfle gorau i ennill incwm, ran amlaf. Mewn gair: roedd trawsdoriad sylweddol o boblogaeth wledig Cymru yn ystod y cyfnod hwn nid yn unig yn elwa o gysylltiadau masnachol gyda’r byd allanol, ac yn enwedig Lloegr, ond hefyd yn dod i gysylltiad uniongyrchol gydag ef.

Yn ail, felly, yr ystadau. Asgwrn cefn rhannau helaeth o economi wledig Cymru oedd y rhain, er gwell ac er gwaeth. Siapient y dirwedd o’u cwmpas, a’u dylanwad pensaernïol yn cynnwys ffermydd a stablau, porthdai, bythynnod, eglwysi, capeli, melinau, a phob math o weithfeydd diwydiannol. Yn yr un modd, mae eu dylanwad i’w weld ar y tirwedd yng nghynllun a threfn parciau, gerddi, coedlannau, caeau, coed, llynnoedd a phontydd. Roedd eu meistri ran amlaf yn tarddu o hen deuluoedd Cymreig, a weithiau o deuluoedd o rannau eraill o wledydd Prydain. Ond yn allweddol i’r cwestiwn hwn, o blith y boblogaeth leol y cyflogent eu gweithwyr: yn arddwyr, cogyddion, dynion coets, gweision fferm, glanhawyr a mwy. Ac un o nodweddion mwy syfrdanol y cyfnod, o ystyried gwrthryfel Glyndwr ganrif cyn ei gychwyn a’r terfysgoedd a dadlau a’i ddilynodd yn y 19fed ganrif, oedd y diffyg gwrthdaro rhwng y meistri hyn a’u gweision. Nid yn unig na fu gwrthdaro gwaedlyd, ond yn fwy na hynny, na cheir arlliw o hynny yn llenyddiaeth y cyfnod, naill ai o du’r bonedd a’u ffrindiau Seisnig ond hefyd yn ysgrifennu’r Cymry hynny a aeth i lenydda. Roedd rhai o’r pregethwyr anghydffurfiol a gododd tua diwedd y cyfnod – dynion megis Daniel Rowland a William Williams – yn dod o’r dosbarth is hwn, ac roedd ganddynt gymhelliad ychwanegol (yn eu hymneilltuaeth) i gwyno am y tirfeddianwyr Anglicanaidd yn eu gweithiau a’u pregethau. Ond ni wnaethant, ac mae eu tawelwch yn huawdl.

Yn drydydd, ystyriwn y meithrinfeydd planhigion a choed a amlhaodd tua diwedd ein cyfnod. [6] Gyda’r newid mewn ffasiwn i greu dirweddau rhamantaidd a pharcdiroedd ar yr ystadau yn ystod yr 18fed ganrif, daeth galw mawr am feithrinfeydd coed. Gwyddom er enghraifft fod Arglwydd Talbot, Plas Hensol, wedi sefydlu planhigfeydd coed sylweddol o 1750 ymlaen; bod meistr Mr Johnes, Llangennech wedi plannu 460,000 o goed mewn un flwyddyn ar ei ystâd, a bod yr hanner canrif hwn yn frith o blannu. Erbyn 1800 roedd 6 meithrinfa goed yn Sir Gaerfyrddin wledig yn unig yn amrywio  o 5 i 18 erw o faint, a thyddynwyr di-ri eraill yn tyfu coed ar eu tir i’w gwerthu i’r ystadau. Dyma godi’n golwg ychydig y tu hwnt i’n cyfnod ni, ond wrth wneud cawn enghraifft (anghofiedig) o natur economi wledig Cymru ein cyfnod, a mewnolwg i’r clymau cymdeithasol-economaidd rhwng y dosbarthiadau a fodolai: roedd galw’r dosbarth uchaf am gynnyrch o fath penodol yn creu marchnad y byddai’r dosbarthiadau is yn elwa arni.

Dim ond crafu’r wyneb mae’r enghreifftiau hyn, ond dangosant o onglau gwahanol y ffaith sylfaenol; nad oes dim tystiolaeth o anghydfod cymdeithasol yn y cyfnod hyn rhwng y dosbarthiadau is a’u meistri ond yn hytrach bod y dosbarthiadau hyn ynghlwm yn economaidd, ac yn rhannu rhai o’r un dylanwadau. Mae pob rheswm i gredu felly bod y dosbarthiadau is, yng Nghymru fel mewn mannau eraill, yn agored i efelychu arferion bwyd eu cymdogion goludog. (Noder: nid cymeradwyo trefn gymdeithasol yw ei disgrifio!)

Yn yr ysgrif nesa, cawn ystyried a oedd sefyllfa economaidd trwch y boblogaeth yn caniatáu iddynt geisio dynwared y bonedd – a thrwy wneud, cawn ddechrau lenwi’r darlun o natur amrywiol a chymysg bwyd y Cymry….

[1] Gower, J., The Story of Wales, tud.167

[2] South Wales Record Society, The Glamorgan Hearth Tax Assessment of 1670

[3] Suggett, Discovering the historic houses of Snowdonia, tud. 85 ac 111

[4] Thirsk, Food in Early Modern England, tud. 270

[5] https://www.snowdonia.gov.wales/addysg-education/history-of-snowdonia/the-drovers-of-snowdonia

[6] Davies, Agricultural Survey of South Wales, tud 19-39

Cyfeiriadaeth ddethol

Joan Thirsk, Food in Early Modern England (London: Continuum, 2006)

Penny David, Rooted in History (Llanbedr Pont Steffan: Fern Press, 2017)

Walter Davies, Agricultural Survey of South Wales (1814)

Richard Suggett, Discovering the historic houses of Snowdonia, (RCAHMW: 2014)

Ed. Elizabeth Parkinson, The Glamorgan Hearth Tax Assessment of 1670, (Cardiff: South Wales Record Society, 1994)

4. Y Tai Mawrion (rhan 2)

Yn yr ysgrif diwethaf yn y gyfres, dechreuon drafod yr hyn gallwn ddysgu am fwyd y Cymry yn y cyfnod rhwng 1550 a 1750 wrth y tai mawrion. Dyma dwrio’n ddyfnach i ddylanwad yr ystadau hyn ar fwyd y gymdeithas ehangach. Bu lle i nodi presenoldeb gerddi hyn, parciau, perllannau, pyllau dwr, gerddi llysiau muriog a chytiau gwenyn mewn ystadau yn Sir Gâr yn y cyfnod, fel prawf digamsyniol bod y drefn borthiannol ynddynt yn gyffelyb i ystadau tebyg yn Lloegr a bod perchnogion yr ystadau hyn yn gwario’u harian er mwyn bwyta’n dda. Pa gasgliadau ehangach gellir tynnu o hyn felly?

Roedd yr holl ystadau hyn yn eiddo i Gymry – ac yn amlach na heb, hen deuloedd Cymreig. A doedd Sir Gar wledig ddim yn eithriad yn hyn o beth; er y daeth ambell i ystâd i feddiant bonedd a man-bonedd o rannau eraill o Brydain trwy briodas neu drwy’r farchnad, roedd cyfran sylweddol o ystadau Cymru trwy gydol y cyfnod yn perthyn i deuluoedd Cymreig a Chymraeg. Dyma wedi’r cwbl oedd cyfnod William Salesbury a Humphrey Llwyd, yna Edward Lhuyd a Morrisiaid Môn.  Ac er bod cysylltiadau gydag theuluoedd mawr Lloegr yn cynyddu, gallwn gymryd yn ganiataol y byddai mwyafrif o aelodau’r teuluoedd hyn o reidrwydd, os nad pob tro o’u gwirfodd, yn medru’r Gymraeg.

Mae Hugh Myddelton (1560-1631) yn enghraifft da o aelod o’r grŵp cymdeithasol mewn sylw.[1] Trwy briodas daeth yn aelod o hen deulu’r Salusbury, a fuodd yn berchnogion ystâd Lleweni ger Dinbych er 1344. Roedd yn bedwerydd mab i’w dad, a oedd yn aelod seneddol ar Ddinbych, ac ym 1617 gwnaeth elw mawr o’i fuddsoddiad yng ngwaith mwyngloddio yng Ngheredigion (Cwmerfyn a Chwmsymlog). Fe’i coffair yn bennaf fodd bynnag yn Llundain am ei waith ar yr afonydd yno, a threuliodd cryn dipyn o amser yno hefyd fel aelod seneddol Dinbych rhwng 1603 ac 1628. Roedd ganddo gartref yn Cheapside yn ogystal ag yn Sir Ddinbych. Er nad oes tystiolaeth iddo ymddiddori mewn diwylliant Cymraeg, bu ei frawd, Richard Middleton yn hael ei gefnogaeth ariannol i gyhoeddi fersiwn rhatach a chludadwy o’r Beibl yn Gymraeg a gweithiau defosiynol. Gwelir felly iddo yn ei fywyd o flwyddyn i flwyddyn gymysgu â bydoedd gwledig Cymraeg, trefol ‘Cymreig’ a dinesig Saesneg Lloegr yn gwbl naturiol.

Pwysigrwydd hyn oll yw nad oedd y Salusburys na’r Myddeltons yn eithriadol yn hyn o beth. Vaughaniaid Gellir Aur, Wynniaid Gwydir a Conwy, Morgans Tredegar, Philippiaid Tredegar – roeddent oll yn deuluoedd a gadwodd mewn gwahanol ffyrdd un droed yng Nghymru a’i phethau a throed arall yn Llundain ar hyd y canrifoedd. Roedd y llwybr i gyfoeth a llwyddiant – trwy’r fyddin, y senedd, masnach a mwy yn agored i lawer o ddynion y teuluoedd hyn; ac fe gymerodd llawer ohonynt y llwybrau hynny a thrwy hynny dod i gysylltiad gyda chylchoedd ffasiynol Lloegr a thu hwnt. Byddai unrhyw haeriad na chaent eu dylanwadu gan yr hyn a welent, a glywent, a brofent ac a fwytent yn Llundain (a mannau eraill) yn mynd yn gwbl groes i graen pob cofnod sydd gennym o lif hanes Cymru yn y cyfnod. Ac wrth iddynt â’u hosgordd ddod â’r dylanwadau hynny yn ôl i’w hystadau Cymreig a derbyn ymwelwyr lleol o’r teuluoedd lled-foneddig di-ri fyddai’n mynd â dod wrth i’w ffortiwn godi a disgyn, byddai’r ffasiynau newydd yn araf deg yn cael eu pasio ymlaen i rannau eraill o’r gymdeithas Gymreig.

Da o beth fyddai gallu olrhain hyn trwy lyfrau archebion a chofnodion ceginau rhai o’r teuluoedd hyn yn y cyfnod. Mae tystiolaeth y sawl a wnaeth hynny (Bobby Freeman, J Elwyn Hughes, Minwel Tibbot) gan chwilio’n daer am ryseitiau unigryw Cymreig a Chymraeg yn unedig yn eu tystiolaeth mai ychydig iawn o ryseitiau unigryw Cymreig a geir yn y ryseitiau; yn hytrach, ychydig iawn sydd i wahaniaethu cynnwys y llyfrau ryseitiau hyn wrth gynnwys archifau tai mawr Lloegr. Mae hynny, wrth gwrs, yn adrodd cyfrolau; awgryma’n gryf bod ceginau ystadau mawr Cymru yn gwneud eu gorau i gadw i fyny gyda ffasiynau bwyd cyfoethogion Lloegr. Os felly, rhaid bod y cogyddion a gweision y gegin a’r ardd yn y tai hyn hefyd yn dysgu sut i dyfu a thrin y cynnyrch newydd y byddai ffasiwn yn eu dyrchafu. Fel arall, rhaid credu un o dri gosodiad abswrdaidd:

  • mai gweithiau dyheadol oedd y llyfrau ryseitiau hyn yn unig, yn arddangos dymuniad y meistri i fwyta fel y gwnâi eu cymheiriaid dros Glawdd Offa yn unig
  • mai mewnforio eu ffrwythau a’u llysiau o ffermydd a gerddi yn Lloegr y gwnâi’r tai Cymreig hyn

Ni raid mynd i’r afael gyda’r gosodiadau hyn. Boed i’r darllenydd dwrio i’w ddarbwyllo ei hun os oes amheuaeth yn ei feddwl. Ond mae un wrth-ddadl fwy arwyddocaol y gellir ei chodi, sef mai ychydig iawn o effaith cai patrymau bwyd y tai mawrion hyn ar fwyd trwch y boblogaeth. Gellir derbyn yn hawdd, fe ddichon, y byddai’r sawl a weithiai i dyfu, paratoi a gweini’r bwydydd danteithiol yn y tai mawrion yn cymryd diddordeb yn y bwydydd hynny – a’u blasu o dro i dro wrth baratoi, efallai! Ond a oes rheswm i gredu na fyddent yn efelychu hyn yn eu ceginau a’u gerddi eu hunain?

Dau brif reswm i gredu hyn a welwn i: sef yn gyntaf bod y gwahaniaeth diwylliannol a chymdeithasol rhwng y gweision uniaith Gymraeg (yn y rhan fwyaf o Gymru yr oes dan sylw) mor sylweddol fel na fyddai ganddynt ddiddordeb mewn efelychu eu meistri. Mae hyn yn osodiad rhesymol, a gwelir tystiolaeth o hyn mewn cymdeithasau cyfoes a hanesyddol yn fyd-eang. Yr ail reswm fyddai’r posibilrwydd nad oedd modd i’r werin geisio efelychu’r meistri am resymau economaidd; roeddent yn syml iawn yn rhy dlawd.

[1]Y Bywgraffiadur Cymreig yn https://bywgraffiadur.cymru/ a gwelir y mynediad i deulu Myddelton

Cyfeiriadaeth ddethol

Joan Thirsk, Food in Early Modern England (London: Continuum, 2006)

Penny David, Rooted in History (Llanbedr Pont Steffan: Fern Press, 2017)

S. Minwel Tibbott, Welsh fare (Cowbridge: National Museum of Wales, 1976)

Bobby Freeman, First catch your peacock (Talybont: y Lolfa, 1980)

R. Elwyn Hughes, Dysgl Bren a Dysgl Arian: nodiadau ar hanes bwyd yng Nghymru (Talybont: y Lolfa, 2003)

Welsh food: a report from 2040

What does a Wales in 2040 that can feed itself look like?

I am glad to be able to present an extract from a 2042 history of agriculture in Wales:

“Two of the most striking aspects of the renewed food landscape of Wales are the re-emergence of the mixed farm and the specialization of different regions. Mixed farms, by the late 20th century seen as an oddity, have once again become the norm, with a greater awareness of the benefits of resilient agricultural systems. Some of that thinking can even be seen on a national level, most evocatively in the sudden recommencement of transhumance in several parts of the country to the great bemusement of the English media as it tried to grapple with the sea-change that has taken place in Wales’ relationship with its landscapes, food and farming, and work out whether sheep jokes still worked for a country now winning renown for veg production and white wine.

Originally the by-product of a not-quite-sober bet made in a Pontarddulais pub on a warm afternoon, the first recorded instance of transhumance in the Swansea area for centuries took place in 2026. Dan Whitelaw, smallholder in the Aman valley (whose parents had moved from Bristol to a smallholding in Carmarthenshire when he was a child), had got into debate with an older farmer about the old practice of transhumance. To demonstrate his assertion that it could be done today, he walked his flock of Balwen sheep down the A483 through Ammanford, Pont and Gowerton to a friend’s farm on the edge of the Gower saltmarshes to growing crowds and cheers, several free pints and a police fine.

The sheep prospered however, and what had started as a bet and a bit of a joke suddenly became a pet project with a wide following. A deft social media campaign and several supportive articles in national media outlets buttered the way for an organized community transhumance in 2027, accompanied by a festival atmosphere both on the down-route in autumn and back up the following spring. Good weather on both occasions gave God’s blessing to the publicity campaign, and by the next year it felt as though the tradition had never ceased in the area, with sheep from a dozen farms making the migration up and down.

More significant even than the fact of transhumance being practised again in West Glamorgan was the fact that press articles felt the need to explain not only the history of the practice, but also the benefit the revived practice brought to Dan’s friend’s holding in Gower, which grew pumpkins – by reference to manure. Despite the journalists’ cosmopolitan uncertainty, manure seemed to be a topic that people understood, at least with reference to gardens and veg production. Within a couple of years, there were several local transhumances across Wales, and in each instance the arrival of the flocks and herds on lowland holdings for whom the animals’ manure was a valuable commodity for crops – tree crops and field crops alike – signified the fact that lowland Wales was once again growing fruit and veg at scale. And by sheer accident, it was now doing so with one eye on the fertility cycle. (And yes, the Gower pumpkin tradition is once again flourishing).

Coastal market gardens

Different parts of the country have also followed more divergent paths than had been the case during the late 20th century, reflecting previous norms of regional specialization. The coastlands and river valleys, benefiting in many cases both from rich soils and mild, sunny climates, came into their own after a century of benign neglect. South Pembrokeshire, blessed in the greatest measure by both these phenomena, has become a centre of vegetable and fruit production alongside arable grains, with several exemplary intensive production sites operating at scale and contributing substantially to the M4 corridor’s nutritional needs. Vines also proliferate around the lower reaches of the Daugleddau estuary, with light, delicate reds from Angle and Dale making a splash through the warm dry summers of the 2030s. Further north, the high sunshine hours and moderate rainfall of the Cardigan Bay coast from St. Davids’ to Aberaeron have given rise to several renowned whites.

But it’s the Vale of Glamorgan, with its ideal combination of mild maritime climate and warm summers undergirded by rich soils, which has become the market garden for both Cardiff and a good part of the valleys. The industrial greenhouses along the coast between Llantwit and Barry still cause controversy, but in a sign of high and growing levels of horticultural literacy, some protests take the form of vigorous counter-proposals to use fruit-walls instead, with a demonstration site at Llanblethian by the aptly-named ‘Cowbridge Residents Against Polytunnels’. The residents of the lower Clwyd valley on the north coast (in a triangle roughly formed by Abergele, Prestatyn and Denbigh) have taken a more pragmatic approach; with much of the low-lying land around Rhyl flooded several times since the storms of the mid-2020s, there is little opposition to the polytunnels of tomatoes, salads and warm-season veg exported mostly to the Merseyside and Lancashire conurbations and providing dependable part-time employment.

These gardens are not only reviving the Welsh asparagus tradition, but also pushing the boundaries of what can be commercially grown here. Alongside brassicas, leeks and root crops, courgettes amongst other vegetables are now being grown on a field scale, and there are experimental attempts by community gardens in inner city Newport and Cardiff to produce decent crops of sweet potato under cover. The public health benefits of this boom in vegetable production, which has accompanied the steady growth of low-meat and vegan diets over the past thirty years, was recognized in the mid-20s by the NHS, and received significant structural investment of public money in the closing years of the decade leading to a growing group of professional and part-time growers receiving stable if modest incomes for their skilled work.

Inland variety

Inland, less has perhaps changed visually in the landscape than in coastal areas, but this belies the significant increases in land productivity both on biodiversity counts and food production. Sheep and cattle remain the dominant theme of much farming and continue to dominate the landscape visually, despite numbers of the former having fallen significantly. Further falls seems unlikely, however; the renewed transhumance practices coupled with the uneasy truce that finally developed in the rewilding debates have led to a situation where stocking numbers in the hills are noticeably lower than in the 2010s even while upland farms continue in many cases in the age-old tradition of sheep farming. The near-absence of sheep from a good number of upland holdings in the winter and early spring, in part due to the transhumance migrations, gives trees and shrubs the chance to slowly gain a foothold in areas formerly castigated as ‘sheep-wrecked’. The resurgence of many unexpected species of both animals and plants in these parts have contributed to a sense on both sides that an equilibrium has been reached,

On many hill farms below 200-300 metres (west/ east) where the benefits of transhumance are marginal, there has been a significant resurgence in the growing of fodder crops for livestock and on some farms this has been accompanied by forays into grain-growing. A significant change had occurred in Wales’ grain economy when in 2027 rye was again growing a mile from an old ‘Ty Rhyg’ in the Preseli hills, was ground in a mill in St Dogmael’s and used in several local bakeries. Old landraces of oats and wheat were also brought into production again, with a dedicated following working to create the infrastructure needed to process the grains at scale.

Tree crops – for timber and wood production, but also increasingly for fruit and even nut production – were becoming more widespread in inland areas as well. Carbon farming grants have been instrumental in this, with a much broader base of expertise in agroforestry than had formerly existed. The upper Tywi valley between Llandeilo and Llandovery, sheltered from wind storms by the hills of Carmarthenshire and benefiting from more ample rainfall than areas further east, has developed into a centre of cider production, with several cider makers regularly winning European awards.

Perhaps the most salient changes are in the demographic profile of farming and in the range of crops now grown in the country. The rooted Welsh farming family is still an essential part of the rural scene. But alongside these, a much greater proportion of the rural workforce, and the entire urban food sector, is comprised of newer entrants to farming. The average age of farmers has declined steadily over the past decade, and recent studies have shown that public perceptions of a ‘Welsh farmer’ now include young women entrants to the profession or people of colour almost as readily as older men. In terms of the range of crops grown, what are considered experimental crops is a good measure for this change: whereas in the 2010s sea salt, real bread or agroforestry were seen as innovative ventures for land-based enterprises, by the 2040s the newcomers on the scene were tea (with several plantations in wet, mild areas like western Carmarthenshire) and rice (on the Wentlooge levels, easily one of the warmest summer areas in Wales).

An analysis of the factors behind these changes, the seeds for most of which were sown between cc.2015 and 2030, is beyond the scope of this work and has been covered elsewhere. But in short, a groundswell of what has been called ‘foodie activism’ was given a significant boost by the efforts of several prominent public figures, including politicians, to create public buy-in to local procurement policies and a grown-in-Wales approach across government. A significant informal alliance of interested third sector bodies created a sustained publicity campaign centred on farmers and growers which chimed a chord with the public, both Welsh and English-speaking. The conditions resulting from the coronavirus pandemic in 2020-22 undoubtedly contributed to the latent desire for greater food security amongst the general population, and an awareness of the fragility of the systems under the neoliberal consensus that had dominated. This author would also like to highlight the important role played in changing attitudes to food by ethnic minority communities across Wales, who like previous generations of Italian immigrants, brought new flavours and dishes into the mix of Welsh cuisine and undoubtedly contributed to the re-emergence of a confident food culture in the country.

Government also had a part to play. The policy environment that resulted from the 2029 election and further developed over the 2029-2039 government terms has been characterised as one based on universal access to affordable, healthy food, with a communitarian emphasis on relationship between producers and consumers. As a result, despite some of the innovations and resurrections described above, Wales can be said to have punched below its weight in international perceptions of good food, with alcohol and lamb continuing to be the products which buck this trend. A social-democratic approach to land use seems on the evidence of Wales and some other northern European nations to militate against the production of high-end products in the main. It is instructive in this regard to consider the direction taken by Wales with that taken by some neighbouring societies; the ‘bubbly barons’ of south-eastern England surrounded by urban food deprivation in many towns nearby being a case in point.

The extract ended here; it may be however that readers can provide further detail on how this sea-change came about?

3. Y Tai Mawrion (rhan 1)

Ceisio llunio disgrifiad hanesyddol cywirach ac mwy cynhwysfawr o fwyd Cymru na’r hyn sydd ar gael yn gyffredinol yr ydym yn y gyfres yma o ysgrifau. Y broblem bennaf a gawn yn yr ymdrech yw’r diffyg cofnodion manwl ar gyfer y cyfnod cyn cc.1860 o’r bwydydd oedd ar gael i bobl eu bwyta, a’r hyn y byddent yn ei fwyta (nid yr un yw’r ddau beth hynny, wrth gwrs). Mae’r diffyg hynny yn fwy sylweddol yn achos Cymru nag yn achos cymdeithasau Ewropeaidd cyfagos (e.e. Lloegr, Ffrainc, yr Iseldiroedd) a hynny am sawl rheswm.[1] Rhaid felly edrych am dystiolaeth fwy cymysg ei natur – adroddiadau teithwyr i Gymru, mân gyfeiriadau yn llenyddiaeth Gymraeg y cyfnod, mapiau a chofnodion defnydd tir, ac yn gyntaf oll, archifau ystadau’r bonedd. Trwy hyn gellir darlunio llun digon cynhwysfawr, os nad cyflawn yn ei holl fanylion.

ar sylwadau Daniel Defoe ar yr hyn a ddaeth ar ei draws o ran bwyd ac amaeth yng Nghymru’r 1720au.[2] Ni chawn yr un awgrym ganddo bod yr amgylchiadau economaidd yn ei daro yn wahanol iawn i’r hyn welsai yn rhanbarthau Lloegr. Rhan o’r realiti hwnnw oedd bod cyfran helaeth o dir Cymru yn perthyn i dirfeddianwyr cefnog – hen deuluoedd y mân bonedd (mân yn ôl safonau Lloegr) a oedd mewn sawl achos wedi ymgyfoethogi yn sgil chwyldroadau’r 1530au: cau’r mynachlogydd ac uno Cymru a Lloegr. Mae eu diffyg statws cymharol yn glir o’r ffaith na fu i Defoe ddisgrifio yr un o’u tai ar ei gylchdaith o amgylch Cymru, tra bod plasau crand siroedd Lloegr yn cael disgrifiad manwl yn yr holl adroddiadau cyffelyb ganddo. Serch hyn, dyma dai mawr a thiroedd y sawl a oedd yn flaenllaw mewn cymdeithas ym mhob plwyf yng Nghymru. Rhain oedd y landlordiaid a’r cyflogwyr mawr; y rhain fyddai’n dilyn neu’n arwain ffasiwn yn y cyfnod, boed hynny ym maes dillad, pensaernïaeth, amaeth neu fwyd.

Mae’n werth oedi ar y pwynt yna cyn troi at enghreifftiau penodol. Sef yw, ffasiwn; un o foduron pwysicaf newidiadau cymdeithasol, a rhywbeth sydd fel petai’n deillio o ffynhonnau dyfn o fewn y natur ddynol. Dangosodd Joan Thirsk yn anwadadwy bod ffasiwn yn rhan hollbresennol o hanes bwyd ac amaeth yn Lloegr, ac yn benodol, bod y dosbarthiadau is yn tueddu i ddilyn ffasiwn y bonedd.[3] Darluniodd fyd lle’r oedd newyddiadau mewn bwyd yn codi yn Llundain a’r porthladdoedd mawr yn gyntaf, ac yn lledu oddi yno trwy gysylltiadau’r bonedd, yr oedd gan lawer ohonynt dŷ trefol yn y ddinas fawr ac ystâd arall yn y wlad. Byddai’r gweision a morynion di-ri – yn fwtleriaid a chogyddion, garddwyr a negeswyr – yn gweld yr hyn yr oedd eu meistri yn ei fwyta, ei wisgo neu ei drafod, a byddai hynny yn ei dro yn dylanwadu ar eu harferion nhw. Fel sy’n gyffredin mewn meysydd eraill megis ieithyddiaeth felly, gallwn ddal gafael ar y cysyniad yma o ddylanwad fel mecanwaith hanfodol wrth geisio deall natur a chyfeiriad newid hanesyddol. Mae dau gwestiwn i’w hateb felly; beth oedd bwyd y tai mawrion Cymreig hyn? Ac yn ail a oedd yna dylanwadau yn llifo o’r tai mawrion i weddill y boblogaeth?

O ateb y cyntaf a chanfod diet amrywiol byddwn eisoes wedi rhoi’r farwol i hanesyddiaeth gyffredin bwyd Cymru sy’n haeru mai undonog oedd bwyd y Cymry, a hynny am fod hanes Cymru yn ehangach na hanes y werin wledig. Ond fe ellid ein cael ein hunain yn sgil hynny gyda darlun tebyg i eiddo Iwerddon hanesyddol, sef bwlch go sylweddol rhwng y dosbarth uwch, angloffon a chefnog, a’r werin dlawd, Wyddeleg ei  hiaith. Dangoswyd yn weddol argyhoeddiadol mai tlawd oedd bwyd y werin Wyddelig hyd yr 20fed ganrif a hynny er gwaetha cyfoeth rhai o’r tirfeddianwyr a ffrwythlondeb rhannau helaeth o’r ynys;[4] ond eto, gwlad wedi eu rheibio gan ganrifoedd o ryfel oedd Iwerddon, dioddefodd newyn apocalyptaidd, ac roedd y bwlch cymdeithasol rhwng yr uchelwyr a’r werin yn ddyfnach na iaith a hil yn unig. Doedd y pethau hyn ddim yn wir am Gymru’r cyfnod.

Gwyddom wrth waith Thirsk a’r cofnodwyr niferus y mae’n galw arnynt (Gervase Markham, John Parkinson, Samuel Hartlib, William Ellis ac eraill) bod twf sylweddol iawn mewn amrywiaeth bwyd yn Lloegr rhwng 1550 ac 1660. Aeth bwydydd brodorol o bob math yn fwy cyffredin, yn rhatach ac yn haws i’w cael: yn ffrwythau caled, yn bysgod pwll, yn wreiddlysiau, yn ffowls ac yn gawsiau. Cynyddodd y defnydd o siwgr a finegr i gadw bwydydd yn aruthrol. Aeth danteithion fel asbaragws o fod yn hynodbeth i fod yn nodwedd aneithriadol o erddi a byrddau Llundain. Ac aeth bwydydd tramor – sbeisis, ffigys, orennau a llawer mwy – o fod yn beth yr oedd haenen uchaf cymdeithas yn unig yn medru eu mwynhau i fod o fewn cyrraedd y dosbarth canol, ac yn rhan gyfarwydd o’u coginio.

Beth felly am y darlun yng Nghymru? Sut bethau oedd ystadau’r man bonedd hyn yn y cyfnod dan sylw, sef i bob pwrpas 1550-1750? Mae’r cwestiwn yn haeddu astudiaeth lawn a hirfaith, ond er dichonadwyedd, dyma ymgyfyngu i gofnodion ambell i ystâd bychan yng nghefn gwlad Sir Gâr. Canolbwyntiwn ar ambell i enghraifft anadnabyddus, gan gofio bod yr hyn oedd yn wir am y rhain yn fwy gwir eto am Aberglasni, Dinefwr, Plas Abergwili, Middleton ayyb:[5]

  • Abercyfor, Llandyfaelog. Yn meddiant teulu’r Dwnniaid yn wreiddiol, prynwyd gan Syr Erasmus Philipps o Gastell Pictwn ger Hwlffordd yn 1680, ac y pryd roedd yno ‘the Great Mansion House and thh Courts there, the Orchard, the Box Garden and the Little Dial Close, and the garden adjoining.’ Ffermydd da byw sydd yno bellach, gyda’r tir i gyd dan laswellt.
  • Heol Ddu, Llanarthne. Fferm gefnog â dau ffermdy (dau frawd oedd yn berchen ar yr ystâd) a adeiladwyd rhwng 1748 ac 1756. Codid gardd furiog i’r de-ddwyrain yr un pryd. Ceir cofnod manwl o’r holl gnydau a dyfid yno, gan gynnwys ffrwythau’r ardd, o ganol y 19fed ganrif – er bod hyn ymhell ar ôl ein cyfnod, mae presenoldeb yr ardd yn yr 1750au a chost adeiladu muriau o’r fath yn awgrym cryf y defnyddid cynnyrch yr ardd yn helaeth gan y teuluoedd yn yn yr adeg yr adeiladwyd yr adeiladau.
  • Llechdwnni, Llandyfaelog. Fferm yw hon bellach, ond dyma gartref teulu’r Dwnn am 25 o genedlaethau, hyd 1909. Roedd un ohonynt, Morris ab Owen yn Uchel Siryf yn 1615. Gwelir y tŷ ar fap 1610 John Speed o’r sir, a recordiwyd yno bum lle tân yn 1670. Priododd ei ferch ieuengaf fab cefnog o Croydon, Surrey ym 1626. Yn y ganrif honno, yn ogystal a’r Plas roedd gardd furiog yn estyn dros dwy gyfer, a’r muriau dros 3 metr o uchder (a wyneb briciau arnynt i guddio’r garreg leol oddi tano – nodwedd ffasiynol, a drud). Roedd belvederes – tyrrau addurniadol lle gallai’r bonedd a’u hymwelwyr fwynhau’r golygfeydd dros Gwm Gwendraeth Fach wrth fynd am dro o gwmpas yr ardd (cymharer gyda’r nodwedd debyg yn Aberglasni). Wrth eu traed roedd pwll artiffisial hirsgwar, yn ôl ffasiwn y cyfnod hefyd. Aeth yr ystâd yn ffarm yn ystod yr 1800au, a syrthiodd y gerddi a nodweddion eraill yr ystâd yn adfail.
  • Abermarlais, Llansadwrn. Yn y 14eg ganrif, dyma gartref Syr Rhys Hen ap Gruffydd. Disgrifir priodas un o’i ddisgynyddion gydag wyres Dinefwr mewn cerdd gan Lewys Glyn Cothi. Gwnaed arolwg o’r ystâd yn 1531, a nodir bod yno ffos a chwrt o wneuthuriad diweddar. Roedd dodrefn moethus yn y tŷ, a pharc ceirw y tu hwnt i’r gerddi. Ym 1670 roedd yno 21 (!) le tân. O ran y gerddi eu hun, ceir map yn 1761 yn nodi nid yn unig sawl perllan, ond hefyd meithrinfa blanhigion. Roedd yma ar yr ystâd waith ar gyfer dwsinau o weision, ac adnoddau ar gyfer cig carw, tunnelli o ffrwythau, pysgod a mwy – a rheswm i gredu y medrai’r teulu fforddio’r danteithion newydd ar gael ar y farchnad.

Mae presenoldeb y gerddi hyn, y parciau, y perllannau, y pyllau, y gerddi llysiau muriog ac mewn sawl achos cytiau gwenyn, yn brawf digamsyniol bod y drefn borthiannol ynddynt yn gyffelyb i ystadau tebyg yn Lloegr a bod perchnogion yr ystadau hyn yn gwario’u harian er mwyn bwyta’n dda.

Pa gasgliadau ehangach gellir tynnu o hyn? Parhawn ar y trywydd y tro nesaf….

[1] Mae Cymru yn uned lai o faint na’r rheiny; doedd dim cymdeithas ddinesig, fwrgeisiol y gellid ei chymharu gydag eiddo’r gwledydd hynny; roedd gan lenorion Cymru ddiddordeb mawr mewn un maes penodol, sef crefydd; diffyg llyfrau ryseit brodorol o’r cyfnod – gwnaeth Elwyn Hughes waith trylwyr ar lyfrau ryseit tai mawrion Cymru, a dangos bod mwyafrif helaeth y ryseitiau wedi eu copio o lyfrau ryseit Saesneg y cyfnod.

[2] Defoe, ‘A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies’

[3] Thirsk, ‘Food in Early Modern England’. Gw. yn arbennig tud 59-95

[4] Hickey, Ireland’s Green Larder

[5] David, Rooted in History: Celebrating Carmarthenshire’s Park and Garden am fanylion llawnach ar y rhain

Cyfeiriadaeth ddethol

Margaret Hickey, Ireland’s Green Larder (London: Unbound, 2018)

Joan Thirsk, Food in Early Modern England (London: Continuum, 2006)

Penny David, Rooted in History (Llanbedr Pont Steffan: Fern Press, 2017)

2. Golwg o’r tu allan…

Cychwynwn gydag arsylwadau un o’r tu allan i Gymru – teithiwr ac awdur a enillodd enwogrwydd am ei stori am fywyd ar ynys bellenig, Daniel Defoe (c. 1660 –1731 ). (Gweler y ddau ysgrif yma ac yma am beth o’r cefndir i’r pwt hwn, ac yn enwedig rhai o’r rhagdybiaethau yr hoffwn eu cyfiawnhau yn y gyfres hon o erthyglau).

Llundeiniwr o Sais oedd Defoe, a bu farw ymhell cyn i gynyrfiadau’r diwydiannu mawr tua diwedd y 18fed ganrif ddechrau newid ffyrdd o fyw a threfn cymdeithas. Cawn olwg o’r tu allan ganddo felly; golwg un nad oedd ganddo rhyw lawer o ddiddordeb yng Nghymru, ac a ymwelodd ond er trylwyredd yn ei ymdrech i deithio i bob cwr o Ynys Prydain – a bron iddo roi’r gorau i’r ymdrech. Cawn olwg hefyd o’r tu allan i gylch yr arsylwyr sy’n gyfarwydd i ni fel Cymry Cymraeg; mae’r lleisiau hanesyddol y byddwn yn arfer clywed ganddynt ac sy’n lliwio ein golwg o’r gorffennol yn deillio o’r 19fed ganrif ar y cyfan, neu wedi eu siapio’n sylweddol gan y ganrif honno. At hynny, canrifoedd crefydd oedd y 17eg a’r 18fed ganrif yng Nghymru yn ein hanesyddiaeth gonfensiynol; ac felly maent wedi pylio mwyfwy dros y degawdau diwethaf yn ein golwg o’r gorffennol, nes i’r cyfnod fynd yn oes o estroniaid yn ymhél â phethau digon estron.  Ond beth oedd y bobl yn bwyta yn y Gymru estron hon?

At Defoe, felly, ac yn benodol chweched lythyr a thrydedd ran ei gyfrol, ‘A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies’ (1727). Gwerthodd y gyfrol yn hynod dda yn ystod y ganrif – dyma’i waith mwyaf llwyddiannus ag eithrio Robinson Crusoe ei hun. Yn amlwg roedd awydd ymhlith y cyhoedd llengar am waith fel hwn, a oedd i raddau helaeth yn cyflwyno genre newydd iddynt; teithio cadair-freichiau.

‘In passing from this part of the country to make a tour through Wales, we necessarily see the two counties of Hereford and Monmouth’

Tiroedd bras Henffordd/ Mynwy/ Brycheiniog

Dechreuwn gyda’i ddisgrifiad o ran o Swydd Henffordd er mwyn cael blas o’i arddull a’i ffordd o weld pethau:

“We were now on the borders of Wales, properly so call’d; for from the windows of Brampton-Castle, you have a fair prospect into the county of Radnor, which is, as it were, under its walls; nay, even this whole county of Hereford, was, if we may believe antiquity, a part of Wales, and was so esteem’d for many ages. The people of this county too, boast that they were a part of the antient Silures, who for so many ages withstood the Roman arms, and who could never be entirely conquer’d. But that’s an affair quite beyond my enquiry. I observ’d they are a diligent and laborious people, chiefly addicted to husbandry, and they boast, perhaps, not without reason, that they have the finest wool, and best hops, and the richest cyder in all Britain.

Indeed the wool about Leominster, and in the Hundred of Wigmore observ’d above, and the Golden Vale as ’tis call’d, for its richness on the banks of the river Dove, (all in this county) is the finest without exception, of any in England, the South Down wool not excepted: As for hops, they plant abundance indeed all over this county, and they are very good. And as for cyder, here it was, that several times for 20 miles together, we could get no beer or ale in their publick houses, only cyder; and that so very good, so fine, and so cheap, that we never found fault with the exchange; great quantities of this cyder are sent to London, even by land carriage tho’ so very remote, which is an evidence for the goodness of it, beyond contradiction.

One would hardly expect so pleasant, and fruitful a country as this, so near the barren mountains of Wales; but ’tis certain, that not any of our southern counties, the neighbourhood of London excepted, comes up to the fertility of this county, as Gloucester furnishes London with great quantities of cheese, so this county furnishes the same city with bacon in great quantities, and also with cyder as above.”

Marchnad gaws y Gelli

Roedd yn cymryd diddordeb mewn gwahanol agweddau ar yr ardaloedd y teithiai trwyddynt: nid yn unig tirlun a phensaernïaeth, ond hefyd hanes, traddodiad lleol, arferion a natur y bobl. Mae’n amlwg bod ganddo ddiddordeb arbennig mewn arfarnu ansawdd tir ac economi’r gwahanol ardaloedd y bydd yn ymweld â nhw.

Gallwn hefyd gael rhagflas o’i agwedd tuag at Gymru; fel ardal â chryn diddordeb hynafiaethol yn perthyn iddi, yn amlwg yn ‘wahanol’ i Loegr ac i’w gyfrif ar y cyfan yn ddiffrwyth o’i chymharu â Lloegr (‘so near the barren mountains of Wales’). Os yw’n rhagfarnllyd, rhagfarn o fath digon cyffredin sydd ganddo.

O ran swydd Henffordd ei hun gallwn ddweud nad oes dim amheuaeth yn ei ben mai Lloegr yw hon o hyd, a bod y rhan hon o’r sir yn amlwg yn llewyrchus ac wedi ei bendithio â thir a bwyd da. Ond dyw Defore ddim yn teimlo rheidrwydd i ddisgrifio pob man yr ymwela ag ef mewn oleuni da; disgrifia Henffordd ei hun fel old, mean built, and very dirty city.

Down at Sir Fynwy, lle noda Defoe nodweddion pwysigrwydd porthladdoedd Trefynwy, Casgwent a Chasnewydd yn eu tro:

Monmouth….at present ’tis rather a decay’d than a flourishing town, yet, it drives a considerable trade with the city of Bristol, by the navigation of the Wye.

….stands Chepstow, the sea port for all the towns seated on the Wye and Lug, and where their commerce seems to center. Here is a noble bridge over the Wye: To this town ships of good burthen may come up, and the tide runs here with the same impetuous current as at Bristol; the flood rising from six fathom, to six and a half at Chepstow Bridge. This is a place of very good trade, as is also Newport, a town of the like import upon the River Uske….

Beth allforir o’r porthladdoedd hyn? Gwenith yn bennaf – ac nid yn unig i fwydo dinas Bryste ond hefyd i fynd dramor:

This county furnishes great quantities of corn for exportation, and the Bristol merchants frequently load ships here, to go to Portugal, and other foreign countries with wheat; considering the mountainous part of the west of this county, ’tis much they should have such good corn, and so much of it to spare; but the eastern side of the county, and the neighbourhood of Herefordshire, supplies them.

Aiff yn ei flaen gan groesi i Forgannwg ac enwi ‘Kyrton-Beacon, Tumberlow, Blorench, Penvail, and Skirridan, are some of the names of these horrid mountains’ (fel odd yn gyffredin yn y cyfnod, gweld mynydd-dir trwy lygaid ffermwyr tir bras byddai Defoe. Doedd ‘sublime vistas’ oes diweddarach heb gyrraedd eto.) Oddi yno croesa Fannau Brycheiniog gan ddod i Sir Brycheiniog, ac yna noda’r bwyd a gai’r trigolion o lyn Syfaddan:

Brecknock-Mere, a large or long lake of water, two or three miles over; of which, they have a great many Welch fables, not worth relating: The best of them is, that a certain river call’d the Lheweni runs thro’ it, and keeps its colour in mid-chanel distinguish’d from the water of the lake, and as they say, never mingles with it. They take abundance of good fish in this lake, so that as is said of the river Thysse in Hungary; they say this lake is two thirds water, and one third fish.

Rhaid oedd iddo synnu o ystyried ei ragfarn yn erbyn tir mynyddig bod trigolion Cymreig Brycheiniog yn bwyta’n dda, a hynny ar draws y sir:

Tho’ this county be so mountainous, provisions are exceeding plentiful, and also very good all over the county.

Gallwn gasglu o’i gyfeiriad at wartheg (duon) y mynydd mai bwydydd eraill oedd ganddo gan sylw yma hefyd. Rhaid iddo edmygu’r gwartheg hyn:

 ….nor are these mountains useless, even to the city of London, as I have noted of other counties; for from hence they send yearly, great herds of black cattle to England, and which are known to fill our fairs and markets, even that of Smithfield it self.

A nodi hefyd bod yr un yn wir, mutatis mutandis, am Sir Faesyfed :

The yellow mountains of Radnorshire are the same, and their product of cattle is the same; nor did I meet with any thing new, and worth noticing, except monuments of antiquity, which are not the subject of my enquiry

Ymlaen a’r daith i Forgannwg eto, gan ymweld â Llandaf a Chaerdydd. Bron iddynt roi’r gorau eto gan mor ‘horrid’ y bryniau i gyd, ond cyrhaeddant y Fro gyda rhyddhad:

The south part of this country is a pleasant and agreeable place, and is very populous; ’tis also a very good, fertile, and rich soil, and the low grounds are so well cover’d with grass, and stock’d with cattle, that they supply the city of Bristol with butter in very great quantities salted and barrell’d up, just as Suffolk does the city of London.

Ffermdai llewyrchus tir bras y Fro

Allforio yr oedd ffermwyr Bro Morgannwg (Cymraeg eu hiaith ar y pryd) yn ei wneud – a menyn yn enwedig. Gwyddom fod economi amaethyddol y siroedd o amgylch Llundain wedi datblygu yn ddigon llewyrchus erbyn hyn a bod amrywiaeth mawr mewn bwyd yn rhan gyffredin o fywyd i fwyafrif y trigolion. Roedd galwadau’r farchnad Lundeinig wedi arwain y gwahanol ardaloedd i arbenigo, ac er bod bri o hyd ar fod yn hunangynhaliol, roedd hyn yn ogystal ac nid ar draul cyfranogi o’r hyn a gynigid ar y farchnad (gan gynnwys ffigys, orennau, coffi a mwy bron trwy’r flwyddyn). Roedd sawl rheswm da i Defoe ddirmygu’r hyn ddaeth ar ei draws yn Ne Cymru – ond chafodd ddim rheswm dros wneud.

Aeth yn ei flaen tua’r gorllewin, gan edmygu porthladd Abertawe a glo Nedd cyn dod i Caermarthen, or Kaer-Vyrdhin, as the Welsh call it, the capital of the county of Kaermardhinshire.

Caiff yma eto ei synnu ar yr ochr orau, a disgrifia tref farchnad a phorthladd lewyrchus a dymunol:

This is an antient but not a decay’d town, pleasantly situated on the River Towy, or Tovy, which is navigable up to the town, for vessels of a moderate burthen. The town indeed is well built, and populous, and the country round it, is the most fruitful, of any part of all Wales, considering that it continues to be so for a great way; namely, thro’ all the middle of the county, and a great way into the next; nor is this county so mountainous and wild, as the rest of this part of Wales.

Noda hefyd fod y sir, yn wahanol iawn i heddiw, yn llawn caeau yd (ai haidd? Ai gwenith? Ai ceirch hyd yn oed?):

… it abounds in corn, and in fine flourishing meadows, as good as most are in Britain, and in which are fed, a very great number of good cattle.

Roedd hi’n amlwg iddo bod y bobl yma yn arfer ag ymwneud ag estroniaid fel efe – mae awgrym yma bod eu heconomi, fel eiddo Morgannwg a Gwent, yn gysylltiedig a gwe economi ewropeaidd a bod y bobl yn arfer felly â dylanwadau allanol. Ond fe all hefyd fod yn ffordd gwmpasog o nodi bod cyfran dda o dref Caerfyrddin yn medru’r Saesneg – sgil digon prin mewn ardaloedd mwy anghysbell:

We found the people of this county more civiliz’d and more curteous, than in the more mountainous parts, where the disposition of the inhabitants seems to be rough, like the country: But here as they seem to converse with the rest of the world, by their commerce, so they are more conversible than their neighbours.

Pysgodfa

Daw i Sir Benfro â’i physgoedfeydd:

Before we quitted the coast, we saw Tenbigh, the most agreeable town on all the sea coast of South Wales, except Pembroke, being a very good road for shipping, and well frequented: Here is a great fishery for herring in its season, a great colliery, or rather export of coals, and they also drive a very considerable trade to Ireland.

Caiff ei blesio’n arw gan Benfro ei hun:

This is the largest and richest, and at this time, the most flourishing town of all S. Wales: Here are a great many English merchants, and some of them men of good business; and they told us, there were near 200 sail of ships belong’d to the town, small and great; in a word, all this part of Wales is a rich and flourishing country, but especially this part is so very pleasant, and fertile, and is so well cultivated, that ’tis call’d by distinction, Little England, beyond Wales.

Geiriau amwys yw ‘fertile’ a ‘pleasant’ wrth gwrs, a byddai disgrifiad mwy manwl o fudd mawr i ni wrth geisio creu ein darlun o fwydydd hanesyddol Cymru. Ond y tu ol i’r geiriau hyn mae’r canfyddiad bod y tir yn debyg i diroedd da Middlesex yr oedd yn gyfarwydd â nhw. Ni all ‘well cultivated’ olygu dim ond bod cnydau (amrywiol, am mai dyna oedd yn Middlesex) yn tyfu mewn cyfran dda o’r caeau – ac felly bod y diet, tybiem, yn amrywiol hefyd. Ac er na chawn ddisgrifiad ganddo o’i brydau bwyd, mae’n werth nodi felly nad oedd wedi cael siom yn yr ymborth a gynigiwyd iddo.

Oherwydd er hyn oll, nid oedd Defoe yn or-hoff o Gymru:

From hence to St. Davids, the country begins to look like Wales again, dry, barren, and mountainous.

O hyn ymlaen llawer llai manwl yw ei ddisgrifiadau i gyd; cawn yr argraff ei fod wedi syrffedu braidd â bod mewn gwlad estron, a bod un mynydd yn y pendraw yn ddigon tebyg i’r nesa. Arwynebol a byr yw ei ddisgrifiadau o drefi gorllewin a Gogledd Cymru. O ran bwyd ac amaeth, dysgwn fod eog gwych i’w cael yn Afon Teifi; bod preiddiau mawr o ddefaid yn Sir Feirionydd; bod pobl y mynyddoedd yn bwyta torgoch o’r llynnoedd, a bod dyffryn Clwyd yn llawn gwenith: “the fields shining with corn, just ready for the reapers, the meadows green and flowery.”

‘The horrid mountains’

Pa gasgliadau gellir tynnu felly wrth gofnodion y llygad-dyst o Saes hwn o gyflwr bwyd ac amaeth yng Nghymru yn yr 1720au? Yn gyntaf ac yn bennaf oll, mai ychydig a welodd Defoe yng Nghymru y medrai ddirmygu. Gwelsom eisoes nad nodwedd o’i arddull oedd ei fod yn hael ei glod am bob lle yr ymwelai â nhw. Roedd hyn yn wir am y bobl a welai hefyd – gallai fod yn hallt iawn ei feirniadaeth lle gwelai diffyg diwydiant, fel yn Kirkcudbright yn yr Alban:

…though here is an extraordinary salmon fishing, the salmon come and offer themselves, and go again, and cannot obtain the privilege of being made useful to mankind; for they take very few of them. They have also white fish, but cure none; and herrings, but pickle none. In a word, it is to me the wonder of all the towns of North-Britain; especially, being so near England, that it has all the invitations to trade that Nature can give them, but they take no notice of it. A man might say of them, that they have the Indies at their door, and will not dip into the wealth of them; a gold mine at their door, and will not dig it.

It is true, the reason is in part evident, namely, poverty; no money to build vessels, hire seamen, buy nets and materials for fishing, to cure the fish when it is catch’d, or to carry it to market when it is cur’d; and this discourages the mind, checks industry, and prevents all manner of application. People tell us, that slothfulness begets poverty, and it is true; but I must add too, that poverty makes ….In a word, the common people all over this country, not only are poor, but look poor; they appear dejected and discourag’d, as if they had given over all hopes of ever being otherwise than what they are.

Cawn ddim byd cyffelyb ar daith Defoe o gylch Cymru, a hynny yn ddigon i beri syndod o ystyried hiliaeth gyffredin y roes tuag at y Cymry, a hoffter amlwg personol Defoe o rwysg a llewyrch. Rhaid casglu felly na welodd rhyw lawer y gallai feirniadu; bod y wlad, ei threfi a’i phobl i’w gweld yn rhy daclus a llewyrchus iddo droi ei sen tuag atynt. Os na welodd balastai a neuaddau ysblennydd i’w disgrifio’n fanwl fel y gwelsai yng Nghaeredin ac mewn rhannau o Loegr, welodd e ddim tlodi enbyd chwaith.

O ystyried y canfyddiad (e.e. yn Elwyn Hughes) na fyddai’r Cymry yn gwneud rhyw lawer o ddefnydd o fwydydd gwyllt, mae sylwadau Defoe ar y diffyg pysgota yn Kircudbright o ddiddordeb hefyd. Hynny yw, mae absenoldeb unrhyw sylwadau tebyg gan Defoe am unrhyw leoliad yng Nghymru yn arwyddocaol. Mae tystiolaeth gref fod trigolion de-ddwyrain Lloegr yn y cyfnod hwn yn gwneud defnydd llawn o fwydydd y berth, a byddai Defoe felly yn gweld hyn fel rhan arferol o gynhaliaeth cefn-gwlad. Petai wedi gweld tystiolaeth bod y Cymry yn anwybyddu peth o’r bwyd gwyllt oedd o’u cwmpas, gallwn dybio y byddai wedi gwneud sylwadau am hyn. Ni wnaeth; ac felly dyma reswm pellach i amau casgliadau Elwyn Hughes ac eraill yn y mater hwn.

Yn anad dim, sylwadau cyffredinol ar ansawdd y tiroedd a’r trefi a welsai y mae Defoe yn eu cynnig yn ei nodiadau ar ei daith o amgylch Cymru. Gresyn na fyddai wedi sôn yn fanylach am y bwydydd a welsai yn y marchnadoedd, y tafarndai ac yn y mannau a arhosodd. Ond mae’r ffaith iddo ganfod amgylchiadau a oedd, cymerwn, yn gymharol i’r rhai a welsai yn Lloegr, ynddo’i hun yn werth nodi ac yn fan cychwyn da i’r drafodaeth ehangach.

Rhagor y tro nesa pan godwn gwr y llen ymhellach ar fwyd y tai mawrion yn y cyfnod hwn.

Cyfeiriadaeth

Defoe, D., ‘A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies’ (1727)

1. Pam Hanes Bwyd Cymru?

Ar ei fol y bydd byddin yn martsio; felly hefyd gwlad. Mae bwyd yn hanfodol i ddyfodol pob gwareiddiad, ac yn arwydd da o iechyd y gwareiddiad hwnnw. A dyw ein perthynas gyda bwyd yma yng Nghymru 2020 ddim yn iach: rydym yn dioddef o glefydau diri yn deillio o’n diet; mae gan rai ohonom mwy o ddewis mewn bwyd na’r un o’n cyndeidiau, eraill yn ddibynnol ar fanciau bwyd elusennol. Mae ein ffermwyr yn ei chael yn anodd cadw deupen llinyn ynghyd, tra’n bod yn mewnforio cyfran helaeth o’n bwyd. Ychydig o’n ffrwythau a llysiau a gynhyrchwn yng Nghymru; mae ein hafonydd a’n moroedd yn fwy difywyd nag y buont erioed; ac mae’r tir yn nychu.

‘Perffeithrwydd’ bwyd ein hoes

Pam – pan fo’r anghenion cyfredol mor llethol – ymroi i ymchwilio, dadansoddi a thrafod hanes bwyd Cymru? Yn fras, am ein bod fel bodau dynol yn meddwl mewn naratif: trwy batrwm stori y byddwn yn dadansoddi’r byd, yn storio argraffiadau yn ein cof, ac yn gwneud penderfyniadau. A hyd y gwelaf i, dydyn ni Gymry ddim wedi cyfranogi mewn naratif cyffredin am ein bwyd. Ychydig iawn o syniad sydd gennym o’n hanes porthiannol, ac ychydig o siawns felly i wneud synnwyr o’r cyfyng-gyngor presennol gyda’r adnoddau sydd oddi fewn i’n diwylliant ein hun. Mewn geiriau eraill, dwi’n gobeithio y bydd amlygu nifer o agweddau o hanes ein bwyd yn fodd i ddarparu hanner cyntaf naratif penagored i’r sawl all gyfrannu at barhad llesiannol i’r naratif hwnnw, sef: diwylliant bwyd cyfoethog a angorir mewn economi bwyd lleol a chyfiawn.

Felin Ganol, Llanrhystud – rhagflas o economi bwyd lleol Cymreig?

Dyma mewn gwirionedd a wneuthum gydag Afalau Cymru (ac hefyd gyda Welsh Food Stories). Sbardunwyd y cyfan pan sylweddolais bod naratif yn llyfrau hanes Cymru ac yn y llenyddiaeth afalaidd (Loegr-ganolog) fel ei gilydd i’r perwyl nad oedd i bob pwrpas draddodiad o dyfu ffrwythau yng Nghymru. Roedd y canfyddiad hwnnw bron yn gwbl ddi-sail, ond yn ddealladwy hefyd: doedd neb wedi dod â’r naratif hwnnw ynghyd a’i roi ar glawr. Cofiaf yn dda gofyn i John Davies, Bwlch-llan am hanes afalau yng Nghymru, ac a allai fy rhoi ar ben ffordd gyda fy ymchwil; roedd yn ei eiriau ei hun yn weddol ddi-glem, ac ni allai fy helpu.  Y dirgelwch mwy oedd pam bod yr atgof o’r hyn a fu hefyd wedi diflannu o’n hymwybyddiaeth cenedlaethol, os nad o gof cyfran sylweddol o’r to hyn (a fagwyd cyn cc. 1950).

Tirwedd bwyd?

Dyma felly fy mwriad yn y gornel fach hon o’r we: amlinellu mewn cyfres o ysgrifau a phytiau rai o gynhwysion allweddol hanes bwyd Cymru. Dwi’n rhagweld y byddwn yn trafod:

  • Y Tai Mawrion (yma, yma ac yma)
  • Bwyd y werin (yma)
  • Bwydydd y bröydd (yma ac yma)
  • Pam na fu bwyd Cymru?
  • Bwyd ein llên
  • Myth y dirwedd ddigyfnewid
  • Hanes gwahanol agweddau ar fwyd, gan gynnwys:
    • eplesu
    • sbeis (yma)
    • y fyrtwydden
    • bwydydd gwyllt
    • yr afal (eto)
    • diodydd anghofiedig
    • agroforestry/ amaethgoedwigaeth avant l’heure

Byddai’n dda cael eich cwmni ar y daith – ac os hoffech gyhoeddi peth o’r deunydd yma mewn cylchgrawn yr ydych yn ei olygu neu ar wefan arall, rhowch wybod trwy gysylltu â carwyn@gravesfamily.org.uk

Llyfryddiaeth ddethol

Joan Thirsk, Food in Early Modern England (London: Continuum, 2006)

Penny David, Rooted in History (Llanbedr Pont Steffan: Fern Press, 2017)

S. Minwel Tibbott, Welsh fare (Cowbridge: National Museum of Wales, 1976)

Bobby Freeman, First catch your peacock (Talybont: y Lolfa, 1980)

R. Elwyn Hughes, Dysgl Bren a Dysgl Arian: nodiadau ar hanes bwyd yng Nghymru (Talybont: y Lolfa, 2003)

Walter Davies, Agricultural Survey of South Wales (1814)

David Thomas, Hanes Tair Sir ar Ddeg Cymru (Amwythig, 1750)

Defoe, D., ‘A tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain, divided into circuits or journies’ (1727)

On ‘Welsh Food Stories’

This is from the introduction to my book, Welsh Food Stories:

‘Welsh food’ in Cardiff market

“I am standing on a gusty, tussocky hilltop in mid-August. Streaks of sunlight reach me as the clouds, only a few dozen meters above my head, billow past. Every now and then, a few light drops of rain wet my cheeks. Behind, where the heather-brown hills rise yet higher, the clouds have run into each other and shed curtains of rain across the landscape. But before me and below me lies a green vale bathed in sunlight – here, out of the wind, a patchwork of small fields, ancient woodlands and hedgerows shelter solid, old farmhouses and fields of corn. And beyond this, the coastal lowland, beaches of holidaymakers and then the sea, shimmering in the sun.

This scene – from the Glamorgan ridgeway near Cardiff – could have been located in almost any part of Wales. On the Clwydian range of the north-east. Near Harlech, in the north-west. In the Preseli mountains of the south-west. Or where it did, on the Glamorgan ridgeway of the south-east. For unlike northern France, central England or northern Germany, all parts of northern Europe otherwise broadly comparable in latitude and climate to Wales where the same prevailing conditions and landforms continue for hundreds of miles, Wales is a world of microcosms.

Food history?

Welsh food has reflected this. Traditionally, the foods of Wales were marked by great variation. There were significant differences between the diets on the coasts and in the river valleys, where grain could be grown and most of the towns and all the ports were located, and the mountainous interior, with worse growing conditions and climate and so more dependence on hardy animals. Similarly, the differences between social classes were marked, during some periods even more than others. The landless peasant classes, particularly during times of crisis and famine, often suffered badly and their diet during these periods was pitiful. But society at all times also contained free farmers and smallholders, as well as wealthy and well-connected landowners, who had a more stable economic basis and had access to much more variety in food.

And so that simple, evocative phrase, ‘Welsh food’ is much more problematic than it sounds. Whose Welsh food – and where and when? The historiography of Welsh food, such as it is, has been dominated by accounts of working-class Victorian poverty, and rural hardship before then. The pastoral economy of upland, wild Wales has typically been regarded as providing the meanest of fare, with oats and diary predominating, and simple dishes cooked on backward implements. There is of course some truth in this. During the sixteenth century, for instance, the abject poor were estimated at 30% of the population, and they typically dwelt in one-roomed hovels lacking windows and chimneys. The basic component of the lowest class’s pre-twentieth century diet would have been oat gruel and dairy products or meat when they were available. Female members of this class in Anglesey were so well known for their persistent begging for cheese, butter and milk that they were known as gwragedd cawsa (cheese gatherers). But even for the lowest class the trope of Welsh poverty does not hold; during the era of the workhouse and the working poor, for instance, the British food enquiry of 1863 noted that the Welsh labouring classes were better fed than their English counterparts.

And a good proportion of the population from the sixteenth century onwards were small farmers and smallholders – usually around 50%. In favoured areas such as the Vale of Glamorgan, these could be relatively prosperous. And dairy, which many parts of Wales specialized in, could bring riches to less well-endowed regions too: by the 1540s, two Anglesey drovers, Rhys ap Cynfrig and Rhys ap Llywelyn, had grown rich exporting cattle to markets in the English midlands. These semi-independent farmers, although subject to times of crisis and famine too, generally had the resources to enjoy a varied diet, at least for most of the year. The earliest Welsh laws, attributed to the 9th century King, Hywel Dda, codify in great detail the value of different foodstuffs: honey, pigs, fruiting trees, sea-trout, all of which featured in Welsh diets of the time and later. The 12th century commentator, Gerald of Wales, notes how the typical Welsh diet of his day consisted primarily of nutrient-rich meat and dairy, in contrast to the grain- and gruel-eating lowland dwellers of England and France, precisely due to the upland nature of much of the country.

Cows. Eifionydd. A food landscape.

 Above these classes were the members of the professions, merchants and wealthier craftsmen and yeomen, who constituted around 15% of the population. These dwelt on established farmholdings across the countryside, or constituted an upwardly mobile urban class. Small towns across Wales are known to have remained reasonably prosperous at times of agrarian crisis in England, most likely due to their early specialization in animal products and cattle markets.[1] Their stability created an urban market for luxury products, including food products. Goods stocked by a Llanfyllin mercer (a small town in the hills of Montgomeryshire) in 1670 included glazed cloth, silk fabric and fur, bodices, silver cuffs, gallons of ink, mirrors, satin capes for children as well as currants, sugar, spices, brown candy and tobacco.[2] And with access to an even greater range of items was the aristocratic class, whose fortunes also waxed and waned, but who throughout Welsh history had access to the best luxury foods of the period, be that imported wine, or Conwy-grown greenhouse figs.[3] Both these upper classes benefited from the generally peaceful conditions in Wales from the 14th century onwards, in marked contrast to both Ireland and many parts of the near continent – all of which impacted on agriculture, commerce and food.

And so to reduce traditional Welsh food to the food of the rural and working poor is to take a (usually urban, middle class) prejudice against certain foodstuffs and ways of life, and to combine this with a flattening of a food landscape that was massively varied – geographically, socially and chronologically. Recent food historians, such as Joan Thirsk in England or Erwin Seitz in Germany have emphasized in their approach to food history the use of contemporary accounts of what people ate, and applied the basic principle that humans have a propensity to follow fashions. That peasants would work as gardeners or cooks in an aristocratic Great House, and not try to emulate what they saw in their own gardens or kitchens, is a preposterous proposition – and no less so in Conwy than in Cologne. And to posit that the Welsh, almost uniquely, were so culturally conservative and resistant to change in their food habits that this did not happen, is to ignore the overwhelming evidence of building styles, religious upheaval and clothing, not to mention the rapid and well-documented spread of innovations such as the potato or tea-drinking. (We could also at this point mention the falling out of fashion of rye, and the disappearance of drinks like mead, metheglin and diod griafol, to underline the obvious point that the tides of fashion in Wales as elsewhere both bring the new and sweep away the old.) Traditional Welsh food is then in many senses a misnomer for a varied and ever-changing tapestry of practices, influences and raw material that differed both through society and across the country.

All this being said, there are distinctive threads in the whole fabric of Welsh food history that are particularly long-lasting, or particularly prominent in comparison to the diets of neighbouring cultures and peoples – England, Ireland, northern France, Scotland. A fondness for leeks and cheese among the Welsh has been noted since the early middle ages. The use of shellfish and seaweed by the coastal population was often noted as distinctive by outside commentators. Grain culture in Wales stands at the intersection of a ‘Celtic’ oat-based tradition and a northern European wheat/barley/rye tradition, producing a heritage both of griddle cakes (of which Welshcakes have been the longest surviving instantiation) and of loaves. The historic cider-making regions of the world are surprisingly limited in number and area, and south-eastern Wales is thus of global importance in the development of this usually underappreciated tipple. And the pastoral tradition in Wales, though by no means unique, is also distinctive both in its longevity, stability and its comparative importance within society. And so my desire in writing this book was to bring to a wider audience the stories of several of the most important Welsh foods, and use these stories as backgrounds to the exciting things artisan food producers across the country are doing with them today – the continuation of each of these food stories.

Artisan tradition?

But the term ‘food story’ seems to imply a kind of food culture that Wales is not often regarded, from the outside at least, as having. Many modern European countries boast a food culture rooted in traditions of farming and small-scale, quality production that have continued to this day. From the wines of Burgundy to Swiss cheesemakers and German bakers, a craft and a particular way of preparing foods have been handed down from generation to generation, from master to apprentice. This did not happen on the whole in 20th century Wales (or indeed other parts of the British Isles). It would be the work of a – to my knowledge yet-to-be-written – PhD to delve into all the reasons why, but in Wales at least, the generally rural nature of food traditions seems to be a core part of how this happened.

Welsh food traditions were mostly what we could call ‘farmhouse’ traditions, whose gatekeepers were often women, in both the Welsh-speaking core of the country and the traditionally English-speaking parts. This meant that food production tended to operate at the level of the household economy, even when production was for the market. When household production was no longer needed due to industrialization and then 20th century prosperity, there were no guilds or long-established companies with an incentive to marketize what had been produced in the home or on the farm. On top of this, Welsh culture as such (in contrast to what was perceived as English, and modern) lived an increasingly threatened existence. It was defined by its strongest adherents – in the teeth of the strong currents of Anglicization and homogenization – as encompassing music, literature, religion and to an extent the visual arts. When native linguistic, literary or religious traditions were threatened, a stalwart class of farmers, teachers and ministers of religion rallied to their defence. Food, however, was ignored – to the point that native, often remarkably resilient traditions were remarkably unsuccessful in adapting themselves to mid-20th century society and economic conditions. On the whole, as the last generation of cider-makers, cheesemakers, cockle-pickers, bakers etc. died out, their traditions died with them.

And so Welsh food culture became during the latter decades of the twentieth century a thing conspicuous by its absence. And that absence was all the more lamentable given what preceded it; rich indigenous traditions, multifaceted yet uniform, enriched by outside influences but astonishingly stable for many long centuries. Aside from the tourist-pleasing tidbits of Welshcakes and Bara Brith, delectable as they are, and the strangely-named Welsh rarebit, Welsh food as category for most people both inside and outside Wales has become something of a blank. Mass-produced bara brith full of emulsifiers and glucose-fructose syrup does not a stake to a national cuisine make!

One researcher in particular, Minwel Tibbot, happened to be employed by the right institution at the right time. In 1969, she was employed by the Welsh folk museum at St Fagans, and quickly started oral interviews with the oldest generation of women across Wales, whose memories reached back to the last decade or two of the 19th century. These remembered – and in some cases, still continued to practice – old dishes, terms and ways of cooking that had been widespread but that by this point were to society in general not much more than a memory. The painstaking work which she in particular carried out, but also Bobby Freeman and others, is invaluable to our appreciation of the whole of Welsh food history, and complements wonderfully the scattered observations we have of native food and eating habits from observers from the Middle Ages until the early twentieth century. I have drawn extensively on her work (see the bibliography at the end of the book), as well as on observations made particularly by 17th and 18th century English travellers to Wales for the picture I have been able to paint of traditional Welsh food throughout this book.

Cockle shells in the Loughor estuary

Natural riches?

And so, before we dive in to this eight-course meal, let me presume to introduce Wales – this surprisingly diverse, rocky, sea-bound peninsula in north-western Europe – a second time.

Green mountains sweep down to craggy coastline. Cow-dotted fields and ancient Atlantic oakwoods cling to the slopes. Limestone, sandstone and dark-bellied granite vie to outcrop. Deep coastal rias open into rich, shallow waters. Regular rains water the ground, even as the tropical waters of the Gulf Stream keep the climate mild and temperate. Wales is a country whose landform shouts good food, and many of whose inhabitants have been blessed to eat well for millennia. Join me to take a bite into the stories of eight of those in turn…”


The book was due out later this year. Covid-19 has slowed things down, so it’s an open question atm when it will get published.

[1] Powell, ‘Do Numbers Count? Towns in Early Modern Wales’ in Urban History, vol. 32, no. 1, 2005, 67

[2] Powell, ‘Do Numbers Count? Towns in Early Modern Wales’ in Urban History, vol. 32, no. 1, 2005, 59

[3] Graves, Apples of Wales, 36