iHeart Podcast Announcer (0:00)

This is an iHeart podcast.

WSECU Advertiser (0:02)

Guaranteed Human WSECU isn't just one of Washington's best credit unions. We're a Forbes Best in State five years running. Why? Because we put you first. Lower fees, early paydays, financial guidance and service second to none. As a member owned cooperative, we love Washington as much as you do. From the Olympic Mountains to the rolling Palouse. Join us and discover how much we care about your financial well being. Because what we really do best is invest in you. Visit wsecu.org today to learn more. Washington let's credit union.

Erin Menke (0:39)

Welcome to Erin Menke's Cabinet of Curiosities, a production of iHeartRadio and Grim and Mild.

Aaron Mahnke (0:48)

Our world is full of the unexplainable, and if history is an open book, all of these amazing tales are right there on display, just waiting for us to explore. Welcome to the Cabinet of Curiosities.

Erin Menke (1:11)

Nothing tells the story of human life and culture quite like food. What we eat is central to ritual, politics, and society in general, no matter how ordinary it may seem in the moment. Which means that throughout the scope of history, food itself has become the source of intense controversy. The Christian season of Lent, for instance, is supposed to be a time of fasting and self denial. Today you might see someone give up drinking or eating sugar for 40 days, but the older tradition is to give up meat. In medieval Christian communities, only fish could be served at meals during Lent, that is, until March 9th of 1522. On that night in the Swiss city of Zurich, a printer named Christoph Froschauer gathered his employees and some local officials into his parlor for a Lenten feast. The however, instead of the customary fish, they served sausages. One of the men in attendance was Pastor Huldrich Zwingli, who blessed the meal. Now at that time it was forbidden by the church to eat meat during Lent, so word about the anti Christian meal spread fast. Froscher and most of the others who had attended were jailed for breaking canon law. Zwingli, the priest, wasn't arrested and might have gotten away free and clear, but he didn't intend to keep his head down for long. Even though he hadn't eaten any of the sausage himself at the meal, he felt the principle of the gathering needed to be discussed. The following Sunday he delivered a sermon called Regarding the Choice and Freedom of Foods. His message went on to outline his perspective on fasting and its place in church doctrine and how the specifics of it should not be prescribed law. And then Christoph Rocher, the printer whose meal sparked the controversy in the first place, helped print and distribute the sermon upon his release from jail. As a result, Zwingli's sermon reached the local bishop, who was outraged. But there was only so little he could do to stem the tide of support. Zwingli was a popular local figure. Three years earlier, he had contracted the plague during an outbreak in Zurich, and rather than flee the city, he stayed to take care of the sick and somehow miraculously recovered from his illness. Which doesn't sound like the sort of guy that you can intimidate into silence. The Protestant Reformation, which had begun in 1517, fully kicked off in Zurich, thanks to Zwingli and his heretical meal. Zwingli petitioned the local bishop to fully do away with the requirement to fast during Lent, and Zurich's city council debated the matter extensively. In the end, the Swiss states were divided, some choosing to remain Catholic, others turning away from the strict rules of Catholicism. The movement was historic, but it didn't end well for everyone. In October of 1531, the Catholic states declared war on the city of Zurich. Zwingli took to the field in defense of his city and his faith as a soldier. On 11 October, 3,500 volunteers went to battle against a force more than twice their size. After an hour of fighting, 500 had been killed, including Huldrich Zwingli. But if we know anything about religious movements, it's that they certainly love a martyr, even when that martyr's story was. Needs a bit of editing to get started. You see, historians now believe that something less organic took place at that heretical dinner now known as the affair of the sausages. It seems that Zwingli may have actually staged the whole thing as a demonstration to push his radical ideas forward. Which means it was a move that was just as political as it was spiritual in principle. He just needed the proper controversy to make his opinions known as. And by blessing a sausage, he changed his country forever. In 1835, a nobleman visited a pharmacy in an English cathedral city on the River Severn. The shop was owned by two local chemists, John Lee and William Perrins, who were known for manufacturing their own medicines. But in this case, the nobleman hoped that they could help him mix up something a little tastier. The nobleman had just come home from India, which was a British colony at the time. He'd been serving as a governor there for many years, and he'd grown to love a certain sauce that was served with Indian cuisine. But as hard as he tried, he couldn't find a similar one anywhere in England. So he described the sauce to the chemists as best he could. He didn't know the exact recipe, but it was strongly spiced. It had hints of onion and fish. And the chemists copied down his instructions and told him that they weren't really sure if they could get their hands on all the ingredients, but if they could, they would try their best to replicate the recipe. It took some work, but Lee and Perrins acquired all the ingredients they needed, and they mixed it all up in a barrel and making the sauce in the back room of their shop. They were hoping that if it turned out well, they could bottle up the extra and sell it in the pharmacy. But when they tried the taste of this finished product, it was completely inedible. In fact, it smelled so awful, the chemist didn't even know if they could dump it out without getting complaints from the whole neighborhood. So they just put the barrel in the cellar and then tried to forget the whole disaster had ever happened. Which, amazingly, is what they did. That barrel collected dust for the next two years, out of sight and out of mind. But in 1837, Lee and Perrins needed to free up some storage space, and so they decided it was time for some long overdue cleaning. And while they were going through their cellar, they found the abandoned barrel of sauce. It had been so long that they'd forgotten what it actually tasted like, so they decided to pry open the barrel for one last sample before throwing it out. And to their surprise, after being left to ferment for two whole years, the sauce's flavors had mellowed out and come together. The chemists agreed that it actually tasted pretty good, so they packaged it up in spare medicine bottles and began selling it to their customers. They sent out free samples to drum up demand and even paid some British passenger ships to put the sauce in their dining rooms so that curious travelers might try it. And sure enough, everyone who tasted it was instantly hooked. It was such a hit that Lee and Perrins soon outgrew their little shop and had to open a new warehouse in London. Before long, their new sauce became a staple of British dining that inspired dozens of imitators. Although their own original recipe remained a closely guarded secret, that once forgotten barrel is no longer out of mind. Today, Lee and Perrin's creation is so popular that you can buy it in practically any grocery store in the English speaking world. And it still carries a name inspired by the city and county where it was first created, A little condiment called Worcestershire sauce.