Well that’s that now, until April next year.
The light has gone and left us and the long nights are here to stay. The vibrant flowers of Summer are just a memory, the fresh gardens of eternal salad have proved they are finite.
What’s harvested has been carefully stored or made into jam or suchlike; now the long dark winter nights must be persuaded to fly by.
What to do, before media linked this globe up in neon-lit bands, when candles were pricey, in those days when there was little but stories to keep us all entertained in the black of night?
We on this isle turned to root vegetables as a source of endless fun and frolics.
Notably that king amongst tuberous roots, the mangel-wurzel.
It is possible that some time in the eighteenth century some village wit, waterlogged by tedium, elected to find a howlingly funny name for a vegetable, so that he had his compatriots could spend long dark hours around the fire laughing at it.
But conjecture will get us nowhere. This vegetable’s spectacular name has assured it attention, for the dark half of the year at least.
It started off as a humble source of fodder for livestock. But it was an ambitious root: it wanted more for itself in life. By 1830 bumpkins the West-over had learnt how to make it into beer.
A cookery book of the times includes a recipe for mangelwurzel beer. Admittedly there are those in parts of the West Country who will make anything into beer if it stands still long enough. But we should salute efforts to extract alcohol from a vegetable which appears to have very little indeed in the way of juice.
I hear it’s wickedly potent.
Once one has fermented such a source of merriment, what more is there to do with it?
Why, make it the butt of a game, of course. One day some cauliflower-nosed soul became sufficiently inebriated to try throwing one of these things to hit another, and mangelwurzel-hurling – or mangold-hurling, as it is known today – was born.
The game was simple and its equipment readily available. Mangold hurling swept the wide, flat, wet Somerset Levels, delighting all country village folks who came across it.
I feel a spot of quoting from the rules is in order.
“Each contestant,” the Official Mangold Hurling Association Rules begin, “selects his mangold from a cart of mangolds which has been provided by the owner of the Field of Play and blessed by the local parson.
“The thrower must then stand with both feet in the withy pitching basket and on the command “Hurl!” must pitch his mangold at the target, which is a mangold called the Norman.”
And why not? Let’s all throw mangolds at the Norman. Such fun.
It continues: “The thrower whose mangold is closest to the Norman is the winner. In the event of two or more mangolds being approximately the same distance from the Norman, the Umpire will give the call “Willow ‘e!” to ask for the measuring willow to be produced.
“Distances are then measured and compared. The winner is crowned Mangold King and presented with a selection of village beauties or Mangold-Maids from whom he will select his Mangold Queen.”
Sounds a trifle Summerisle for my liking.
While October 31st is key for many small folks, it is the last Thursday in October, in keeping with local tradition – which occupies children in South Somerset. They parade around with Punkies: mangel-wurzels hollowed out with lights inside.
And what they begin, the children of Norfolk and Wales uphold on Hallowe’en. It’s not pumpkins which are hollowed out there, but mangel-wurzel.
The wonders of the World Wide Web have given the Mangold Hurling Association a whole new dimension. Now the Somerset Levels are open to cybertourists via its website, and misinformation of the most entertaining kind pervades its public image.
Take the photograph of a great pile of mangel-wurzels surmounted, inexplicably, by sheep.
Their explanation? “Prior to a major competition, tight security has to be maintained to prevent the mangolds being “knobbled” by would-be cheats.
“Here we see a mangold heap surrounded by barbed wire and a sturdy gate, and being patrolled by guard sheep. These animals have been trained to emit an ear-piercing bleat to warn of a miscreant’s approach. Unfortunately in this case the sheep have eaten the tops of the mangolds, thus rendering them useless.”
The mangelwurzel has entered the 21st century, it seems. Not only is it the centre of a revived mangold-hurling but its impossibly absurd name, and its outrageously ugly demeanour, have found their way online to amuse an appreciative audience far beyond this tiny island in the middle of a dark and disgruntled weather system.
The long nights, I feel sure, will just fly by.
Kate Shrewsday 
Hahaha! Great post. And the site is a TREAT! Thank you, that and Pseu telling me a lighthouse is for sale have absolutely made my day.
Yes, the long winter nights must just fly by at Shrewsadder Mansions.
Well spotted, Earlybird 😀 They do indeed, Now: I’m off to bank to get a huge loan to buy a lighthouse….
I had completely forgotton about this vegetable – I used to LOVE Worzel Gummidge as a child – Although I have to admit it was a little unsettling for me when he used to change his head !!! In my daughters words (And I quote direct) ”That is just SO wrong on just SO many levels”
It is, Trudie 😀 You couldn’t find a better vegetable for a head though. They look like ugly old men…
I blush to admit that I thought mangel-wurzels were a myth 🙂
So did I!
Well, there you go: a myth busted….
😀
I know: mangold sounds so much like mandrakes, which were meant to be tuber-men I think. Jolly unlucky.Blogged about it once. However: there is strong alcohol to prove they do exist….
I am never too sure of the correct names for these different tuberous root veggies. Is it a turnip, a swede, a beet, or a mangold? I love what I call swede, mashed with some potato, carrot, butter and black pepper – comfort food to take us through the long dark nights.
Ooooh, I love swede and butter, too, Rosemary: food for the old English Gods 😀
Well, isn’t that something to pass away the winter’s dark? I’ve never heard of mangelwurzel before, let alone hurling contests. Enlightenment. I will think about this, Kate, all winter long, in its darkest hours, whenever I open a can of beets. What a fun post.
I think I shall try to track one down now, Penny….oh, to own a mangel-wurzel….
Wacky… and fun! What else could we ask for?!
Do you remember the programme ‘Worzel Gummidge’?
With Dr Who actor John Pertwee?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Worzel_Gummidge_%28TV_series%29
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gb4U78GJWrk&feature=related
I do. And Ant Thally.
I looked at your photo and my immediate thought was “beets.” Then I started reading . . . then Googling…. I had heard of hurling, but never of mangel-wurzels, let alone hurling them! 🙂 What a concept!
When I returned to Indiana after many years living away, I was quite surprised to learn of the Cornhole game that’s being played hereabout with much fervor. The basic concept is not new, but to my knowledge it wasn’t being played here during my formative years. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornhole
We’ve had some interesting Cornhole contests at our last couple of family reunions, but tossing beanbags somehow pales in comparison to this. Think I’ll search out a beet field before our next gathering! 🙂
It does sound rather fun, doesn’t it? My favourite bit is hitting Norman….poor soul…
Hilariously, absurdly, uplifting-ly excellent, Kate! Plus, it has been some time since I have seen your home page, as I usually jump in from the email notifications (still a bit behind on those). I love the preface. Your whole blog is an uplifting, above board love affair for me. Yes, I know I’m gushing. It’s honest…
You never have to think of ‘being behind’ here, Brett. No strings. Just very happy do see you when you’re around 🙂
Thank you! I thought very hard before changing that preface (great word, by the way) because I had to cut out the stuff about mugs of tea, and one thing I can’t do without is tea. But this one’s a whole lot more honest.
Coming from someone who writes like you , that comment really is something I will treasure. (Now who’s gushing :-D)
I have never, ever, heard of a mangelwurzel. Not even as a myth!
I was half hoping I’d missed the winter and gone straight to April Fool’s day 😉
Nope. The truth is out there, Speccy, and it’s mangel-wurzel shaped.
We have people that play this in the USA. They are called Senators and Congressmen. What they throw around is money. It is thrown in such a way that only the megacorps and megabanks can win.
How astute . . . and Amen!
Indeed, Carl and Karen 🙂 We have an encampment outside St Paul’s protesting about just such a problem here…
They must have been bored out of their skulls to think of mangelwurzel throwing. Like spitting watermelon pips? Real-ly what some people will think of, lol! 😆
The Somerset Levels are very dark, very wet, very cold and very flat for at least six months of the year. It doesn’t take a lot to please its residents 😀
I’ve been to a Punkin Chunkin . . . where pumpkins soar through the air for long distance before splattering and splintering to pieces on the ground.
Never heard of the mangel or the wurzel or the mangelwurzel or the mangold. I’m delighted to lessen my ignorance with your tuberish and fibrous lesson ~ something to sink our teeth and minds into! Huzzah! 😀
Indeed, Nancy 😀 Although in any other part of the world I have a feeling all it would be good for was cattle fodder….the Punkin Chunkin sounds great fun!
I’d never heard of such a thing. Thanks for the enlightenment. 🙂
Hmmm…more like enfuzziment today, PiedType…..
An educational day for me. Like many of your other commenters, I never heard of the mangold. It sounds like it would go well with a drink or several. 🙂
Several, I think, Andra 😀 You’d need it to cancel out the taste.
Well, here I am in my office having lunch and reading a Smithsonian article about potatoes, and the thought strikes, “Let’s see what Kate has written for today!” I laughed outloud. Not only have I NEVER heard of a mangel-wurzel! I can’t wait to slip this bit of trivia into a conversation at some point. Now going back to reading about the potato seems a little dull!! Debra
Ah, I’m sure the potato has many charms. Sounds like another blog post, Debra 😀
Kate, I’ve just read a post that featured rhubarb quite heavily, and when I saw your first image, I thought ‘rhubarb again…!’ (I experience loads of random coincidences like this!) but I was wrong. I’ve now been introduced to the mangelwurzel. A random lesson in vegetables, today, but interesting all the same – I like learning new things!
Don’t ever try the beer, Tom. Getting up the next morning is not an option.
That was too funny! They look an awful lot like big beets. Do you eat them, or are they solely for making into beer and hurling? (Besides feeding to livestock, that is.)
I think you can eat them….although I’ve never met anyone who has…
Never heard of them, Kate – how wonderfully bizarre, their overnight guardians in particular
Vicious bleating alarm-sheep 😀 Bizarre indeed, BB.
mangelwurzel-hurling sounds so much better than mangold-hurling – haha
It does, doesn’t it, Gabrielle?
I LOVED this! I had never heard of the mangel-wurzel (is it related to the turnip?), but now am afire to try hurling one! Here we fling pumpkins via trebuchet, which is great fun, but the wurzel looks a handy little grenade 🙂
a whole new word for me to learn! Love the fact that some people would make beer out of anything, I shall remember that if ever in the West Country 🙂
I see I need to add to my carving vegetables next year….
A fun post for a fun vegetable.
I’ve lived in England all these years: How could I have not known that? Good stuff.
One thing I have learnt, Tooty: there’s nothing level about the Somerset Levels. Not with alcohol like that swilling around.
I’ll raise a glass and toast the post, but not with mangel beer. 😉
Very wise, Nuvofelt 🙂
Your vignettes are so vivid that I almost feel cold after this and the next one. I love your striking photographs and the way your posts cover decades/centuries, the personal and the social. Thank you.
Elizabeth, thanks for coming over to take a look: glad you enjoyed your visit!