27 July 1774
[Six Gentlemen] dined and spent the afternoon with me at New College. I borrowed the Chequer Room of the Bursars for my company to dine in. We were very merry and pushed the bottle on briskly. I gave my Company for dinner, some green Pea Soup, a chine of Mutton, some New College Puddings, a goose, some Peas and a Codlin Tart with Cream. Madeira and Port Wine to drink after and at dinner some Strong Beer, Cyder, Ale and small Beer […] I gave my company only for supper cold mutton. After supper I gave them to drink some Arrac Punch with Jellies in it and some Port wine.
17 November 1774
…supped on roast hare, veal collops and woodcock, with port wine and punch to drink afterwards.
— Woodforde, Diary of a Country Parson (quoted in Oxford Food: An Anthology)
SATIRE is pepper’d Gizzard grill’d in taste.
Samuel Bishop, “The Book.”
gobbets foule garbaged, collops bludred yfrancked
in Stanyhurst’s translation of the Aeneid:
Thus did he speake manly, with great cares heauely loaden,
His grief deepe squatting hoap he yeelds with phisnomye cheereful.
They doe plye theire commons, lyke quick and greedye repastours
Thee stags vpbreaking they slit to the dulcet or inchepyn.
Soom doe slise owt collops on spits yeet quirilye trembling,
Soom doe set on caldrons, oothers dooe kendel a bauen.
With food they summond theyre force: and coucht in a meddow
Theyre panch with venison they franck and quaffye carousing,
When famin had parted, the tabils eeke wholye remooued,
They theire lost feloes with long talck greedye requyred.
Jn this grislye palaice, in forme and quantitye mightye,
Palpable and groaping darcknesse with murther aboundeth.
Hee doth in al mischiefe surpasse, hee mounts to the sky top.
(Al the heunly feloship from the earth such a monster abandon)
Hard he is too be viewed, too se hym no person abydeth.
Thee blud with the entrayls of men, by hym slaughtred, he gnaweth.
And of my feloes I saw that a couple he grapled
On ground sow grooueling, and theym with villenye crusshed,
At flint hard dasshing, thee goare blood spowteth of eeche syde,
And swyms in the thrashold, I saw flesh bluddye toe slauer,
When the cob had maunged the gobets foule garbaged haulfe quick.
Yeet got he not shotfree, this butcherye quighted Ulisses:
In which doughtye peril the Ithacan moste wiselye bethoght hym.
For the vnsauerye rakhel with collops bludred yfrancked,
With chuffe chaffe wynesops lyke a gourd bourrachoe replennisht,
His nodil in crosse wise wresting downe droups to the growndward,
In belche galp vometing with dead sleape snortye the collops ,
Raw with wyne soused, we doe pray toe supernal asemblye,
Round with al embaying thee muffe maffe loller; eke hastlye
With toole sharp poincted wee boarde and perced his oane light,
That stood in his lowring front gloommish malleted onlye.
“he might well hide / Snug in the collops of her side”
— Coleridge, “Lines Written After a Walk Before Supper”
Dollops of Collops
Again: the saltmarsh in winter. By dawn
drain-mouths grow yellow beards. […]
dirty habit, wavelets chinning the shore-line.
Rich in decrepit analogues | he sees
archipelagos, collops of sewage,
wormed ribs jutting through rime. Sun-glanced,
it is striking, vacant, a far consequence.
— Geoffrey Hill, Speech! Speech! (pure interlarding, I am afraid)
Thomas Fuller, History of the Worthies of England (collop, here, as “thick folds of flesh on the body”)
— H. Porter, Angry Women of Abingdon (“collop” defined elsewhere as “Colloppe, meate, œuf au lard.”)