This is one of a series of cast lead miniatures within a dînette or tea party set dating back to the late 14th Century, acquired by the Musée de Cluny (France’s National Museum of the Middle Ages) in 1909.

The object – picture it in the palm of your hand, the main square of the grill measuring only 3 cm2 – is delightful and, at least to me, even more evocative than the miniature plates, ewers or knives and spoons from the period (click here to see some of the objects it was found with).

These sizzling fish are a perfect example of a category as yet unexplored in this collection – play food and utensils. Perhaps it is down to the way they are arranged, laid out in opposite directions, almost begging you to make a fsssshhhhh! sound and imagine the smell of charred fish skin wafting your way. They come with a little ready-made narrative to make your own. You have (or someone else has?) already decided you’ll be eating grilled fish and has laid them out just so. What will you have them with? Are they getting burnt? Who’s in charge of cooking them?

I came across this object many months ago, possibly when I was first looking through the Musée de Cluny collection, after finding out that it was home to the Toy Knight, which I came across in Karl Grober’s book Children’s Toys of Bygone Days (1928). I recalled that the knight had been found while dredging the Seine, but as the date provided for that is a little more specific (1360-1370), I didn’t connect both items until now. This collection of miniature utensils and play food was also found while dredging the Seine and I see was also part of a donation made in 1909 of objects that had belonged to the former collection owned by an antiquarian called Victor Gay. I took a look at a 1909 document about the items of this collection, which had just been distributed across several museums and must have included this grill.

This document mentions that, with the addition of these objects, the collection housed at the Musée de Cluny would now have nothing to envy the similar collection held at the British Museum which, it remarks, was coincidentally also found while dredging the Thames. I turned to the British Museum but was not able to find that much, at least not with accompanying photographs and dating to the Middle Ages. I had more luck at the Museum of London, which has plenty of toy plates and jugs dating from the 13th to 19th centuries, found along the Thames. I also saw that the Museum of London published a book in 2005 called Toys, Trifles & Trinkets. Base metal miniatures from London 1200 to 1800 (Forsyth, H. & Egan, G.) which examines the collection held at the museum – unfortunately, it appears to be out of print.

I wondered to myself how long children have been playing with miniature utensils and food – I suppose as long as they have been playing with dolls, which would appear to be a very long time indeed.  I searched museum collections for play food and found this fantastic picnic hamper from 1900 which included roast beef, asparagus, fish and lemon slices and more, the food looking rather unappealing but certainly grand.

At the Museum of London, I also came across a little group of 18 toys that belonged to a girl called Sandra Thorne in the 1950s. She died when she was 10 and, after keeping all of her toys, her parents donated them to the museum. They make for a rather interesting snapshot of the time, and include a set of yellow plastic kitchen utensils. The injection-moulded plastic reminds me of the medieval cast lead, with its slightly uneven edges where the plastic hasn’t been cut clean.

In many ways, these two fish on a grill look like they are out of time. Sure, the little details on the fish might not be terribly modern if you look closely, and there is something about the proportions that looks old, but it is an object that I feel would be hard to date without further information. I was delighted to find out it was so early, and easily pictured it belonging to a small French child more than 600 years ago. They might have held it carefully, making their very best sizzling noise, and then shouted over their shoulder ‘À table!’, with just the right amount of authority.