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diff --git a/43278.txt b/43278.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f54721e..0000000 --- a/43278.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9540 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Cakes & Ale, by Edward Spencer - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Cakes & Ale - A Dissertation on Banquets Interspersed with Various - Recipes, More or Less Original, and anecdotes, mainly - veracious - -Author: Edward Spencer - -Release Date: July 22, 2013 [EBook #43278] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAKES & ALE *** - - - - -Produced by David T. Jones, Mardi Desjardins and the online -Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at -http://www.pgdpcanada.net - - - - - - - - - CAKES AND ALE - - - - - _BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ - - - THE FLOWING BOWL - - A TREATISE ON DRINKS OF ALL KINDS - AND OF ALL PERIODS, INTERSPERSED - WITH SUNDRY ANECDOTES AND - REMINISCENCES - - BY - - EDWARD SPENCER - - ('NATHANIEL GUBBINS') - - Author of "Cakes and Ale," etc. - - _Crown 8vo., cloth gilt, 2/6 net._ - - SECOND EDITION. - - With cover design by the late PHIL MAY. - - - "The Flowing Bowl" overflows with good - cheer. In the happy style that enlivens its - companion volume, "Cakes and Ale," the - author gives a history of drinks and their - use, interspersed with innumerable recipes - for drinks new and old, dug out of records - of ancient days, or set down anew. - - LONDON: STANLEY PAUL & CO. - 31, Essex Street, Strand, W.C. - - - - - CAKES & ALE - - A DISSERTATION ON BANQUETS - - INTERSPERSED WITH VARIOUS RECIPES, - MORE OR LESS ORIGINAL, AND - ANECDOTES, MAINLY VERACIOUS - - BY - - EDWARD SPENCER - ('NATHANIEL GUBBINS') - - AUTHOR OF "THE FLOWING BOWL," ETC. - - _FOURTH EDITION_ - - STANLEY PAUL & CO. - - 31, ESSEX STREET, STRAND, W.C. - - - - - _First printed April 1897 - Reprinted May 1897 - Cheap Edition February 1900 - Reprinted 1913_ - - - - - TO THE MODERN LUCULLUS - - JOHN CORLETT - - GRANDEST OF HOSTS, BEST OF TRENCHER-MEN - I DEDICATE - (WITHOUT ANY SORT OF PERMISSION) - - THIS BOOK - - - - - PREFACE - - -A long time ago, an estimable lady fell at the feet of an habitual -publisher, and prayed unto him:-- - -"Give, oh! give me the subject of a book for which the world has a -need, and I will write it for you." - -"Are you an author, madam?" asked the publisher, motioning his visitor -to a seat. - -"No, sir," was the proud reply, "I am a poet." - -"Ah!" said the great man. "I am afraid there is no immediate worldly -need of a poet. If you could only write a good cookery book, now!" - -The story goes on to relate how the poetess, not rebuffed in the -least, started on the requisite culinary work, directly she got -home; pawned her jewels to purchase postage stamps, and wrote far -and wide for recipes, which in course of time she obtained, by the -hundredweight. Other recipes she "conveyed" from ancient works of -gastronomy, and in a year or two the _magnum opus_ was given to the -world; the lady's share in the profits giving her "adequate provision -for the remainder of her life." We are not told, but it is presumable, -that the publisher received a little adequate provision too. - -History occasionally repeats itself; and the history of the present -work begins in very much the same way. Whether it will finish in an -equally satisfactory manner is problematical. I do not possess much of -the divine _afflatus_ myself; but there has ever lurked within me some -sort of ambition to write a book--something held together by "tree -calf," "half morocco," or "boards"; something that might find its way -into the hearts and homes of an enlightened public; something which -will give some of my young friends ample opportunity for criticism. In -the exercise of my profession I have written leagues of descriptive -"copy"--mostly lies and racing selections,--but up to now there has -been no urgent demand for a book of any sort from this pen. For years -my ambition has remained ungratified. Publishers--as a rule, the most -faint-hearted and least speculative of mankind--have held aloof. And -whatever suggestions I might make were rejected, with determination, -if not with contumely. - -At length came the hour, and the man; the introduction to a publisher -with an eye for budding and hitherto misdirected talent. - -"Do you care, sir," I inquired at the outset, "to undertake the -dissemination of a bulky work on Political Economy?" - -"Frankly, sir, I do not," was the reply. Then I tried him with -various subjects--social reform, the drama, bimetallism, the ethics -of starting prices, the advantages of motor cars in African warfare, -natural history, the martyrdom of Ananias, practical horticulture, -military law, and dogs; until he took down an old duck-gun from a peg -over the mantelpiece, and assumed a threatening attitude. - -Peace having been restored, the self-repetition of history recommenced. - -"I can do with a good, bold, brilliant, lightly treated, exhaustive -work on Gastronomy," said the publisher, "you are well acquainted with -the subject, I believe?" - -"I'm a bit of a parlour cook, if that's what you mean," was my humble -reply. "At a salad, a grill, an anchovy toast, or a cooling and -cunningly compounded cup, I can be underwritten at ordinary rates. But -I could no more cook a haunch of venison, or even boil a rabbit, or -make an economical Christmas pudding, than I could sail a boat in a -nor'-easter; and Madam Cook would certainly eject me from her kitchen, -with a clout attached to the hem of my dinner jacket, inside five -minutes." - -Eventually it was decided that I should commence this book. - -"What I want," said the publisher, "is a series of essays on food, -a few anecdotes of stirring adventure--you have a fine flow of -imagination, I understand--and a few useful, but uncommon recipes. But -plenty of plums in the book, my dear sir, plenty of plums." - -"But, suppose my own supply of plums should not hold out, what am I to -do?" - -"What do you do--what does the cook do, when the plums for her -pudding run short? Get some more; the Museum, my dear sir, the great -storehouse of national literature, is free to all whose character is -above the normal standard. When your memory and imagination fail, try -the British Museum. You know what is a mightier factor than both sword -and pen? Precisely so. And remember that in replenishing your store -from the works of those who have gone before, you are only following -in their footsteps. I only bar Sydney Smith and Charles Lamb. Let me -have the script by Christmas--d'you smoke?--mind the step--_good_ -morning." - -In this way, gentle reader, were the trenches dug, the saps laid -for the attack of the great work. The bulk of it is original, and -the adventures in which the writer has taken part are absolutely -true. About some of the others I would not be so positive. Some of -the recipes have previously figured in the pages of the _Sporting -Times_, the _Lady's Pictorial_, and the _Man of the World_, to the -proprietors of which journals I hereby express my kindly thanks for -permission to revive them. Many of the recipes are original; some -are my own; others have been sent in by relatives, and friends of my -youth; others have been adapted for modern requirements from works of -great antiquity; whilst others again--I am nothing if not candid--have -been "conveyed" from the works of more modern writers, who in their -turn had borrowed them from the works of their ancestors. There is -nothing new under the sun; and there are but few absolute novelties -which are subjected to the heat of the kitchen fire. - -If the style of the work be faulty, the reason--not the excuse--is -that the style is innate, and not modelled upon anybody else's -style. The language I have endeavoured to make as plain, homely, -and vigorous as is the food advocated. If the criticisms on foreign -cookery should offend the talented _chef_, I have the satisfaction -of knowing that, as I have forsworn his works, he will be unable to -retaliate with poison. And if the criticisms on the modern English -methods of preparing food should attract the attention of the home -caterer, he may possibly be induced to give his steam-chest and his -gas-range a rest, and put the roast beef of Old England on his table, -occasionally; though I have only the very faintest hopes that he will -do so. For the monster eating-houses and mammoth hotels of to-day are -for the most part "run" by companies and syndicates; and the company -within the dining-room suffer occasionally, in order that dividends -may be possible after payment has been made for the elaborate, and -wholly unnecessary, furniture, and decorations. Wholesome food is -usually sufficient for the ordinary British appetite, without such -surroundings as marble pillars, Etruscan vases, nude figures, gilding, -and looking-glasses, which only serve to distract attention from the -banquet. It is with many a sigh that I recall the good old-fashioned -inn, where the guest really received a warm welcome. Nowadays, the -warmest part of that welcome is usually the bill. - -It is related of the wittiest man of the nineteenth century, my late -friend Mr. Henry J. Byron, that, upon one occasion, whilst walking -home with a brother dramatist, after the first performance of his -comedy, which had failed to please the audience, Byron shed tears. - -"How is this?" inquired his friend. "The failure of my play appears to -affect you strangely." - -"I was only weeping," was the reply, "because I was afraid you'd set -to work, and write another." - -But there need be no tears shed on any page of this food book. For I -am not going to "write another." - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER I - - BREAKFAST - - Formal or informal?--An eccentric old gentleman--The ancient - Britons--Breakfast in the days of Good Queen Bess--A - few tea statistics--Garraway's--Something about coffee--Brandy - for breakfast--The evolution of the staff of life--Free - Trade--The cheap loaf, and no cash to buy it Pages 1-9 - - - CHAPTER II - - BREAKFAST (_continued_) - - Country-house life--An Englishwoman at her best--Guests' - comforts--What to eat at the first meal--A few choice - recipes--A noble grill-sauce--The poor outcast--Appetising - dishes--Hotel "worries"--The old regime and the new--"No - cheques"; no soles, and "whitings is hoff"--A - halibut steak--Skilly and oakum--Breakfast out of the - rates 10-21 - - - CHAPTER III - - BREAKFAST (_continued_) - - Bonnie Scotland--Parritch an' cream--Fin'an haddies--A knife - on the ocean wave--_A la Francais_--In the gorgeous East--_Chota - hazri_--English as she is spoke--Dak bungalow fare--Some - quaint dishes--Breakfast with "my tutor"--A Don's - absence of mind 22-33 - - - CHAPTER IV - - LUNCHEON - - Why lunch?--Sir Henry Thompson on overdoing it--The children's - dinner--City lunches--"Ye Olde Cheshyre Cheese"--Doctor - Johnson--Ye pudding--A great fall in food--A - snipe pudding--Skirt, not rump steak--Lancashire hot-pot--A - Cape "brady" 34-43 - - - CHAPTER V - - LUNCHEON (_continued_) - - Shooting luncheons--Cold tea and a crust--Clear turtle--Such - larks!--Jugged duck and oysters--Woodcock pie--Hunting - luncheons--Pie crusts--The true Yorkshire pie--Race-course - luncheons--Suggestions to caterers--The "Jolly - Sandboys" stew--Various recipes--A race-course sandwich--Angels' - pie--"Suffolk pride"--Devilled larks--A light lunch - in the Himalayas 44-58 - - - CHAPTER VI - - DINNER - - Origin--Early dinners--The noble Romans--"Vitellius the - Glutton"--Origin of haggis--The Saxons--Highland hospitality--The - French invasion--Waterloo avenged--The bad - fairy "_Ala_"--Comparisons--The English cook or the foreign - food torturer?--Plain or flowery--Fresh fish and the flavour - wrapped up--George Augustus Sala--Doctor Johnson - again 59-72 - - - CHAPTER VII - - DINNER (_continued_) - - Imitation--Dear Lady Thistlebrain--Try it on the dog--Criminality - of the English caterer--The stove, the stink, - the steamer--Roasting v. baking--False economy--Dirty - ovens--Frills and fingers--Time over dinner--A long-winded - Bishop--Corned beef 73-81 - - - CHAPTER VIII - - DINNER (_continued_) - - A merry Christmas--Bin F--A _Noel_ banquet--Water-cress--How - Royalty fares--The Tsar--_Bouillabaisse_--_Tournedos_--_Bisque_-- - _Vol-au-vent_--_Pre sale_--Chinese banquets--A fixed - bayonet--_Bernardin Salmi_--The duck-squeezer--American - cookery--"Borston" beans--He couldn't eat beef 82-96 - - - CHAPTER IX - - DINNER (_continued_) - - French soup--A regimental dinner--A city banquet--_Baksheesh_--Aboard - ship--An ideal dinner--Cod's liver--Sleeping in the - kitchen--A _fricandeau_--Regimental messes--Peter the - Great--Napoleon the Great--Victoria--The Iron Duke--Mushrooms--A - medical opinion--A North Pole banquet--Dogs - as food--Plain unvarnished fare--The Kent Road - cookery--More beans than bacon 97-110 - - - CHAPTER X - - VEGETABLES - - Use and abuse of the potato--Its eccentricities--Its origin--Hawkins, - not Raleigh, introduced it into England--With or - without the "jacket"?--Don't let it be _a-la_-ed--Benevolence - and large-heartedness of the cabbage family--Pease on - earth--Pythagoras on the bean--"Giving him beans"--"Haricot" - a misnomer--"Borston" beans--Frijoles--The - carrot--Crecy soup--The Prince of Wales--The Black - Prince and the King of Bohemia 111-122 - - - CHAPTER XI - - VEGETABLES (_continued_) - - The brief lives of the best--A vegetable with a pedigree-- - Argenteuil--The Elysian Fields--The tomato the emblem of - love--"Neeps"--Spinach--"Stomach-brush"--The savoury - tear-provoker--Invaluable for wasp-stings--Celery merely - cultivated "smallage"--The "_Apium_"--The parsnip--O - Jerusalem!--The golden sunflower--How to get pheasants--A - vegetarian banquet--"Swelling wisibly" 123-133 - - - CHAPTER XII - - CURRIES - - Different modes of manufacture--The "native" fraud--"That - man's family"--The French _kari_--A Parsee curry--"The - oyster in the sauce"--Ingredients--Malay curry--Locusts--When - to serve--What to curry--Prawn curry--Dry curry, - champion recipe--Rice--The Bombay duck 134-146 - - - CHAPTER XIII - - SALADS - - Nebuchadnezzar _v._ Sydney Smith--Salt?--No salad-bowl--French - origin--Apocryphal story of Francatelli--Salads _and_ - salads--Water-cress and dirty water--Salad-maker born - not made--Lobster salad--Lettuce, Wipe or wash?--Mayonnaise--Potato - salad--Tomato ditto--Celery ditto--A - memorable ditto 147-157 - - - CHAPTER XIV - - SALADS AND CONDIMENTS - - Roman salad--Italian ditto--Various other salads--Sauce for - cold mutton--Chutnine--Raw chutnee--Horse-radish sauce--Christopher - North's sauce--How to serve a mackerel--_Sauce - Tartare_--Ditto for sucking pig--Delights of making - _Sambal_--A new language 158-169 - - - CHAPTER XV - - SUPPER - - Cleopatra's supper--Oysters--Danger in the Aden bivalve--Oyster - stew--Ball suppers--Pretty dishes--The _Taj Mahal_--Aspic--Bloater - paste and whipped cream--Ladies' recipes--Cookery - colleges--Tripe--Smothered in onions--North - Riding fashion--An hotel supper--Lord Tomnoddy at the - "Magpie and Stump" 170-180 - - - CHAPTER XVI - - SUPPER (_continued_) - - Old supper-houses--The Early Closing Act--Evans's--Cremorne - Gardens--"The Albion"--Parlour cookery--Kidneys fried - in the fire-shovel--The true way to grill a bone--"Cannie - Carle"--My lady's bower--Kidney dumplings--A Middleham - supper--Steaks cut from a colt by brother to "Strafford" - out of sister to "Bird on the Wing" 181-191 - - - CHAPTER XVII - - "CAMPING OUT" - - The ups and downs of life--Stirring adventures--Marching on to - glory--Shooting in the tropics--Pepper-pot--With the - _Rajah Sahib_--Goat-sacrifices at breakfast time--Simla to - Cashmere--Manners and customs of Thibet--Burmah--No - place to get fat in--Insects--Voracity of the natives--Snakes--Sport - in the Jungle--Loaded for snipe, sure to - meet tiger--With the gippos--No baked hedgehog--Cheap - milk 192-205 - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - COMPOUND DRINKS - - Derivation of punch--"Five"--The "milk" brand--The best - materials--Various other punches--Bischoff or Bishop--"Halo" - punch--Toddy--The toddy tree of India--Flip--A - "peg"--John Collins--Out of the guard-room 206-218 - - - CHAPTER XIX - - CUPS AND CORDIALS - - Five recipes for claret cup--Balaclava cup--Orgeat--Ascot cup--Stout - and champagne--Shandy-gaff for millionaires--Ale - cup--Cobblers which will stick to the last--Home Ruler--Cherry - brandy--Sloe gin--Home-made, if possible--A new - industry--Apricot brandy--Highland cordial--Bitters--Jumping-powder-- - Orange brandy--"Mandragora"--"Sleep rock thy brain!" 219-231 - - - CHAPTER XX - - THE DAYLIGHT DRINK - - Evil effects of dram-drinking--The "Gin-crawl"--Abstinence in - H.M. service--City manners and customs--Useless to argue - with the soaker--Cocktails--Pet names for drams--The - free lunch system--Fancy mixtures--Why no cassis?--Good - advice like water on a duck's back 232-245 - - - CHAPTER XXI - - GASTRONOMY IN FICTION AND DRAMA - - Thomas Carlyle--Thackeray--Harrison Ainsworth--Sir Walter - Scott--Miss Braddon--Marie Corelli--F. C. Philips--Blackmore--Charles - Dickens--_Pickwick_ reeking with alcohol--Brandy - and oysters--_Little Dorrit_--_Great Expectations_--Micawber - as a punch-maker--_David Copperfield_--"Practicable" - food on the stage--"Johnny" Toole's story of Tiny - Tim and the goose 246-259 - - - CHAPTER XXII - - RESTORATIVES - - William of Normandy--A "head" wind at sea--Beware the - druggist--Pick-me-ups of all sorts and conditions--Anchovy - toast for the invalid--A small bottle--Straight talks to - fanatics--Total abstinence as bad as the other thing--Moderation - in all matters--Wisely and slow--_Carpe diem_--But - have a thought for the morrow 260-274 - - - - - CHAPTER I - - BREAKFAST - - "The day breaks slow, but e'en must man break-fast." - - Formal or informal?--An eccentric old gentleman--The - ancient Britons--Breakfast in the days of Good Queen - Bess--A few tea statistics--"Garraway's"--Something about - coffee--Brandy for breakfast--The evolution of the staff of - life--Free Trade--The cheap loaf, and no cash to buy it. - - -This is a very serious subject. The first meal of the day has -exercised more influence over history than many people may be aware -of. It is not easy to preserve an equal mind or keep a stiff upper lip -upon an empty stomach; and indigestible food-stuffs have probably lost -more battles than sore feet and bad ammunition. It is an incontestable -fact that the great Napoleon lost the battles of Borodino and Leipsic -through eating too fast. - -When good digestion waits on appetite, great men are less liable to -commit mistakes--and a mistake in a great man is a crime--than when -dyspepsia has marked them for her own; and this rule applies to all -men. - -There should be no hurry or formality about breakfast. Your punctual -host and hostess may be all very well from their own point of view; -but black looks and sarcastic welcomings are an abomination to the -guest who may have overslept himself or herself, and who fails to say, -"Good-morning" just on the stroke of nine o'clock. Far be it from -the author's wish to decry the system of family prayers, although -the spectacle of the full strength of the domestic company, from the -stern-featured housekeeper, or the chief lady's-maid (the housekeeper -is frequently too grand, or too much cumbered with other duties to -attend public worship), to the diminutive page-boy, standing all in a -row, facing the cups and saucers, is occasionally more provocative of -mirth than reverence. But too much law and order about fast-breaking -is to be deplored. - -"I'm not very punctual, I'm afraid, Sir John," I once heard a very -charming lady observe to her host, as she took her seat at the table, -exactly ten minutes after the line of menials had filed out. - -"On the contrary, Lady V----" returned the master of the house, with a -cast-iron smile, "you are punctual in your unpunctuality; for you have -missed prayers by the sixth part of one hour, every morning since you -came." Now what should be done to a host like that? - -In the long ago I was favoured with the acquaintance of an elderly -gentleman of property, a most estimable, though eccentric, man. And he -invariably breakfasted with his hat on. It did not matter if ladies -were present or not. Down he would sit, opposite the ham and eggs--or -whatever dish it might chance to be--with a white hat, with mourning -band attached, surmounting his fine head. We used to think the -presence of the hat was owing to partial baldness; but, as he never -wore it at luncheon or dinner, that idea was abandoned. In fact, he -pleaded that the hat kept his thoughts in; and as after breakfast he -was closeted with his steward, or agent, or stud-groom, or keeper, for -several hours, he doubtless let loose some of those thoughts to one or -the other. At all events we never saw him again till luncheon, unless -there was any hunting or shooting to be done. - -This same old gentleman once rehearsed his own funeral on the carriage -drive outside, and stage-managed the solemn ceremony from his study -window. An under-gardener pushed a wheelbarrow, containing a box -of choice cuttings, to represent the body; and the butler posed as -chief mourner. And when anybody went wrong, or the pall-bearers--six -grooms--failed to keep in step, the master would throw up the -window-sash, and roar-- - -"Begin again!" - -But this is wandering from the subject. Let us try back. - -Having made wide search amongst old and musty manuscripts, I can find -no record of a bill-of-fare of the first meal of the ancient Britons. -Our blue forefathers, in all probability, but seldom assisted at -any such smart function as a wedding-breakfast, or even a hunting -one; for the simple reason that it was a case with them of, "no -hunt, no breakfast." Unless one or other had killed the deer, or the -wild-boar, or some other living thing to furnish the refection the -feast was a Barmecide one, and much as we have heard of the strength -and hardiness of our blue forefathers, many of them must have died -of sheer starvation. For they had no weapons but clubs, and rough -cut flints, with which to kill the beasts of the country--who were, -however, occasionally lured into pitfalls; and as to fish, unless they -"tickled" them, the denizens of the streams must have had an easy time -of it. They had sheep, but these were valuable chiefly on account of -their wool; as used to be the case in Australia, ere the tinned meat -trade was established. Most of the fruits and vegetables which we -enjoy to-day were introduced into Britain by the Romans. Snipe and -woodcock and (in the north) grouse may have been bagged, as well as -hares. But these poor savages knew not rabbits by sight, nor indeed, -much of the feathered fowl which their more favoured descendants are -in the habit of shooting, or otherwise destroying, for food. The -ancient Britons knew not bacon and eggs, nor the toothsome kipper, -nor yet the marmalade of Dundee. As for bread, it was not invented -in any shape or form until much later; and its primitive state was a -tough paste of flour, water, and (occasionally) milk--something like -the "damper" of the Australian bush, or the unleavened _chupati_ which -the poorer classes in Hindustan put up with, after baking it, at the -present day. - -The hardy, independent Saxon, had a much better time of it, in the -way of meat and drink. But with supper forming the chief meal of the -day, his breakfast was a simple, though plentiful one, and consisted -chiefly of venison pasty and the flesh of goats, washed down with ale, -or mead. - -"A free breakfast-table of Elizabeth's time," says an old authority, -"or even during the more recent reign of Charles II., would contrast -oddly with our modern morning meal. There were meats, hot and cold; -beef and brawn, and boar's head, the venison pasty, and the - - - _Wardon Pie_ - -of west country pears. There was hot bread, too, and sundry 'cates' -which would now be strange to our eyes. But to wash down these -substantial viands there was little save ale. The most delicate -lady could procure no more suitable beverage than the blood of John -Barleycorn. The most fretful invalid had to be content with a mug of -small beer, stirred up with a sprig of rosemary. Wine, hippocras, and -metheglin were potations for supper-time, not for breakfast, and beer -reigned supreme. None but home productions figured on the board of -our ancestors. Not for them were seas traversed, or tropical shores -visited, as for us. Yemen and Ceylon, Assam and Cathay, Cuba and -Peru, did not send daily tribute to their tables, and the very names -of tea and coffee, of cocoa and chocolate, were to them unknown. The -dethronement of ale, subsequent on the introduction of these eastern -products, is one of the most marked events which have severed the -social life of the present day from that of the past." - -With the exception of the Wardon pie and the "cates," the above -bill-of-fare would probably satisfy the cravings of the ordinary -"Johnny" of to-day, who has heard the chimes at midnight, and would -sooner face a charging tiger than drink tea or coffee with his first -meal, which, alas! but too often consists of a hot-pickle sandwich and -a "brandy and soda," with not quite all the soda in. But just imagine -the fine lady of to-day with a large tankard of Burton ale facing her -at the breakfast-table. - - - _Tea_, - -which is said to have been introduced into China by Djarma, a native -of India, about A.D. 500, was not familiar in Europe until the end of -the sixteenth century. And it was not until 1657, when Garraway opened -a tea-house in Exchange Alley, that Londoners began tea-drinking as an -experiment. In 1662 Pepys writes-- - -"Home, and there find my wife making of tea"--two years before, he -called it "tee (a China drink)"--"a drink which Mr. Pelling the -Pothicary tells her is good for her cold and defluxions." - -In 1740 the price of tea ranged from 7s. to 24s. per lb. In 1725, -370,323 lbs. were drunk in England, and in 1890, 194,008,000. In 1840 -the duty was 2s. 21/4d. per lb.; in 1858 1s. 5d. per lb.; and in 1890 -4d. per lb. - -The seed of - - - _The Coffee-Tree_, - -which, when roasted, ground, and mixed with water, and unmixed -with horse-beans, dandelion-root, or road-scrapings, forms a most -agreeable beverage to those who can digest it, was not known to -the Greeks or Romans, but has been used in Abyssinia and along the -north-east coast of Africa almost as long as those parts have been -populated. Here, in merry England, where coffee was not introduced -until the eighteenth century, it was at first used but sparingly, -until it almost entirely took the place of chocolate, which was the -favoured beverage of the duchesses and fine madams who minced and -flirted, and plotted, during the reign of the Merry Monarch, fifty -years or so before. The march of knowledge has taught the thrifty -housewife of to-day to roast her own coffee, instead of purchasing it -in that form from the retail shopkeeper, who, as a rule, under-roasts -the berry, in order to "keep the weight in." But do not blame him too -freely, for he is occasionally a Poor Law Guardian, and has to "keep -pace with the Stores." - -During the Georgian era, the hard-drinking epoch, breakfast far too -often consisted chiefly of French brandy; and the first meal was, in -consequence, not altogether a happy or wholesome one, nor conducive to -the close study of serious subjects. - -The history of - - - _The Staff of Life_[1] - -would require a much larger volume than this, all to itself. That the -evolution of bread-making has been very gradual admits of no denial; -and as late as the Tudor and Stuart periods the art was still in -its infancy. The quality of the bread consumed was a test of social -standing. Thus, whilst the _haut monde_, the height of society, lords -and dukes, with countesses and dames of high degree, were in the habit -of consuming delicate manchets, made of the finest wheaten flour, of -snowy purity, the middle classes had to content themselves with white -loaves of inferior quality. To the journeyman and the 'prentice (who -had to endure, with patience, the buffets of master and mistress) was -meted out coarse but wholesome brown bread, made from an admixture -of wheat and barley flour; whilst the agricultural labourer staved -off starvation with loaves made from rye, occasionally mixed with red -wheat or barley. The introduction of - - - _Free Trade_ - ---by no means an unmixed blessing--has changed all this; and the -working-classes, with their wives and families, can, when out of the -workhouse, in the intervals between "strikes," enjoy the same quality -of bread, that "cheap loaf" which appears on the table of the wicked -squire and the all-devouring parson. In Yorkshire, at the present day, -almost the worst thing that can be urged against a woman is that she -"canna mak' a bit o' bread." - -"Just look," wrote an enthusiastic Free Trader, a quarter of a century -ago, "at the immense change that has latterly taken place in the food -of the English peasantry. Rye bread and pease-pudding exchanged for -wheaten loaves. A startling change, but not greatly different from -what has occurred in France, where, with the abuses of the Bourbon -rule, an end was put to the semi-starvation of French tillers of the -soil. Black bread is now almost as much a rarity in France as on our -side of the Channel; while barley in Wales, oats in Scotland, and the -potato in Ireland, are no longer the food-staples that they were." - -I have no wish for anything of a contentious nature to appear in this -volume; but may deliver, with regard to the above, the opinion that -pease-pudding is by no means despicable fare, when associated with -a boiled leg of pork; and I may add that too many of the English -peasantry, nowadays, have been reduced, by this same Free Trade, to a -diet of no bread at all, in place of wheaten, or any other loaves. - -Wedding breakfasts, with the formal speeches, and cutting of the cake, -have gone out of fashion, and the subject of the British breakfast of -to-day demands a new chapter. - - - - - CHAPTER II - - BREAKFAST (_continued_) - - "Sit down and feed, and welcome to our table." - - Country-house life--An Englishwoman at her best--Guests' - comforts--What to eat at the first meal--A few choice - recipes--A noble grill-sauce--The poor outcast--Appetising - dishes--Hotel "worries"--The old regime and the new--"No - cheques"; no soles, and "whitings is hoff"--A halibut - steak--Skilly and oakum--Breakfast out of the rates. - - -By far the pleasantest meal of the day at a large country-house is -breakfast. You will be staying there, most likely, an you be a man, -for hunting or shooting--it being one of the eccentric dispensations -of the great goddess Fashion that country-houses should be guestless, -and often ownerless, during that season of the year when nature looks -at her loveliest. An you be a woman, you will be staying there for -the especial benefit of your daughter; for flirting--or for the more -serious purpose of riveting the fetters of the fervid youth who may -have been taken captive during the London season--for romping, and -probably shooting and hunting, too; for lovely woman up-to-date -takes but little account of such frivolities as Berlin wool-work, -piano-practice, or drives, well wrapped-up, in a close carriage, to -pay calls with her hostess. As for going out with the "guns," or -meeting the sterner sex at luncheon in the keeper's cottage, or the -specially-erected pavilion, the darlings are not content, nowadays, -unless they can use dapper little breech-loaders, specially made for -them, and some of them are far from bad shots. - -Yes, 'tis a pleasant function, breakfast at the Castle, the Park, -or the Grange. But, as observed in the last chapter, there must be -no undue punctuality, no black looks at late arrivals, no sarcastic -allusions to late hours, nor inane chaff from the other guests about -the wine cup or the whisky cup, which may have been drained in the -smoking-room, during the small hours. - -Her ladyship looks divine, or at all events regal, as she presides -at what our American cousins would call the "business end" of the -long table, whilst our host, a healthy, jolly-looking, "hard-bitten" -man of fifty, faces her. His bright keen eye denotes the sportsman, -and he can shoot as straight as ever, whilst no fence is too high, -too wide, nor too deep for him. Sprinkled about, at either side of -the table, amongst the red and black coats, or shooting jackets of -varied hues--with a vacancy here and there, for "Algie" and "Bill," -and the "Angel," who have not yet put in appearance--are smart, -fresh-looking women, young, and "well-preserved," and matronly, some -in tailor-made frocks, and some in the silks and velvets suited for -those of riper age, and some in exquisitely-fitting habits. It is -at the breakfast-table that the Englishwoman can defy all foreign -competition; and you are inclined to frown, or even say things under -your breath, when that mincing, wicked-looking little _Marquise_, all -frills, and ribbons, and lace, and smiles, and Ess Bouquet, in the -latest creation of the first man-milliner of Paris, trips into the -room in slippers two sizes too small for her, and salutes the company -at large in broken English. For the contrast is somewhat trying, and -you wonder why on earth some women _will_ smother themselves with -scents and _cosmetiques_, and raddle their cheeks and wear diamonds -so early in the morning; and you lose all sense of the undoubted -fascination of the Marquise in speculating as to what manner of -"strong woman" her _femme de chambre_ must be who can compress a -22-inch waist into an 18-inch corset. - -There should, of course, be separate tea and coffee equipments for -most of the guests--at all events for the sluggards. The massive -silver urn certainly lends a tone to the breakfast-table, and looks -"comfortable-like." But it would be criminally cruel to satisfy the -thirst of the multitude out of the same tea-pot or coffee-pot; and -the sluggard will not love his hostess if she pours forth "husband's -tea," merely because he _is_ a sluggard. And remember that the hand -which has held two by honours, or a "straight flush" the night before, -is occasionally too shaky to pass tea-cups. No. Do not spare your -servants, my lord, or my lady. Your guests must be "well done," or -they will miss your "rocketing" pheasants, or fail to go fast enough -at that brook with the rotten banks. - -"The English," said an eminent alien, "have only one sauce." This is -a scandalous libel; but as it was said a long time ago it doesn't -matter. It would be much truer to say that the English have only one -breakfast-dish, and its name is - - - _Eggs and Bacon_. - -Pardon, I should have written two; and the second is ham and eggs. A -new-laid egg--poached, _not_ fried, an ye love me, O Betsy, best of -cooks--and a rasher of home-cured hog are both excellent things in -their way; but, like a partridge, a mother-in-law, and a baby, it is -quite possible to have too much of them. The English hostess--I do not -refer to the typical "her ladyship," of whom I have written above, -but to the average hostess--certainly launches out occasionally in -the direction of assorted fish, kidneys, sausages, and chops, but the -staple food upon which we are asked to break our fast is, undoubtedly, -eggs and bacon. - -The great question of what to eat at the first meal depends greatly -upon whether you sit down to it directly you emerge from your -bedroom, or whether you have indulged in any sort of exercise in the -interim. After two or three hours "amateur touting" on such a place -as Newmarket Heath, the sportsman is ready for any sort of food, from -a dish of liver and bacon to a good, thick fat chop, or an underdone -steak. I have even attacked cold stewed eels (!) upon an occasion -when the pangs of hunger would have justified my eating the tom-cat, -and the landlady as well. But chops and steaks are not to be commended -to furnish forth the ordinary breakfast-table. I am coming to the -hotel breakfast presently, so will say nothing about fried fish just -yet. But here follows a list of a few of what may be called - - - _Allowable Breakfast Dishes_ - -Mushrooms (done plainly in front of the fire), sausages (toasted), -scrambled eggs on toast, curried eggs, fish balls, kidneys, savoury -omelette. Porridge may be useful for growing boys and briefless -barristers, but this chapter is not written solely in their interests. -Above all, do not, oh! do not, forget the grill, or broil. This should -be the feature of the breakfast. Such simple recipes as those for the -manufacture of fish balls or omelettes or curried eggs--though I shall -have plenty to say about curries later on--need not be given here; but -the following, for a grill-sauce, will be found invaluable, especially -for the "sluggard." - - - _Gubbins Sauce_ - - The legs and wings of fowl, turkey, pheasant, partridge, - or moor-hen should only be used. Have these scored across with - a sharp knife, and divided at the joints. And when your grill - is taken, "hot as hot," but _not burnt_, from the fire, have - poured over it the following sauce. Be very particular that - your cook pours it over the grill just before it is served up. - And it is of the most vital importance that the sauce should - be made, and well mixed, on a plate _over hot water_--for - instance, a slop-basin should be filled with boiling water and - a plate placed atop. - - Melt on the plate a lump of butter the size of a large - walnut. Stir into it, when melted, two teaspoonfuls of made - mustard, then a dessert-spoonful of vinegar, half that quantity - of tarragon vinegar, and a tablespoonful of cream--Devonshire - or English. Season with salt, black pepper, and cayenne, - according to the (presumed) tastes and requirements of the - breakfasters. - -Let your sideboard--it is assumed that you have a sideboard--sigh and -lament its hard lot, under its load of cold joints, game, and pies,--I -am still harping on the country-house; and if you have a York ham in -cut, it should be flanked by a Westphalian ditto. For the blend is -a good one. And remember that no York ham under 20 lb. in weight is -worth cutting. You need not put it all on the board at once. A capital -adjunct to the breakfast-table, too, is a reindeer's tongue, which, -as you see it hung up in the shops, looks more like a policeman's -truncheon in active employment than anything else; but when well -soaked and then properly treated in the boiling, is very tasty, and -will melt like marrow in the mouth. - -A simple, excellent August breakfast can be made from a dish of -freshly-caught trout, the legs and back of a cold grouse, which has -been roasted, _not_ baked, and - - - _A Large Peach_. - -But what of the wretched bachelor, as he enters his one sitting-room, -in his humble lodging? He may have heard the chimes at midnight, in -some gay and festive quarter, or, like some other wretched bachelors, -he may have been engaged in the composition of romances for some -exacting editor, until the smallish hours. Poor outcast! what sort -of appetite will he have for the rusty rasher, or the shop egg, the -smoked haddock, or the "Billingsgate pheasant," which his landlady -will presently send up, together with her little account, for his -refection? Well, here is a much more tasty dish than any of the above; -and if he be "square" with Mrs. Bangham, that lady will possibly not -object to her "gal" cooking the different ingredients before she -starts at the wash-tub. But let not the wretched bachelor suffer the -"gal" to mix them. - -I first met this dish in Calcutta during the two months of (alleged) -cold weather which prevail during the year. - - - _Calcutta Jumble._ - - A few fried fillets of white fish (sole, or plaice--sole - for choice), placed on the top of some boiled rice, in a soup - plate. Pour over them the yolks of two _boiled_ eggs, and mix - in one green chili, chopped fine. Salt to taste. - -"Another way:" - - Mix with the rice the following ingredients:-- - - The yolks of two _raw_ eggs, one tablespoonful anchovy - sauce, one _small_ teaspoonful curry powder (raw), a sprinkling - of cayenne, a little salt, and one green chili chopped fine. - Each ingredient to be added separately, and the eggs and curry - powder to be stirred into the rice with a fork. Fillets of sole - to be served atop. - -How many cooks in this England of ours can cook rice properly? Without -pausing for a reply, I append the recipe, which should be pasted on -the wall of every kitchen. The many cookery books which I have read -give elaborate directions for the performance, of what is a very -simple duty. Here it is, in a few lines-- - - - _To cook Rice for Curry, etc._ - - Soak a sufficiency of rice in cold water for two hours. - Strain through a sieve, and pop the rice into _boiling_ water. - Let it boil--"gallop" is, I believe, the word used in most - kitchens--for not quite ten minutes (or until the rice is - tender), then strain off the water through a sieve, and dash a - little _cold_ water over the rice, to separate the grains. - -Here is another most appetising breakfast dish for the springtime-- - - - _Asparagus with Eggs_. - - Cut up two dozen (or so) heads of cooked asparagus into - small pieces, and mix in a stewpan with the well-beaten yolks - of two raw eggs. Flavour with pepper and salt, and stir freely. - Add a piece of butter the size of a walnut (one of these should - be kept in every kitchen as a pattern), and keep on stirring - for a couple of minutes or so. Serve on delicately-toasted - bread. - - - _An Hotel Breakfast._ - -What memories do these words conjure up of a snug coffee-room, hung -with hunting prints, and portraits of Derby winners, and churches, -and well-hung game; with its oak panellings, easy arm-chairs, -blazing fire, snowy naperies, and bright silver. The cheery host, -with well-lined paunch, and fat, wheezy voice, which wishes you -good-morning, and hopes you have passed a comfortable night between -the lavender-scented sheets. The fatherly interest which "William," -the grey-headed waiter, takes in you--stranger or _habitue_--and -the more than fatherly interest which you take in the good cheer, -from home-made "sassingers" to new-laid eggs, and heather honey, not -forgetting a slice out of the mammoth York ham, beneath whose weight -the old sideboard absolutely grunts. - -Heigho! we, or they, have changed all that. The poet who found his -"warmest welcome in an inn" was, naturally enough, writing of his own -time. I don't like fault-finding, but must needs declare that the -"warmest" part of an inn welcome to be found nowadays is the bill. -As long as you pay it (or have plenty of luggage to leave behind -in default), and make yourself agreeable to the fair and haughty -bookkeeper (if it's a "she") who allots you your bedroom, and bullies -the page-boy, nobody in the modern inn cares particularly what becomes -of you. You lose your individuality, and become "Number 325." Instead -of welcome, distrust lurks, large, on the very threshold. - - - "_No Cheques Accepted_" - -is frequently the first announcement to catch the eye of the incoming -guest; and although you cannot help admiring the marble pillars, the -oak carving, the gilding, the mirrors, and the electric light, an -uncomfortable feeling comes over you at meal times, to the effect that -the cost of the decorations, or much of it, is taken out of the food. - -"Waiter," you ask, as soon as your eyes and ears get accustomed to the -incessant bustle of the coffee-room, and your nostrils to the savour -of last night's soup, "what can I have for breakfast?" - -"What would you like, sir?" - -"I should like a grilled sole, to begin with." - -"Very sorry, sir, soles is hoff--get you a nice chop or steak." - -"Can't manage either so early in the day. Got any whitings?" - -"Afraid we're out of whitings, sir, but I'll see." - -Eventually, after suggesting sundry delicacies, all of which are -either "hoff," or unknown to the waiter, you settle down to the -consumption of two fried and shrivelled shop eggs, on an island of -Chicago ham, floating in an AEgean Sea of grease and hot water; whilst -a half quartern loaf, a cruet-stand the size of a cathedral, a rackful -of toast of the "Zebra" brand, and about two gallons of (alleged) -coffee, are dumped down in succession in front of you. - -There are, of course, some hostelries where they "do" you better -than this, but my experience of hotel breakfasts at this end of the -nineteenth century has not been encouraging, either to appetite or -temper; and I do vow and protest that the above picture is not too -highly coloured. - -The toothsome, necessary bloater is not often to be met with on the -hotel's bill-of-fare; but, if soft roed--use no other--it will repay -perusal. Toast it in a Dutch oven in front of a clear fire, and just -before done split it up the back, and put a piece of butter on it. -The roe should be well plumped, and of the consistency of Devonshire -cream. A grilled sole for breakfast is preferable to a fried one, -principally because it is by no means impossible that the fried -sole be second-hand, or as the French call it _rechauffe_. And why, -unless directions to the contrary be given, is the modest whiting -invariably placed, tail in mouth, on the frying pan? A grilled -whiting--assassinate your cook if she (or he) scorches it--is one of -the noblest works of the kitchen, and its exterior should be of a -golden brown colour. - -Do not forget to order sausages for breakfast if you are staying at -Newmarket; there is less bread in them than in the Metropolitan brand. -And when in Lincoln attempt a - - - _Halibut Steak_, - -of which you may not have previously heard. The halibut should, -previous to grilling or frying _in salad oil_, be placed on a shallow -dish and sprinkled with salt. Then the dish should be half filled with -water, which must not cover the salt. Leave the fish to soak for an -hour, then cut into slices, nearly an inch thick, without removing the -skin. Sprinkle some lemon juice and cayenne over the steaks before -serving. - -If you wish to preserve an even mind, and be at peace with the world, -a visit to - - - _The Hotel Parish_ - -is not to be recommended. The Irish stew at dinner is not bad in -its way, though coarse, and too liberally endowed with fat. But the -breakfasts! Boiled oatmeal and water, with salt in the mess, and a -chunk of stale brown bread to eat therewith, do not constitute an -altogether satisfactory meal, the first thing in the morning; and it -is hardly calculated to inspire him with much pride in his work, when -the guest is placed subsequently before his "task" of unbroken flints -or tarred rope. - - - - - CHAPTER III - - BREAKFAST (_continued_) - - "There's nought in the Highlands but syboes and leeks, - And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks." - - Bonnie Scotland--Parritch an' cream--Fin'an haddies--A - knife on the ocean wave--_A la Francais_--In the gorgeous - East--_Chota hazri_--English as she is spoke--Dak bungalow - fare--Some quaint dishes--Breakfast with "my tutor"--A Don's - absence of mind. - - -For a "warm welcome" commend me to Bonnie Scotland. Though hard of -head and "sae fu' o' learning" that they are "owre deeficult to -conveence, ye ken," these rugged Caledonians be tender of heart, and -philanthropic to a degree. Hech, sirs! but 'tis the braw time ye'll -hae, gin ye trapese the Highlands, an' the Lowlands as well for the -matter o' that--in search o' guid refreshment for body an' soul. - -Even that surly lexicographer, Doctor Samuel Johnson (who, by the -way, claimed the same city for his birthplace as does the writer), -who could not be induced to recognise the merits of Scotch scenery, -and preferred Fleet Street to the Trossachs, extolled the luxury of -a Scotch breakfast above that of all other countries. And Sir Walter -Scott, who never enthused much about meat and drink, is responsible in -_Waverley_ for a passage calculated to make the mouths of most people -water: - -"He found Miss Bradwardine presiding over the tea and coffee, the -table loaded with warm bread, both of flour, oatmeal, and barley meal, -in the shape of loaves, cakes, biscuits, and other varieties, together -with eggs, reindeer ham, mutton and beef ditto, smoked salmon, and -many other delicacies. A mess of oatmeal porridge, flanked by a silver -jug which held an equal mixture of cream and buttermilk, was placed -for the Baron's share of the repast." - -"And," as Mr. Samuel Weller would have observed, "a wery good idea of -a breakfast, too." - -A beef-ham sounds like a "large order" for breakfast, even when we -come to consider that the Scotch "beastie," in Sir Walter Scott's -time, was wanting in "beam" and stature. I have seen and partaken of a -ham cut from a Yorkshire pig, and weighing 52 lbs.; but even a Scotch -beef-ham must have topped that weight considerably. Fortunately the -sideboards of those times were substantial of build. - -Missing from the above bill-of-fare is the haddock, - - - _The Fin'an Haddie_, - -a bird which at that period had probably not been invented. But the -modern Scottish breakfast-table is not properly furnished without it. -The genuine "Fin'an" is known by its appetising savour and by its -colour--a creamy yellow, which is totally distinct from the Vandyke -browny hue of the haddock which is creosoted in the neighbourhood of -the Blackfriars Road, London, S.E. "Strip off the skin," says the -recipe in one cookery book, "and broil before the fire or over a -quick clear one." Another way--_my_ way--is _not_ to strip off the -skin and to _steam_ your haddies. Place them in a dish which has been -previously heated. Throw boiling water on them, and cover closely -with a plate; place on a hot stove, and in from 10 to 15 minutes the -Fin'ans will be accomplished. Drain, and serve hot as hot, buttered, -with a sprinkling of cayenne, and, maybe, a dash of Worcester sauce. - -Salmon is naturally a welcome guest at the table of the land of his -birth, served fresh when in season, and smoked or kippered at all -times. - - - _A Salmon Steak_ - -with the "curd" between the flakes, placed within a coat of -virgin-white paper (oiled) and grilled for 15 minutes or so, is an -excellent breakfast dish. A fry of small troutlets, a ditto of the -deer's interior economy--_Mem._ When up at the death of a hunted stag, -always beg or annex a portion of his liver--are also common dishes at -the first meal served by the "gudewife"; and I once met a cold haggis -at 9.30 A.M. But this, I rather fancy, was "a wee bit joke" at my -expense. Anyhow I shall have plenty to say about the "great chieftain -o' the puddin' race" in a later chapter. - - - _Off to Gold-land!_ - -Those that go down to the sea in ships, and can summon up sufficient -presence of mind to go down to the saloon at meal times, have far from -a bad time of it. Living was certainly better on the ocean wave in the -days when livestock was kept on board, and slaughtered as required; -for the effect of keeping beef, pork, and mutton in a refrigerating -chamber for any length of time is to destroy the flavour, and to -render beef indistinguishable from the flesh of the hog, and mutton -as tasteless as infantine pap. But the ship's galley does its little -utmost; and the saloon passenger, on his way to the other side of the -equator, may regale himself with such a breakfast as the following, -which is taken from the steward's book of a vessel belonging to the -Union Line:-- - - Porridge, fillets of haddock with fine herbs, mutton chops - and chip potatoes, savoury omelet, bacon on toast, minced - collops, curry and rice, fruit, rolls, toast, etc., tea and - coffee. - -Cannot my readers imagine a steward entering the state-room of the -voyager who has succumbed to the wiles and eccentricities of the Bay -of Biscay, with the observation: "Won't you get up to breakfast, -sir?--I've reserved a _beautiful_ fat chop, with chips, o' purpose for -you, sir." - -And the lot of the third-class passenger who is conveyed from his -native land to the Cape of Good Hope, for what Mr. Montague Tigg would -have called "the ridiculous sum of" L16: 16s., is no such hard one, -seeing that he is allotted a "bunk" in a compact, though comfortable -cabin, and may break his fast on the following substantial meal:-- - - Porridge, Yarmouth bloaters, potatoes, American hash, - grilled mutton, bread and butter, tea or coffee. - -An American breakfast is as variegated (and I fear I must add, as -indigestible) as a Scotch one; and included in the bill of fare are as -many, or more, varieties of bread and cake as are to be found in the -land o' shortbread. The writer has, in New York, started the morning -meal with oysters, run the gamut of fish, flesh, and fowl, and wound -up with buckwheat cakes, which are brought on in relays, buttered -and smoking hot, and can be eaten with or without golden syrup. -But, as business begins early in New York and other large cities, -scant attention is paid to the first meal by the merchant and the -speculator, who are wont to "gallop" through breakfast and luncheon, -and to put in their "best work" at dinner. - - - _A Mediterranean Breakfast_ - -is not lacking in poetry; and the jaded denizen of Malta can enjoy -red mullet (the "woodcock of the sea") freshly taken from the -tideless ocean, and strawberries in perfection, at his first meal, -whilst seated, maybe, next to some dreamy-eyed _houri_, who coos soft -nothings into his ear, at intervals. The wines of Italy go best with -this sort of repast, which is generally eaten with "spoons." - -In fair France, breakfast, or the _dejeuner a la fourchette_, is not -served until noon, or thereabouts. Coffee or chocolate, with fancy -bread and butter, is on hand as soon as you wake; and I have heard -that for the roisterer and the _p'tit creve_ there be such liquors -as _cognac_, _curacoa_, and _chartreuse verte_ provided at the first -meal, so that nerves can be strung together and headaches alleviated -before the "associated" breakfast at midday. In the country, at the -_chateau_ of _Monsieur et Madame_, the groom-of-the-chambers, or -_maitre d'hotel_, as he is designated, knocks at your bedroom door at -about 8.30. - -"Who's there?" - -"Good-morning, _M'sieu_. Will _M'sieu_ partake of the _chocolat_, or -of the _cafe-au-lait_, or of the tea?" - -Upon ordinary occasions, _M'sieu_ will partake of the _chocolat_--if -he be of French extraction; whilst the English visitor will partake of -the _cafe-au-lait_--tea-making in France being still in its infancy. -And if _M'sieu_ has gazed too long on the wine of the country, -overnight, he will occasionally--reprobate that he is--partake instead -of the _vieux cognac_, diluted from the syphon. And _M'sieu_ never -sees his host or hostess till the "assembly" sounds for the midday -meal. - -I have alluded, just above, to French tea-making. There was a time -when tea, with our lively neighbours, was as scarce a commodity as -snakes in Iceland or rum punch in Holloway Castle. Then the thin end -of the wedge was introduced, and the English visitor was invited to -partake of a cup of what was called (by courtesy) _the_, which had -been concocted expressly for her or him. And tea _a la Francaise_ -used to be made somewhat after this fashion. The cup was half-filled -with milk, sugar _a discretion_ being added. A little silver sieve -was next placed over the cup, and from a jug sufficient hot water, in -which had been previously left to soak some half-dozen leaf-fragments -of green tea, to fill the cup, was poured forth. In fact the visitor -was invited to drink a very nasty compound indeed, something like -the "wish" tea with which the school-mistress used to regale her -victims--milk and water, and "wish-you-may-get" tea! But they have -changed all that across the Channel, and five o'clock tea is one of -the most fashionable functions of the day, with the _beau monde_; a -favourite invitation of the society _belle_ of the _fin de siecle_ -being: "_Voulex-vous fivoclocquer avec moi?_" - -The _dejeuner_ usually begins with a _consomme_, a thin, clear, -soup, not quite adapted to stave off the pangs of hunger by itself, -but grateful enough by way of a commencement. Then follows an array -of dishes containing fish and fowl of sorts, with the inevitable -_cotelettes a la_ somebody-or-other, not forgetting an _omelette_--a -mess which the French cook alone knows how to concoct to perfection. -The meal is usually washed down with some sort of claret; and a -subsequent _cafe_, with the accustomed _chasse_; whilst the welcome -_cigarette_ is not "defended," even in the mansions of the great. - -There is more than one way of making coffee, that of the lodging-house -"general," and of the street-stall dispenser, during the small hours, -being amongst the least commendable. Without posing as an infallible -manufacturer of the refreshing (though indigestible, to many people) -beverage, I would urge that it be made from freshly-roasted seed, -ground just before wanted. Then heat the ground coffee in the oven, -and place upon the perforated bottom of the upper compartment of -a _cafetiere_, put the strainer on it, and pour in boiling water, -gradually. "The Duke" in _Genevieve de Brabant_ used to warble as part -of a song in praise of tea-- - - And 'tis also most important - That you should not spare the tea. - -So is it of equal importance that you should not spare the coffee. -There are more elaborate ways of making coffee; but none that the -writer has tried are in front of the old _cafetiere_, if the simple -directions given above be carried out in their entirety. - -As in France, sojourners (for their sins) in the burning plains of Ind -have their first breakfast, or _chota hazri_, at an early hour, whilst -the breakfast proper--usually described in Lower Bengal, Madras, and -Bombay as "tiffin"--comes later on. For - - - _Chota Hazri_ - -(literally "little breakfast")--which is served either at the -Mess-house, the public Bath, or in one's own bungalow, beneath the -verandah--poached eggs on toast are _de rigueur_, whilst I have met -such additions as _unda ishcamble_ (scrambled eggs), potato cake, and -(naughty, naughty!) anchovy toast. Tea or coffee are always drunk -with this meal. "Always," have I written? Alas! In my mind's eye I can -see the poor Indian vainly trying to stop the too-free flow of the -_Belati pani_ (literally "Europe water") by thrusting a dusky thumb -into the neck of the just-opened bottle, and in my mind's ear can I -catch the blasphemous observation of the subaltern as he remarks to -his slave that he does not require, in his morning's "livener," the -additional flavour of Mahommedan flesh, and the "hubble-bubble" pipe, -the tobacco in which may have been stirred by the same thumb that -morning. - -"Coffee shop" is a favourite function, during the march of a regiment -in India, at least it used to be in the olden time, before troops were -conveyed by railway. _Dhoolies_ (roughly made palanquins) laden with -meat and drink were sent on half way, overnight; and grateful indeed -was the cup of tea, or coffee, or the "peg" which was poured forth for -the weary warrior who had been "tramping it" or in the saddle since 2 -A.M. or some such unearthly hour, in order that the column might reach -the new camping-ground before the sun was high in the heavens. It was -at "coffee-shop" that "chaff" reigned supreme, and speculations as to -what the shooting would be like at the next place were indulged in. -And when that shooting was likely to take the form of long men, armed -with long guns, and long knives, the viands, which consisted for the -most part of toast, biscuits, poached eggs, and _unda bakum_ (eggs and -bacon), were devoured with appetites all the keener for the prospect -in view. It is in troublous times, be it further observed, that the -Hindustan _khit_ is seen at his best. On the field of battle itself I -have known coffee and boiled eggs--or even a grilled fowl--produced by -the fearless and devoted _nokhur_, from, apparently, nowhere at all. - -At the Indian breakfast proper, all sorts of viands are consumed; -from the curried prawns and Europe provisions (which arrive in an -hermetically sealed condition per s.s. _Nomattawot_), to the rooster -who heralds your arrival at the _dak_ bungalow, with much crowing, and -who within half an hour of your advent has been successively chased -into a corner, beheaded, plucked, and served up for your refection in -a scorched state. I have breakfasted off such assorted food as curried -locusts, boiled leg of mutton, fried snipe, Europe sausages, _Iron -ishtoo_ (Irish stew), _vilolif_ (veal olives, and more correctly a -dinner dish), kidney toast--chopped sheep's kidneys, highly seasoned -with pepper, lime-juice, and Worcester sauce, very appetising--parrot -pie, eggs and bacon, omelette (which might also have been used to -patch ammunition boots with), sardines, fried fish (mind the bones -of the Asiatic fish), _bifishtake_ (beef steak), goat chops, curries -of all sorts, hashed venison, and roast peafowl, ditto quail, ditto -pretty nearly everything that flies, cold buffalo hump, grilled -sheep's tail (a bit bilious), hermetically-sealed herring, turtle -fins, Guava jelly, preserved mango, home-made cake, and many other -things which have escaped memory. I am coming to the "curry" part of -the entertainment later on in the volume, but may remark that it is -preferable when eaten in the middle of the day. My own experience -was that few people touched curry when served in its normal place at -dinner--as a course of itself--just before the sweets. - -"Breakfast with my tutor!" What happy memories of boyhood do not the -words conjure up, of the usually stern, unbending preceptor pouring -out the coffee, and helping the sausages and mashed potatoes--we -always had what is now known as "saus and mash" at my tutor's--and the -fatherly air with which he would remind the juvenile glutton, who had -seated himself just opposite the apricot jam, and was improving the -occasion, that eleven o'clock school would be in full swing in half an -hour, and that the brain (and, by process of reasoning, the stomach) -could not be in too good working-order for the fervid young student -of Herodotus. The ordinary breakfast of the "lower boy" at Eton used -to be of a very uncertain pattern. Indeed, what with "fagging," the -preparation of his lord-and-master's breakfast, the preparation of -"pupil-room" work, and agile and acute scouts ever on the alert to -pilfer his roll and pat of butter, that boy was lucky if he got -any breakfast at all. If he possessed capital, or credit, he might -certainly stave off starvation at "Brown's," with buttered buns and -pickled salmon; or at "Webber's," or "the Wall," with three-cornered -jam tarts, or a "strawberry mess"; but Smith _minor_, and Jones -_minimus_ as often as not, went breakfastless to second school. - -At the University, breakfast with "the Head" or any other "Don" was a -rather solemn function. The table well and plentifully laid, and the -host hospitality itself, but occasionally, nay, frequently, occupied -with other thoughts. A departed friend used to tell a story of a -breakfast of this description. He was shaken warmly by the hand by his -host, who afterwards lapsed into silence. My friend, to "force the -running," ventured on the observation-- - -"It's a remarkably fine morning, sir, is it not?" - -No reply came. In fact, the great man's thoughts were so preoccupied -with Greek roots, and other defunct horrors, that he spoke not a word -during breakfast. But when, an hour or so afterwards, the time came -for his guest to take leave, the "Head" shook him by the hand warmly -once more, and remarked abstractedly-- - -"D'you know, Mr. Johnson, I don't think that was a particularly -original remark of yours?" - - - - - CHAPTER IV - - LUNCHEON - - "'Tis a custom - More honoured in the breach than the observance." - - Why lunch?--Sir Henry Thompson on overdoing it--The - children's dinner--City lunches--Ye Olde Cheshyre - Cheese--Doctor Johnson--Ye pudding--A great fall in food--A - snipe pudding--Skirt, not rump steak--Lancashire hot pot--A - Cape "brady." - - -"'More honoured in the breach,' do you say, Mr. Author?" I fancy I -hear some reader inquire. "Are these your sentiments? Do you really -mean them?" Well, perhaps, they ought to be qualified. Unless a -man breakfast very early, and dine very late, he cannot do himself -much good by eating a square meal at 1.30 or 2.0 P.M. There can -be no question but that whilst thousands of the lieges--despite -soup-kitchens, workhouses, and gaols--perish of absolute starvation, -as many of their more fortunate brethren perish, in the course of -time, from gluttony, from falling down (sometimes literally) and -worshipping the Belly-god. - -Years ago Sir Henry Thompson observed to a friend of the writer's: - -"Most men who seek my advice are suffering under one of two great -evils--eating too much good food, or drinking too much bad liquor; and -occasionally they suffer under both evils." - -"This luncheon," writes Oliver Wendell Holmes, "is a very convenient -affair; it does not require any special dress; it is informal; and can -be light or heavy as one chooses." - -The American--the male American at all events--takes far more count of -luncheon than of breakfast. - -But in many cases luncheon and early dinner are synonymous terms. -Take the family luncheon, for instance, of the middle classes, where -mother, governess, and little ones all assemble in front of the -roast and boiled, at the principal meal of the day, and the more or -less snowy tablecloth is duly anointed with gravy by "poor baby," in -her high chair, and the youngest but one is slapped at intervals by -his instructress, for using his knife for the peas--at the risk of -enlarging his mouth--or for swallowing the stones of the cherries -which have been dealt him, or her, from the tart. This is not the -sort of meal for the male friend of the family to "drop in" at, if -he value the lapels of his new frock-coat, and be given to blushing. -For children have not only an evil habit of "pawing" the visitor with -jammy fingers, but occasionally narrate somewhat "risky" anecdotes. -And a child's ideas of the Christian religion, nay, of the Creator -himself, are occasionally more quaint than reverent. - -"Ma, dear," once lisped a sweet little thing of six, "what doth God -have for hith dinner?" - -"S-sh-sh, my child!" replied the horrified mother, "you must not ask -such dreadful questions. God doesn't want any dinner, remember that." - -"Oh-h-h!" continued the unabashed and dissatisfied _enfant terrible_. -And, after a pause, "then I thuppose he hath an egg with hith tea." - -In a country-house, of course, but few of the male guests turn -up at the domestic luncheon, being otherwise engaged in killing -something, or in trying to kill something, or in that sport which -is but partially understood out of Great Britain--the pursuit of an -evil-savoured animal who is practically worthless to civilisation -after his capture and death. - -It is in "the City" that vile man, perhaps, puts in his best work -as an eater of luncheons. Some city men there be, of course--poor, -wretched, half-starved clerks, whose state nobody ever seems to -attempt to ameliorate--whose midday refections are not such as would -have earned a meed of commendation from the late Vitellius, or from -the late Colonel North. For said refections but seldom consist of -more important items than a thick slice of bread and a stale bloater; -or possibly a home-made sandwich of bread and Dutch cheese--the -whole washed down with a tumbler of milk, or more often a tumbler -of the fluid supplied by the New River Company. During the winter -months a pennyworth of roasted chestnuts supplies a filling, though -indigestible meal to many a man whose employer is swilling turtle -at Birch's or at the big house in Leadenhall Street, and who is -compelled, by the exigencies of custom, to wear a decent black coat -and some sort of tall hat when on his way to and from "business." - -But the more fortunate citizens--how do they "do themselves" -at luncheon? For some there is the cheap soup-house, or the -chop-and-steak house reviled of Dickens, and but little changed since -the time of the great novelist. Then, for the "gilt-edged" division -there is - - - _Birch's_, - -the little green house which, although now "run" by those eminent -caterers, Messrs. Ring and Brymer, is still known by the name of the -old Alderman who deserved so well of his fellow citizens, and who, -whilst a _cordon bleu_ of some celebrity, had also a pretty taste -as a playwright. The old house has not changed one jot, either in -appearance, customs, or fare. At the little counter on the ground -floor may be obtained the same cheesecakes, tartlets, baked custards, -and calf's-foot jellies which delighted our grandfathers, and the same -brand of Scottish whisky. Upstairs, in the soup-rooms, some of the -tables are covered with damask tablecloths, whilst at others a small -square of napery but partially obscures the view of the well-polished -mahogany. - - - _Turtle Soup_ - -is still served on silver plates, whilst the cheaper juices of the -bullock, the calf, and the pea, "with the usual trimmings," repose -temporarily on china or earthenware. _Pates_, whether of oyster, -lobster, chicken, or veal-and-ham, are still in favour with _habitue_ -and chance customer alike, and no wonder, for these are something -like _pates_. The "filling" is kept hot like the soups, in huge -stewpans, on the range, and when required is ladled out into a plate, -and furnished with top and bottom crust--and such crust, flaky -and light to a degree; and how different to the confectioner's or -railway-refreshment _pate_, which, when an orifice be made in the -covering with a pickaxe, reveals nothing more appetising than what -appear to be four small cubes of frost-bitten india-rubber, with a -portion or two of candle end. - -A more advanced meal is served in Leadenhall Street, at - - - "_The Ship and Turtle_," - -said to be the oldest tavern in London, and which has been more -than once swept and garnished, and reformed altogether, since its -establishment during the reign of King Richard II. But they could have -known but little about the superior advantages offered by the turtle -as a life-sustainer, in those days; whereas at the present day some -hundreds of the succulent reptiles die the death on the premises, -within a month, in order that city companies, and stockbrokers, and -merchants of sorts, and mining millionaires, and bicycle makers, and -other estimable people, may dine and lunch. - -Then there are the numerous clubs, not forgetting one almost at the -very door of "The House," where the 2000 odd (some of them _very_ odd) -members are regaled on the fat of the land in general, and of the -turtle in particular, day by day; and that mammoth underground palace -the "Palmerston," where any kind of banquet can be served up at a few -minutes' notice, and where "special Greek dishes" are provided for the -gamblers in wheat and other cereals, at the adjacent "Baltic." There -be also other eating-houses, far too numerous to mention, but most of -them worth a visit. - -A "filling" sort of luncheon is a portion of a - - - _Cheshire Cheese Pudding_. - -A little way up a gloomy court on the north side of Fleet Street--a -neighbourhood which reeks of printers' ink, bookmakers' "runners," -tipsters, habitual borrowers of small pieces of silver, and that -"warm" smell of burning paste and molten lead which indicates the -"foundry" in a printing works--is situated this ancient hostelry. It -is claimed for the "Cheese" that it was the tavern most frequented -by Dr. Samuel Johnson. Mr. C. Redding, in his _Fifty Years' -Recollections, Literary and Personal_, published in 1858, says: "I -often dined at the - - - "_Cheshire Cheese_." - -Johnson and his friends, I was informed, used to do the same, and I -was told I should see individuals who had met them there. This I -found to be correct. The company was more select than in later times, -but there are Fleet Street tradesmen who well remembered both Johnson -and Goldsmith in this place of entertainment." - -Few Americans who visit our metropolis go away without making a -pilgrimage to this ancient hostelry, where, upstairs, "Doctor -Johnson's Chair" is on view; and many visitors carry away mementoes of -the house, in the shape of pewter measures, the oaken platters upon -which these are placed, and even samples of the long "churchwarden" -pipes, smoked by _habitues_ after their evening chops or steaks. - - - _Ye Pudding_, - -which is served on Wednesdays and Saturdays, at 1.30 and 6.0, is -a formidable-looking object, and its savour reaches even into the -uttermost parts of Great Grub Street. As large, more or less, as -the dome of St. Paul's, that pudding is stuffed with steak, kidney, -oysters, mushrooms, and larks. The irreverent call these last named -sparrows, but we know better. This pudding takes (_on dit_) 171/2 hours -in the boiling, and the "bottom crust" would have delighted the -hearts of Johnson, Boswell, and Co., in whose days the savoury dish -was not. The writer once witnessed a catastrophe at the "Cheshire -Cheese," compared to which the burning of Moscow or the bombardment -of Alexandria were mere trifles. 1.30 on Saturday afternoon had -arrived, and the oaken benches in the refectory were filled to -repletion with expectant pudding-eaters. Burgesses of the City of -London were there--good, "warm," round-bellied men, with plough-boys' -appetites--and journalists, and advertising agents, and "resting" -actors, and magistrates' clerks, and barristers from the Temple, -and well-to-do tradesmen. Sherry and gin and bitters and other -adventitious aids (?) to appetite had been done justice to, and the -arrival of the "procession"--it takes three men and a boy to carry -the _piece de resistance_ from the kitchen to the dining-room--was -anxiously awaited. And then, of a sudden we heard a loud crash! -followed by a feminine shriek, and an unwhispered Saxon oath. "Tom" -the waiter had slipped, released his hold, and the pudding had fallen -downstairs! It was a sight ever to be remembered--steak, larks, -oysters, "delicious gravy," running in a torrent into Wine Office -Court. The expectant diners (many of them lunchers) stood up and gazed -upon the wreck of their hopes, and then filed, silently and sadly, -outside. Such a catastrophe had not been known in Brainland since the -Great Fire. - -Puddings of all sorts are, in fact, favourite autumn and winter -luncheon dishes in London, and the man who can "come twice" at such -a "dream" as the following, between the hours of one and three, can -hardly be in devouring trim for his evening meal till very late. It is -a - - - _Snipe Pudding_. - - A _thin_ slice of beef-skirt,[2] seasoned with pepper and - salt, at the bottom of the basin; then three snipes beheaded - and befooted, and with gizzards extracted. Leave the liver and - heart in, an you value your life. Cover up with paste, and - boil (or steam) for two-and-a-half hours. For stockbrokers - and bookmakers, mushrooms and truffles are sometimes placed - within this pudding; but it is better without--according to the - writer's notion. - -Most of the fowls of the air may be treated in the same way. And when -eating cold grouse for luncheon try (if you can get it) a fruit salad -therewith. You will find preserved peaches, apricots, and cherries in -syrup, harmonise well with cold _brown_ game. - - - _Lancashire Hot-Pot_ - -is a savoury dish indeed; but I know of but one eating-house in London -where you can get anything like it. Here is the recipe-- - - Place a layer of mutton cutlets, with most of the fat and - tails trimmed off, at the bottom of a deep earthenware stewpan. - Then a layer of chopped sheep's kidneys, an onion cut into - thin slices, half-a-dozen oysters, and some sliced potatoes. - Sprinkle over these a little salt and pepper and a teaspoonful - of curry powder. Then start again with cutlets, and keep on - adding layers of the different ingredients until the dish be - full. Whole potatoes atop of all, and pour in the oyster liquor - and some good gravy. More gravy just before the dish is ready - to serve. Not too fierce an oven, just fierce enough to brown - the top potatoes. - -In making this succulent concoction you can add to, or substitute for, -the mutton cutlets pretty nearly any sort of flesh or fowl. I have -met rabbit, goose, larks, turkey, and (frequently) beef therein; but, -believe me, the simple, harmless, necessary, toothsome cutlet makes -the best lining. - -In the Cape Colony, and even as high up as Rhodesia, I have met with -a dish called a _Brady_, which is worthy of mention here. It is made -in the same way as the familiar Irish stew; but instead of potatoes -tomatoes are used. - - - - - CHAPTER V - - LUNCHEON (_continued_) - - "He couldn't hit a haystack!" - - Shooting luncheons--Cold tea and a crust--Clear - turtle--Such larks!--Jugged duck and oysters--Woodcock - pie--Hunting luncheons--Pie crusts--The true Yorkshire - pie--Race-course luncheons--Suggestions to caterers--The - "Jolly Sand boys" stew--Various recipes--A race-course - sandwich--Angels' pie--"Suffolk pride"--Devilled larks--A light - lunch in the Himalayas. - - -There is no meal which has become more "expanded" than a shooting -luncheon. A crust of bread with cheese, or a few biscuits, and a flask -of sherry sufficed for our forebears, who, despite inferior weapons -and ammunition, managed to "bring 'em down" quite as effectually as do -the shootists of this period. Most certainly and decidedly, a heavy -luncheon is a mistake if you want to "shoot clean" afterwards. And -bear this in mind, all ye "Johnnies" who rail at your host's champagne -and turtle, after luncheon, in a comfortable pavilion in the midst of -a pheasant _battue_, and whose very beaters would turn up their noses -at a pork pie and a glass of old ale, that there is nothing so good to -shoot upon as cold tea, unless it be cold coffee. I have tried both, -and for a shooting luncheon _par excellence_ commend me to a crust -and a pint of cold tea, eaten whilst sitting beneath the shelter of -an unpleached hedge, against the formal spread which commences with -a _consomme_, and finishes with guinea peaches, and liqueurs of rare -curacoa. Of course, it is assumed that the shooter wishes to make a -bag. - -But as, fortunately for trade, everybody does not share my views, it -will be as well to append a few dishes suitable to a scratch meal of -this sort. - -First of all let it be said that a - - - _Roast Loin of Pork_, - -washed down with sweet champagne, is not altogether to be commended. -I have nothing to urge against roast pork, on ordinary occasions, or -champagne either; but a woodcock takes a lot of hitting. - -Such a pudding as was sketched in the preceding chapter is allowable, -as is also the Lancashire Hot-Pot. - - - _Shepherd's Pie_, - -_i.e._ minced meat beneath a mattress of mashed potatoes, with lots of -gravy in the dish, baked, is an economical dish, but a tasty one; and -I have never known much left for the beaters. RABBIT PIE, or Pudding, -will stop a gap most effectually, and - - - _Plover Pudding_ - ---the very name brings water to the lips--is entitled to the highest -commendation. - -This is the favourite dish at the shooting luncheons of a well-known -Royal Duke, and when upon one occasion the discovery was made that -through some misunderstanding said pudding had been devoured to the -very bones, by _the loaders_, the--well, "the band played," as they -say out West. And a stirring tune did that band play too. - - - _Such Larks!_ - - Stuff a dozen larks with a force-meat made from their own - livers chopped, a little shallot, parsley, yolk of egg, salt, - bread crumbs, and one green chili chopped and divided amongst - the twelve. Brown in a stewpan, and then stew gently in a good - gravy to which has been added a glass of burgundy. - -This is a _plat_ fit for an emperor, and there will be no subsequent -danger of his hitting a beater or a dog. Another dainty of home -invention is - - - _Jugged Duck with Oysters_. - - Cut the fleshy parts of your waddler into neat joints, - and having browned them place in a jar with nine oysters and - some good gravy partly made from the giblets. Close the mouth - of the jar, and stand it in boiling water for rather more than - an hour. Add the strained liquor of the oysters and a little - more gravy, and turn the concoction into a deep silver dish - with a spirit lamp beneath. Wild duck can be jugged in the same - way, but _without_ the addition of the bivalves; and a mixture - of port wine and Worcester sauce should be poured in, with a - squeeze of lemon juice and cayenne, just before serving. - -Another dish which will be found "grateful and comforting" is an _old_ -grouse--the older the tastier. Stuff him with a Spanish onion, add a -little gravy and seasoning, and stew him till the flesh leaves the -bones. All these stews, or "jugs" should be served on dishes kept hot -by lighted spirit beneath them. This is most important. - - - _A Woodcock Pie_ - -will be found extremely palatable at any shooting luncheon, although -more frequently to be met with on the sideboards of the great and -wealthy. In fact, at Christmas time, 'tis a pie which is specially -concocted in the royal kitchen at Windsor Castle, to adorn Her Most -Gracious Majesty's board at Osborne, together with the time-honoured -baron of specially fed beef. This last named joint hardly meets my -views as part of a breakfast _menu_; but here is the recipe for the -woodcock pie. - - Bone four woodcocks--I _don't_ mean take them off the - hooks when the gentleman is not in his shop, but tell your - cook to take the bones out of one you've shot yourself--put - bones and trimmings into a saucepan with one shallot, one small - onion, and a sprig of thyme, cover them with some good stock, - and let this gravy simmer awhile. Take the gizzards away from - the heart and liver, pound, and mix these with some good veal - force-meat. Place the woodcocks, skin downwards, on a board; - spread over each two layers of force-meat, with a layer of - sliced truffles in between the two. Make your crust, either in - a mould, or with the hands, put a layer of force-meat at the - bottom, then two woodcocks, then a layer of truffles, then the - other two woodcocks, another layer of truffles, and a top layer - of force-meat, and some thin slices of fat bacon. Cover the - pie, leaving a hole for the gravy, and bake in a moderate oven. - After taking out pour in the gravy, then close the orifice and - let the pie get cold before serving. - - _N.B._--It will stimulate the _digging_ industry if one or - two _whole_ truffles have been hidden away in the recesses of - the pie. - -Another good pie I have met with--in the north country--was lined with -portions of grouse and black game (no bones), with here and there half -a hard-boiled egg. Nothing else except the necessary seasoning. - -With regard to - - - _Hunting Luncheons_ - -it cannot be said that your Nimrod is nearly as well catered for as is -the "Gun." For, as a rule, the first-named, if he be really keen on -the sport of kings has to content himself, during the interval of a -"check," with the contents of a sandwich-case, and a flask, which may -contain either brown sherry or brandy and water--or possibly something -still more seductive. I have heard of flasks which held milk punch, -but the experience is by no means a familiar one. If your Nimrod be -given to "macadamising," instead of riding the line, or if he sicken -of the business altogether before hounds throw off, he can usually -"cadge" a lunch at some house in the neighbourhood, even though it may -only "run to" bread and cheese--or, possibly, a wedge of a home-made -pork-pie--with a glass, or mug, of nut brown ale. Not that all ale -is "nut brown," but 'tis an epithet which likes me well. Would it -were possible to give practical hints here as to the true way to -manufacture a pork-pie! To make the attempt would, I fear, only serve -to invite disaster; for the art of pork-pie making, like that of the -poet, or the play-actor, should be born within us. In large households -in the midland counties (wherein doth flourish the pig tart) there -is, as a rule, but one qualified pie-maker--who is incapable of any -other culinary feat whatever. I have even been told that it requires -"special hands" to make the crust of the proper consistency; and -having tasted crusts _and_ crusts, I can implicitly believe this -statement. Here is a recipe for a veritable savoury - - - _Yorkshire Pie_. - - Bone a goose and a large fowl. Fill the latter with the - following stuffing:--minced ham, veal, suet, onion, sweet - herbs, lemon peel, mixed spices, goose-liver, cayenne, and - salt, worked into a paste with the yolks of two eggs. Sew up - the fowl, truss it, and stew it with the goose for twenty - minutes in some good beef and giblet stock, with a small - glass of sherry, in a close stewpan. Then put the fowl inside - the goose, and place the goose within a pie-mould which has - been lined with good hot-water paste. Let the goose rest on a - cushion of stuffing, and in the middle of the liquor in which - he has been stewed. Surround him in the pie with slices of - parboiled tongue and chunks of semi-cooked pheasant, partridge, - and hare, filling in the vacancies with more stuffing, put a - layer of butter atop, roof in the pie with paste, bake for - three hours, and eat either hot or cold--the latter for choice. - -For a skating luncheon - - - _Irish Stew_ - -is the recognised _entree_, served in soup-plates, and washed down -with hot spiced ale. - -In the way of - - - _Race-course Luncheons_ - -our caterers have made giant strides in the last dozen years. A member -of a large firm once told me that it was "out of the question" to -supply joints, chops, and steaks in the dining-rooms of a grand stand, -distant far from his base of operations, London. "Impossible, my dear -sir! we couldn't do it without incurring a ruinous loss." But the -whirligig of time has proved this feat to be not only possible, but -one which has led to the best results for all concerned. In the matter -of chops and steaks I hope to see further reforms introduced. These -succulent dainties, it cannot be too widely known, are not at their -best unless _cut fresh_ from loin or rump, just before being placed -on the gridiron. The longer a cut chop (raw) is kept the more of its -virtue is lost. It might, possibly, cause a little extra delay, and a -little extra expense, to send off loins and rumps from the butcher's -shop, instead of ready-cut portions, but the experiment would answer, -in the long run. The same rule, of course, should apply to restaurants -and grill-rooms all over the world. - -During the autumn and winter months, race-course caterers seem to -have but one idea of warm comforting food for their customers, and -the name of that idea is Irish stew. This is no doubt an appetising -dish, but might be varied occasionally for the benefit of the habitual -follower of the sport of kings. Why not pea-soup, jugged hare (hares -are cheap enough), hot-pot, Scotch broth, mullagatawny, hotch-potch, -stewed or curried rabbit, with rice, shepherd's pie, haricot ox-tails, -sheep's head broth (Scotch fashion), and hare soup! What is the matter -with the world-renowned stew of which we read in _The Old Curiosity -Shop_--the supper provided by the landlord of the "Jolly Sandboys" for -the itinerant showmen? Here it is again: - - "'It's a stew of tripe,' said the landlord, smacking his - lips, 'and cowheel,' smacking them again, 'and bacon,' smacking - them once more, 'and steak,' smacking them for the fourth time, - 'and peas, cauliflowers, new potatoes, and sparrowgrass, all - working up together in one delicious gravy.' Having come to - the climax, he smacked his lips a great many times, and taking - a long hearty sniff of the fragrance that was hovering about, - put on the cover again with the air of one whose toils on earth - were over. - - "'At what time will it be ready?' asked Mr. Codlin - faintly. 'It'll be done to a turn,' said the landlord, looking - up at the clock, 'at twenty-two minutes before eleven.' - - "'Then,' said Mr. Codlin, 'fetch me a pint of warm ale, - and don't let nobody bring into the room even so much as a - biscuit till the time arrives.'" - -And I do vow and protest that the above passage has caused much more -smacking of lips than the most expensive, savoury _menu_ ever thought -out. True, sparrowgrass and new potatoes, and any peas but dried or -tinned ones are not as a rule at their best in the same season as -tripe; but why not dried peas, and old potatoes, and rice, and curry -powder, and onions--Charles Dickens forgot the onions--with, maybe, -a modicum of old ale added, for "body"--in this stew, on a cold -day at Sandown or Kempton? _Toujours_ Irish stew, like _toujours_ -mother-in-law, is apt to pall upon the palate; especially if not fresh -made. And frost occasionally interferes with the best-laid plans of a -race-course caterer. - -"I don't mind a postponed meeting," once observed one of the -"readiest" of bookmakers; "but what I cannot stand is postponed Irish -stew." - -Than a good bowl of - - - _Scotch Broth_, - -what could be more grateful, or less expensive? - - Shin of beef, pearl barley, cabbages, leeks, turnips, - carrots, dried peas (of course soaked overnight), and - water--"all working up together in one delicious gravy." - -Also - - - _Hotch Potch_. - -With the addition of cutlets from the best end of a neck of mutton, -the same recipe as the above will serve for this dish, which it must -be remembered should be more of a "stodge" than a broth. - -There are more ways than one of making a "hot-pot." The recipe given -above would hardly suit the views of any caterer who wishes to make -a living for himself; but it can be done on the cheap. The old lady -whose dying husband was ordered by the doctor oysters and champagne, -procured whelks and ginger beer for the patient, instead, on the score -of economy. Then why not make your hot-pot with mussels instead of -oysters? Or why add any sort of mollusc? In the certain knowledge that -these be invaluable hints to race-course caterers, I offer them with -all consideration and respect. - -The writer well remembers the time when the refreshments on Newmarket -Heath at race-time were dispensed from a booth, which stood almost -adjoining the "Birdcage." Said refreshments were rough, but -satisfying, and consisted of thick sandwiches, cheese, and bread, -with "thumb-pieces" (or "thumbers") of beef, mutton, and pork, which -the luncher was privileged to cut with his own clasp-knife. Said -"thumbers" seem to have gone out of favour with the aristocracy of the -Turf; but the true racing or coursing sandwich still forms part of the -_impedimenta_ of many a cash-bookmaker, of his clerk, and of many a -"little" backer. 'Tis a solid, satisfying sandwich, and is just the -sort of nourishment for a hard worker on a bitter November day. Let -your steak be grilling, whilst you are enjoying your breakfast--some -prefer the ox-portion fried, for these simple speculators have strange -tastes--then take the steak off the fire and place it, all hot, -between two _thick_ slices of bread. The sandwich will require several -paper wrappings, if you value the purity of your pocket-linings. -And when eaten cold, the juices of the meat will be found to have -irrigated the bread, with more or less "delicious gravy." And, as Sam -Weller ought to have said, "it's the gravy as does it." - -"But what about the swells?" I fancy I hear somebody asking, "Is my -Lord Tomnoddy, or the Duke of Earlswood to be compelled to satisfy his -hunger, on a race-course, with tripe and fat bacon? Are you really -advising those dapper-looking, tailor-made ladies on yonder drag to -insert their delicate teeth in a sandwich which would have puzzled -Gargantua to masticate?" Not at all, my good sir, or madam. The -well-appointed coach should be well-appointed within and without. Of -course the luncheon it contains will differ materially according to -the season of the year. This is the sort of meal I will provide, an -you will deign to visit the Arabian tent behind my coach, at Ascot: - -Lobster mayonnaise, salmon cutlets with Tartar sauce (_iced_), curried -prawns (_iced_), lobster cutlets, _chaud-froid_ of quails, _foie -gras_ in aspic, prawns in ditto, plovers' eggs in ditto, galantine of -chicken, York ham, sweets various, including iced gooseberry fool; -and, as the _piece de resistance_, an - - - _Angel's Pie_. - -Many people would call this a pigeon pie, for in good sooth there be -pigeons in it; but 'tis a pie worthy of a brighter sphere than this. - - Six plump young pigeons, trimmed of all superfluous - matter, including pinions and below the thighs. Season with - pepper and salt, and stuff these pigeons with _foie gras_, and - quartered truffles, and fill up the pie with plovers' eggs and - some good force-meat. Make a good gravy from the superfluous - parts of the birds, and some calf's head stock to which has - been added about half a wine-glassful of old Madeira, with - some lemon-juice and cayenne. See that your paste be light and - flaky, and bake in a moderate oven for three hours. Pour in - more gravy just before taking out, and let the pie get cold. - -This is a concoction which will make you back all the winners; whilst -no heiress who nibbles at it would refuse you her hand and heart -afterwards. - -This is another sort of - - - _Pigeon Pie_ - -which is best served hot, and is more suited to the dining-room than -the race-course. - - Line a pie dish with veal force-meat, very highly - seasoned, about an inch thick. Place on it some thin slices of - fat bacon, three Bordeaux pigeons (trimmed) in halves, a veal - sweetbread in slices, an ox palate, boiled and cut up into - dice, a dozen asparagus tops, a few button mushrooms (the large - ones would give the interior of the pie a bad colour) and the - yolks of four eggs. Cover with force-meat, and bake for three - hours. Some good veal gravy should be served with this, which I - have named - - - _Suffolk Pride_. - -It is a remarkable fact in natural history that English pigeons are at -their best just at the time when the young rooks leave the shelter of -their nests. Therefore have I written, in the above recipe, "Bordeaux" -pigeons. - -Here is a quaint old eighteenth-century recipe, which comes from -Northumberland, and is given _verbatim_, for a - - - _Goose Pie_. - - Bone a goose, a turkey, a hare, and a brace of grouse; - skin it, and cut off all the outside pieces--I mean of the - _tongue_, after boiling it--lay the goose, for the outside a - few pieces of hare; then lay in the turkey, the grouse, and - the remainder of the tongue and hare. Season highly between - each layer with pepper and salt, mace and cayenne, and put it - together, and draw it close with a needle and thread. Take 20 - lbs. of flour, put 5 lbs. of butter into a pan with some water, - let it boil, pour it among the flour, stir it with a knife, - then work it with your hands till quite stiff. Let it stand - before the fire for half an hour, then raise your pie and set - it to cool; then finish it, put in the meat, close the pie, - and set it in a cold place. Ornament according to your taste, - bandage it with calico dipped in fat. Let it stand all night - before baking. It will take a long time to bake. The oven must - be pretty hot for the first four hours, and then allowed to - slacken. To know when it is enough, raise one of the ornaments, - and with a fork try if the meat is tender. If it is hard the - pie must be put in again for two hours more. After it comes out - of the oven fill up with strong stock, well seasoned, or with - clarified butter. All standing pies made in this way. - -Verily, in the eighteenth century they must have had considerably -more surplus cash and time, and rather more angelic cooks than their -descendants! - -During cold weather the interior of the coach should be well filled -with earthenware vessels containing such provender as hot-pot, hare -soup, mullagatawny, lobster _a l'Americaine_, curried rabbit, devilled -larks--with the _materiel_ for heating these. Such cold viands as game -pie, pressed beef, boar's head, _foie gras_ (truffled), plain truffles -(to be steamed and served with buttered toast) anchovies, etc. The -larks should be smothered with a paste made from a mixture of mustard, -Chili vinegar, and a little anchovy paste, and kept closely covered -up. After heating, add cayenne to taste. - -Gourmets interested in _menus_ may like to know what were the first -_dejeuners_ partaken of by the Tsar on his arrival in Paris in October -1869. - -On the first day he had huitres, consomme, oeufs a la Parisienne, -filet de boeuf, pommes de terre, Nesselrode sauce, chocolat. - -Next day he ate huitres, consomme, oeufs Dauphine, rougets, noisettes -d'agneau marechal, pommes de terre, cailles a la Bohemienne, poires -Bar-le-Duc. - -The writer can recall some colossal luncheons partaken of at dear, -naughty Simla, in the long ago, when a hill station in India was, if -anything, livelier than at the present day, and furnished plenty of -food for both mind and body. Our host was the genial proprietor of a -weekly journal, to which most of his guests contributed, after their -lights; "sport and the drama" falling to the present writer's share. -Most of the food at those luncheons had been specially imported from -Europe; and although the whitebait tasted more of the hermetical -sealing than of the Thames mud, most of the other items were succulent -enough. There were turtle soup, and turtle fins; highly seasoned -_pates_ of sorts; and the native _khansamah_ had added several dishes -of his own providing and invention. A young florican (bustard) is by -no means a bad bird, well roasted and basted; and though the eternal -_vilolif_ (veal olives) were usually sent away untasted, his snipe -puddings were excellent. What was called _picheese_ (twenty-five years -old) brandy, from the _atelier_ of Messrs. Justerini and Brooks, was -served after the coffee; and those luncheon parties seldom broke up -until it was time to dress for dinner. In fact, our memories were -not often keen as to anything which occurred after the coffee, and -many "strange things happened" in consequence; although as they have -no particular connection with high-class cookery, they need not be -alluded to in this chapter. - -But, as observed before, I am of opinion that luncheon, except under -certain circumstances, is a mistake. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - - DINNER - - "Some hae meat and canna eat, - And some wad eat that want it; - But we can eat and we hae meat, - And sae the Lord be thankit." - - Origin--Early dinners--The noble Romans--"Vitellius - the Glutton"--Origin of haggis--The Saxons--Highland - hospitality--The French invasion--Waterloo avenged--The bad - fairy "_Ala_"--Comparisons--The English cook or the foreign - food torturer?--Plain or flowery--Fresh fish and the flavour - wrapped up--George Augustus Sala--Doctor Johnson again. - - -It is somewhat humiliating to reflect that we Britons owe the art -of dining to our first conquerors the Romans--a smooth-faced race -of voluptuaries whose idea of a _bonne bouche_ took the form of a -dormouse stewed in honey and sprinkled with poppy-seed. But it was -not until the Normans had fairly established themselves and their -cookery, that the sturdy Saxon submitted himself to be educated by the -foreign food-spoiler; and at a later period the frequent invasions of -France by Britain--when money was "tight" in the little island--were -undoubtedly responsible for the commencement of the system of -"decorating" food which so largely obtains to-day. - -The name "dinner" is said--although it seems incredible that words -should have become so corrupted--to be a corruption of _dix heures_, -the time at which (A.M.), in the old Norman days, the meal was usually -partaken of; and the time at which (P.M.), in later years, when none -of the guests ever knew the hour, in that loose-and-careless period, -the meal was occasionally partaken of at Limmer's and at Lane's, in -London town. Froissart, in one of his works, mentions having waited -upon the Duke of Lancaster at 5 P.M., "after his Grace had supped"; -and it is certain that during the reigns of Francis I. and Louis XII. -of France, the world of fashion was accustomed to dine long before -the sun had arrived at the meridian, and to sup at what we now call -"afternoon tea time." Louis XIV. did not dine till twelve; and his -contemporaries, Oliver Cromwell and the Merry Monarch, sat down to the -principal meal at one. In 1700, two was the fashionable time; and in -1751 we read that the Duchess of Somerset's hour for dinner was three. -The hour for putting the soup on the table kept on advancing, until, -after Waterloo, it became almost a penal offence to dine before six; -and so to the end of the century, when we sit down to a sumptuous -repast at a time when farm-labourers and artisans are either snug -between the blankets, or engaged in their final wrangle at the "Blue -Pig." - -The Romans in the time of Cicero had a light breakfast at 3.30 A.M., -lunched at noon, and attacked the _coena_ at periods varying between 3 -and 7 P.M.--according to the season of the year. They commenced the -first course with eggs, and each noble Roman was supposed to clear his -palate with an apple at the conclusion of the third course. "A banquet -with Vitellius," we read, "was no light and simple repast. Leagues of -sea and miles of forest had been swept to furnish the mere groundwork -of the entertainment. Hardy fishermen had spent their nights on the -heaving wave, that the giant turbot might flap its snowy flakes on -the Emperor's table, broader than its broad dish of gold. Many a -swelling hill, clad in the dark oak coppice, had echoed to ringing -shout of hunter and deep-mouthed bay of hound, ere the wild boar -yielded his grim life, by the morass, and the dark grisly carcase was -drawn off to provide a standing dish that was only meant to gratify -the eye. Even the peacock roasted in its feathers was too gross a -dainty"--especially the feather part, we should think--"for epicures -who studied the art of gastronomy under Caesar; and that taste would -have been considered rustic in the extreme which could partake of more -than the mere fumes and savour of so substantial a dish. A thousand -nightingales had been trapped and killed, indeed, for this one supper, -but brains and tongues were all they contributed to the banquet; -while even the wing of a roasted hare would have been considered far -too coarse and common food for the imperial table." Talk about a -bean-feast! - -According to Suetonius (whose name suggests "duff") the villain -Nero was accustomed to dine in a superb apartment, surrounded with -mechanical scenery, which could be "shifted" with every course. The -suppers of "Vitellius the Glutton" cost, on the average, more than -L4000 a-piece--which reads like a "Kaffir Circus" dinner at the -Savoy--and the celebrated feast to which he invited his brother was -down in the bill for L40,350. Now a-nights we don't spend as much on -a dinner, even when we invite other people's wives. "It consisted"--I -always think of Little Dombey and the dinner at Doctor Blimber's, on -reading these facts--"of two thousand different dishes of fish, and -seven thousand of fowls, with other equally numerous meats." - -"Sharp-biting salads," salted herrings, and pickled anchovies, were -served, as _hors d'oeuvres_ during the first course of a Roman banquet, -to stimulate the hunger which the rest of the meal would satisfy; but -although Vitellius was, according to history, "a whale on" oysters, -they do not appear to have been eaten as a whet to appetite. And it -was the duty of one, or more, of the Emperor's "freedmen" to taste -every dish before his imperial master, in case poison might lurk -therein. A garland of flowers around the brows was the regular wear -for a guest at a "swagger" dinner party in ancient Rome, and, the -eating part over, said garland was usually tilted back on the head, -the while he who had dined disposed himself in an easy attitude on -his ivory couch, and proffered his cup to be filled by the solicitous -slave. Then commenced the "big drink." But it must be remembered that -although the subsequent display of fireworks was provided from lively -Early Christians, in tar overcoats, these Romans drank the pure, -unadulterated juice of the grape, freely mixed with water; so that -headaches i' th' morn were not _de rigueur_, nor did the subsequent -massacres and other diversions in the Amphitheatre cause any feelings -of "jumpiness." - -The Roman bill-of-fare, however, does not commend itself to all -British epicures, one of whom wrote, in a convivial song-- - - "Old Lucullus, they say, - Forty cooks had each day, - And Vitellius's meals cost a million; - But I like what is good, - When or where be my food, - In a chop-house or royal pavilion. - - At all feasts (if enough) - I most heartily stuff, - And a song at my heart alike rushes, - Though I've not fed my lungs - Upon nightingales' tongues, - Nor the brains of goldfinches and thrushes." - -My pen loves to linger long over the gastronomies of those shaven -voluptuaries, the ancient Italians; and my Caledonian readers will -forgive the old tales when it is further set forth that the Romans -introduced, amongst other things, - - - _Haggis_ - -into Bonnie Scotland. Yes, the poet's "great chieftain o' the puddin' -race" is but an Italian dish after all. The Apician pork haggis[3] -was a boiled pig's stomach filled with fry and brains, raw eggs, -and pine-apples beaten to a pulp, and seasoned with _liquamen_. For -although some of the Romans' tastes savoured of refinement, many of -them were "absolutely beastly." The idea of pig's fry and pine-apples -mixed is horrible enough; but take a look into the constitution of -this _liquamen_, and wonder no longer that Gibbons wrote his _Decline -and Fall_ with so much feeling and _gusto_. This sauce was obtained -from the intestines, gills, and blood of fishes, great and small, -stirred together with salt, and exposed in an open vat in the sun, -until the compound became putrid. When putrefaction had done its work, -wine and spices were added to the hell-broth, which was subsequently -strained and sent into the Roman market. This _liquamen_ was -manufactured in Greece, and not one of all the poets of sunny Italy -seems to have satirised the "made-in-Greece" custom, which in those -days must have been almost as obnoxious as the "made-in-Germany" or -the "made-in-Whitechapel" scare of to-day. - -The usual farinaceous ingredient of the Roman haggis was frumenty, but -frequently no grain whatever was applied; and instead of mincing the -ingredients, as do the Scots, the ancients pounded them in a mortar, -well moistened with _liquamen_, until reduced to pulp. We are further -told in history that a Roman gladiator was capable, after playing with -eggs, fish, nightingales' tongues, dormice, and haggis, of finishing -a wild boar at a sitting. But as the old lady remarked of the great -tragedy, this happened a long time ago, so let's hope it isn't true. - -The Saxon dining-table was oblong, and rounded at the ends. The -cloth was crimson, with broad gilt edgings hanging low beneath the -table, and, it is to be feared, often soiled by the dirty boots of -the guests, who sat on chairs with covered backs, the counterfeit -presentments of which are still to be seen in the Tottenham Court -Road. The food consisted of fish, fowls, beef, mutton, venison, and -pork--wild and domestic--either boiled, baked, or broiled, and handed -to the company by the attendants on small _sples_. A favourite "fish -joint" of the old Saxon was a cut out of the middle of a porpoise; and -bread of the finest wheaten flour reposed in two silver baskets at -each end of the table, above the salt, the retainers having to content -themselves with coarser "household" out of a wooden cradle. Almost -the only vegetable in use amongst the Saxons was colewort, although -the Romans had brought over many others, years before; but hatred of -anything foreign was more rampant in early Saxon days than at present. -Forks were not introduced into England until during the reign of -King "Jamie": so that our ancestors had perforce to "thumb" their -victuals. The fair Queen Elizabeth (like much more modern monarchs) -was accustomed to raise to her mouth with her virgin fingers a turkey -leg and gnaw it. But even in the earliest days of the thirteenth -century, each person was provided with a small silver basin and two -flowered napkins of the finest linen, for finger-washing and wiping -purposes. Grapes, figs, nuts, apples, pears, and almonds, constituted -a Saxon dessert; and in the reign of Edward III. an Act of Parliament -was passed, forbidding any man or woman to be served with more than -two courses, unless on high days and holidays, when each was entitled -to three. - -Here is the bill for the ingredients of a big dinner provided by a -City Company in the fifteenth century: "Two loins of veal and two -loins of mutton, 1s. 4d.; one loin of beef, 4d.; one dozen pigeons -and 12 rabbits, 9d.; one pig and one capon, 1s.; one goose and 100 -eggs, 1s. 01/2d.; one leg of mutton, 21/2d.; two gallons of sack, 1s. 4d.; -eight gallons of strong ale, 1s. 6d.; total, 7s. 6d." Alas! In these -advanced days the goose alone would cost more than the "demmed total." - -Cedric the Saxon's dining table, described in _Ivanhoe_, was of a much -simpler description than the one noted above; and the fare also. But -there was no lack of assorted liquors--old wine and ale, good mead and -cider, rich morat (a mixture of honey and mulberry juice, a somewhat -gouty beverage, probably), and odoriferous pigment--which was composed -of highly-spiced wine, sweetened with honey. The Virgin Queen, at a -later epoch, was catered for more delicately; and we read that she -detested all coarse meats, evil smells, and strong wines. During the -Georgian era coarse meats and strong wines were by no means out of -favour; and Highland banquets especially were Gargantuan feasts, to -be read of with awe. The dinner given by Fergus MacIvor, in honour -of Captain Waverley, consisted of dishes of fish and game, carefully -dressed, at the upper end of the table, immediately under the eye -of the English stranger. "Lower down stood immense clumsy joints of -beef," says the gifted author, "which, but for the absence of pork, -abhorred in the Highlands, resembled the rude festivity of the banquet -of Penelope's suitors. But the central dish was a yearling lamb, -called a "hog in har'st," roasted whole. It was set upon its legs, -with a bunch of parsley in its mouth, and was probably exhibited in -that form to gratify the pride of the cook, who piqued himself more -on the plenty than the elegance of his master's table. The sides of -this poor animal"--the lamb, not the cook, we suppose is meant--"were -fiercely attacked by the clansmen, some with dirks, others with the -knives worn in the same sheath as the dagger, so that it was soon -rendered a mangled and rueful spectacle." - -A spectacle which reminds the writer of a dinner table at the Royal -Military College, Sandhurst, in the early sixties. - -"Lower down," continues Sir Walter, "the victuals seemed of yet -coarser quality, though sufficiently abundant. Broth, onions, cheese, -and the fragments of the feast, regaled the sons of Ivor, who feasted -in the open air." - -The funeral baked meats used after the interment of the chief of the -Clan Quhele (described in _The Fair Maid of Perth_) were also on a -very extensive scale, and were, like the other meal, "digested" with -pailfuls of usquebaugh, for which no Highland head that supported a -bonnet was ever "the waur i' th' morn." And the custom of placing -bagpipers behind the chairs of the guests, after they have well drunk, -which is still observed in Highland regiments, was probably introduced -by the aforesaid Fergus MacIvor, who really ought to have known better. - -And so the years rolled on; and at the commencement of the nineteenth -century, old England, instead of enjoying the blessings of universal -peace, such as the spread of the Gospel of Christianity might have -taught us to expect, found herself involved in rather more warfare -than was good for trade, or anything else. The first "innings" of the -Corsican usurper was a short but merry one; the second saw him finally -"stumped." And from that period dates the "avenging of Waterloo" which -we have suffered in silence for so long. The immigration of aliens -commenced, and in the tight little island were deposited a large -assortment of the poisonous seeds of alien cookery which had never -exactly flourished before. The combat between the Roast Beef of old -England and the bad fairy "_Ala_," with her attendant sprites Grease, -Vinegar, and Garlic, commenced; a combat which at the end of the -nineteenth century looked excessively like terminating in favour of -the fairy. - -It has been repeatedly urged against my former gastronomic writings -that they are unjustly severe on French cookery; that far greater -minds than mine own have expressed unqualified approval thereof; -that I know absolutely nothing about the subject; and that my avowed -hatred of our lively neighbours and their works is so ferocious as -to become ridiculous. These statements are not altogether fair to -myself. I have no "avowed hatred" of our lively neighbours; in fact, -upon one occasion on returning from the celebration of the Grand -Prix, I saw a vision of----but that is a different anecdote. My lash -has never embraced the entire _batterie de cuisine_ of the _chef_, -and there be many French _plats_ which are agreeable to the palate, -as long as we are satisfied that the _materiel_ of which they are -composed is sound, wholesome, and of the best quality. It is the cheap -_restaurateur_ who should be improved out of England. I was years ago -inveigled into visiting the kitchen of one of these grease-and-garlic -shops, and----but the memory is too terrible for language. And will -anybody advance the statement that a basin of the _tortue claire_ of -the average _chef_ deserves to be mentioned in the same breath with a -plate of clear turtle at Birch's or Painter's? or that good genuine -English soup, whether ox-tail, mock-turtle, pea, oyster, or Palestine, -is not to be preferred to the French _puree_, or to their teakettle -broth flavoured with carrots, cabbages, and onions, and dignified by -the name of _consomme_? - -Then let us tackle the subject of fish. Would you treat a salmon in -the British way, or smother him with thick brown gravy, fried onions, -garlic, mushrooms, inferior claret, oysters, sugar, pepper, salt, -and nutmeg, _en Matelote_, or mince him fine to make a ridiculous -_mousse_? Similarly with the honest, manly sole; would you fry or -grill him plain, or bake him in a coat of rich white sauce, onion -juice, mussel ditto, and white wine, or cider, _a la Normande_; or -cover him with toasted cheese _a la Cardinal_? - -The fairy "_Ala_" is likewise responsible for the clothing of purely -English food in French disguises. Thus a leg of mutton becomes a -_gigot_, a pheasant (for its transgressions in eating the poor -farmer's barley) a _faisan_, and is charged for at special rates in -the bill; whilst the nearest to a beef-steak our lively neighbours -can get is a portion of beef with the fibre smashed by a wooden -mallet, surmounted by an exceedingly bilious-looking compound like -axle-grease, and called a _Chateaubriand_; and curry becomes under the -new _regime_, _kari_. - -Undoubtedly, the principal reason for serving food smothered in -made-gravies lies in the inferiority of the food. Few judges will -credit France with the possession of better butcher's-meat--with the -exception of veal--than the perfidious island, which is so near in the -matter of distance, and yet so far in the matter of custom. And it is -an established fact that the fish of Paris is not as fresh as the fish -of London. Hence the _sole Normande_, the _sole au gratin_, and the -sole smothered in toasted cheese. But when we islanders are charged -at least four times as much for the inferior article, in its foreign -cloak, as for the home article in its native majesty, I think the -time has come to protest. It is possible to get an excellent dinner -at any of the "Gordon" hotels, at the "Savoy," the "Cecil," and at -some other noted food-houses--more especially at Romano's--by paying -a stiff price for it; but it is due to a shameful lack of enterprise -on the part of English caterers that a well-cooked English dinner is -becoming more difficult to procure, year after year. There be three -purely British dishes which are always "hoff" before all others on -the programme of club, hotel, or eating-house; and these are, Irish -stew, liver-and-bacon, and tripe-and-onions. Yet hardly a week -passes without a new _diner Parisien_ making its appearance in the -advertisement columns of the newspapers; whilst the cheap-and-nasty -_table d'hote_, with its six or seven courses and its Spanish claret, -has simply throttled the Roast Beef of Old England. - -"Sir," said Dr. Johnson, after examining a French _menu_, "my brain -is obfuscated after the perusal of this heterogeneous conglomeration -of bastard English ill-spelt, and a foreign tongue. I prithee bid thy -knaves bring me a dish of hog's puddings, a slice or two from the -upper cut of a well-roasted sirloin, and two apple-dumplings." - -"William," said George Augustus Sala to the old waiter at the -"Cheshire Cheese," "I've had nothing fit to eat for three months; get -me a point steak, for God's sake!" - -The great lauder of foreign cookery had only that day returned from -a special mission to France, to "write up" the works of the _cordon -bleu_ for the benefit of us benighted Englishmen. No man in the wide -wide world knew so much, or could write so much, on the subject of and -in praise of the fairy "_Ala_," as George Sala; and probably no man in -the wide wide world so little appreciated her efforts. - -But how has it come about that the fairy "_Ala_" has gained such -headway in this island of ours? The answer must commence another -chapter. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - - DINNER (_continued_) - - "It is the cause!" - - Imitation--Dear Lady Thistlebrain--Try it on the - dog--Criminality of the English Caterer--The stove, the stink, - the steamer--Roasting _v._ Baking--False Economy--Dirty - ovens--Frills and fingers--Time over Dinner--A long-winded - Bishop--Corned beef. - - -Now for the cause, alluded to at the end of the last chapter. - -_Imprimis_, the French invasion is due to the universal craze for -imitation, which may be the sincerest form of flattery, but which -frequently leads to bad results. For years past the fair sex of Great -Britain have been looking to Paris for fashion in dress, as well as -in cookery; whilst the other sex have long held the mistaken notion -that "they manage things better in France." The idea that France is -the only country capable of clothing the outer and the inner man, -artistically, has taken deep root. Thus, if the Duchess of Dulverton -import, regardless of expense, a divine creation in bonnets from -the Rue de Castiglione, and air the same in church, it is good odds -that little Mrs. Stokes, of the Talbot Road, Bayswater, will have -had the _chapeau_ copied, at about one-twentieth of the original -cost, by the next Sabbath day. Dear Lady Thistlebrain, who has _such_ -taste (since she quitted the family mangle in Little Toke Street, -Lambeth, for two mansions, a castle, and a deer park), and with whom -money is no object, pays her _chef_ the wages of an ambassador, and -everybody raves over her dinners. Mrs. Potter of Maida Vale sets her -"gal" (who studied higher gastronomy, together with the piano, and -flower-painting on satin, at the Board School) to work on similar -_menus_--with, on the whole, disastrous results. The London society -and fashion journals encourage this snobbish idea by quoting _menus_, -most of them ridiculous. Amongst the middle classes the custom of -giving dinner parties at hotels has for some time past been spreading, -partly to save trouble, and partly to save the brain of the domestic -cook; so that instead of sitting down to a plain dinner, with, maybe, -an _entree_ or two sent in by the local confectioner--around the -family mahogany tree, all may be fanciful decoration, and not half -enough to eat, electric light, and _a la_ with attendance charged in -the bill. - -The only way to stop this sort of thing is to bring the system into -ridicule, to try it on the groundlings. A fair leader of _ton_, late -in the sixties, appeared one morning in the haunts of fashion, her -shapely shoulders covered with a cape of finest Russian sables, to the -general admiration and envy of all her compeers. Thereupon, what did -her dearest friend and (of course) most deadly rival do? Get a similar -cape, or one of finer quality? Not a bit of it. She drove off, then -and there, to her furriers, and had her coachman and footman fitted -with similar capes, in (of course) cheaper material; and, when next -afternoon she took the air in the park, in her perfectly appointed -landau, her fur-clad menials created something like a panic in the -camp of her enemy, whilst fur capes for fair leaders of "_ton_," were, -like hashed venison at a City luncheon, very soon "hoff." - -It is extremely probable that, could it be arranged to feed our -starving poor, beneath the public gaze, on _soles Normandes_, -_cotelettes a la Reform_, and _salmi de gibier truffe_; to feast our -workhouse children on _bisque d'ecrevisses_ and _Ananas a la -Creole_, the upper classes of Great Britain would soon revert to plain -roast and boiled. - -But after all it is the English caterer who is chiefly to blame for -his own undoing. How is it that in what may be called the "food -streets" of the metropolis the foreign food-supplier should outnumber -the purveyor of the Roast Beef of Old England in the proportion of -fifty to one? Simply because the Roast Beef of Old England has become -almost as extinct as the Dodo. There are but few English kitchens, at -this end of the nineteenth century, in the which meat is roasted in -front of the fire. - -In order to save the cost of fuel, most English (save the mark!) -cooking is now performed by gas or steam; and at many large -establishments the food, whether fish, flesh, fowl, vegetables or -pastry, all goes, in a raw state, into a species of chest of drawers -made of block-tin, in which receptacle the daily luncheons, dinners, -and suppers are steamed and robbed of all flavour, save that of hot -tin. The pity of it! Better, far better for mankind the _a la_ system -than to be gradually "steamed" into the tomb! - -It is alleged that as good results in the way of roasting can be got -from an oven as from the spit. But that oven must be ventilated--with -both an inlet and an outlet ventilator, for one will not act without -the other. It is also advisable that said oven should be cleaned out -occasionally; for a hot oven with no joint therein will emit odours -anything but agreeable, if not attended to; and it is not too sweeping -a statement to say that the majority of ovens in busy kitchens -are foul. The system of steaming food (the alleged "roasts" being -subsequently browned in an oven) is of comparatively recent date; -but the oven as a roaster was the invention of one Count Rumford, at -the beginning of the nineteenth century. In one of his lectures on -oven-roasting, this nobleman remarked that he despaired of getting any -Englishman to believe his words; so that he was evidently confronted -with plenty of prejudice, which it is devoutly to be prayed still -exists in English homes. For I do vow and protest that the oven odours -which pervade the neighbourhood of the Strand, London, at midday, are -by no means calculated to whet the appetite of the would-be luncher or -diner. This is what such an authority as Mr. Buckmaster wrote on the -subject of the spit _versus_ the oven: - - "I believe I am regarded as a sort of heretic on the - question of roasting meat. My opinion is that the essential - condition of good roasting is constant basting, and this the - meat is not likely to have when shut up in an iron box; and - what is not easily done is easily neglected." - -In this connection there are more heretics than Mr. Buckmaster. But -if during my lifetime the days of burning heretics should be revived, -I shall certainly move the Court of Criminal Appeal in favour of -being roasted or grilled before, or over, the fire, instead of being -deprived of my natural juices in an iron box. - -Some few "roast" houses are still in existence in London, but they be -few and far between; and since Mr. Cooper gave up the "Albion," nearly -opposite the stage-door of Drury Lane Theatre, the lover of good, -wholesome, English food has lost one old-fashioned tavern in the which -he was certain of enjoying such food. - -It has been repeatedly urged in favour of French cookery that it -is so economical. But economy in the preparation of food is by no -means an unmixed blessing. I do not believe that much sole-leather -is used up in the ordinary _ragout_, or _salmi_; but many of us who -can afford more expensive joints have a prejudice against "scrags"; -whilst the tails of mutton chops frequently have a tainted flavour, -and the drumsticks and backs of fowls are only fit to grill, or boil -down into gravy. And it is not only the alien who is economical in -his preparation of the banquet. Many of the dwellers in the highways -and bye-ways of our great metropolis will boil down the outer skin -of a ham, and place a portion thereof, together with such scraps as -may also be purchased, at a penny or twopence the plateful, at the -ham and beef emporium, with maybe a "block ornament" or two from the -butcher's, in a pie dish, with a superstructure of potatoes, and have -the "scrap pie" cooked at the baker's for the Sunday dinner. Poor -wretches! Not much "waste" goes on in such households. But I have -known the "gal" who tortured the food in a cheap lodging-house throw -away the water in which a joint had just been boiled, but whether -this was from sheer ignorance, or "cussedness," or the desire to save -herself any future labour in the concoction of soup, deponent sayeth -not. By the way, it is in the matter of soup that the tastes of the -British and French peasantry differ so materially. Unless he or she -be absolutely starving, it is next to impossible to get one of the -groundlings of old England to attempt a basin of soup. And when they -do attempt the same, it has been already made for them. The Scotch, -who are born cooks, know much better than this; but do not, O reader, -if at all thin of skin, or refined of ear, listen too attentively to -the thanks which a denizen of the "disthressful counthry" will bestow -upon you for a "dhirty bowl o' bone-juice." - -How many modern diners, we wonder, know the original object of -placing frills around the shank of a leg or shoulder of mutton, a -ham, the shins of a fowl, or the bone of a cutlet? Fingers were -made before--and a long time before--forks. In the seventeenth -century--prior to which epoch not much nicety was observed in -carving, or eating--we read that "English gentlewomen were instructed -by schoolmistresses and professors of etiquette as to the ways in -which it behoved them to carve joints. That she might be able to grasp -a roasted chicken without greasing her left hand, the gentle housewife -was careful to trim its foot and the lower part of its legs with cut -paper. The paper frill which may still be seen round the bony point -and small end of a leg of mutton, is a memorial of the fashion in -which joints were _dressed_ for the dainty hands of lady-carvers, in -time prior to the introduction of the carving-fork, an implement that -was not in universal use so late as the Commonwealth." - -How long we should sit over the dinner-table is a matter of -controversy. At the commencement of the nineteenth century, in the -hard-drinking times, our forefathers were loth indeed to quit the -table. But the fairer portion of the guests were accustomed to adjourn -early, for tea and scandal in the withdrawing-room, the while their -lords sat and quarrelled over their port, with locked doors; and where -they fell there they frequently passed the night. The editor of the -_Almanach des Gourmands_ wrote: "Five hours at table are a reasonable -latitude to allow in the case of a large party and recondite cheer." -But the worthy Grimod de la Reymiere, the editor aforesaid, lived -at a period when dinner was not served as late as 8.30 P.M. There -is a legend of an Archbishop of York "who sat three entire years at -dinner." But this is one of those tales which specially suited the -dull, brandy-sodden brains of our ancestors. The facts are simply as -follows:--the archbishop had just sat down to dinner at noon when -an Italian priest called. Hearing that the dignitary was sitting at -meat the priest whiled away an hour in looking at the minster, and -called again, but was again "repelled by the porter." Twice more that -afternoon did the surly porter repel the Italian, and at the fourth -visit "the porter, in a heate, answered never a worde, and churlishlie -did shutte the gates upon him." Then the discomfited Italian returned -to Rome; and three years later, encountering an Englishman in the -Eternal City, who declared himself right well known to His Grace of -York, the Italian, all smiles, inquired: "I pray you, good sir, hath -that archbishop finished dinner yet?" Hence the story, which was -doubtless originally told by a fly-fisher. - -It is not a little singular that with increasing civilisation, a gong, -which is of barbaric, or semi-barbaric origin, should be the means -usually employed to summon us to the dinner-table. In days of yore -the horn, or cornet, was blown as the signal. Alexander Dumas tells -us that "at the period when noon was the dinner hour, the horn or -cornet (_le cor_) was used in great houses to announce dinner. Hence -came an expression which has been lost; they used to say cornet (or -trumpet) the dinner (_cornez le diner_)." And we are asked to believe -that to this practice "corned" beef owes its derivation. "In days when -inferior people ate little meat in the winter months save salted beef, -the more usual form of the order was _cornez le boeuf_, or 'corn the -beef.' Richardson errs egregiously when he insists that corned beef -derived its distinguishing epithet from the grains or corns of salt -with which it was pickled. Corned beef is trumpeted beef, or as we -should nowadays say, dinner-bell beef." - -Well--"I hae ma doots," as the Scotsman said. I am not so sure that -Richardson erred egregiously. But after all, as long as the beef be -good, and can be carved without the aid of pick and spade, what does -it matter? Let us to dinner! - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - - DINNER (_continued_) - - "The strong table groans - Beneath the smoking sirloin stretched immense." - - A merry Christmas--Bin F--A _Noel_ - banquet--Water-cress--How Royalty fares--The - Tsar--_Bouillabaisse_--_Tournedos_--_Bisque_--_Vol-au-vent_--_Pre - sale_--Chinese banquets--A fixed bayonet--_Bernardin - salmi_--The duck-squeezer--American cookery--"Borston" - beans--He couldn't eat beef. - - -A Christmas dinner in the early Victorian era! _Quelle fete -magnifique!_ The man who did not keep Christmas in a fitting manner -in those days was not thought much of. "Dines by himself at the club -on Christmas day!" was the way the late Mr. George Payne of sporting -memory, summed up a certain middle-aged recluse, with heaps of money, -who, although he had two estates in the country, preferred to live in -two small rooms in St. James's Place, S.W., and to take his meals at -"Arthur's." - -And how we boys (not to mention the little lasses in white frocks and -black mittens) used to overeat ourselves, on such occasions, with no -fear of pill, draught, or "staying in," before our eyes! - -The writer has in his mind's eye a good specimen of such an -old-fashioned dinner, as served in the fifties. It was pretty much -the same feast every Christmas. We commenced with some sort of clear -soup, with meat in it. Then came a codfish, crimped--the head of that -household would have as soon thought of eating a _sole au vin blanc_ -as of putting before his family an uncrimped cod--with plenty of -liver, oyster sauce, and pickled walnuts; and at the other end of the -table was a dish of fried smelts. _Entrees?_ Had any of the diners -asked for an _entree_, his or her _exit_ from the room would have been -a somewhat rapid one. A noble sirloin of Scotch beef faced a boiled -turkey anointed with celery sauce; and then appeared the blazing -pudding, and the mince-pies. For the next course, a dish of toasted -(or rather stewed) cheese, home-made and full of richness, was handed -round, with dry toast, the bearer of which was closely pursued by a -varlet carrying a huge double-handed vessel of hot spiced-ale, bobbing -or floating about in the which were roasted crab-apples and sippets of -toast; and it was _de rigueur_ for each of those who sat at meat to -extract a sippet, to eat with the cheese. - -How the old retainer, grey and plethoric with service, loved us boys, -and how he would manoeuvre to obtain for us the tit-bits! A favoured -servitor was "Joseph"; and though my revered progenitor was ostensibly -the head of the house, he would, on occasion, "run a bad second" -to "Joseph." Memory is still keen of a certain chilly evening in -September, when the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, and the -male guests were invited to be seated at the small table which had -been wheeled close to the replenished fire. - -"Joseph," said the dear old man, "bring us a bottle or two of the -yellow seal--_you_ know--Bin F." - -The servitor drew near to his master, and in a stage whisper exclaimed: - -"You can't afford it, sir!" - -"What's that?" roared the indignant old man. - -"You can't afford it, sir--Hawthornden's won th' Leger!" - -"Good Gad!" A pause--and then, "Well, never mind, Joseph, we'll have -up the yellow seal, all the same." - -One of the writer's last Christmas dinners was partaken of in a sweet -little house in Mayfair; and affords somewhat of a contrast with the -meal quoted above. We took our appetites away with a salad composed -of anchovies, capers, truffles, and other things, a Russian sardine -or two, and rolls and butter. Thence, we drifted into _Bouillabaisse_ -(a tasty but bile-provoking broth), toyed with some _filets de sole -a la Parisienne_ (good but greasy), and disposed of a _tournedos_, -with a nice fat oyster atop, apiece (_et parlez-moi d'ca!_). Then came -some dickey-birds _sur canape_--alleged to be snipe, but destitute -of flavour, save that of the tin they had been spoiled in, and of -the "canopy." An alien cook can _not_ cook game, whatever choice -confections he may turn out--at least that is the experience of the -writer. We had _cressons_, of course, with the birds; though how -water-cress can possibly assimilate with the flesh of a snipe is -questionable. "Water-creases" are all very well at tea in the arbour, -but don't go smoothly with any sort of fowl; and to put such rank -stuff into a salad--as my hostess's cook did--is absolutely criminal. - -To continue the Mayfair banquet, the salad was followed by a _soufflee -a la Noel_ (which reminded some of the more imaginative of our party -of the festive season), some cheese straws, and the customary ices, -coffee, and liqueurs. On the whole, not a bad meal; but what would old -Father Christmas have said thereto? What would my revered progenitor -have remarked, had he been allowed to revisit the glimpses of the -moon? He did not love our lively neighbours; and, upon the only -occasion on which he was inveigled across the Channel, took especial -care to recross it the very next day, lest, through circumstances -not under his own control, he might come to be "buried amongst these -d----d French!" - -The following _menu_ may give some idea as to how - - - _Royalty_ - -entertains its guests. Said _menu_, as will be seen, is comparatively -simple, and many of the dishes are French only in name:-- - - Huitres - ---- - Consomme aux oeufs poches - Bisque d'ecrevisses - ---- - Turbot, sauce d'homard - Fillets de saumon a l'Indienne - ---- - Vol-au-vent Financiere - Mauviettes sur le Nid - ---- - Selle de mouton de Galles rotie - Poulardes a l'Estragon - ---- - Faisans - Becassines sur croute - ---- - Chouxfleur au gratin - ---- - Plum Pudding - Bavarois aux abricots - ---- - Glace a la Mocha - -Truly a pattern dinner, this; and 'twould be sheer impertinence to -comment thereon, beyond remarking that English dishes should, in -common fairness, be called by English names. - -Her Imperial Majesty the Tsaritza, on the night of her arrival at -Darmstadt, in October 1896, sat down, together with her august -husband, to the following simple meal:-- - - Consomme de Volaille Cronstades d'ecrevisses - ---- - Filet de Turbot a la Joinville - ---- - Cimier de Chevreuil - [A haunch of Roebuck is far to be desired above - the same quarter of the red deer]. - ---- - Terrine de Perdreaux - ---- - Ponche Royale - ---- - Poularde de Metz - ---- - Choux de Bruxelles - ---- - Bavarois aux Abricots - ---- - Glaces Panachees - -The partiality of crowned heads towards "Bavarois aux -Abricots"--"Bavarois" is simply Bavarian cheese, a superior sort of -_blanc mange_--is proverbial. And the above repast was served on -priceless Meissen china and silver. The only remarks I will make upon -the above _menu_ are that it is quite possible that the capon may have -come from Metz, though not very probable. French cooks name their -meat and poultry in the most reckless fashion. For instance, owing to -this reckless nomenclature the belief has grown that the best ducks -come from Rouen. Nothing of the sort. There are just as good ducks -raised at West Hartlepool as at Rouen. "Rouen" in the bill-of-fare is -simply a corruption of "roan"; and a "roan duck" is a quacker who -has assumed (through crossing) the reddish plumage of the wild bird. -As for (alleged) Surrey fowls, most of them come from Heathfield in -Sussex, whence L142,000 worth were sent in 1896. - -Let us enquire into the composition of some of the high-sounding -_plats_, served up by the average _chef_. - -_Bouillabaisse._--Of it Thackeray sang-- - - "This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is-- - A sort of soup, or broth, or brew, - Or hotch-potch of all sorts of fishes - That Greenwich never could outdo: - Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, - Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace; - All these you eat at Terre's tavern, - In that one dish of Bouillabaisse." - -Avoid eels and herrings in this concoction as too oily. Soles, -mullet, John Dory, whiting, flounders, perch, roach, and mussels -will blend well, and allow half a pound of fish for each person. For -every pound of fish put in the stewpan a pint of water, a quarter of -a pint of white wine, and a tablespoonful of salad oil. If there be -four partakers, add two sliced onions, two cloves, two bay-leaves, -two leeks (the white part only, chopped), four cloves of garlic, a -tablespoonful chopped parsley, a good squeeze of lemon juice, half -an ounce of chopped capsicums, a teaspoonful (or more _ad lib._) of -saffron, with pepper and salt. Mix the chopped fish in all this, and -boil for half an hour. Let the mixture "gallop" and strain into a -tureen with sippets, and the fish served separately. - -_Tournedos._--No relation to tornado, and you won't find the word in -any Gallic dictionary. A _tournedos_ is a thin collop of beef, steeped -in a _marinade_ for twenty-four hours (personally I prefer it without -the aid of the marine) and fried lightly. Turn it but _once_. The -oyster atop is simply scalded. _Try this dish._ - -_Bisque._--In the seventeenth century this was made from pigeons by -the poor barbarians who knew not the gentle lobster, nor the confiding -crayfish. Heat up to boiling-point a Mirepoix of white wine. You don't -know what a - - _Mirepoix_ - -is? Simply a faggot of vegetables, named after a notorious cuckold -of noble birth in the time of Louis XV. Two carrots, two onions, two -shalots, two bay-leaves, a sprig of thyme and a clove of garlic. -Mince very small, with half a pound of fat bacon, half a pound of raw -ham, pepper and salt, and a little butter. Add a sufficiency of white -wine. In this mixture cook two dozen crayfish for twenty minutes, -continually tossing them about till red, when take them out to cool. -Shell them, all but the claws, which should be pounded in a mortar and -mixed with butter. The flesh of the tails is reserved to be put in the -soup at the last minute; the body-flesh goes back into the _mirepoix_, -to which two quarts of broth are now added. Add the pounded shells to -the soup, simmer for an hour and a half, strain, heat up, add a piece -of butter, the tails, a seasoning of cayenne, and a few _quenelles_ -of whiting. - -_Vol-au-vent Financiere._--This always reminds me of the fearful -threat hurled by the waiter in the "Bab Ballads" at his flighty -sweetheart: - - "Flirtez toujours, ma belle, si tu oses, - Je me vengerai ainsi, ma chere: - Je lui dirai d'quoi on compose - Vol-au-vent a la Financiere!" - - Make your crust--light as air, and flaky as snow, an you - value your situation--and fill with button mushrooms, truffles, - cock's-combs, _quenelles_ of chicken, and sweetbread, all - chopped, seasoned, and moistened with a butter sauce. Brown - gravy is objectionable. Garnish the _Vol_ with fried parsley, - which goes well with most luxuries of this sort. - -There are some words which occur frequently in French cookery which, -to the ordinary perfidious Briton, are cruelly misleading. For years -I was under the impression that _Brillat Savarin_ was a species of -filleted fish (brill) in a rich gravy, instead of a French magistrate, -who treated gastronomy poetically, and always ate his food too fast. -And only within the last decade have I discovered what a - - - _Pre Sale_ - -really means. Literally, it is "salt meadow, or marsh." It is said -that sheep fed on a salt marsh make excellent mutton; but is it not -about time for Britannia, the alleged pride of the ocean, and ruler of -its billows, to put her foot down and protest against a leg of "prime -Down"--but recently landed from the Antipodes--being described on the -card as a _Gigot de pre sale_? - -The meals, like the ways, of the "Heathen Chinee" are peculiar. Some -of his food, to quote poor Corney Grain, is "absolutely beastly." - - - _Li Hung Chang_ - -was welcomed to Carlton House Terrace, London, with a dinner, in -twelve courses, the following being the principal items:--Roast duck, -roast pork and raspberry jam, followed by dressed cucumber. Shrimps -were devoured, armour and all, with leeks, gherkins, and mushrooms. -A couple of young chickens preserved in wine and vinegar, with green -peas, a _puree_ of pigeon's legs followed by an assortment of sour -jellies. The banquet concluded with sponge cakes and tea. - -In his own land the - - - _Chinaman's Evening Repast_ - -is much more variegated than the above. It is almost as long as a -Chinese drama, and includes melon seeds, bitter almonds, bamboo -sprouts, jelly-fish, cucumber, roast duck, chicken stewed in spirit -dregs,[4] peas, prawns, sausages, scallions, fish-brawn, pork -chops, plum blossoms, oranges, bird's-nest soup, pigeons' eggs -in bean curd--the eggs being "postponed" ones--fungus, shrimps, -macerated fish-fins, ham in flour, ham in honey, turnip cakes, roast -sucking-pig, fish maws, roast mutton, wild ducks' feet, water -chestnuts, egg rolls, lily seeds, stewed mushrooms, dressed crab with -jam, chrysanthemum pasties, _beche-de-mer_, and pigs' feet in honey. -Can it be wondered at that this nation should have been brought to its -knees by gallant little Japan? - - - _The Englishman in China_ - -has not a particularly good time of it, in the gastronomic way, -and H.M. forces in Hong Kong are largely dependent on Shanghai for -supplies. There is "plenty pig" all over the land; but the dairy-fed -pork of old England is preferable. And the way "this little pig goes -to market" savours so strongly of the most refined cruelty that a -branch of the R.S.P.C.A. would have the busiest of times of it over -yonder. - -Reverting to French cookery, here is an appetising dish, called a - - - _Bernardin Salmi_. - -It should be prepared in the dining-room, before the eyes of the -guests; and Grimod de la Reyniere (to whom the recipe was given by -the prior of an abbey of Bernardin monks) recommends that the _salmi_ -should be conveyed to the mouth with a fork, for fear of devouring -one's fingers, should they touch the sauce. - - Take three woodcocks, underdone, and cut them into neat - portions. On a silver dish bruise the livers and trails, - squeeze over them the juice of four (?) lemons, and grate over - them a little of the thin rind. Add the portions of woodcock, - seasoned with salt, and--according to the prior--mixed spices - and two teaspoonfuls of French mustard; but the writer would - substitute cayenne _seul_; over all half a wine-glass of - sherry; and then put the dish over a spirit lamp. When the - mixture is _nearly_ boiling, add a tablespoonful of salad oil, - blow out the light, and stir well. _Four_ lemons are mentioned - in this recipe, as at the time it was written lemons were very - small when "cocks" were "in." _Two_ imported lemons (or limes) - will amply suffice nowadays. - - - _A Salmi of Wild Duck_ - -can be made almost in the same way, but here the aid of that modern -instrument the _Duck-Squeezer_ is necessary. - - Cut the best of the meat in slices, off a lightly-roasted - wild-duck, after brought to table; break up the carcase and - place in a species of mill (silver) called a "duck-squeezer," - which possesses a spout through which the richness of the - animal escapes, after being squeezed. Make a gravy of this - liquor, in a silver dish (with a spirit lamp beneath), added to - a small pat of butter, the juice of a lemon, a tablespoonful - of Worcester sauce, with cayenne and salt to taste, and half - a wine-glassful of port wine. Warm the meat through in this - gravy, which must not boil. - -Of course these two last-named dishes are only intended for -bachelor-parties. Lovely woman must not be kept waiting for -"duck-squeezers" or anything else. - - - _The Jesuits_ - -introduced the turkey into Europe, of which feat the Jesuits need -not boast too much; for to some minds there be many better edible -birds; and the "gobbler" requires, when roasted or boiled, plenty of -seasoning to make him palatable. The French stuff him in his roasted -state, with truffles, fat force-meat, or chestnuts, and invariably -"bard" the bird--"bard" is old English as well as old French--with -fat bacon. The French turkey is also frequently brazed, with an -abundant _mirepoix_ made with what their cooks call "Madere," but -which is really Marsala. It is only we English who boil the "gobbler," -and stuff him (or her, for it is the hen who usually goes into the -pot) with oysters, or force-meat, with celery sauce. Probably the -best parts of the turkey are his legs, when grilled for breakfast, -and smothered with the sauce mentioned in one of the chapters on -"Breakfast"; and - - - _Pulled Turkey_ - -makes an agreeable luncheon-dish, or _entree_ at dinner, the -breast-meat being pulled off the bone with a fork, and fricasseed, -surrounded in the dish by the grilled thighs and pinions. - -Who introduced the turkey into America deponent sayeth not. Probably, -like Topsy, it "growed" there. Anyhow the bird is so familiar a -table-companion in the States, that Americans, when on tour in Europe, -fight very shy of him. "Tukkey, sah, cranberry sarce," used to be the -stereotyped reply of the black waiter when interrogated on the subject -of the bill of fare. - - - _Coloured Help_ - -is, however, gradually being ousted (together with sulphur matches) -from the big hotels in New York, where white waiting and white food -are coming into, or have come into, regular use. In fact, with -the occasional addition of one or other of such special dishes as -terrapin, soft-shell crab, clam chowder, and the everlasting pork and -beans, a dinner in New York differs very little at the time of writing -(1897) from one in London. The taste for - - - _Clam Chowder_ - -is an acquired one, nor will stewed tortoise ever rank with thick -turtle in British estimation, although 'tis not the same tortoise -which is used in London households to break the coals with. A - - - _Canvass-back Duck_, - -if eaten in the land of his birth, is decidedly the most -delicately-flavoured of all the "Quack" family. His favourite food is -said to be wild celery, and his favoured haunts the neighbourhood of -Chesapeake Bay, from whose waters comes the much prized "diamond-back" -terrapin, which is sold at the rate of 50$ or 60$ the dozen. The -canvass-back duck, however, suffers in transportation; in fact, the -tendency of the ice-house aboard ship is to rob all food of its -flavour. - -But however good be the living in - - - _New York City_ - ---where the hotels are the best in the world, and whose _Mr. -Delmonico_ can give points to all sorts and conditions of food -caterers--it is "a bit rough" in the provinces. There is a story told -of a young actor, on tour, who "struck" a small town out West, and put -up at a small inn. In the course of time dinner was served, and the -landlord waited at table. The principal cover was removed, disclosing -a fine joint of coarsish, indifferently-cooked beef. Our young actor -was strangely moved at the sight. - -"What?" he cried. "Beef again? This is horrible! I've seen no other -food for months, and I'm sick and tired of it. I can't eat beef." - -Whereupon his host whipped out a huge "six-shooter" revolver, and -covering the recalcitrant beef-eater, coolly remarked: - -"Guess you kin!" - -But I don't believe that story, any more than I believe the anecdote -of the cowboys and the daylight let through the visitor who couldn't -eat beans. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - - DINNER (_continued_) - - "The combat deepens. On ye brave, - The _cordon bleu_, and then the grave! - Wave, landlord! all thy _menus_ wave, - And charge with all thy devilry!" - - French soup--A regimental dinner--A city - banquet--_Baksheesh_--Aboard ship--An ideal dinner--Cod's - liver--Sleeping in the kitchen--A _fricandeau_--Regimental - messes--Peter the Great--Napoleon the Great--Victoria--The Iron - Duke--Mushrooms--A medical opinion--A North Pole banquet--Dogs - as food--Plain unvarnished fare--The Kent Road cookery--More - beans than bacon. - - -"What's in a name?" inquired the love-sick Juliet. "What?" echoes -the bad fairy "_Ala_." After all the fuss made by the French over -their soups, we might expect more variety than is given us. If it be -true that we English have only one sauce, it is equally true that -our lively neighbours have only one soup--and that one is a broth. -It is known to the frequenters of restaurants under at least eleven -different names _Brunoise_, _Jardiniere_, _Printanier_, _Chiffonade_, -_Macedoine_, _Julienne_, _Faubonne_, _Paysanne_, _Flamande_, -_Mitonnage_, _Croute au Pot_, and, as Sam Weller would say, "It's the -flavouring as does it." It is simply _bouillon_, plain broth, and weak -at that. The addition of a cabbage, or a leek, or a common or beggar's -crust, will change a _potage a la Jardiniere_ into a _Croute au Pot_, -and _vice versa_. Great is "_Ala_"; and five hundred per cent is her -profit! - -The amount of money lavished by diners-about upon the productions -of the alien _chef_ would be ludicrous to consider, were not the -extravagance absolutely criminal. The writer has partaken of about -the most expensive dinner--English for the most part, with French -names to the dishes--that could be put on the table, the charge being -(including wines) one guinea per mouth. Another banquet, given by a -gay youth who had acquired a large sum through ruining somebody else -on the Stock Exchange--the meal positively reeking of _Ala_--was -charged for by the hotel manager at the rate of _sixteen pounds_ -per head, also including wines. I was told afterwards, though I -am still sceptical as to the veracity of the statement, that the -flowers on the table at that banquet cost alone more than L75. And -only on the previous Sunday, our host's father--a just nobleman and -a God-fearing--had delivered a lecture, at a popular institution, on -"Thrift." - -Here follows the _menu_ of the above-mentioned guinea meal, - - _A Regimental Dinner_, - -held at a well-known city house. - - _Vins._ | _Hors d'OEuvres._ - | Crevettes. Thon Marine. Beurre. - | Radis. - | - | _Potages._ - Madere. | Tortue Claire et Liee. - | Gras de Tortue Vert. - | - | _Releves de Tortue._ - Ponche Glace. | Ailerons aux fines Herbes. - | Cotelettes a la Perigueux. - | - | _Poissons._ - | Souche de Saumon. - Schloss Johannisberg. | Turbot au Vin Blanc. - | Blanchaille Nature et Kari. - | - | _Entrees._ - Amontillado. | Supreme de Ris de Veau a la Princesse. - | Aspic de Homard. - | - Champagne. | _Releves._ - Piper Heidsieck, 1884. | Venaison, Sauce Groseille. - Boll et Cie., 1884. | York Ham au Champagne. - Burgundy. | Poulardes a l'Estragon. - Romanee, 1855. | ----- - | Asperges. Haricots Verts. - | Pommes Rissoliees. - | - | _Rot._ - Port, 1851. | Canetons de Rouen. - | - | _Entremets._ - Claret. | Ananas a la Creole. Patisserie Parisienne. - Chateau Leoville. | Gelees Panachees. - | - | _Glace._ - Liqueurs. | Souffles aux Fraises. - | - | _Dessert, etc._ - -And some of the younger officers complained bitterly at having to pay -L1:1s. for the privilege of "larking" over such a course! - -There are only three faults I can find in the above programme: (1) -Confusion to the man who expects the British Army to swallow green fat -in French. (2) Whitebait is far too delicately flavoured a fowl to -curry. (3) Too much eating and drinking. - - - _City Dinners_ - -are for the most part an infliction (or affliction) on the diner. With -more than fourscore sitting at meat, the miracle of the loaves and -fishes is repeated--with, frequently, the fish left out. - -"I give you my word, dear old chappie," once exclaimed a gilded youth -who had been assisting at one of these functions, to the writer, "all -I could get hold of, during the struggle, was an orange and a cold -plate!" - -The great and powerful system of - - - _Baksheesh_, - -of course, enters largely into these public entertainments; and the -man who omits to fee the waiter in advance, as a rule, "gets left." -Bookmakers and others who go racing are the greatest sinners in this -respect. A well-known magnate of the betting-ring (1896) invariably, -after arriving at an hotel, hunts up the _chef_, and sheds upon him a -"fiver," or a "tenner," according to the size of the house, and the -repute of its cookery. And that metallician and his party are not -likely to starve during their stay, whatever may be the fate of those -who omit to "remember" the Commissariat Department. I have seen the -same bookmaker carry, with his own hands, the remains of a great dish -of "Hot-pot" into the dining-room of his neighbours, who had been -ringing for a waiter, and clamouring for food for the best part of an -hour, without effect. - -The same system prevails aboard ship; and the passenger who has not -propitiated the head steward at the commencement of the voyage will -not fare sumptuously. The steamship companies may deny this statement; -but 'tis true nevertheless. - - - _Dinner Afloat._ - -Here is an average dinner-card during a life on the ocean wave: - - Julienne soup, boiled salmon with shrimp sauce, roast - beef and Yorkshire pudding, jugged hare, French beans _a la - Maitre d'Hotel_, chicken curry, roast turkey with _puree_ of - chestnuts, _fanchouettes_ (what are they?), sausage rolls, - greengage tarts, plum-puddings, lemon-jellies, biscuits and - cheese, fruit, coffee. - -Plenty of variety here, though some epicures might resent the presence -of a sausage-roll (the common or railway-station bag of mystery) -on the dinner table. But since the carriage of live stock aboard -passenger ships has been abandoned, the living is not nearly as good; -for, as before observed, the tendency of the ice-house is to make all -flesh taste alike. Civilisation has, doubtless, done wonders for us; -but most people prefer mutton to have a flavour distinct from that of -beef. - -My - - - _Ideal Dinner_ - -was partaken of in a little old-fashioned hostelry (at the west -end of London), whose name the concentrated efforts of all the wild -horses in the world would not extract. Familiarity breeds contempt, -and publicity oft kills that which is brought to light. Our host was a -wine-merchant in a large way of business. - -"I can only promise you plain food, good sirs," he mentioned, in -advance--"no foreign kick-shaws; but everything done to a turn." - -Six of us started with clear turtle, followed by a thick wedge out of -the middle of a patriarchal codfish, with plenty of liver. And here a -pause must be made. In not one cookery-book known to mankind can be -found a recipe for cooking the - - - _Liver of a Cod_. - -Of course it should not be cooked _with_ the fish, but in a separate -vessel. The writer once went the rounds of the kitchens to obtain -information on this point. - -"'Bout half-an-hour," said one cook, a "hard-bitten" looking -food-spoiler. - -"_Ma foi!_ I cook not at all the liver of the cod," said an unshorn -son of Normandy. "He is for the _malade_ only." - -After asking a number of questions, and a journey literally "round the -town," the deduction made from the various answers was that a piece of -liver enough for six people would take eighteen minutes, after being -placed in _boiling_ water. - -To continue with our dinner. No sauce with the oysters, but these -simply scalded in their own liquor. Then came on a monster steak, an -inch thick, cut from the rump immediately before being placed on the -gridiron. And here a word on the grilling of a steak. We English place -it nearer the fire than do our lively neighbours, whose grills do not, -in consequence, present that firm surface which is the charm of an -English steak. The late Mr. Godfrey Turner of the _Daily Telegraph_ -(who was almost as great an authority as Mr. Sala on gastronomies) -once observed to the writer, "Never turn your steak, or chop, more -than once." Though by no means a disciple of _Ala_, he was evidently -a believer in the French method of grilling, which leaves a sodden, -flabby surface on the meat. The French cook only turns a steak once; -but if he had his gridiron as close to the fire as his English rival, -the _chef_ would inevitably cremate his _morceau d'boeuf_. I take -it that in grilling, as in roasting, the meat should, in the first -instance, almost touch the glowing embers. - -We had nothing but horse-radish with our steak, which was succeeded by -golden plovers (about the best bird that flies) and marrow bones. And -a dig into a ripe Stilton concluded a banquet which we would not have -exchanged for the best efforts of Francatelli himself. - -Yes--despite the efforts of the bad fairy _Ala_, the English method -of cooking good food--if deftly and properly employed--is a long way -the better method. Unfortunately, through the fault of the English -themselves, this method is but seldom employed deftly or properly. -And at a cheap English eating-house the kitchen is usually as dirty -and malodorous as at an inexpensive foreign restaurant. As both -invariably serve as sleeping apartments during the silent watches of -the night, this is, perhaps, not altogether to be wondered at. - -But there is one _plat_ in the French cookery book which is not to be -sneered at, or even condemned with faint praise. A properly-dressed -_fricandeau_ is a dainty morsel indeed. In fact the word _fricand_ -means, in English, "dainty." Here is the recipe of the celebrated -_Gouffe_ for the FRICANDEAU: - - Three pounds of veal fillet, trimmed, and larded with fat - bacon. Put in the glazing stewpan the trimmings, two ounces - of sliced carrot, two ditto onion, with pepper and salt. Lay - the _fricandeau_ on the top; add half a pint of broth; boil - the broth till it is reduced and becomes thick and yellow; - add a pint and a half more broth, and simmer for an hour and - a quarter--the stewpan half covered. Then close the stewpan - and put live coals on the top. Baste the _fricandeau_ with the - gravy--presumably after the removal of the dead coals--every - four minutes till it is sufficiently glazed; then take it out - and place on a dish. Strain the gravy, skim off the fat, and - pour over the meat. It may be added that a spirit lamp beneath - the dish is (or should be) _de rigueur_. - -In their clubs, those (alleged) "gilded saloons of profligacy and -debauchery, favoured of the aristocracy," men, as a rule dine wisely, -and well, and, moreover, cheaply. The extravagant diner-out, with -his crude views on the eternal fitness of things, selects an hotel, -or restaurant, in the which, although the food may be of the worst -quality, and the cookery of the greasiest, the charges are certain to -be on the millionaire scale. For bad dinners, like bad lodgings, are -invariably the dearest. - - - _At the Mess-Table_ - -of the British officer there is not much riot or extravagance -nowadays, and the food is but indifferently well cooked; though there -was a time when the youngest cornet would turn up his nose at anything -commoner than a "special _cuvee_" of champagne, and would unite with -his fellows in the "bear-fight" which invariably concluded a "guest -night," and during which the messman, or one of his myrmidons, was -occasionally placed atop of the ante-room fire. And there was one -messman who even preferred that mode of treatment to being lectured by -his colonel. Said officer was starchy, punctilious, and long-winded, -and upon one occasion, when the chaplain to the garrison was his guest -at dinner, addressed the terrified servant somewhat after this wise: - -"Mr. Messman--I have this evening bidden to our feast this eminent -divine, who prayeth daily that we may receive the fruits of the -earth in due season; to which I, an humble layman, am in the habit -of responding: 'We beseech thee to hear us, good Lord.' Mr. Messman, -don't let me see those d----d figs on the table again." - -At a military guest-night in India, a turkey and a "Europe" ham -are--or were--_de rigueur_ at table; and on the whole the warrior -fares well, if the _khansamah_ do not attempt luxuries. His chicken -cutlets are not despicable, and we can even forgive the repetition of -the _vilolif_ but his _bifisteakishtoo_ (stewed steak) is usually too -highly-spiced for the European palate. Later in the evening, however, -he will come out strong with _duvlebone_, and grilled sardines in -curlpapers. The presence of the bagpipes, in the mess-room of a -Highland regiment, when men have well drunk, is cruelly unkind--to -the Saxon guest at all events. The bagpipe is doubtless a melodious -instrument (to trained ears), but its melodies are apt to "hum i' th' -head o'er muckle ye ken," after a course of haggis washed down with -sparkling wines and old port. - -"Tell me what a man eats," said Brillat Savarin, "and I'll tell you -what he is." - - - _Peter the Great_ - -did not like the presence of "listening lacqueys" in the dining-room. -Peter's favourite dinner was, like himself, peculiar: "A soup, with -four cabbages in it; gruel; pig, with sour cream for sauce; cold roast -meat with pickled cucumbers or salad; lemons and lamprey, salt meat, -ham, and Limburg cheese." - -"Lemons and lamprey" must have had a roughish seat, atop of pig -and sour cream. I once tasted lampreys--only once. It was in -Worcestershire, and said lampreys were stewed (I fancy) in burgundy, -and served in a small tureen--_en casserole_, our lively neighbours -would have called the production, which was grateful, but much -embarrassed with richness. - - - _Napoleon the Great_, - -whose tastes were simple, is said to have preferred a broiled breast -of mutton to any other dinner-dish. Napoleon III., however, encouraged -extravagance of living; and Zola tells us in _Le Debacle_ that the -unfortunate emperor, ill as he was, used to sit down to so many -courses of rich foods every night until "the downfall" arrived at -Sedan, and that a train of cooks and scullions with (literally) a -"_batterie_" _de cuisine_, was attached to his staff. - - - _Her Majesty_ - -Queen Victoria's dinner-table is invariably graced with a cold sirloin -of beef, amongst other joints; and the same simple fare has satisfied -the aspirations and gratified the palate of full many a celebrity. The -great - - - _Duke of Wellington_ - -was partial to a well-made Irish stew; and nothing delighted Charles -Dickens more than a slice out of the breast of a hot roast-goose. - -A word about the mushroom. Although said to be of enormous value in -sauces and ragouts, I shall always maintain that the mushroom is best -when eaten all by his quaint self. His flavour is so delicate that -'tis pitiful to mix him with fish, flesh, or fowl--more especially -the first-named. I have seen mushrooms and bacon cooked together, -and I have seen beef-steak (cut into small pieces) and bacon cooked -together, and it was with some difficulty that my Irish host got me -out of the kitchen. If ever I am hanged, it will be for killing a -cook. Above all never eat mushrooms which you have not seen in their -uncooked state. The mushroom, like the truffle, loses more flavour the -longer he is kept; and to "postpone" either is fatal. - -"The plainer the meal the longer the life." Thus an eminent -physician--already mentioned in these pages. "We begin with soup, and -perhaps a glass of cold punch, to be followed by a piece of turbot, -or a slice of salmon with lobster sauce; and while the venison or -South-down is getting ready, we toy with a piece of sweetbread, and -mellow it with a bumper of Madeira. No sooner is the mutton or venison -disposed of, with its never-failing accompaniments of jelly and -vegetables, than we set the whole of it in a ferment with champagne, -and drown it with hock and sauterne. These are quickly followed by the -wing and breast of a partridge, or a bit of pheasant or wild duck; -and when the stomach is all on fire with excitement, we cool it for -an instant with a piece of iced pudding, and then immediately lash it -into a fury with undiluted alcohol in the form of cognac or a strong -liqueur; after which there comes a spoonful or so of jelly as an -emollient, a morsel of ripe Stilton as a digestant, a piquant salad -to whet the appetite for wine, and a glass of old port to persuade -the stomach, if it can, into quietness. All these are more leisurely -succeeded by dessert, with its baked meats, its fruits, and its strong -drinks, to be afterwards muddled with coffee, and complicated into a -rare mixture with tea, floating with the richest cream." - -Hoity, toity! And not a word about a French _plat_, or even a curry, -either! But we must remember that this diatribe comes from a gentleman -who has laid down the theory that cold water is not only the cheapest -of beverages, but the best. Exception, too, may be taken to the -statement that a "piquant salad" whets the appetite for wine. I had -always imagined that a salad--and, indeed, anything with vinegar -in its composition--rather spoilt the human palate for wine than -otherwise. And what sort of "baked meats" are usually served with -desert? - - - _How the Poor Live._ - -An esteemed friend who has seen better days, sends word how to dine a -man, his wife, and three children for 71/2d. He heads his letter - - - _The Kent Road Cookery_. - -A stew is prepared with the following ingredients: 1 lb. bullock's -cheek (31/2d.), 1/2 pint white beans (1d.), 1/2 pint lentils (1d.), -pot-herbs (1d.), 2 lb. potatoes (1d.)--Total 71/2d. - -When he has friends, the banquet is more expensive: 1 lb. bullock's -cheek (31/2d.), 1/2 lb. cow-heel (21/2d.), 1/2 lb. leg of beef (3d.), 1 pint -white beans (2d.), 1/2 pint lentils (1d.), pot-herbs (1d.), 5 lb. -potatoes (2d.)--total 1s. 3d. - -As we never know what may happen, the above _menus_ may come in useful. - - - _Doctor Nansen's Banquet_ - -on the ice-floe, to celebrate his failure to discover the Pole, was -simple enough, at all events. But it would hardly commend itself to -the _fin de siecle_ "Johnny." There was raw gull in it, by way of -a full-flavoured combination of _poisson_ and _entree_; there was -meat chocolate in it, and peli--I should say, pemmican. There were -pancakes, made of oatmeal and dog's blood, fried in seal's blubber. -And I rather fancy the _releve_ was _Chien au nature_. For in his most -interesting work, _Across Greenland_, Doctor Nansen has inserted the -statement that the man who turns his nose up at raw dog for dinner is -unfit for an Arctic expedition. For my own poor part, I would take my -chance with a Porterhouse steak, cut from a Polar bear. - - - _Prison Fare._ - -Another simple meal. Any visitor to one of H.M. penitentiaries may -have noticed in the cells a statement to the effect that "beans -and bacon" may be substituted for meat, for the convicts' dinners, -on certain days. "Beans and bacon" sounds rural, if not absolutely -bucolic. "Fancy giving such good food to the wretches!" once exclaimed -a lady visitor. But those who have sampled the said "beans and bacon" -say that it is hardly to be preferred to the six ounces of Australian -dingo or the coarse suet-duff (plumless) which furnish the ordinary -prison dinner. For the tablespoonful of pappy beans with which the -captive staves off starvation are of the _genus_ "haricot"; and the -parallelogram of salted hog's-flesh which accompanies the beans does -not exceed, in size, the ordinary railway ticket. - - - - - CHAPTER X - - VEGETABLES - - "Herbs and other country messes, - Which the neat-handed Phyllis dresses." - - Use and abuse of the potato--Its eccentricities--Its - origin--Hawkins, not Raleigh, introduced it into - England--With or without the "jacket"?--Don't let it be - _a-la_-ed--Benevolence and large-heartedness of the cabbage - family--Peas on earth--Pythagoras on the bean--"Giving him - beans"--"Haricot" a misnomer--"Borston" beans--Frijoles--The - carrot--Crecy soup--The Prince of Wales--The Black Prince and - the King of Bohemia. - - -Item, the POTATO, earth-apple, murphy, or spud; the most useful, as -well as the most exasperating gift of a bountiful Providence. Those -inclined to obesity may skip the greater part of this chapter. You can -employ a potato for almost anything. It comes in very handy for the -manufacture of starch, sugar, Irish stew, Scotch whisky, and Colorado -beetles. Cut it in half, and with one half you restore an old master, -and with the other drive the cat from the back garden. More deadly -battles have been waged over the proper way to cook a potato, than -over a parish boundary, or an Irish eviction. Strong-headed men hurl -the spud high in air, and receive and fracture it on their frontal -bones; whilst a juggler like Paul Cinquevalli can do what he likes -with it. Worn inside the pocket, it is an infallible cure for chronic -rheumatism, fits, and tubercular meningitis. Worn inside the body it -will convert a living skeleton into a Daniel Lambert. Plant potatoes -in a game district, and if they come up you will find that after -the haulms have withered you can capture all your rich neighbour's -pheasants, and half the partridges in the country. A nicely-baked -potato, deftly placed beneath the root of his tail, will make the -worst "jibber" in the world travel; whilst, when combined with -buttermilk, and a modicum of meal, the earth-apple has been known to -nourish millions of the rising generation, and to give them sufficient -strength and courage to owe their back rents, and accuracy of aim for -exterminating the brutal owner of the soil. - -The waiter, bless ye! the harmless, flat-footed waiter, doesn't know -all this. Potatoes to him are simply 2d. or 3d. in the little account, -according to whether they be "biled, mash, or soty"; and if questioned -as to the natural history of the floury tuber, he would probably -assume an air of injured innocence, and assure you that during his -reign of "thirty-five year, man and boy," that establishment had -"never 'ad no complaints." - -The potato is most eccentric in disposition, and its cultivator should -know by heart the beautiful ode of Horace which commences - - _Aequam memento rebus in arduis_ . . . - -The experiences of the writer as a potato grower have been somewhat -mixed, and occasionally like the following:--Set your snowflakes in -deeply-trenched, heavily-manured ground, a foot apart. In due time -you will get a really fine crop of groundsel, charlock, and slugs, -with enough bind-weed to strangle the sea-serpent. Clear all this -rubbish off, and after a week or two the eye will be gladdened with -the sight of the delicate green leaf of the tuber peeping through -the soil. Slow music. Enter the Earl of Frost. No; they will not -_all_ be cut off. You will get _one_ tuber. Peel it carefully, and -place it in the pig-stye--the peeling spoils the quality of the pork. -Throw the peeling away--on the bed in which you have sown annuals for -choice--and in the late Spring you will have a row of potatoes which -will do you credit. - -But this is frivolous. The origin of the potato is doubtful; but -that it was used by the ancients, in warfare, is tolerably certain. -Long before the Spaniards reached the New World it was cultivated -largely by the Incas; and it was the Spaniards who brought the tuber -to Europe, in the beginning of the sixteenth century. It was brought -to England from Virginia by Sir John Hawkins in 1563; and again in -1586 by Sir Francis Drake, to whom, as the introducer of the potato, -a statue was erected at Offenburg, in Baden, in 1853. In schools and -other haunts of ignorance, the credit for the introduction of the -tuber used to be and is (I believe) still given to Sir Walter Raleigh, -who has been wrongly accredited with as many "good things" as have -been Theodore Hook or Sidney Smith. And I may mention _en parenthese_, -that I don't entirely believe that cloak story. For many years the -tuber was known in England as the "Batata"--overhaul your _Lorna -Doone_--and in France, until the close of the eighteenth century, the -earth apple was looked upon with suspicion, as the cause of leprosy -and assorted fevers; just as the tomato, at the close of the more -civilised nineteenth century, is said by the vulgar and swine-headed -to breed cancer. - -Now then, With or without the jacket? And the reader who imagines -that I am going to answer the question has too much imagination. As -the old butler in Wilkie Collins's _The Moonstone_ observes, there is -much to be said on both sides. Personally I lean to the "no-jacket" -side, unless the tuber be baked; and I would make it penal to serve -a potato in any other way than boiled, steamed, or baked.[5] The bad -fairy _Ala_ should have no hand in its manipulation; and there be -few aesthetic eaters who would not prefer the old-fashioned "ball of -flour" to slices of the sodden article swimming in a bath of grease -and parsley, and called a _Saute_. The horrible concoction yclept -"preserved potatoes," which used to be served out aboard sailing -vessels, after the passengers had eaten all the real articles, and -which tasted like bad pease-pudding dressed with furniture polish, is, -happily, deceased. And the best potatoes, the same breed which our -fathers and our forefathers munched in the Covent Garden "Cave of -Harmony," grow, I am credibly informed, in Jermyn Street. Moreover if -you wish to spoil a dish of good spuds, there is no surer way than by -leaving on the dish-cover. So much for boiling 'em--or steaming 'em. - -The CABBAGE is a fine, friendly fellow, who makes himself at home, -and generally useful, in the garden; whilst his great heart swells, -and swells, in the full knowledge that he is doing his level best -to please all. Though cut down in the springtime of his youth, his -benevolence is so great that he will sprout again from his headless -trunk, if required, and given time for reflection. The Romans -introduced him into Great Britain, but there was a sort of cow-cabbage -in the island before that time which our blue forefathers used to -devour with their bacon, and steaks, in a raw state. - -"The most evolved and final variety of the cabbage," writes a -_savant_, "is the CAULIFLOWER, in which the vegetative surplus becomes -poured into the flowering head, of which the flowering is more or less -checked; the inflorescence becoming a dense corymb instead of an open -panicle, and the majority of the flowers aborting"--the head gardener -usually tells you all this in the Scottish language--"so as to become -incapable of producing seed. Let a specially vegetative cabbage -repeat the excessive development of its leaf parenchyma, and we have -the wrinkled and blistered SAVOY, of which the hardy constitution, -but comparative coarseness, become also more intelligible; again a -specially vegetative cauliflower gives us an easily grown and hardy -winter variety, BROCCOLI"--_Broccilo_ in Costerese--"from which, and -not from the ordinary cauliflower, a sprouting variety arises in turn." - -In Jersey the cabbage-stalks are dried, varnished, and used as spars -for thatched roofs, as also for the correction of the youthful -population. Cook all varieties of the cabbage in water already at the -boil, with a little salt and soda in it. The French sprinkle cheese on -a cauliflower, to make it more tasty, and it then becomes - - - _Choufleur au Gratin_. - - Remove the green leaves, and _underboil_ your cauliflower. - Pour over it some butter sauce in which have been mixed two - ounces of grated cheese--half Gruyere and half Parmesan. Powder - with bread crumbs, or raspings, and with more grated cheese. - Lastly, pour over it a teaspoonful of oiled butter. Place in - a hot oven and bake till the surface is a golden brown, which - should be in from ten to fifteen minutes. Serve in same dish. - -Vegetarians should be particularly careful to soak every description -of cabbage in salt and water before cooking. Otherwise the vegetarians -will probably eat a considerable portion of animal food. - -Here occurs an opportunity for the recipe for an elegant dish, which -the French call _Perdrix aux Choux_, which is simply - - - _Partridge Stewed with Cabbage, etc._ - - A brace of birds browned in the stewpan with butter or - good dripping, and a portion of a hand of pickled pork in small - pieces, some chopped onion and a clove or two. Add some broth, - two carrots (chopped), a bay-leaf, and a chopped sausage or - two. Then add a Savoy cabbage, cut into quarters, and seasoned - with pepper and salt. Let all simmer together for an hour and a - half. Then drain the cabbage, and place it, squashed down, on a - dish. Arrange the birds in the middle, surround them with the - pieces of pork and sausage, and pour over all the liquor from - the stew. - -This is an excellent dish, and savours more of Teutonic than of French -cooking. But you mustn't tell a Frenchman this, if he be bigger than -yourself. - -The toothsome PEA has been cultivated in the East from time -immemorial, though the ancient Greeks and Romans do not appear to -have had knowledge of such a dainty. Had Vitellius known the virtues -of duck and green peas he would probably have not been so wrapt up in -his favourite dormice, stuffed with poppy-seed and stewed in honey. -The ancient Egyptians knew all about the little pulse, and not one -of the leaders of society was mummified without a pod or two being -placed amongst his wrappings. And after thousand of years said peas, -when sown, have been known to germinate. The mummy pea-plant, however, -but seldom bears fruit. Our idiotic ancestors, the ancient Britons, -knew nothing about peas, nor do any of their descendants appear to -have troubled about the vegetable before the reign of the Virgin -Queen. Then they were imported from Holland, together with schnapps, -curacoa, and other things, and no "swagger" banquet was held without a -dish of "fresh-shelled 'uns," which were accounted "fit dainties for -ladies, they came so far and cost so dear." In England up-to-date peas -are frequently accompanied by pigeon pie at table; the dove family -being especially partial to the little pulse, either when attached -to the haulm, in the garden, or in a dried state. So that the crafty -husbandman, who possesses a shot gun, frequently gathereth both pea -and pigeon. A chalky soil is especially favourable to pea cultivation; -and deal sawdust sprinkled well over the rows immediately after the -setting of the seed will frustrate the knavish tricks of the field -mouse, who also likes peas. The man who discovered the affinity -between mint and this vegetable ought to have received a gold medal, -and I would gladly attend the execution of the caitiff who invented -the tinned peas which we get at the foreign restaurants, at three -times the price of the English article. - -Here is a good simple recipe for PEA SOUP, made from the dried article: - - Soak a quart of split peas in rain-water for twelve hours. - Put them in the pot with one carrot, one onion, one leek, a - sprig or two of parsley (all chopped), one pound of streaky - bacon, and three quarts of the liquor in which either beef, - mutton, pork, or poultry may have been boiled. Boil for nearly - three hours, remove the bacon, and strain the soup through a - tammy. Heat up, and serve with dried mint, and small cubes of - fat bacon fried crisp. - -GREEN-PEA SOUP is made in precisely the same way; but the peas will -not need soaking beforehand, and thrifty housewives put in the shells -as well. - -Harmless and nutritious a vegetable as the BEAN would appear to be, it -did not altogether find favour with the ancients. Pythagoras, who had -quaint ideas on the subject of the human soul, forbade his disciples -to eat beans, because they were generated in the foul ooze out of -which man was created. Lucian, who had a vivid imagination, describes -a philosopher in Hades who was particularly hard on the bean, to eat -which he declared was as great a crime as to eat one's father's head. -And yet Lucian was accounted a man of common sense in his time. The -Romans only ate beans at funerals, being under the idea that the -souls of the dead abode in the vegetable. According to tradition, -the "caller herrin'" hawked in the streets of Edinburgh were once -known as "lives o' men," from the risks run by the fishermen. And the -Romans introduced the bean into England by way of cheering up our -blue forefathers. In the Roman festival of Lemuralia, the father of -the family was accustomed to throw black beans over his head, whilst -repeating an incantation. This ceremony probably inspired Lucian's -philosopher--for whom, however, every allowance should be made, when -we come to consider his place of residence--with his jaundiced views -of the _Faba vulgaris_. Curiously enough, amongst the vulgar folk, at -the present day, there would seem to be some sort of prejudice against -the vegetable; or why should "I'll give him beans" be a synonymous -threat with "I'll do him all the mischief I can?" - -There is plenty of nourishment in a bean; that is the opinion of the -entire medical faculty. And whilst beans and bacon make a favourite -summer repast for the farm-labourer and his family, the dish is also -(at the commencement of the bean season) to be met with at the tables -of the wealthy. The aroma of the flower of the broad bean was once -compared, in one of John Leech's studies in _Punch_, to "the most -delicious 'air oil," but, apart from this fragrance, there is but -little sentiment about the _Faba vulgaris_. A much more graceful -vegetable is the _Phaseolus vulgaris_, the kidney, or, as the idiotic -French call it, the _haricot_ bean. It is just as sensible to call -a leg of Welsh mutton a _pre sale_, or salt meadow. No well-behaved -hashed venison introduces himself to our notice unless accompanied by -a dish of kidney beans. And few people in Europe besides Frenchmen and -convicts eat the dried seeds of this form of bean, which is frequently -sown in suburban gardens to form a fence to keep out cats. But the -suburban cat knows a trick worth a dozen of that one; and no bean that -was ever born will arrest his progress, or turn him from his evil -ways. It is criminal to smother the kidney bean with melted butter at -table. A little oil, vinegar, and pepper agree with him much better. - -In the great continent of America, the kidney-bean seed, dried, -is freely partaken of. Pork and "Borston" beans, in fact, form -the national dish, and right good it is. But do not attempt any -violent exercise after eating the same. The Mexicans are the largest -bean-eaters in the world. They fry the vegetables in oil or stew -them with peppers and onions, and these _frijoles_ form the principal -sustenance of the lower orders. An English "bean feast" (Vulg. -_beano_) is a feast at which no beans, and not many other things, are -eaten. The intelligent foreigner may take it that _beano_ simply means -the worship of Bacchus. - -With the exception of the onion there is no more useful aid to -cookery of all sorts than the lowly carrot, which was introduced -into England--no, not by the Romans--from Holland, in the sixteenth -century. And the ladies who attended the court of Charles I. were in -the habit of wearing carrot leaves in the hair, and on their court -robes, instead of feathers. A similar fashion might be revived at the -present epoch, with advantage to the banking account of vile man. - -As the Flemish gardeners brought over the roots, we should not despise -carrots cooked in the FLEMISH way. Simmer some young carrots in -butter, with pepper and salt. Add cream (or milk and yolk of eggs), a -pinch of sugar, and a little chopped parsley. - -H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, according to report, invariably eats -carrot soup on the 26th of August. The French call it "CRECY" soup, -because their best carrots grow there; and Crecy it may be remembered -was also the scene of a great battle, when one Englishman proved -better than five Frenchmen. In this battle the Black Prince performed -prodigies of valour, afterwards assuming the crest of the late -Bohemian King--three ostrich feathers (surely these should be carrot -tops?) with the motto "_Ich Dien_." - - - _Crecy Soup._ - - Place a mirepoix of white wine in the pot, and put a - quantity of sliced carrots atop. Moisten with broth, and keep - simmering till the carrots are done. Then pour into a mortar, - pound, and pass through a tammy. Thin it with more broth, - sweeten in the proportion of one tablespoonful of sugar to two - gallons of soup; heat up, pop a little butter in at the finish, - and in serving it add either small cubes of fried bread, or - rice boiled as for curry (see page 145). - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - VEGETABLES (_continued_) - - "Earth's simple fruits; we all enjoy them. - Then why with sauces rich alloy them?" - - The brief lives of the best--A vegetable with a - pedigree--Argenteuil--The Elysian Fields--The tomato the - emblem of love--"Neeps"--Spinach--"Stomach-brush"--The - savoury tear-provoker--Invaluable for wasp-stings--Celery - merely cultivated "smallage"--The "_Apium_"--The parsnip--O - Jerusalem!--The golden sunflower--How to get pheasants--A - vegetarian banquet--"Swelling wisibly." - - -It is one of the most exasperating laws and ordinations of Nature -that the nicest things shall last the shortest time. "Whom the gods -love die young," is an ancient proverb; and the produce of the garden -which is most agreeable to man invariably gives out too soon. Look at -peas. Every gardener of worth puts in the seed so that you may get the -different rows of marrow-fats and telephones and _ne plus ultras_ in -"succession"; and up they all come, at one and the same time, whilst, -if you fail to pick them all at once, the combined efforts of mildew -and the sun will soon save you the labour of picking them at all. -Look at strawberries; and why can't they stay in our midst all the -year round, like the various members of the cabbage family? - -Then look at ASPARAGUS. The gardener who could persuade the heads of -this department to pop up in succession, from January to December -would earn more money than the Prime Minister. The favourite vegetable -of the ancient Romans was introduced by them, with their accustomed -unselfishness, into Britain, where it has since flourished--more -particularly in the alluvial soil of the Thames valley in the -neighbourhood of Mortlake and Richmond, ground which is also -especially favourable to the growth of celery. In an ancient work -called _De Re Rustica_, Cato the Elder, who was born 234 B.C., has -much to say--far more, indeed, than I can translate without the aid of -a dictionary or "crib"--about the virtues and proper cultivation of -asparagus; and Pliny, another noble Roman, devotes several chapters of -his _Natural History_ (published at the commencement of the Christian -era) to the same subject. "Of all the productions of your garden" says -this Mr. Pliny, "your chief care will be your asparagus." And the -cheerful and sanguine householder of to-day who sows his asparagus, -and expects to get it "while he waits" has ample consolation for -disappointment in the reflection that his labours will benefit -posterity, if not the next tenant. - -The foreigners can beat us for size, in the matter of asparagus; but -ours is a long way in front for flavour. In France the vegetable is -very largely grown at Argenteuil on the Seine, a district which has -also produced, and still produces, a wine which is almost as dangerous -to man as hydrocyanic acid, and which was invariably served in the -restaurants, after the sitting had been a lengthy one, no matter what -special brand might have been ordered. English hosts play the same -game with their "military" ports and inferior sherries. The Argenteuil -asparagus is now grown between the vines--at least 1000 acres are in -cultivation--hence the peculiar flavour which, however grateful it -may be to Frenchmen, is somewhat sickly and not to be compared with -that of the "little gentleman in Green," nearly the whole of whom we -English can consume with safety to digestion. - -According to Greek mythology, asparagus grew in the Elysian fields; -but whether the blessed took oil and vinegar with it, or the -"bill-sticker's paste," so favoured in middle-class kitchens of -to-day, there is no record. It goes best, however, with a plain salad -dressing--a "spot" of mustard worked into a tablespoonful of oil, and -a dessert-spoonful of tarragon vinegar, with pepper and salt _ad lib_. - -Asparagus is no longer known in the British pharmacopoeia, but the -French make large medicinal use of its root, which is supposed -to still the action of the heart, like foxglove, and to act as a -preventive of calculi. In cooking the vegetable, tie in small bundles, -which should be stood on end in the saucepan, so that the delicate -heads should be _steamed_, and not touched by the boiling water. Many -cooks will contest this point; which, however, does not admit of -argument. - -There was once a discussion in a well-known hostelry, as to whether the - - - _Tomato_ - -was a fruit or a vegetable. Eventually the head-waiter was invited to -solve the great question. He did so on the spot. - -"Tumarter, sir? Tumarter's a hextra." - -And as a "hextra" it has never since that period ceased to be -regarded. A native of South America, the plant was introduced into -Europe by the Spaniards, late in the sixteenth century, and the -English got it in 1596. Still until a quarter of a century ago the -tomato has not been largely cultivated, save by the market gardener; -in fact in private gardens it was conspicuous by its absence. Those -who eat it do _not_ invariably succumb to cancer; and the dyspeptic -should always keep it on the premises. As the tomato is also known as -the "love-apple," a great point was missed by our old friend Sergeant -Buzfuz, in the celebrated Bardell v. Pickwick trial, when referring to -the postscript, "chops, and tomato sauce." Possibly Charles Dickens -was not an authority on veget---- I beg pardon, "hextras." - -Here is a French recipe for - - - _Tomate au Gratin_: - - Cut open the tops and scoop out the pulp. Pass it through - a sieve, to clear away the pips, and mix with it either a - modicum of butter, or oil, some chopped shalot and garlic, with - pepper and salt. Simmer the mixture for a quarter of an hour, - then stir in some bread-crumbs, previously soaked in broth, and - some yolks of egg. When cold, fill the tomato skins with the - mixture, shake some fine bread raspings over each, and bake in - quick oven for ten or twelve minutes. - -The - - - _Turnip_ - -is not, as might be sometimes imagined, entirely composed of -compressed deal splinters, but is a vegetable which was cultivated in -India long before the Britons got it. The Scotch call turnips "neeps"; -but the Scotch will do anything. Probably no member of the vegetable -family is so great a favourite with the insect pests sent on earth by -an all-wise Providence to prevent mankind having too much to eat. But -see that you get a few turnips to cook when there is roast duck for -dinner. - - - _Spinach_ - -was introduced into Spain by the Arabs, and as neither nation -possessed at that time, at all events, the attribute of -extra-cleanliness, they must have eaten a great deal of "matter in -the wrong place," otherwise known as dirt. For if ever there was a -vegetable the preparation of which for table would justify any cook in -giving notice to leave, it is spinach. - -The Germans have nick-named it "stomach-brush," and there is no plant -growing which conduces more to the health of man. But there has been -more trouble over the proper way to serve it at table than over -Armenia. The French chop up their _epinards_ and mix butter, or gravy, -with the mess. Many English, on the other hand, prefer the leaves -cooked whole. It is all a matter of taste. - -But I seem to scent a soft, sweet fragrance in the air, a homely and -health-giving reek, which warns me that I have too long neglected to -touch upon the many virtues of the - - - _Onion_. - -Indigenous to India in the form of - - - _Garlic_ - -(or _gar-leek_, the original onion), the Egyptians got hold of the -tear-provoker and cultivated it 2000 years before the Christian era. -So that few of the mortals of whom we have ever read can have been -ignorant of the uses of the onion, or _gar-leek_. But knowledge and -practice have enabled modern gardeners to produce larger bulbs than -even the most imaginative of the ancients can have dreamt of. To -mention all the uses to which the onion is put in the kitchen would be -to write a book too weighty for any known motive power to convey to -the British Museum; but it may be briefly observed of the juice of the -_Cepa_ that it is invaluable for almost any purpose, from flavouring a -dish fit to set before a king, to the alleviation of the inflammation -caused by the poison-bearing needle which the restless wasp keeps for -use within his, or her, tail. In fact, the inhabited portion of the -globe had better be without noses than without onions. - -Like the tomato, CELERY is a "hextra"--and a very important one. -If you buy the heads at half-a-crown per hundred and sell them at -threepence a portion, it will not exercise your calculating powers to -discover the profits which can be made out of this simple root. Celery -is simply cultivated "smallage"; a weed which has existed in Britain -since the age of ice. It was the Italians who made the discovery that -educated smallage would become celery; and it is worthy of note that -their forefathers, the conquerors of the world, with the Greeks, seem -to have known "no touch of it"--as a relish, at all events; though -some writers will have it that the "Apium," with which the victors at -the Isthmian and other games were crowned was not parsley but the leaf -of the celery plant. But what does it matter? Celery is invaluable as -a flavourer, and when properly cultivated, and not stringy, a most -delightful and satisfactory substance to bite. In fact a pretty woman -never shows to more advantage than when nibbling a crisp, "short" head -of celery--provided she possess pretty teeth. - -With boiled turkey, or ditto pheasant, celery sauce is _de rigueur_; -and it should be flavoured slightly with slices of onion, an ounce of -butter being allowed to every head of celery. The French are fond of -it stewed; and as long as the flavour of the gravy, or _jus_, does not -disguise the flavour of the celery, it is excellent when thus treated. -Its merits in a salad will be touched upon in another chapter. - -The PARSNIP is a native of England, where it is chiefly used to make -an inferior kind of spirit, or a dreadful brand of wine. Otherwise few -people would trouble to cultivate the parsnip; for we can't be having -boiled pork or salt fish for dinner every day. The VEGETABLE MARROW -is a member of the pumpkin family and is a comparatively tasteless -occupant of the garden, its appearance in which heralds the departure -of summer. In the suburbs, if you want to annoy the people next door, -you cannot do better than put in a marrow plant or two. If they come -to anything, and get plenty of water, they will crawl all over your -neighbour's premises; and unless he is fond of the breed, and cuts -and cooks them, they make him mad. The frugal housewife, blessed -with a large family, makes jam of the surplus marrows; but I prefer -a conserve of apricot, gooseberry, or greengage. Another purpose to -which to put this vegetable is-- - - Scoop out the seeds, after cutting it in half, lengthways. - Fill the space with minced veal (cooked), small cubes of - bacon, and plenty of seasoning--some people add the yoke of an - egg--put on the other half marrow, and bake for half-an-hour. - -This BAKED MARROW is a cheap and homely dish which, like many another -savoury dish, seldom finds its way to the rich man's dining-room. - -The ARTICHOKE is a species of thistle; and the man who pays the usual -high-toned restaurant prices for the pleasure of eating such insipid -food, is an--never mind what. Boil the thing in salt and water, and -dip the ends of the leaves in oil and vinegar, or Holland sauce, -before eating. Then you will enjoy the really fine flavour of the--oil -and vinegar, or Holland sauce. - -The so-called JERUSALEM ARTICHOKE is really a species of sunflower. -Its tuber is not a universal favourite, though it possesses far from a -coarse flavour. The plant has nothing whatever to do with Jerusalem, -and never had. Put a tuber or two into your garden, and you will -have Jerusalem artichokes as long as you live on those premises. -For the vegetable will stay with you as long as the gout, or the -rate-gatherer. Pheasants are particularly partial to this sort of crop. - -By far the best vegetable production of the gorgeous East is the - - - _Brinjal_ - -'Tis oval in shape, and about the size of a hen's egg, the surface -being purple in colour. It is usually cut in twain and done "on the -grating"; I have met something very like the _brinjal_ in Covent -Garden; but can find no record of the vegetable's pedigree in any book. - -Although there are still many vegetarian restaurants in our large -towns, the prejudice against animal food is, happily, dying out; and -if ridicule could kill, we should not hear much more of the "cranks" -who with delightful inconsistency, would spurn a collop of beef, and -gorge themselves on milk, in every shape and form. If milk, butter, -and cheese be not animal food I should like to know what is? And -it is as reasonable to ask a man to sustain life on dried peas and -mushrooms as to feed a tiger on cabbages. - -Once, and only once, has the writer attempted a - - - _Vegetarian Banquet_. - -It was savoury enough; and possessed the additional merit of being -cheap. Decidedly "filling at the price" was that meal. We--I had a -messmate--commenced with (alleged) Scotch broth--which consisted -principally of dried peas, pearl barley, and oatmeal--and a large -slice of really excellent brown bread was served, to each, with this -broth. Thereupon followed a savoury stew of onions and tomatoes, -relieved by a "savoury pie," apparently made from potatoes, leeks, -bread crumbs, butter, and "postponed" mushrooms. We had "gone -straight" up to now, but both shied a bit at the maccaroni and grated -cheese. We had two bottles of ginger beer apiece, with this dinner, -which cost less than three shillings for the two, after the dapper -little waitress had been feed. On leaving, we both agreed to visit -that cleanly and well-ordered little house again, if only from motives -of economy; but within half an hour that programme was changed. - -Like the old lady at the tea-drinking, I commenced to "swell wisibly"; -and so did my companion. - -"Mon alive!" he gasped. "I feel just for all the wor-rld like a -captive balloon, or a puffy-dunter--that's a puffing whale, ye ken. -I'll veesit yon onion-hoose nae mair i' ma life!" - -And I think it cost us something like half a sovereign in old brandy -to neutralise the effects of that vegetarian banquet. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - - CURRIES - - "Thou com'st in such a questionable shape - That I will speak to thee." - - Different modes of manufacture--The "native" fraud--"That - man's family"--The French _kari_--A Parsee curry--"The oyster - in the sauce"--Ingredients--Malay curry--Locusts--When to - serve--What to curry--Prawn curry--Dry curry, a champion - recipe--Rice--The Bombay duck. - - -The poor Indian grinds his coriander seeds, green ginger, and other -ingredients between two large flat stones; taking a whiff at the -family "hubble-bubble" pipe at intervals. The frugal British housewife -purchases (alleged) curry powder in the warehouse of Italy--where it -may have lived on, like Claudian, "through the centuries"--stirs a -spoonful or two into the hashed mutton, surrounds it with a wall of -clammy rice, and calls it BENARES CURRY, made from the recipe of a -very dear uncle who met his death while tiger-shooting. And you will -be in the minority if you do not cut this savoury meat with a knife, -and eat potatoes, and very often cabbage, with it. The far-seeing -eating-house keeper corrals a _Lascar_ or a discharged _Mehtar_ into -the firm, gives him his board, a pound a month, and a clean _puggaree_ -and _Kummerbund_ daily, and "stars" him in the bill as an "Indian -_chef_, fresh from the Chowringhee Club, Calcutta." And it is part of -the duties of this Oriental--supposed by the unwary to be at least a -prince in his native land--to hand the portions of curry, which he -may or may not have concocted, to the appreciative guests, who enjoy -the repast all the more from having the scent of the Hooghly brought -across the footlights. I was once sadly and solemnly reproved by the -head waiter of a very "swagger" establishment indeed for sending away, -after one little taste, the (alleged) curry which had been handed me -by an exile from Ind, in snow-white raiment. - -"You really ought to have eaten that, sir," said the waiter, "for that -man's family have been celebrated curry-makers for generations." - -I smole a broad smile. In the Land of the Moguls the very babies who -roll in the dust know the secret of curry-making. But that "that man" -had had any hand in the horrible concoction placed before me I still -resolutely decline to believe. And how can a man be cook and waiter at -the same time? The "native curry-maker," depend on it, is more or less -of a fraud; and his aid is only invoked as an excuse for overcharging. - -At the Oriental Club are served, or used to be served, really -excellent curries, assorted; for as there be more ways than one of -killing a cat, so are there more curries than one. The French turn -out a horrible mixture, with parsley and mushrooms in it, which they -call _kari_; it is called by a still worse name on the Boulevards, and -the children of our lively neighbours are frequently threatened with -it by their nurses. - -On the whole, the East Indian method is the best; and the most -philanthropic curry I ever tasted was one which my own _Khitmughar_ -had just prepared, with infinite pains, for his own consumption. The -poor heathen had prospected a feast, as it was one of his numerous -"big days"; so, despising the homely _dhal_, on the which, with a -plate of rice and a modicum of rancid butter, he was wont to sustain -existence, he had manufactured a savoury mess of pottage, the looks -of which gratified me. So, at the risk of starting another Mutiny, it -was ordained that the slave should serve the refection at the table of -the "protector of the poor." And a _pukkha_ curry it was, too. Another -dish of native manufacture with which the writer became acquainted was -a - - - _Parsee Curry_. - -The eminent firm of Jehangeer on one occasion presented a petition to -the commanding-officer that they might be allowed to supply a special -curry to the mess one guest-night. The request was probably made as an -inducement to some of the young officers to pay a little on account -of their "owings" to the firm; but it is to be feared that no special -vote of thanks followed the sampling of that special curry. It was -a curry! I tasted it for a week (as the Frenchman did the soup of -Swindon); and the Parsee _chef_ must have upset the entire contents -of the spice-box into it. I never felt more like murder than when the -hotel cook in Manchester put nutmeg in the oyster sauce; but after -that curry, the strangling of the entire firm of Jehangeer would, in -our cantonments, at all events, have been brought in "justifiable -homicide." - -"Oyster sauce" recalls a quaint _simile_ I once heard a bookmaker make -use of. He was talking of one of his aristocratic debtors, whom he -described as sure to pay up, if you could only get hold of him. "But -mark you," continued the layer of odds, "he's just about as easy to -get hold of as _the oyster in the sauce_, at one of our moonicipal -banquets!" But return we to our coriander seeds. There is absolutely -no reason why the frugal housewife in this country should not make her -own curry powder from day to day, as it may be required. Here is an -average Indian recipe; but it must be remembered that in the gorgeous -East tastes vary as much as elsewhere, and that Bengal, Bombay, Madras -(including Burmah), Ceylon, and the Straits Settlements, have all -different methods of preparing a curry. - - A few coriander and cumin seeds--according to taste--eight - peppercorns, a small piece of turmeric, and one dried chili, - all pounded together. - - When making the curry _mixture_, take a piece of the heart - of a cabbage, the size of a hen's egg; chop it fine and add - one sour apple in thin slices the size of a Keswick codlin, - the juice of a medium-sized lemon, a salt-spoonful of black - pepper, and a tablespoonful of the above curry powder. Mix - all well together; then take six medium-sized onions which - have been chopped small and fried a delicate brown, a clove of - garlic, also chopped small, two ounces of fresh butter, two - ounces of flour, and one pint of beef gravy. Boil up this lot - (which commences with the onions), and _when boiling_ stir in - the rest of the mixture. Let it all simmer down, and then add - the solid part of the curry, _i.e._ the meat, cut in portions - not larger than two inches square. - -Remember, O frugal housewife, that the turmeric portion of the -entertainment should be added with a niggard hand. "Too much turmeric" -is the fault which is found with most curries made in England. I -remember, when a boy, that there was an idea rooted in my mind that -curries were made with Doctor Gregory's Powder, an unsavoury drug with -which we were periodically regaled by the head nurse; and there was -always a fierce conflict at the dinner-table when the bill-of-fare -included this (as we supposed) physic-al terror. But it was simply the -taste of turmeric to which we took exception. - -What is TURMERIC? A plant in cultivation all over India, whose tubers -yield a deep yellow powder of a resinous nature. This resinous powder -is sold in lumps, and is largely used for adulterating mustard; just -as inferior anchovy sauce is principally composed of Armenian Bole, -the deep red powder with which the actor makes up his countenance. -Turmeric is also used medicinally in Hindustan, but not this side of -Suez, although in chemistry it affords an infallible test for the -presence of alkalies. The CORIANDER has become naturalised in parts of -England, but is more used on the Continent. Our confectioners put the -seeds in cakes and buns, also comfits, and in Germany, Norway, Sweden, -and (I fancy) Russia, they figure in household bread. In the south of -England, coriander and caraway seeds are sown side by side, and crops -of each are obtained in alternate years. The coriander seed, too, is -largely used with that of the caraway and the cumin, for making the -liqueur known as KUeMMEL. - -CUMIN is mentioned in Scripture as something particularly nice. The -seeds are sweet-savoured, something like those of the caraway, but -more potent. In Germany they put them into bread, and the Dutch use -them to flavour their cheeses. The seeds we get in England come -principally from Sicily and Malta. - -And now that my readers know all about the ingredients of -curry-powder--it is assumed that no analysis of the chili, the -ginger-root, or the peppercorn, is needed--let them emulate the pupils -of Mr. Wackford Squeers, and "go and do it." - -ANOTHER RECIPE for curry-powder includes fenugreek, cardamoms, -allspice, and cloves; but I verily believe that this was the powder -used in that abominable Parsee hell-broth, above alluded to, so it -should be cautiously approached, if at all. "Fenugreek" sounds evil; -and I should say a curry compounded of the above ingredients would -taste like a "Number One" pick-me-up. Yet another recipe (DOCTOR -KITCHENER'S) specifies six ounces of coriander seed, five ounces of -turmeric (_ower muckle, I'm of opeenion_) two ounces each of black -pepper and mustard seed (_ochone!_), half an ounce of cumin seed, -half an ounce of cinnamon (_donner und blitzen!_), and one ounce of -lesser cardamoms. All these things are to be placed in a cool oven, -kept therein one night, and pounded in a marble mortar next morning, -preparatory to being rubbed through a sieve. "Kitchener" sounds like -a good cooking name; but, with all due respect, I am not going to -recommend his curry-powder. - -A MALAY CURRY is made with blanched almonds, which should be fried in -butter till lightly browned. Then pound them to a paste with a sliced -onion and some thin lemon-rind. Curry powder and gravy are added, -and a small quantity of cream. The Malays curry all sorts of fish, -flesh, and fowl, including the young shoots of the bamboo--and nice -tender, succulent morsels they are. At a hotel overlooking the harbour -of Point de Galle, Ceylon, "run," at the time of the writer's visit, -by a most convivial and enterprising Yankee, a canning concocter -of all sorts of "slings" and "cocktails," there used to be quite -a plethora of curries in the bill-of-fare. But for a prawn curry -there is no place like the City of Palaces. And the reason for this -super-excellence is that the prawns--but that story had, perhaps, best -remain untold. - -CURRIED LOCUSTS formed one of the most eccentric dishes ever -tasted by the writer. There had come upon us that day a plague of -these all-devouring insects. A few billions called on us, in our -kitchen gardens, in passing; and whilst they ate up every green -thing--including the newly-painted wheelbarrow, and the regimental -standard, which had been incautiously left out of doors--our faithful -blacks managed to capture several _impis_ of the marauding scuts, -in revenge; and the mess-cook made a right savoury _plat_ of their -hind-quarters. - -It is criminal to serve curry during the _entree_ period of dinner. -And it is worse form still to hand it round after gooseberry tart and -cream, and trifle, as I have seen done at one great house. In the land -of its birth, the spicy pottage invariably precedes the sweets. Nubbee -Bux marches solemnly round with the mixture, in a deep dish, and is -succeeded by Ram Lal with the rice. And in the Madras Presidency, -where _dry_ curry is served as well as the other brand, there is a -procession of three brown attendants. Highly-seasoned dishes at the -commencement of a long meal are a mistake; and this is one of the -reasons why I prefer the middle cut of a plain-boiled Tay salmon, or -the tit-bit of a lordly turbot, or a flake or two of a Grimsby cod, to -a _sole Normande_, or a red mullet stewed with garlic, mushrooms, and -inferior claret. I have even met _homard a l'Americaine_, during the -fish course, at the special request of a well-known Duke. The soup, -too, eaten at a large dinner should be as plain as possible; the edge -being fairly taken off the appetite by such concoctions as _bisque_, -_bouillabaisse_, and _mulligatawny_--all savoury and tasty dishes, -but each a meal in itself. Then I maintain that to curry whitebait is -wrong; partly because curry should on no account be served before -roast and boiled, and partly because the flavour of the whitebait -is too delicate for the fish to be clad in spices and onions. -The lesson which all dinner-givers ought to have learnt from the -Ancient Romans--the first people on record who went in for aesthetic -cookery--is that highly-seasoned and well-peppered dishes should -figure at the end, and not the commencement of a banquet. Here follows -a list of some of the productions of Nature which it is allowable to -curry. - - - _What to Curry._ - - TURBOT. SOLE. COD. - - LOBSTER. CRAYFISH. PRAWNS,--but _not_ the so-called - "DUBLIN PRAWN," which is delicious when eaten plain boiled, but - no good in a curry. - - WHELKS.[6] OYSTERS. SCALLOPS. - - MUTTON. VEAL. PORK. CALF'S HEAD. OX PALATE. TRIPE.[6] - - EGGS. CHICKEN. RABBIT (the "bunny" lends itself better - than anything else to this method of cooking). PEASE. KIDNEY - BEANS.[6] VEGETABLE MARROW. CARROTS. PARSNIPS. BAMBOO SHOOTS. - LOCUST LEGS. - -A mistaken notion has prevailed for some time amongst men and women -who write books, that the Indian curry mixture is almost red-hot to -the taste. As a matter of fact it is of a far milder nature than -many I have tasted "on this side." Also the Anglo-Indian does not -sustain life entirely on food flavoured with turmeric and garlic. -In fact, during a stay of seven years in the gorgeous East, the -writer's experience was that not one in ten touched curry at the -dinner table. At second breakfast--otherwise known as "tiffin"--it was -a favoured dish; but the stuff prepared for the meal of the day--or -the bulk thereof--usually went to gratify the voracious appetite of -the "_mehters_," the Hindus who swept out the mess-rooms, and whose -lowness of "caste" allowed them to eat "anything." An eccentric meal -was the _mehter's_ dinner. Into the empty preserved-meat tin which -he brought round to the back door I have seen emptied such assorted -_pabulum_ as mock turtle soup, lobster salad, plum pudding and -custard, curry, and (of course), the surplus _vilolif_; and in a few -seconds he was squatting on his heels, and spading into the mixture -with both hands. - -In the Bengal Presidency cocoa-nut is freely used with a curry -dressing; and as some men have as great a horror of this addition, as -of oil in a salad, it is as well to consult the tastes of your guests -beforehand. - -A PRAWN CURRY I have seen made in Calcutta as follows, the proportions -of spices, etc., being specially written down by a _munshi_:-- - - Pound and mix one tablespoonful of coriander seed, one - tablespoonful of poppy seed, a salt-spoonful of turmeric, half - a salt-spoonful of cumin seed, a pinch of ground cinnamon, - a ditto of ground nutmeg, a small lump of ginger, and one - salt-spoonful of salt. Mix this with butter, add two sliced - onions, and fry till lightly browned. Add the prawns, shelled, - and pour in the milk of a cocoa-nut. Simmer for twenty minutes, - and add some lime juice. - -But the champion of curries ever sampled by the writer was a dry -curry--a decided improvement on those usually served in the Madras -Presidency--and the recipe (which has been already published in the -_Sporting Times_ and _Lady's Pictorial_), only came into the writer's -possession some years after he had quitted the land of temples. - - _Dry Curry._ - - 1 lb. of meat (mutton, fowl, or white fish). - 1 lb. of onions. - 1 clove of garlic. - 2 ounces of butter. - 1 dessert-spoonful of curry powder. - 1 dessert-spoonful of curry paste. - 1 dessert-spoonful of chutnee (or tamarind preserve, - according to taste). - - A very little cassareep, which is a condiment (only - obtainable at a few London shops) made from the juice of the - bitter cassava, or manioc root. Cassareep is the basis of that - favourite West Indian dish "Pepper-pot." - - Salt to taste. - A good squeeze of lemon juice. - - First brown the onions in the butter, and then dry them. - Add the garlic, which must be mashed to a pulp with the blade - of a knife. Then mix the powder, paste, chutnee, and cassareep - into a thin paste with the lemon juice. Mash the dried onions - into this, and let all cook gently till thoroughly mixed. Then - add the meat, cut into small cubes, and let all simmer very - gently for three hours. This sounds a long time, but it must - be remembered that the recipe is for a _dry_ curry; and when - served there should be no liquid about it. - -'Tis a troublesome dish to prepare; but, judging from the flattering -communications received by the writer, the lieges would seem to -like it. And the mixture had better be cooked in a _double_ or -porridge-saucepan, to prevent any "catching." - -Already, in one of the breakfast chapters, has the subject of the -preparation of rice, to be served with curry, been touched upon; but -there will be no harm done in giving the directions again. - - - _Rice for Curry_ - - Soak a sufficiency of rice in cold water until by repeated - strainings all the dirt is separated from it. Then put the - rice into _boiling_ water, and let it "gallop" for nine or ten - minutes--_no longer_. Strain the water off through a colander, - and dash a little _cold_ water over the rice to separate the - grains. Put in a hot dish, and serve immediately. - -A simple enough recipe, surely? So let us hear no more complaints of -stodgy, clammy, "puddingy" rice. Most of the cookery books give far -more elaborate directions, but the above is the method usually pursued -by the poor brown heathen himself. - -Soyer's recipe resembles the above; but, after draining the water from -the cooked rice, it is replaced in the saucepan, the interior of which -has in the interim been anointed with butter. The saucepan is then -placed either near the fire (not on it), or in a slow oven, for the -rice to swell. - -Another way: - - After washing the rice, throw it into plenty of boiling - water--in the proportion of six pints of water to one pound - of rice. Boil it for five minutes, and skim it; then add - a wine-glassful of milk for every half pound of rice, and - continue boiling for five minutes longer. Strain the water off - through a colander, and put it dry into the pot, on the corner - of the stove, pouring over the rice a small piece of butter, - which has been melted in a tablespoonful of the hot milk and - water in which the rice was boiled. Add salt, and stir the rice - for five minutes more. - -The decayed denizen of the ocean, dried to the consistency of biscuit, -and known in Hindustan as a BOMBAY DUCK, which is frequently eaten -with curry, "over yonder," does not find much favour, this side of -Port Said, although I have met the fowl in certain city restaurants. -The addition is not looked upon with any particular favour by the -writer. - -"I have yet to learn" once observed that great and good man, the late -Doctor Joseph Pope,[7] to the writer, in a discussion on "postponed" -game, "that it is a good thing to put corruption into the human -stomach." - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - - SALADS - - "O green and glorious, O herbaceous meat! - 'Twould tempt the dying anchorite to eat. - Back to the world he'd turn his weary soul, - And dip his fingers in the salad bowl!" - - Nebuchadnezzar _v._ Sydney Smith--Salt?--No - salad-bowl--French origin--Apocryphal story of - Francatelli--Salads _and_ salads--Water-cress and dirty - water--Salad-maker born not made--Lobster salad--Lettuce, - Wipe or wash?--Mayonnaise--Potato salad--Tomato ditto--Celery - ditto--A memorable ditto. - - -If Sydney Smith had only possessed the experience of old King -Nebuchadnezzar, after he had been "turned out to grass," the witty -prebend might not have waxed quite so enthusiastic on the subject of -"herbaceous meat." Still the subject is a vast and important one, in -its connection with gastronomy, and lends itself to poetry far easier -than doth the little sucking pig, upon whom Charles Lamb expended so -great and unnecessary a wealth of language. - -But look at the terse, perfunctory, and far from satisfactory manner -in which the _Encyclopaedia_ attacks the subject. "Salad," we read, -"is the term given to a preparation of raw herbs for food. It derives -its name from the fact that salt is one of the chief ingredients -used in dressing a salad." This statement is not only misleading but -startling; for in the "dressing" of a salad it would be the act of a -lunatic to make salt the "chief ingredient." - -Long before they had learnt the art of dressing the herbs, our -ancestors partook of cresses (assorted), celery, and lettuces, after -being soaked in water for a considerable period; and they dipped the -raw herbs into salt before consuming them. In fact, in many a cheap -eating-house of to-day, the term "salad" means plain lettuce, or -cress, or possibly both, absolutely undressed--in a state of nature, -_plus_ plenty of dirty water. Even the English cook of the end of the -nineteenth century cannot rid himself, or herself, of the idea that -lettuce, like water-cress, knows the running brook, or the peaceful -pond, as its natural element. And thirty years before the end of that -century, a salad bowl was absolutely unknown in nine-tenths of the -eating-houses of Great Britain. - -There is no use in blinking the fact that it is to our lively -neighbours that we owe the introduction of the salad proper. Often -as the writer has been compelled, in these pages, to inveigh against -the torturing of good fish and flesh by the alien cook, and the -high prices charged for its endowment with an alien flavour, let -that writer (figuratively) place a crown of endive, tipped with -baby onions, upon the brows of the philanthropist who dressed the -first salad, and gave the recipe to the world. That recipe has, of -course, been improved upon; and although the _savant_ who writes in -the _Encyclopaedia_ proclaims that "salad has always been a favourite -food with civilised nations, and has varied very little in its -composition," the accuracy of both statements is open to question. - -"Every art," observes another writer, "has its monstrosities; -gastronomy has not been behind-hand; and though he must be a bold man -who will venture to blaspheme the elegancies of French cookery, there -comes a time to every Englishman who may have wandered into a mistaken -admiration of sophisticated messes, when he longs for the simple diet -of his native land, and vows that the best cookery in the world, and -that which satisfies the most refined epicureanism, sets up for its -ideal--plainness of good food, and the cultivation of natural tastes." - -And yet the French have taught us, or tried to teach us, how to -prepare a dish of raw herbs, in the simplest way in the world! - -"Now a salad," says the same writer, "is simplicity itself, and here -is a marvel--it is the crowning grace of a French dinner, while, on -the other hand, it is little understood and villainously treated -at English tables." Ahem! I would qualify that last statement. At -_some_ English tables I have tasted salads compared with which the -happiest effort of the _chef_ deserves not to be mentioned in the same -garlic-laden breath. And "garlic-laden breath" naturally reminds me -of the story of Francatelli--of which anecdote I do not believe one -word, by the way. It was said of Franc., whilst _chef_ at the Reform -Club, that his salads were such masterpieces, such things of beauty, -that one of the members questioned him on the subject. - -"How do you manage to introduce such a delicious flavour into your -salads?" - -"Ah! that should be my secret," was the reply. "But I will tell him -to you. After I have made all my preparations, and the green food is -mixed with the dressing, I chew a little clove of garlic between my -teeth--so--and then breathe gently over the whole." - -But, as observed before, I do not believe that garlic story. - -O salad, what monstrosities are perpetrated in thy name! Let the -genteel boarding-house cook-maid, the young lady who has studied -harmony and the higher mathematics at the Board School, spread herself -over the subject; and then invite the angels to inspect the matter, -and weep! For this is the sort of "harmony" which the "paying guest," -who can appreciate the advantages of young and musical society, an -airy front bed-chamber, and a bicycle room, is expected to enthuse -over at the _table d'hote_: a _melange_ of herbs and roots, including -water-cress and giant radishes, swimming in equal parts of vinegar and -oil, and a large proportion of the water in which the ingredients have -been soaking for hours--said ingredients being minced small, like veal -collops, with a steel knife. And the same salad, the very identical -horror, obtrudes itself on the table at other genteel establishments -than boarding-houses. For they be "mostly fools" who people the -civilised world. - -Let it be laid down as a golden rule, that the concoction of a salad -should never, or hardly ever, be entrusted to the tender mercies of -the British serving-maid. For the salad-maker, like the poet, is -born, not made; and the divine _afflatus_--I don't mean garlic--is as -essential in the one as in the other. We will take the simple mixture, -what is commonly known as the - - - _French Salad_, - -first. This is either composed, in the matter of herbs, of lettuce, -chopped taragon, chervil, and chives; or of endive, with, "lurking in -the bowl," a _chapon_, or crust of bread on which a clove of garlic -has been rubbed. But the waiter, an he be discreet, will ask the -customer beforehand if he prefer that the _chapon_ be omitted. The -dressing is simplicity itself: - - Within the bowl of a table-spoon are placed, in - succession, a spot of made mustard, and a sprinkling of black - pepper and salt. The bowl is filled up with vinegar, and with - a fork in the other hand the waiter stirs quickly the mustard, - etc., afterwards emptying the contents of the spoon over the - green-stuff. Then the spoon is refilled--either twice or - thrice, _ad lib._--with Lucca oil, which is also poured over - the salad. Then the final mixing takes place, in the salad bowl. - -But there be many and elaborate ways of salad-making. Here is the -writer's idea of a - - - _Lobster Salad_ - -for half-a-dozen guests: - - In a soup plate, mix the yolks of two hard-boiled - eggs--boiled for thirty minutes, and afterwards thrown into - cold water--into a smooth paste with a teaspoonful of made - mustard, and a tablespoonful of plain vinegar, added drop by - drop. Keep on stirring, and add a dessert-spoonful of tarragon - vinegar, a few drops of essence of anchovies, a teaspoonful - (_not heaped_) of salt, about the same quantity of sifted - sugar, and a good pinch of cayenne. [The tendency of black - pepper is to make a salad gritty, which is an abomination.] - Lastly, add, drop by drop, three tablespoonfuls of oil. Pour - this dressing (which should be in a continual state of stir) - into your salad bowl. Add the pickings of a hen lobster cut - into dice, and atop of the lobster, lettuces which have been - shred with clean fingers, or with ivory forks; a little endive - may be added, with a slice or two of beetroot; but no onion (or - very little) in a lobster salad. A few shreds of anchovy may - be placed atop; with beetroot cut into shapes, the whites of - the eggs, and the coral of the lobster, for the sake of effect; - but seek not, O student, to achieve prettiness of effect to - the detriment of practical utility. I need hardly add that the - sooner after its manufacture a salad is eaten, the better will - be its flavour. And the solid ingredients should only be mixed - with the dressing at the very last moment; otherwise a sodden, - flabby effect will be produced, which is neither pleasing to - the eye, nor calculated to promote good digestion. - -I am perfectly aware that the above is not a strict _Mayonnaise_ -dressing, in which the egg yolks should be raw, instead of cooked. -But, like the Scotsman, I have "tried baith," and prefer my own way, -which more resembles the _sauce Tartare_, than the _Mayonnaise_ -of our lively neighbours, who, by the way, merely wipe, instead -of wash, their lettuces and endive, to preserve, as they say, the -flavour. Of course this is a matter of taste, but the writer must -own to a preference for the baptised article, which must, however, -on no account be left to soak, but be simply freed from dirt, grit, -and--other things. - -What is the origin of the word "MAYONNAISE"? No two Frenchmen will -give you the same answer. "Of or belonging to Mayonne" would seem -to be the meaning of the word; but then there is no such place as -Mayonne in the whole of France. Grimod de la Reyniere maintained -that the proper word was "BAYONNAISE," meaning a native of Bayonne, -on the Spanish frontier. Afterwards Grimod, who was a resourceful -man, got hold of another idea, and said that the word was probably -"MAHONNAISE," and so named in honour of Marshal Richelieu's capture -of the stronghold of Mahon, in the island of Minorca. But what had -this victory got to do with a salad dressing? What was the connection -of raw eggs and tarragon vinegar with Marshal Richelieu? Then up -came another cook, in the person of Careme, who established it as -an absolute certainty that the genuine word was "MAGNONNAISE," from -the word "_manier_," to manipulate. But as nobody would stand this -definition for long, a fresh search had to be made; and this time -an old Provencal verb was dug up--_mahonner_, or more correctly -_maghonner_, to worry or fatigue. And this is now said by purists to -be the source of _Mayonnaise_--"something worried," or fatigued. And -the reason for the gender of the noun is said to be that in ancient -times lovely woman was accustomed to manipulate the salad with her own -fair fingers. In the time of Rousseau, the phrase _retourner la salade -avec les doigts_ was used to describe a woman as being still young and -beautiful; just as in Yorkshire at the present time, "she canna mak' -a bit o' bread" is used to describe a woman who is of no possible use -in the house. So a _Mayonnaise_ or a _Mahonnaise_--I care not which -be the correct spelling--was a young lady who "fatigued" the salad. -More shame to the gallants of the day, who allowed "fatigue" to be -associated with youth and beauty! - -But can it possibly matter what the word means, when the mixture -is smooth and savoury; and so deftly blended that no one flavour -predominates? And herein lies the secret of every mixture used for -the refreshment of the inner man and woman; whether it be a soup, a -curry, a trifle, a punch, or a cup--no one ingredient should be of -more weight or importance than another. And that was the secret of -the "delicious gravy" furnished by the celebrated stew at the "Jolly -Farmers," in _The Old Curiosity Shop_ of Charles Dickens. - -MAYONNAISE (we will drop for the nonce, the other spelling) is made -thus: - - In the proportions of two egg yolks to half a pint of - Lucca oil, and a small wine-glassful of tarragon vinegar. - Work the yolks smooth in a basin, with a seasoning of pepper - (cayenne for choice), salt, and--according to the writer's - views--sifted sugar. Then a few drops of oil, and fewer of - vinegar; stirring the mixture all the time, from right to - left, with a wooden, or ivory, spoon. In good truth 'tis a - "fatiguing" task; and as in very hot weather the sauce is - liable to decompose, or "curdle," before the finishing touches - are put to it, it may be made over ice. - - "Stir, sisters, stir, - Stir with care!" - -is the motto for the _Mayonnaise_-mixer. And in many cases her only -reward consists in the knowledge that through her art and patience she -has helped to make the sojourn of others in this vale of tears less -tearful and monotonous. - -"Onion atoms" should "lurk within the bowl," on nearly every occasion, -and as for a potato salad--don't be afraid, I'm not going to quote any -more Sydney Smith, so don't get loading your guns--well, here is the -proper way to make it. - - - _Potato Salad._ - - Cut nine or ten average-sized kidney potatoes (cooked) - into slices, half an inch thick, put them in a salad bowl, and - pour over them, after mixing, two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, - one tablespoonful of tarragon vinegar, six tablespoonfuls - of oil, one of minced parsley, a dessert-spoonful of onions - chopped very fine, with cayenne and salt to taste. Shredded - anchovies may be added, although it is preferable without; - and this salad should be made a couple of hours or so before - partaken of. - -The German recipe for a potato salad is too nasty to quote; and their -HERRING SALAD, although said to be a valuable restorative of nerve -power, by no means presents an attractive appearance, when served at -table. Far more to the mind and palate of the average epicure is a - - - _Tomato Salad_. - -This is the author's recipe: - - Four large tomatoes and one Spanish onion, cut into thin - slices. Mix a spot of mustard, a little white pepper and - salt, with vinegar, in a table-spoon, pour it over the love - apples, etc., and then add two tablespoonfuls of oil. Mix well, - and then sprinkle over the mixture a few drops of Lea and - Perrins's Worcester Sauce. For the fair sex, the last part of - the programme may be omitted, but on no account leave out the - breath of sunny Spain. And mark this well. The man, or woman, - who mixes tomatoes with lettuces, or endives, in the bowl, is - hereby sentenced to translate the whole of this book into Court - English. - - - _Celery Salad._ - - An excellent winter salad is made with beetroot and - celery, cut in thin slices, and served--with or without - onions--either with a mayonnaise sauce, or with a plain cream - sauce: to every tablespoonful of cream add a teaspoonful of - tarragon vinegar, a little sugar, and a suspicion of cayenne. - This salad looks best served in alternate slices of beet and - celery, on a flat silver dish, around the sauce. - - - _A Gentleman Salad Maker._ - -Although in the metropolis it is still customary, in middle-class -households, to hire "outside help" on the occasion of a dinner-party, -we have not heard for some time of a salad-dresser who makes -house-to-house visitations in the exercise of his profession. But, -at the end of the 18th century, the Chevalier d'Allignac, who had -escaped from Paris to London in the evil days of the Revolution, made -a fortune in this way. He was paid at the rate of L5 a salad, and -naturally, soon started his own carriage, "in order that he might -pass quickly from house to house, during the dining hours of the -aristocracy." High as the fee may appear to be, it is impossible to -measure the width of the gulf which lies between the salad as made by -a lover of the art, and the kitchen-wench; and a perfect salad is, -like a perfect curry, "far above rubies." - - - _A Memorable Salad_ - -was once served in my own mansion. The _chef_, who understood these -matters well, when her hair was free from vine leaves, had been -celebrating her birthday or some other festival; and had mixed the -dressing with Colza oil. Her funeral was largely attended. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - - SALADS AND CONDIMENTS - - "Epicurean cooks - Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite." - - Roman salad--Italian ditto--Various other salads--Sauce - for cold mutton--Chutnine--Raw chutnee--Horse-radish - sauce--Christopher North's sauce--How to serve a - mackerel--_Sauce Tartare_--Ditto for sucking pig--Delights of - making _Sambal_--A new language. - - -It has, I hope, been made sufficiently clear that neither water-cress -nor radishes should figure in a dressed salad; from the which I -would also exclude such "small deer" as mustard and cress. There is, -however, no black mark against the narrow-leaved CORN SALAD plant, -or "lamb's lettuce"; and its great advantage is that it can be grown -almost anywhere during the winter months, when lettuces have to be -"coddled," and thereby robbed of most of their flavour. - - Instead of yolk of egg, in a dressing, cheese may be - used, with good results, either cream cheese--_not_ the poor - stuff made on straws, but what are known as "napkin," or "New - Forest" cheeses--or Cheddar. Squash it well up with oil and - vinegar, and do not use too much. A piece of cheese the size of - an average lump of sugar will be ample, and will lend a most - agreeable flavour to the mixture. - - - _Roman Salad_ - -Lucullus and Co.--or rather their cooks--had much to learn in the -preparation of the "herbaceous meat" which delighted Sydney Smith. The -Romans cultivated endive; this was washed free from "matter in the -wrong place," chopped small--absolutely fatal to the taste--anointed -with oil and _liquamen_, topped up with chopped onions, and further -ornamented with honey and vinegar. But before finding fault with the -conquerors of the world for mixing honey with a salad, it should -be remembered that they knew not "fine Demerara," nor "best lump," -nor even the beet sugar which can be made at home. Still I should -not set a Roman salad before my creditors, if I wanted them to have -"patience." An offer of the very smallest dividend would be preferable. - - - _Italian Salad._ - -The merry Italian has improved considerably upon the herbaceous treat -(I rather prefer "treat" to "meat") of his ancestors; though he is far -too fond of mixing flesh-meat of all sorts with his dressed herbs, and -his boiled vegetables. Two cold potatoes and half a medium sized beet -sliced, mixed with boiled celery and Brussels sprouts, form a common -salad in the sunny South; the dressing being usually oil and vinegar, -occasionally oil _seule_, and sometimes a _Tartare_ sauce. Stoned -olives are usually placed atop of the mess, which includes fragments -of chicken, or veal and ham. - - - _Russian Salad._ - -This is a difficult task to build up; for a sort of Cleopatra's -Needle, or pyramid, of cooked vegetables, herbs, pickles, etc., has to -be erected on a flat dish. Carrots, turnips, green peas, asparagus, -French beans, beetroot, capers, pickled cucumbers, and horse-radish, -form the solid matter of which the pyramid is built. - - Lay a _stratum_ on the dish, and anoint the _stratum_ with - _Tartare_ sauce. Each layer must be similarly anointed, and - must be of less circumference than the one underneath, till the - top layer consists of one caper. Garnish with bombs of caviare, - sliced lemon, crayfish, olives, and salted cucumber; and then - give the salad to the policeman on fixed-point duty. At least, - if you take my advice. - - - _Anchovy Salad._ - -This is usually eaten at the commencement of dinner, as a _hors -d'oeuvre_. - - Some shreds of anchovy should be arranged "criss-cross" - in a flat glass dish. Surround it with small heaps of chopped - truffles, yolk and white of hard-boiled eggs, capers, and a - stoned olive or two. Mix all the ingredients together with a - little Chili vinegar, and twice the quantity of oil. - -The mixture is said to be invaluable as an appetiser; but the modest -oyster on the _deep shell_--if he has not been fattened at the -bolt-hole of the main sewer--is to be preferred. - -Cooked vegetables, for salad purposes, are not, nor will they ever -be, popular in England, Nine out of ten Britains will eat the "one -sauce" with asparagus, in preference to the oiled butter, or plain -salad dressing, of mustard, vinegar, pepper, salt, and oil; whilst -'tis almost hopeless to attempt to dissuade madame the cook from -smothering her cauliflowers with liquefied paste, before sending them -to table. Many a wild weed which foreign nations snatch greedily -from the soil, prior to dressing it, is passed by with scorn by our -islanders, including the dandelion, which is a favourite of our lively -neighbours, for salad purposes, and is doubtless highly beneficial -to the human liver. So is the cauliflower; and an eminent medical -authority once gave out that the man who ate a parboiled cauliflower, -as a salad, every other day, need never send for a doctor. Which -sounds rather like fouling his own nest. - - - _Fruit Salad._ - -This is simply a French _compote_ of cherries, green almonds, pears, -limes, peaches, apricots in syrup slightly flavoured with ginger; and -goes excellent well with any cold brown game. Try it. - - - _Orange Salad._ - - Peel your orange, and cut it into thin slices. Arrange - these in a glass dish, and sugar them well. Then pour over them - a glass of sherry, a glass of brandy, and a glass of maraschino. - - - _Orange Sauce._ - -Cold mutton, according to my notions, is "absolutely beastly," to the -palate. More happy homes have been broken up by this simple dish than -by the entire army of Europe. And 'tis a dish which should never be -allowed to wander outside the servants' hall. The superior domestics -who take their meals in the steward's room, would certainly rise in a -body, and protest against the indignity of a cold leg, or shoulder. As -for a cold loin--but the idea is too awful. Still, brightened up by -the following condiment, cold mutton will go down smoothly, and even -gratefully:-- - - Rub off the thin yellow rind of two oranges on four lumps - of sugar. Put these into a bowl, and pour in a wine-glass - of port, a quarter pint of dissolved red-currant jelly, a - teaspoonful of mixed mustard--don't be frightened, it's all - right--a finely-minced shallot, a pinch of cayenne, and some - more thin orange rind. Mix well. When heated up, strain and - bottle off. - -But amateur sauces should, on the whole, be discouraged. The writer -has tasted dozens of imitations of Lea and Perrins's "inimitable," -and it is still inimitable, and unapproachable. It is the same with -chutnee. You can get anything in that line you want at Stembridge's, -close to Leicester Square, to whom the writer is indebted for some -valuable hints. But here is a recipe for a mixture of chutnee and -pickle, which must have been written a long time ago; for the two -operations are transposed. For instance, _the onions should be dealt -with first_. - - - _Chutnine._ - - Ten or twelve large apples, peeled and cored, put in an - earthenware jar, with a little vinegar (on no account use - water) in the oven. Let them remain till in a pulp, then take - out, and add half an ounce of curry powder, one ounce of - ground ginger, half a pound of stoned raisins, chopped fine, - half a pound moist sugar, one teaspoonful cayenne pepper, one - tablespoonful salt. Take four large onions (_this should be - done first_), chop very fine, and put them in a jar with a pint - and a half of vinegar. Cork tightly and let them remain a week. - Then add the rest of the ingredients, after mixing them well - together. Cork tightly, and the chutnine will be ready for use - in a month. It improves, however, by keeping for a year or so. - - - _Raw Chutnee_ - -is another aid to the consumption of cold meat, and I have also seen -it used as an accompaniment to curry, but do not recommend the mixture. - - One large tomato, one smaller Spanish onion, one green - chili, and a squeeze of lemon juice. Pulp the tomato; don't try - to extract the seeds, for life is too short for that operation. - Chop the onion and the chili very fine, and mix the lot up with - a pinch of salt, and the same quantity of sifted sugar. - -I know plenty of men who would break up their homes (after serving -the furniture in the same way) and emigrate; who would go on strike, -were roast beef to be served at the dinner-table unaccompanied by -horse-radish sauce. But this is a relish for the national dish which -is frequently overlooked. - - - _Horse-radish Sauce._ - -Grate a young root as fine as you can. It is perhaps needless to add -that the fresher the horse-radish the better. No vegetables taste as -well as those grown in your own garden, and gathered, or dug up, just -before wanted. And the horse-radish, like the Jerusalem artichoke, -comes to stay. When once he gets a footing in your garden you will -never dislodge him; nor will you want to. Very well, then: - - Having grated your horse, add a quarter of a pint of - cream--English or Devonshire--a dessert-spoonful of sifted - sugar, half that quantity of salt, and a tablespoonful of - vinegar. Mix all together, and, if for hot meat, heat in the - oven, taking care that the mixture does not curdle. Many people - use oil instead of cream, and mix grated orange rind with the - sauce. The Germans do not use oil, but either make the relish - with cream, or hard-boiled yolk of egg. Horse-radish sauce - for hot meat may also be heated by pouring it into a jar, and - standing the jar in boiling water--"jugging it" in fact. - - - _Celery Sauce_, - -for boiled pheasant, or turkey, is made thus: - - Two or three heads of celery, sliced thin, put into a - saucepan with equal quantities of sugar and salt, a dust of - white pepper, and two or three ounces of butter. Stew your - celery slowly till it becomes pulpy, but _not brown_, add two - or three ounces of flour, and a good half-pint of milk, or - cream. Let it simmer twenty minutes, and then rub the mixture - through a sieve. - -The carp as an item of food is, according to my ideas, a fraud. He -tastes principally of the mud in which he has been wallowing until -dragged out by the angler. The ancients loved a dish of carp, and yet -they knew not the only sauce to make him at all palatable. - - - _Sauce for Carp._ - - One ounce of butter, a quarter pint of good beef gravy, - one dessert-spoonful of flour, a quarter pint of cream and two - anchovies chopped very small. Mix over the fire, stir well till - boiling, then take off, add a little Worcester sauce, and a - squeeze of lemon, just before serving. - - - _Christopher North's Sauce._ - - This is a very old recipe. Put a dessert-spoonful of - sifted sugar, a salt-spoonful of salt, and rather more than - that quantity of cayenne, into a jar. Mix thoroughly, and - add, gradually, two tablespoonfuls of Harvey's sauce, a - dessert-spoonful of mushroom ketchup, a tablespoonful of lemon - juice, and a large glass of port. Place the jar in a saucepan - of boiling water, and let it remain till the mixture is very - hot, but not boiling. If bottled directly after made, the sauce - will keep for a week, and may be used for duck, goose, pork, or - (Christopher adds) "any broil." But there is but _one_ broil - sauce, the GUBBINS SAUCE, already mentioned in this work. - - - _Sauce for Hare._ - -What a piece of work is a hare! And what a piece of work it is to cook -him in a laudable fashion! - - Crumble some bread--a handful or so--soak it in port - wine, heat over the fire with a small lump of butter, a - tablespoonful of red-currant jelly, a little salt, and a - tablespoonful of Chili vinegar. Serve as hot as possible. - -Mackerel is a fish but seldom seen at the tables of the great. And yet -'tis tasty eating, if his Joseph's coat be bright and shining when -you purchase him. When stale he is dangerous to life itself. And he -prefers to gratify the human palate when accompanied by - - - _Gooseberry Sauce_, - - which is made by simply boiling a few green gooseberries, - rubbing them through a sieve, and adding a little butter and a - suspicion of ginger. Then heat up. "A wine-glassful of sorrel - or spinach-juice," observes one authority, "is a decided - improvement." H'm. I've tried both, and prefer the gooseberries - unadorned with spinach liquor. - -Now for a sauce which is deservedly popular all over the world, and -which is equally at home as a salad dressing, as a covering for a -steak off a fresh-run salmon, or a portion of fried eel; the luscious, -the invigorating - - - _Sauce Tartare_, - -so called because no tallow-eating Tartar was ever known to -taste thereof. I have already given a pretty good recipe for its -manufacture, in previous salad-dressing instructions, where the yolks -of hard-boiled eggs are used. But chopped chervil, shallots, and -(occasionally) gherkins, are added to the _Tartare_ arrangement; and -frequently the surface is adorned with capers, stoned olives, and -shredded anchovies. - -In the chapters devoted to dinners, no mention has been made of the -sucking pig, beloved of Charles Lamb.[8] This hardened offender should -be devoured with - - - _Currant Sauce_: - - Boil an ounce of currants, after washing them and picking - out the tacks, dead flies, etc., in half a pint of water, for - a few minutes, and pour over them a cupful of finely grated - crumbs. Let them soak well, then beat up with a fork, and - stir in about a gill of oiled butter. Add two tablespoonfuls - of the brown gravy made for the pig, a glass of port, and a - pinch of salt. Stir the sauce well over the fire. It is also - occasionally served with roast venison; but not in the mansions - of my friends. - -What is sauce for Madame Goose is said to be sauce for Old Man -Gander. Never mind about that, however. The parents of young Master -Goose, with whom alone I am going to deal, have, like the flowers -which bloom in the spring, absolutely nothing to do with the case. -This is the best - - - _Sauce for the Goose_ - -known to civilisation: - - Put two ounces of green sage leaves into a jar with an - ounce of the thin yellow rind of a lemon, a minced shallot, a - teaspoonful of salt, half a ditto of cayenne, and a pint of - claret. Let this soak for a fortnight, then pour off the liquid - into a tureen; or boil with some good gravy. This sauce will - keep for a week or two, bottled and well corked up. - -And now, having given directions for the manufacture of sundry -"cloyless sauces"--with only one of the number having any connection -with _Ala_, and that one a sauce of world-wide reputation, I will -conclude this chapter with a little fancy work. It is not probable -that many who do me the honour to skim through these humble, -faultily-written, but heartfelt gastronomic hints are personally -acquainted with the cloyless - - - _Sambal_, - -who is a lady of dusky origin. But let us quit metaphor, and direct -the gardener to - - Cut the finest and straightest cucumber in his crystal - palace. Cut both ends off, and divide the remainder into - two-inch lengths. Peel these, and let them repose in salt to - draw out the water, which is the indigestible part of the - cucumber. Then take each length, in succession, and with a - very sharp knife--a penknife is best for the purpose--pare it - from surface to centre, until it has become one long, curly - shred. Curl it up tight, so that it may resemble in form the - spring of a Waterbury watch. Cut the length through from end to - end, until you have made numerous long thin shreds. Treat each - length in the same way, and place in a glass dish. Add three - green chilies, chopped fine, a few chopped spring onions, and - some tiny shreds of the Blue Fish of Java. Having performed - a fishless pilgrimage in search of this curiosity, you will - naturally fall back upon the common or Italian anchovy, which, - after extracting the brine and bones, and cleansing, chop fine. - Pour a little vinegar over the mixture. - -"Sambal" will be found a delicious accompaniment to curry--when -served on a salad plate--or to almost any description of cold meat -and cheese. It is only fair to add, however, that the task of making -the relish is arduous and exasperating to a degree; and that the -woman who makes it--no male Christian in the world is possessed of a -tithe of the necessary patience, now that Job and Robert Bruce are -no more--should have the apartment to herself. For the labour is -calculated to teach an entirely new language to the manufacturer. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - - SUPPER - - "We are such stuff - As dreams are made of." - - Cleopatra's supper--Oysters--Danger in the Aden - bivalve--Oyster stew--Ball suppers--Pretty dishes--The _Taj - Mahal_--Aspic--Bloater paste and whipped cream--Ladies' - recipes--Cookery colleges--Tripe--Smothered in onions--North - Riding fashion--An hotel supper--Lord Tomnoddy at the "Magpie - and Stump." - - -That cruel and catlike courtesan, Cleopatra, is alleged to have -given the most expensive supper on record, and to have disposed of -the _bonne bouche_ herself, in the shape of a pearl, valued at the -equivalent of L250,000, dissolved in vinegar of extra strength. Such -a sum is rather more than is paid for a supper at the Savoy, or the -Cecil, or the Metropole, in these more practical times, when pearls -are to be had cheaper; and there is probably about as much truth in -this pearl story as in a great many others of the same period. I -have heard of a fair _declassee_ leader of fashion at Monte Carlo, -who commanded that her _major domo_ should be put to death for not -having telegraphed to Paris for peaches, for a special dinner; but -the woman who could melt a pearl in vinegar, and then drink----_halte -la!_ Perhaps the pearl was displayed in the deep shell of the oyster -of which the "noble curtesan" partook? We know how Mark Antony's -countrymen valued the succulent bivalve; and probably an oyster feast -at Wady Halfa or Dongola was a common function long before London knew -a "Scott's," a "Pimm's," or a "Sweeting's." - -Thanks partly to the "typhoid scare," but principally to the -prohibitive price, the "native" industry of Britain has been, at the -latter end of the nineteenth century, by no means active, although in -the illustrated annuals Uncle John still brings with him a barrel of -the luscious bivalves, in addition to assorted toys for the children, -when he arrives in the midst of a snow-storm at the old hall on -Christmas Eve. But Uncle John, that good fairy of our youth, when -Charles Dickens invented the "festive season," and the very atmosphere -reeked of goose-stuffing, resides, for the most part, "in Sheffield," -in these practical days, when sentiment and goodwill to relatives are -rapidly giving place to matters of fact, motor cars, and mammoth rates. - -The Asiatic oyster is not altogether commendable, his chief merit -consisting in his size. Once whilst paying a flying visit to the city -of Kurachi, I ordered a dozen oysters at the principal hotel. Then I -went out to inspect the lions. On my return I could hardly push my -way into the coffee-room. It was full of oyster! There was no room -for anything else. In fact _one_ Kurachi oyster is a meal for four -full-grown men. - -More tragic still was my experience of the bivalves procurable at -Aden--which cinder-heap I have always considered to be a foretaste -of even hotter things below. Instead of living on coal-dust (as -might naturally be expected) the Aden oyster appears to do himself -particularly well on some preparation of copper. The only time I -tasted him, the after consequences very nearly prevented my ever -tasting anything else, on this sphere. And it was only the comfort -administered by the steward of my cabin which got me round. - -"Ah!" said that functionary, as he looked in to see whether I would -take hot pickled pork or roast goose for dinner. "The last time we -touched at Aden, there was two gents 'ad 'ysters. One of 'em died the -same night, and the other nex' mornin'." - -I laughed so much that the poison left my system. - -Yet still we eat oysters--the _Sans Bacilles_ brand, for choice. And -if we can only persuade the young gentleman who opens the bivalves -to refrain from washing the grit off each in the tub of dirty water -behind the bar, so much the better. And above all, the bivalves -should be opened on the _deep_ shell, so as to conserve some of the -juice; for it is advisable to get as much of the bivalve as we can -for the money. Every time I crunch the bones of a lark I feel that I -am devouring an oratorio, in the way of song; and whilst the bivalve -is sliding down the "red lane" it may be as well to reflect that -"there slips away fourpence"; or, as the Scotsman had it, "bang went -saxpence!" - -In connection with Mr. Bob Sawyer's supper party in _Pickwick_, it may -be recollected that "the man to whom the order for the oysters had -been sent had not been told to open them; it is a very difficult thing -to open an oyster with a limp knife or a two-pronged fork: and very -little was done in this way." - -And in one's own house, unless there be an adept at oyster-opening -present, the simplest way to treat the bivalve is the following. It -should be remembered that a badly-opened oyster will resemble in -flavour a slug on a gravel walk. So _roast_ him, good friends, in his -own fortress. - - - _Oysters in their own Juice._ - - With the tongs place half-a-dozen oysters, mouths - outwards, between the red-hot coals of the parlour or - dining-room fire--the deep shell must be at the bottom--and the - oysters will be cooked in a few minutes, or when the shells - gape wide. Pull them out with the tongs, and insert a fresh - batch. No pepper, vinegar, or lemon juice is necessary as an - adjunct; and the oyster never tastes better. - -At most eating-houses, - - - _Scalloped Oysters_ - -taste of nothing but scorched bread-crumbs; and the reason is obvious, -for there is but little else in the scallop shell. _Natives only_ -should be used. - - Open and beard two dozen, and cut each bivalve in - half. Melt two ounces of butter in a stewpan, and mix into - it the same allowance of flour, the strained oyster liquor, - a teacupful of cream, half a teaspoonful of essence of - anchovies, and a pinch of cayenne--death to the caitiff who - adds nutmeg--and stir the sauce well over the fire. Take it - off, and add the well-beaten yolks of two eggs, a tablespoonful - of finely chopped parsley, and a teaspoonful of lemon juice. - Put in the oysters, and stir the whole over a gentle fire for - five minutes. Put the mixture in the shells, grate bread-crumbs - over, place a small piece of butter atop, and bake in a Dutch - oven before a clear fire until the crumbs are lightly browned, - which should be in about a quarter of an hour. - - - _Oyster Stew_ - -is thoroughly understood in New York City. On this side, the dish -does not meet with any particular favour, although no supper-table is -properly furnished without it. - - Open two dozen oysters, and take the beards off. Put the - oysters into a basin and squeeze over them the juice of half a - lemon. Put the beards and the strained liquor into a saucepan - with half a blade of mace, half a dozen peppercorns ground, - a little grated lemon rind, and a pinch of cayenne. Simmer - gently for a quarter of an hour, strain the liquid, thicken it - with a little butter and flour, add a quarter of a pint (or a - teacupful) of cream, and stir over the fire till quite smooth. - Then put in the oysters, and let them warm through--they must - not boil. Serve in a soup tureen, and little cubes of bread - fried in bacon grease may be served with the stew, as with - pea-soup. - -Be very careful to whose care you entrust your barrel, or bag, of -oysters, after you have got them home. A consignment of the writer's -were, on one memorable and bitter cold Christmas Eve, consigned to the -back dairy, by Matilda Anne. Result--frostbite, gapes, dissolution, -disappointment, disagreeable language. - - - _Ball Suppers._ - -More hard cash is wasted on these than even on ball dresses, which is -saying a great deal. The alien caterer, or _charcutier_, is chiefly to -blame for this; for he it is who has taught the British matron to wrap -up wholesome food in coats of grease, inlaid with foreign substances, -to destroy its flavour, and to bestow upon it an outward semblance -other than its own. There was handed unto me, only the other evening, -what I at first imagined to be a small section of the celebrated _Taj -Mahal_ at Agra, the magnificent mausoleum of the Emperor Shah Jehan. -Reference to the bill-of-fare established the fact that I was merely -sampling a galantine of turkey, smothered in some white glazy grease, -inlaid with chopped carrot, green peas, truffles, and other things. -And the marble column (also inlaid) which might have belonged to King -Solomon's Temple, at the top of the table, turned out to be a Tay -salmon, decorated _a la mode de charcutier_, and tasting principally -of garlic. A shriek from a fair neighbour caused me to turn my head -in her direction; and it took some little time to discover, and -to convince her, that the item on her plate was not a mouse, too -frightened to move, but some preparation of the liver of a goose, in -"aspic." - -This said ASPIC--which has no connection with the asp which the fair -Cleopatra kept on the premises, although a great French lexicographer -says that aspic is so called because it is as cold as a snake--is -invaluable in the numerous "schools of cookery" in the which British -females are educated according to the teaching of the bad fairy -_Ala_. The cold chicken and ham which delighted our ancestors at the -supper-table--what has become of them? Yonder, my dear sir, is the -fowl, in neat portions, minced, and made to represent fragments of -the almond rock which delighted us whilst in the nursery. The ham -has become a ridiculous _mousse_, placed in little accordion-pleated -receptacles of snow-white paper; and those are not poached eggs atop, -either, but dabs of whipped cream with a preserved apricot in the -centre. - -It was only the other day that I read in a journal written by ladies -for ladies, of a dainty dish for luncheon or supper: _croutons_ -smeared with bloater paste and surmounted with whipped cream; and -in the same paper was a recipe for stuffing a fresh herring with -mushrooms, parsley, yolk of egg, onion, and its own soft roe. I am of -opinion that it was a bad day for the male Briton when the gudewife, -with her gude-daughter, and her gude cook, abandoned the gude roast -and boiled, in favour of the works of the all-powerful _Ala_. - -And now let us proceed to discuss the most homely supper of all, and -when I mention the magic word - - - _Tripe_ - -there be few of my readers who will not at once allow that it is -not only the most homely of food, but forms an ideal supper. This -doctrine had not got in its work, however, in the 'sixties, at about -which period the man who avowed himself an habitual tripe-eater must -have been possessed of a considerable amount of nerve. Some of the -supper-houses served it--such as the Albion, the Coal Hole, and more -particularly, "Noakes's," the familiar name for the old Opera Tavern -which used to face the Royal Italian Opera House, in Bow Street, -Covent Garden. But the more genteel food-emporiums fought shy of tripe -until within three decades of the close of the nineteenth century. -Then it began to figure on the supper bills, in out-of-the-way -corners; until supper-eaters in general discovered that this was not -only an exceedingly cheap, but a very nourishing article of food, -which did not require any special divine aid to digest. Then the price -of tripe went up 75 per cent on the programmes. Then the most popular -burlesque _artiste_ of any age put the stamp of approval upon the new -supper-dish, and tripe-dressing became as lucrative a profession as -gold-crushing. - -There is a legend afloat of an eminent actor--poor "Ned" Sothern, -I fancy, as "Johnny" Toole would never have done such a thing--who -bade some of his friends and acquaintance to supper, and regaled them -on sundry rolls of house flannel, smothered with the orthodox onion -sauce. But that is another story. Practical jokes should find no -place in this volume, which is written to benefit, and not alarm, -posterity. Therefore let us discuss the problem - - - _How to Cook Tripe_. - - Ask for "double-tripe," and see that the dresser gives - it you nice and white. Wash it, cut into portions, and place - in equal parts of milk and water, boiling fast. Remove the - saucepan from the hottest part of the fire, and let the tripe - keep just on the boil for an hour and a half. Serve with whole - onions and onion sauce--in this work you will not be told how - to manufacture onion sauce--and baked potatoes should always - accompany this dish to table. - -Some people like their tripe cut into strips rolled up and tied with -cotton, before being placed in the saucepan; but there is really no -necessity to take this further trouble. And if the cook should forget -to remove the cotton before serving, you might get your tongues tied -in knots. In the North Riding of Yorkshire, some of the farmers' -wives egg-and-bread-crumb fillets of tripe, and fry them in the drip -of thick rashers of ham which have been fried previously. The ham -is served in the centre of the dish, with the fillets around the -pig-pieces. This is said to be an excellent dish, but I prefer my -tripe smothered in onions, like the timid "bunny." - -Edmund Yates, in his "Reminiscences," describes "nice, cosy, little -suppers," of which in his early youth he used to partake, at the -house of his maternal grandfather, in Kentish Town. "He dined at two -o'clock," observed the late proprietor of the _World_, "and had the -most delightful suppers at nine; suppers of sprats, or kidneys, or -tripe and onions; with foaming porter and hot grog afterwards." - -I cannot share the enthusiasm possessed by some people for SPRATS, -as an article of diet. When very "full-blown," the little fish make -an excellent fertiliser for Marshal Niel roses; but as "winter -whitebait," or sardines they are hardly up to "Derby form." - -Sprats are not much encouraged at the fashionable hotels; and when -tripe is brought to table, which is but rarely, that food is nearly -always filleted, sprinkled with chopped parsley, and served with -tomato sauce. - -This is the sort of supper which is provided in the "gilt-edged" -_caravanserais_ of the metropolis, the following being a _verbatim_ -copy of a bill of fare at the Hotel Cecil:-- - - SOUPER, 5s. - - Consomme Riche en tasses. - Laitances Frites, Villeroy. - Cote de Mouton aux Haricots Verts. - Chaudfroid de Mauviettes. Strasbourg evisie. - Salade. - Biscuit Cecil. - -A lady-like repast this; and upon the whole, not dear. But roast loin -of mutton hardly sounds tasty enough for a meal partaken of somewhere -about the stroke of midnight. Still, such a supper is by no means -calculated to "murder sleep." Upon the other hand it is a little -difficult to credit the fact that the whole of the party invited by -"My Lord Tomnoddy" to refresh themselves at the "Magpie and Stump," -including the noble host himself, should have slumbered peacefully, -with a noisy crowd in the street, after a supper which consisted of - - "Cold fowl and cigars, - Pickled onions in jars, - Welsh rabbits and kidneys, - Rare work for the jaws." - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - - SUPPER (_continued_) - - "To feed were best at home; - From thence the sauce to meat is ceremony; - Meeting were bare without it." - - Old supper-houses--The Early Closing - Act--Evans's--Cremorne Gardens--The "Albion"--Parlour - cookery--Kidneys fried in the fire-shovel--The true way - to grill a bone--"Cannie Carle"--My lady's bower--Kidney - dumplings--A Middleham supper--Steaks cut from a colt by - brother to "Strafford" out of sister to "Bird on the Wing." - -The Early Closing Act of 1872 had a disastrous effect upon the old -London supper-houses. What Mr. John Hollingshead never tired of -calling the "slap-me-and-put-me-to-bed law" rang the knell of many a -licensed tavern, well-conducted, where plain, well-cooked food and -sound liquor were to be obtained by men who would have astonished -their respective couches had they sought them before the small hours. - - - _Evans's._ - -The "Cave of Harmony" of Thackeray was a different place to the -"Evans's" of my youthful days. Like the younger Newcome, I was taken -there in the first instance, by the author of my being. But Captain -Costigan was conspicuous by his absence; and "Sam Hall" was _non est_. -I noted well the abnormal size of the broiled kidneys, and in my -ignorance of anatomy, imagined that Evans's sheep must be subjected -to somewhat the same process--the "ordeal by fire"--as the Strasbourg -geese. And the potatoes--zounds, sirs! What potatoes! "Shall I turn -it out, sir?" inquired the attentive waiter; and, as he seized the -tuber, enveloped in the snow-white napkin, broke it in two, and -ejected a floury pyramid upon my plate, I would, had I known of such -a decoration in those days, have gladly recommended that attendant -for the Distinguished Service order. In the course of many visits I -never saw any supper commodity served here besides chops, steaks, -kidneys, welsh-rarebits, poached eggs, and (I think) sausages; and -the earliest impression made upon a youthful memory was the air of -extreme confidence which pervaded the place. We certainly "remembered" -the waiter; but not even a potato was paid for until we encountered -the head functionary at the exit door; and his peculiar ideas of -arithmetic would have given Bishop Colenso a succession of fits. - -Who "Evans" was, we neither knew nor cared. "Paddy" Green, with his -chronic smile, was enough for us; as he proffered his ever-ready -snuff-box, inquired after our relatives--"Paddy," like "Spanky" at -Eton, knew everybody--and implored silence whilst the quintette -_Integer Vitae_ was being sung by the choir. We used to venerate -that quintette far more than any music we ever heard in church, and -I am certain "Paddy" Green would have backed his little pack of -choristers--who, according to the general belief, passed the hours of -daylight in waking the echoes of St. Paul's Cathedral, or Westminster -Abbey, and therefore, at Evans's, always looked a bit stale and -sleepy--against any choir in the world. As for Harry Sidney, the fat, -jolly-looking gentleman who was wont to string together the topics of -the day and reproduce them, fresh as rolls, set to music, we could -never hear enough of him; and I wish I had now some of the half-crowns -which in the past were bestowed upon Herr Von Joel, the indifferent -_siffleur_, who was "permanently retained upon the premises," and who -was always going to take a benefit the following week. - -"Kidneys and 'armony"--that was the old programme in the "Cave." And -then the march of time killed poor old Paddy, and another management -reigned. Gradually the "lady element" was introduced, and a portion of -the hall was set apart for the mixed assembly. And then came trouble, -and, finally, disestablishment. And for some time before the closing -of the Cave as a place of entertainment, it was customary to remove -the fine old pictures (what became of them, I wonder), from the walls, -at "Varsity Boat Race" time. For the undergraduate of those days was -nothing if not rowdy. Youth will have its fling; and at Evans's the -fling took the form of tumblers. Well do I recollect a fight in "the -old style" in the very part of the "Cave" where eminent barristers, -actors, and other wits of a past age, used to congregate. The premier -boxer of Cambridge University had been exercising his undoubted -talents as a breaker of glass, during the evening, and at length the -overwrought manager obliged him with an opponent worthy of his fists -in the person of a waiter who could also put up his fists. Several -rounds were fought, strictly according to the rules of the Prize Ring, -and in the result, whilst the waiter had sustained considerable damage -to his ribs, the "Cambridge gent" had two very fine black eyes. Well -do I remember that "mill," also the waiter, who afterwards became an -habitual follower of the turf. - -If Cremorne introduced the fashion of "long drinks," sodas, and -et ceteras, the suppers served in the old gardens had not much to -recommend them. A slice or two of cold beef, or a leg of a chicken, -with some particularly salt ham, formed the average fare; but those -who possessed their souls with patience occasionally saw something -hot, in the way of food--chiefly cutlets. The great virtue of the -cutlet is that it can be reheated; and one dish not infrequently did -duty for more than one party. The rejected portion, in fact, would -"reappear" as often as a retiring actor. "I know them salmon cutlets," -the waiter in _Pink Dominoes_ used to observe, "as well as I know my -own mother!" In fact, Cremorne, like the "night houses" of old, was -not an ideal place to sup at. - -But, _per contra_, the "Albion" _was_. Until the enforcement of -the "slap-me-and-put-me-to-bed" policy there was no more justly -celebrated house of entertainment than the one which almost faced the -stage door of Drury Lane theatre, in Great Russell Street. One of the -brothers Cooper--another kept the Rainbow in Fleet Street--retired -on a fortune made here, simply by pursuing the policy of giving his -customers the best of everything. And a rare, Bohemian stamp of -customers he had, too--a nice, large-hearted, open-handed lot of -actors, successful and otherwise, dramatic critics ditto, and ditto -journalists, also variegated in degree; with the usual, necessary, -leavening of the "City" element. The custom of the fair sex was not -encouraged at the old tavern; though in a room on the first floor -they were permitted to sup, if in "the profession" and accompanied -by males, whose manners and customs could be vouched for. In winter -time, assorted grills, of fish, flesh, and fowl, were served as supper -dishes; whilst tripe was the staple food. Welsh rarebits, too, were in -immense demand. And I think it was here that I devoured, with no fear -of the future before my plate, a - - - _Buck Rarebit_. - -During the silent watches of the rest of the morning, bile and -dyspepsia fought heroically for my soul; and yet the little animal -is easy enough to prepare, being nothing grander than a Welsh -rarebit, with a poached egg atop. But the little tins (silver, like -the forks and spoons, until the greed and forgetfulness of mankind -necessitated the substitution of electro-plate) which the Hebes -at the "Old Cheshire Cheese" fill with fragments of the hostelry's -godfather--subsequently to be stewed in good old ale--are less harmful -to the interior of the human diaphragm. - -A favourite Albion supper-dish during the summer months was - - - _Lamb's Head and Mince_. - -I have preserved the recipe, a gift from one of the waiters--but -whether Ponsford, Taylor, or "Shakespeare" (so-called because he bore -not the faintest resemblance to the immortal bard) I forget--and here -it is: - - The head should be scalded, scraped, and well washed. - Don't have it singed, in the Scottish fashion, as lamb's - wool is not nice to eat. Then put it, with the liver (the - sweetbread was chopped up with the brain, I fancy), into a - stewpan, with a Spanish onion stuck with cloves, a bunch of - parsley, a little thyme, a carrot, a turnip, a bay leaf, some - crushed peppercorns, a tablespoonful of salt, and half a gallon - of cold water. Let it boil up, skim, and then simmer for an - hour. Divide the head, take out the tongue and brain, and dry - the rest of the head in a cloth. Mince the liver and tongue, - season with salt and pepper, and simmer in the original gravy - (thickened) for half-an-hour. Brush the two head-halves with - yolk of egg, grate bread crumbs over, and bake in oven. The - brain and sweetbread to be chopped and made into cakes, fried, - and then placed in the dish around the head-halves. - -Ah me! The old tavern, after falling into bad ways, entertaining -"extra-ladies" and ruined gamesters, has been closed for years. The -ground floor was a potato warehouse the last time I passed the place. -And it should be mentioned that the actors, journalists, etc., who, -in the 'seventies, possessed smaller means, or more modest ambitions, -were in the habit of supping--on supping days--at a cheaper haunt in -the Strand, off (alleged) roast goose. But, according to one Joseph -Eldred, a comedian of some note and shirt-cuff, the meat which was -apportioned to us here was, in reality, always bullock's heart, -sliced, and with a liberal allowance of sage and onions. "It's the -seasoning as does it," observed Mr. Samuel Weller. - -Then there was another Bohemian house of call, and supper place, -in those nights--the "Occidental," once known as the "Coal Hole," -where, around a large, beautifully polished mahogany table, many of -the wits of the town--"Harry" Leigh and "Tom" Purnell were two of -the inveterates--sat, and devoured Welsh rarebits, and other things. -The house, too, could accommodate not a few lodgers; and one of its -great charms was that nobody cared a button what time you retired to -your couch, or what time you ordered breakfast. In these matters, the -Occidental resembled the "Limmer's" of the "Billy Duff" era, and the -"Lane's" of my own dear subaltern days. - - - _Parlour Cookery._ - -It was after the last-named days that, whilst on tour with various -dramatic combinations--more from necessity than art, as far as I -was concerned--that the first principles of parlour cookery became -impregnated in mine understanding. We were not all "stars," although -we did our best. Salaries were (according to the advertisements) -"low but sure"; and (according to experiences) by no means as sure -as death, or taxes. The "spectre" did not invariably assume his -"martial stalk," of a Saturday; and cheap provincial lodgings do not -hold out any extra inducement in the way of cookery. So, whilst we -endured the efforts of the good landlady at the early dinner, some of -us determined to dish up our own suppers. For the true artist never -really feels (or never used to feel, at all events) like "picking a -bit" until merely commercial folks have gone to bed. - -Many a time and oft, with the aid of a cigar box (empty, of course), -a couple of books, and an arrangement of plates, have I prepared a -savoury supper of mushrooms, toasted cheese, or a _kebob_ of larks, or -other small fowl, in front of the fire. More than once have I received -notice to quit the next morning for grilling kidneys on the perforated -portion of a handsome and costly steel fire-shovel. And by the time I -had become sufficiently advanced in culinary science to stew tripe and -onions, in an enamel-lined saucepan, the property of the "responsible -gent," we began to give ourselves airs. Landladies' ideas on the -subject of supper for "theatricals," it may be mentioned, seldom -soared above yeast dumplings. And few of us liked the name, even, of -yeast dumplings. - -But perhaps the champion effort of all was when I was sojourning in -the good city of Carlisle--known to its inhabitants by the pet name -of "Cannie Carle." A good lady was, for her sins, providing us with -board and lodging, in return for (promised) cash. My then companion -was a merry youth who afterwards achieved fame by writing the very -funniest and one of the most successful of three-act farces that was -ever placed upon the stage. Now there is not much the matter with a -good joint of ribs of beef, roasted to a turn. But when that beef -is placed on the table hot for the Sunday dinner, and cold at every -succeeding meal until finished up, one's appetite for the flesh of -the ox begins to slacken. So we determined on the Wednesday night to -"strike" for a tripe supper. - -"Indeed," protested the good landlady, "ye'll get nae tripe in this -hoose, cannie men. Hae ye no' got guid beef, the noo?" - -Late that night we had grilled bones for supper; not the ordinary - - - _Grilled Bones_ - -which you get in an eating house, but a vastly superior article. -We, or rather my messmate, cut a rib from off the aforementioned -beef, scored the flesh across, and placed the bone in the centre of -a beautifully clear fire which had been specially prepared. It was -placed there by means of the tongs--a weapon of inestimable value in -Parlour Cookery--and withdrawn by the same medium. Some of the black -wanted scraping off the surface of the meat, but the grill was a -perfect dream. The GUBBINS SAUCE, already mentioned in this volume, -had not at that time been invented; but as I was never without a -bottle of TAPP SAUCE--invaluable for Parlour Cookery; you can get it -at Stembridge's--we had plenty of relish. Then we severed another rib -from the carcase, and served it in the same manner. For it was winter -time and we had wearied of frigid ox. - -Next morning the landlady's face was a study. I rather think that -after some conversation, we propitiated her with an order for two for -the dress circle; but it is certain that we had tripe that evening. - -An ideal supper in _miladi's boudoir_ is associated, in the writer's -mind, with rose-coloured draperies, dainty china, a cosy fire, a -liberal display of _lingerie_, a strong perfume of heliotrope and -orris root--and _miladi_ herself. When next she invites her friends, -she will kindly order the following repast to be spread:-- - - Clear soup, in cups. - Fillets of soles Parisienne. - Chaudfroid of Quails. - Barded sweetbreads. - Perigord pate. - -By way of contrast, let me quote a typical supper-dish which the "poor -player" used to order, when he could afford it. - - _Kidney Dumpling._ - - Cut a large Spanish onion in half. Take out the heart, and - substitute a sheep's kidney, cut into four. Season with salt - and pepper, join the two halves, and enclose in a paste. Bake - on a buttered tin, in a moderate oven, for about an hour. - - _N.B._--Be sure the cook _bakes_ this dumpling, as it is - not nice boiled. - -An artistic friend who at one time of his life resided near the great -horse-training centre of Middleham, in Yorkshire, gave a steak supper -at the principal inn, to some of the stable attendants. The fare was -highly approved of. - -"Best Scotch beef I ever put tooth into!" observed the "head lad" at -old Tom Lawson's stables. - -"Ah!" returned the host, who was a bit of a wag, "your beef was cut -from a colt of Lord Glasgow's that was thought highly of at one time; -and he was shot the day before yesterday." - -And it was so. For Lord Glasgow never sold nor gave away a horse, but -had all his "failures" shot. - -And then a great cry went up for brown brandy. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - - "CAMPING OUT" - - "Thou didst eat strange flesh, - Which some did die to look on." - - The ups and downs of life--Stirring adventures--Marching - on to glory--Shooting in the tropics--Pepper-pot--With the - _Rajah Sahib_--Goat-sacrifices at breakfast time--Simla to - Cashmere--Manners and customs of Thibet--Burmah--No place to - get fat in--Insects--Voracity of the natives--Snakes--Sport - in the Jungle--Loaded for snipe, sure to meet tiger--With the - gippos--No baked hedgehog--Cheap milk. - - -The intelligent reader may have gathered from some of the foregoing -pages that the experiences of the writer have been of a variegated -nature. As an habitual follower of the Turf once observed: - - "When we're rich we rides in chaises, - And when we're broke we walks like ----" - -Never mind what. It was an evil man who said it, but he was a -philosopher. Dinner in the gilded saloon one day, on the next no -dinner at all, and the key of the street. Such is life! - -Those experiences do not embrace a mortal combat with a "grizzly" -in the Rockies, nor a tramp through a miasma-laden forest in Darkest -Africa, with nothing better to eat than poisonous _fungi_, assorted -grasses, red ants, and dwarfs; nor yet a bull fight. But they include -roughing it in the bush, on underdone bread and scorched kangaroo, a -tramp from Benares to the frontier of British India, another tramp -or two some way beyond that frontier, a dreadful journey across the -eternal snows of the Himalayas, a day's shooting in the Khyber Pass, -a railway accident in Middlesex, a mad elephant (he had killed seven -men, one of them blind) hunt at Thayet Myoo, in British Burmah, a fine -snake anecdote or two, a night at Cambridge with an escaped lunatic, -a tiger story (of course), and a capture for debt by an officer of -the Sheriff of Pegu, with no other clothing on his body than a short -jacket of gaily coloured silk, and a loin cloth. My life's history is -never likely to be written--chiefly through sheer laziness on my own -part, and the absence of the gambling instinct on that of the average -publisher--but like the brown gentleman who smothered his wife, I have -"seen things." - -In this chapter no allusion will be made to "up river" delights, -the only idea of "camping out" which is properly understood by the -majority of "up to date" young men and maidens; for this theme has -been already treated, most comically and delightfully, by Mr. Jerome, -in the funniest book I ever read. My own camping experiences have been -for the most part in foreign lands, though I have seen the sun rise, -whilst reclining beneath the Royal trees in St. James's Park; and as -this book is supposed to deal with gastronomy, rather than adventure, -a brief sketch of camp life must suffice. - -On the march! What a time those who "served the Widdy"--by which -disrespectful term, our revered Sovereign was _not_ known in those -days--used to have before the continent of India had been intersected -by the railroad! The absence of one's proper _quantum_ of rest, the -forced marches over _kutcha_ (imperfectly made) bye-roads, the sudden -changes of temperature, raids of the native thief, the troubles -with "bobbery" camels, the still more exasperating behaviour of the -_bail-wallahs_ (bullock-drivers), the awful responsibilities of the -officer-on-baggage-guard, on active duty, often in the saddle for -fifteen hours at a stretch, the absolutely necessary cattle-raids, -by the roadside--all these things are well known to those who have -undergone them, but are far too long "another story" to be related -here. As for the food partaken of during a march with the regiment, -the bill-of-fare differed but little from that of the cantonments; but -the officer who spent a brief holiday in a shooting expedition had to -"rough it" in more ways than one. - -There was plenty of game all over the continent in my youthful days, -and the average shot need not have lacked a dinner, even if he had not -brought with him a consignment of "Europe" provisions. English bread -was lacking, certainly, and biscuits, native or otherwise--"otherwise" -for choice, as the bazaar article tasted principally of pin-cushions -and the smoke of dried and lighted cow-dung--or the ordinary -_chupatti_, the flat, unleavened cake, which the poor Indian -manufactures for his own consumption. Cold tea is by far the best -liquid to carry--or rather to have carried for you--whilst actually -shooting; but the weary sportsman will require something more -exciting, and more poetical, on his return to camp. As for solid fare -it was usually - - - _Pepper-pot_ - -for dinner, day by day. We called it Pepper-pot--that is to say, -although it differed somewhat from the West Indian concoction of that -name, for which the following is the recipe:-- - - Put the remains of any cold flesh or fowl into a saucepan, - and cover with _cassaripe_--which has been already described in - the Curry chapter as extract of Manioc root. Heat up the stew - and serve. - -Our pepper-pot was usually made in a gipsy-kettle, suspended from -a tripod. The foundation of the stew was always a tin of some kind -of soup. Then a few goat chops--mutton is bad to buy out in the -jungle--and then any bird or beast that may have been shot, divided -into fragments. I have frequently made a stew of this sort, with so -many ingredients in it that the flavour when served out at table--or -on the bullock-trunk which often did duty for a table--would have -beaten the wit of man to describe. There was hare soup "intil't" (as -the Scotsman said to the late Prince Consort), and a collop or two of -buffalo-beef, with snipe, quails, and jungle-fowl. There were half the -neck of an antelope and a few sliced onions lurking within the bowl. -And there were potatoes "intil't," and plenty of pepper and salt. And -for lack of cassaripe we flavoured the savoury mess with mango chutnee -and Tapp sauce. And if any cook, English or foreign, can concoct a -more worthy dish than this, or more grateful to the palate, said cook -can come my way. - -The old _dak gharry_ method of travelling in India may well come under -the head of Camping Out. In the hot weather we usually progressed--or -got emptied into a ditch--or collided with something else, during -the comparative "coolth" of the night; resting (which in Hindustan -usually means perspiring and calling the country names) all day at one -or other of the _dak bungalows_ provided by a benevolent Government -for the use of the wandering _sahib_. The larder at one of those -rest-houses was seldom well filled. Although the _khansamah_ who -prostrated himself in the sand at your approach would declare that -he was prepared to supply everything which the protector-of-the-poor -might deign to order, it would be found on further inquiry that the -_khansamah_ had, like the Player Queen in Hamlet, protested too -much--that he was a natural romancer. And his "everything" usually -resolved itself into a "spatch-cock," manufactured from the spectral -rooster, who had heralded the approach of the _sahib's_ caravan. - - - _A Rajah's_ - -ideas of hospitality are massive. Labouring under the belief that -the white _sahib_ when not eating must necessarily be drinking, the -commissariat arrangements of Rajahdom are on a colossal scale--for -the chief benefit of his _major domo_. I might have bathed in dry -champagne, had the idea been pleasing, whilst staying with a certain -genial prince, known to irreverent British subalterns as "Old -Coppertail"; whilst the bedroom furniture was on the same liberal -scale. True, I lay on an ordinary native _charpoy_, which might -have been bought in the bazaar for a few _annas_, but there was -a grand piano in one corner of the apartment, and a buhl cabinet -containing rare china in another. There was a coloured print of the -Governor-General over the doorway, and an oil painting of the Judgment -of Solomon over the mantelshelf. And on a table within easy reach of -the bed was a silver-plated dinner service, decked with fruits and -sweetmeats, and tins of salmon, and pots of Guava jelly and mixed -pickles, and two tumblers, each of which would have easily held a -week-old baby. And there was a case of champagne beneath that table, -with every appliance for cutting wires and extracting the corks. - -Another time the writer formed one of a small party invited to share -the hospitality of a potentate, whose estate lay on the snowy side -of Simla. The fleecy element, however, was not in evidence in June, -the month of our visit, although towards December Simla herself is -usually wrapt in the white mantle, and garrisoned by monkeys, who -have fled from the land of ice. Tents had been erected for us in a -barren-looking valley, somewhat famous, however, for the cultivation -of potatoes. There was an annual celebration of some sort, the day -after our arrival, and for breakfast that morning an _al fresco_ meal -had been prepared for us, almost within whispering distance of an -heathen temple. And it _was_ a breakfast! There was a turkey stuffed -with a fowl, to make the breast larger, and there was a "Europe" ham. -A tin of lobster, a bottle of pickled walnuts, a dreadful concoction, -alleged to be an omelette, but looking more like the sole of a tennis -shoe, potatoes, boiled eggs, a dish of Irish stew, a fry of small -fish, a weird-looking curry, a young goat roasted whole, and a plum -pudding! - -The tea had hardly been poured out--Kussowlie beer, Epps's cocoa, and -(of course) champagne, and John Exshaw's brandy were also on tap--when -a gentleman with very little on proceeded to decapitate a goat at -the foot of the temple steps. This was somewhat startling, but when -the (presumed) high-priest chopped off the head of another bleating -victim, our meal was interrupted. The executions had been carried out -in very simple fashion. First, the priest sprinkled a little water on -the neck of the victim (who was held in position by an assistant), and -then retired up the steps. Then, brandishing a small sickle, he rushed -back, and in an instant off went the head, which was promptly carried, -reeking with gore, within the temple. But if, as happened more than -once, the head was not sliced off at the initial attempt, it was left -on the ground when decapitation had been at length effected. The deity -inside was evidently a bit particular! - -Nine goats had been sacrificed, ere our remonstrances were attended -to; and we were allowed to pursue our meal in peace. But I don't think -anybody had goat for breakfast that morning. - -Later on, the fun of the fair commenced, and the _paharis_, or hill -men, trooped in from miles round, with their sisters, cousins, and -aunts. Their wives, we imagined, were too busily occupied in carrying -their accustomed loads of timber to and fro. Your Himalayan delights -in a fair, and the numerous swings and roundabouts were all well -patronised; whilst the jugglers, and the snake charmers--in many -instances it was difficult to tell at a glance which was charmer and -which snake--were all well patronised. Later on, when the lamps had -been lit, a _burra natch_ was started, and the Bengali Baboos who -had come all the way from Simla in _dhoolies_ to be present at this, -applauded vigorously. And our host being in constant dread lest we -should starve to death or expire of thirst, never tired of bidding us -to a succession of banquets at which we simply went through the forms -of eating, to please him. And just when we began to get sleepy these -simple hill folks commenced to dance amongst themselves. They were -just a little monotonous, their choregraphic efforts. Parties of men -linked arms and sidled around fires of logs, singing songs of their -mountain homes the while. And as they were evidently determined to -make a night of it, sleep for those who understood not the game, with -their tents close handy, was out of the question. And when, as soon -as we could take our departure decently and decorously, we started -up the hill again, those doleful monotonous dances were still in -progress, although the fires were out, and the voices decidedly husky. -A native of the Himalayas is nothing if not energetic--in his own -interests be it understood. - -A few months later I formed one of a small party who embarked on a -more important expedition than the last named, although we traversed -the same road. It is a journey which has frequently been made since, -from Simla to Cashmere, going as far into the land of the Great Llama -as the inhabitants will allow the stranger to do--which is not very -far; but, in the early sixties there were but few white men who had -even skirted Thibet. In the afternoon of life, when stirring the -fire has become preferable to stirring adventure, it seems (to the -writer at all events) very like an attempt at self-slaughter to have -travelled so many hundreds of miles along narrow goatpaths, with a -_khud_ (precipice) of thousands of feet on one side or the other; -picking one's way, if on foot, over the frequent avalanche (or "land -slip," as we called it in those days) of shale or granite; or if -carried in a _dhoolie_--which is simply a hammock attached by straps -to a bamboo pole--running the risk of being propelled over a precipice -by your heathen carriers. It is not the pleasantest of sensations -to cross a mountain torrent by means of a frail bridge (called a -_jhula_) of ropes made from twigs, and stretched many feet above the -torrent itself, nor to "weather" a corner, whilst clinging tooth -and nail to the face of a cliff. And when there is any riding to be -done, most people would prefer a hill pony to a _yak_, the native ox -of Thibet. By far the best part of a _yak_ is his beautiful silky, -fleecy tail, which is largely used in Hindustan, by dependants of -governors-general, commanders-in-chief, and other mighty ones, for the -discomfiture of the frequent fly. A very little equestrian exercise on -the back of a _yak_ goes a long way; and if given my choice, I would -sooner ride a stumbling cab-horse in a saddle with spikes in it. - -But those days were our salad ones; we were not only "green of -judgment," but admirers of the beautiful, and reckless of danger. -But it was decidedly "roughing it." As it is advisable to traverse -that track as lightly laden as possible, we took but few "Europe" -provisions with us, depending upon the villages, for the most part, -for our supplies. We usually managed to buy a little flour, wherewith -to make the inevitable _chupati_, and at some of the co-operative -stores _en route_, we obtained mutton of fair flavour. We did not know -in those days that flesh exposed to the air, in the higher ranges of -the Himalayas, will not putrefy, else we should have doubtless made -a species of _biltong_ of the surplus meat, to carry with us in case -of any famine about. So "short commons" frequently formed the bill -of fare. Our little stock of brandy was carefully husbanded, against -illness; and, judging from the subsequent histories of two of the -party, this was the most miraculous feature of the expedition. For -liquid refreshment we had neat water, and _the a la mode de Thibet_. -Doctor Nansen, in his book on the crossing of Greenland, inveighs -strongly against the use of alcohol in an Arctic expedition; but I -confess that the first time I tasted Thibet tea I would have given -both my ears for a soda and brandy. The raw tea was compressed into -the shape of a brick, with the aid of--we did not inquire what; its -infusion was drunk, either cold or lukewarm, flavoured with salt, and -a small lump of butter which in any civilised police court would have -gained the vendor a month's imprisonment without the option of a fine. - -The people of the district were in the habit of gorging themselves -with flesh when they could get it; and polyandry was another of their -pleasant customs. We saw one lady who was married to three brothers, -but did not boast of it. Thibet is probably the most priest-ridden -country in the world, and ought to be the most religious; for the -natives can grind out their prayers, on wheels, at short intervals, in -pretty much the same way as we grind our coffee in dear old England. - -But we reached the promised land at last; and here at least there -was no lack of food and drink. Meat was cheap in those days; and one -of the party, without any bargaining whatever, purchased a sheep for -eight annas, or one shilling sterling. Mutton is not quite as cheap at -the time of writing this book (1897), I believe; but in the long ago -there were but few English visitors to the land of Lalla Rookh, and -those who did go had to obtain permission of the Rajah, through the -British Resident. - -With improved transit, and a railroad from Rangoon to Mandalay, -matters gastronomic may be better in British Burmah nowadays; but in -the course of an almost world-wide experience I have never enjoyed -food less than in Pagoda-land during the sixties. And as a Burmese -built house was not a whit more comfortable than a tent, and far -less waterproof, this subject may well be included in the chapter -headed "Camping Out." Fruits there were, varied and plentiful; and -if you only planted the crown of a pine-apple in your compound one -evening you would probably find a decent-sized pine-apple above -ground next--well, next week. At least so they told me when I arrived -in the country. This fruit, in fact, was so plentiful that we used -to peel the pines, and gnaw them, just like a school-boy would gnaw -the ordinary variety of apple. But we had no mutton--not up the -country, that is to say; and we were entirely dependent upon Madras -for potatoes. Therefore, as there was only a steamer once a month -from Madras to Rangoon, which invariably missed the Irrawaddy monthly -mail-boat, we "exiles" had to content ourselves with yams, or the -abominable "preserved" earth-apple. The insects of the air wrestled -with us at the mess-table, for food; and the man who did not swallow -an evil-tasting fly of some sort in his soup was lucky.[9] As for the -food of the Burman himself, "absolutely beastly" was no name for it. -Strips of cat-fish the colour of beef were served at his marriage -feasts; and he was especially fond of a condiment the name of which -was pronounced _nuppee_--although that is probably not the correct -spelling, and I never studied the language of that country--which was -concocted from a smaller description of fish, buried in the earth -until decomposition had triumphed, and then mashed up with _ghee_ -(clarified--and "postponed"--butter). There was, certainly, plenty of -shooting to be obtained in the district; but, as it rained in torrents -for nine months in every year, the shooter required a considerable -amount of nerve, and, in addition to a Boyton suit, case-hardened -lungs and throat. And, singularly enough, it was an established fact -that if loaded for snipe you invariably met a tiger, or something -else with sharp teeth, and _vice versa_. Also, you were exceptionally -fortunate if you did not step upon one of the venomous snakes of the -country, of whom the _hamadryad's_ bite was said to be fatal within -five minutes. I had omitted to mention that snake is also a favourite -food of the Burman; and as I seldom went home of an evening without -finding a rat-snake or two in the verandah, or the arm-chair, the -natives had snake for breakfast, most days. The rat-snake is, however, -quite harmless to life. - -I have "camped out" in England once or twice; once with a select -circle of gipsies, the night before the Derby. I wished merely to -study character; and, after giving them a few words of the Romany -dialect, and a good deal of tobacco, I was admitted into their -confidences. But the experience gained was not altogether pleasing, -nor yet edifying; nor did we have baked hedgehog for supper. In -fact I have never yet met the "gippo" (most of them keep fowls) who -will own to having tasted this _bonne bouche_ of the descriptive -writer. Possibly this is on account of the scarcity of the hedgehog. -"Tea-kettle broth"--bread sopped in water, with a little salt and -dripping to flavour the soup--on the other hand, figures on most -of the gipsy _menus_. And upon one occasion, very early in the -morning, another wanderer and the writer obtained much-needed liquid -refreshment by milking the yield of a Jersey cow into each other's -mouths, alternately. But this was a long time ago, and in the -neighbourhood of Bagshot Heath, and it was somebody else's cow; so let -no more be said about it. - -I fear this chapter is not calculated to make many mouths water. In -fact what in the world has brought it into the midst of a work on -gastronomy I am at a loss to make out. However here it is. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - - COMPOUND DRINKS - - "Flow wine! Smile woman! - And the universe is consoled." - - Derivation of punch--"Five"--The "milk" brand--The best - materials--Various other punches--Bischoff or Bishop--"Halo" - punch--Toddy--The toddy tree of India--Flip--A "peg"--John - Collins--Out of the guard-room. - - -The subject of PUNCH is such an important one that it may be placed -first on the list of dainty beverages which can be made by the art or -application of man or woman. - -First, let us take the origin of the word. DOCTOR KITCHENER, an -acknowledged authority, during his lifetime, on all matters connected -with eating and drinking, has laid it down that punch is of West -Indian origin, and that the word when translated, means "five"; -because there be five ingredients necessary in the concoction of the -beverage. But Doctor Kitchener and his disciples (of whom there be -many) may go to the bottom of the cookery class; for although from the -large connection which rum and limes have with the mixture, there -would seem to be a West Indian flavour about it; the word "five," -when translated into West Indianese, is nothing like "punch." Having -satisfied themselves that this is a fact, modern authorities have -tried the East Indies for the source of the name, and have discovered -that _panch_ in Hindustani really does mean "five." "Therefore," says -one modern authority, "it is named punch from the five ingredients -which compose it--(1) spirit, (2) acid, (3) spice, (4) sugar, (5) -water." Another modern authority calls punch "a beverage introduced -into England from India, and so called from being usually made of -five (Hindi, _panch_) ingredients--arrack, tea, sugar, water, and -lemon juice." This sounds far more like an East Indian concoction than -the other; but at the same time punch--during the latter half of the -nineteenth century at all events--was as rare a drink in Hindustan as -_bhang_ in Great Britain. The _panch_ theory is an ingenious one, but -there are plenty of other combinations (both liquid and solid) of five -to which the word punch is never applied; and about the last beverage -recommended by the faculty for the consumption of the sojourner in the -land of the Great Mogul, would, I should think, be the entrancing, -seductive one which we Britons know under the name of punch. Moreover -it is not every punch-concoctor who uses five ingredients. In the -minds of some--youthful members of the Stock Exchange, for the most -part--water is an altogether unnecessary addition to the alcoholic -mixture which is known by the above name. And what manner of man would -add spice to that delight of old Ireland, "a jug o' punch?" On the -other hand, in many recipes, there are more than five ingredients used. - -But after all, the origin of the name is of but secondary importance, -as long as you can make punch. Therefore, we will commence with a few -recipes for - - - _Milk Punch_. - - 1. Three bottles of rum. - The most delicately-flavoured rum is the "Liquid Sunshine" brand. - One bottle of sherry. - 13 lbs of loaf-sugar. - The rind of six lemons, and the juice of twelve. - One quart of boiling skimmed milk. - - Mix together, let the mixture stand eight days, stirring - it each day. Strain and bottle, and let it stand three months. - Then re-bottle, and let the bottles lie on their sides in the - cellar for two years, to mature. The flavour will be much - better than if drunk after the first period of three months. - -It is not everybody, however, who would care to wait two years, three -months, and eight days for the result of his efforts in punch-making. -Therefore another recipe may be appended; and in this one no "close -time" is laid down for the consumption of the mixture. - - 2. Put into a bottle of rum or brandy the thinly-pared - rinds of three Seville oranges, and three lemons. Cork tightly - for two days. Rub off on 2 lbs of lump sugar the rinds of six - lemons, squeeze the juice from the whole of the fruit over - the 2 lbs of sugar, add three quarts of boiling water, one - of boiling milk, half a teaspoonful of nutmeg, and mix all - thoroughly well together until the sugar is dissolved. Pour in - the rum or brandy, stir, and strain till clear; bottle closely. - -There is more than one objection to this recipe. (1) Rum, and not -brandy (by itself), should be used for milk punch. (2) There is an -"intolerable amount" of water; and (3) the nutmeg had better remain in -the spice-box. - - 3. Cut off the thin yellow rind of four lemons and a - Seville orange, taking care not to include even a fragment of - the _white_ rind, and place in a basin. Pour in one pint of - Jamaica rum, and let it stand, covered over, twelve hours. - Then strain, and mix with it one pint of lemon juice, and two - pints of cold water, in which one pound of sugar-candy has - been dissolved; add the whites of two eggs, beaten to a froth, - three pints more of rum, one pint of madeira, one pint of - strong green tea, and a large wine-glassful of maraschino. Mix - thoroughly, and pour over all one pint of boiling milk. Let the - punch stand a little while, then strain through a jelly-bag, - and either use at once, or bottle off. - -Here let it be added, lest the precept be forgotten, that the - - - _Very best Materials_ - -are absolutely necessary for the manufacture of punch, as of other -compound drinks. In the above recipe for instance by "madeira," is -meant "Rare Old East Indian," and _not_ marsala, which wine, in -French kitchens, is invariably used as the equivalent of madeira. -There must be no inferior sherry, Gladstone claret, cheap champagne, -nor potato-brandy, used for any of my recipes, or I will not be -responsible for the flavour of the beverage. The following is the best -idea of a milk punch known to the writer:-- - - 4. Over the yellow rind of four lemons and one Seville - orange, pour one pint of rum. Let it stand, covered over, for - twelve hours. Strain and mix in two pints more of rum, one pint - of brandy, one pint of sherry, half-a-pint of lemon juice, the - expressed juice of a peeled pine-apple, one pint of green tea, - one pound of sugar dissolved in one quart of boiling water, the - whites of two eggs beaten up, one quart of boiling milk. Mix - well, let it cool, and then strain through a jelly-bag, and - bottle off. - -This punch is calculated to make the epicure forget that he has just -been partaking of conger-eel broth instead of clear turtle. - - - _Cambridge Milk Punch._ - - This a fairly good boys' beverage, there being absolutely - "no offence in't." Put the rind of half a lemon (small) into - one pint of new milk, with twelve lumps of sugar. Boil very - slowly for fifteen minutes, then remove from the fire, take out - the lemon rind, and mix in the yolk of one egg, which has been - previously blended with one tablespoonful of cold milk, two - tablespoonfuls of brandy, and four of rum. Whisk all together, - and when the mixture is frothed, it is ready to serve. - - - _Oxford Punch._ - -There is no milk in this mixture, which sounds like "for'ard on!" for -the undergraduate who for the first time samples it. - - Rub off the yellow rind of three lemons with half-a-pound - of loaf sugar. Put the result into a large jug, with the yellow - rind of one Seville orange, the juice of three Seville oranges - and eight lemons, and one pint of liquefied calf's-foot jelly. - Mix thoroughly, then pour over two quarts of boiling water, - and set the jug on the hob for thirty minutes. Strain the - mixture into a punch-bowl, and when cool add one small bottle - of capillaire (an infusion of maidenhair fern, flavoured with - sugar and orange-flower water); one pint of brandy, one pint - of rum, half-a-pint of dry sherry, and one quart of orange - shrub--a mixture of orange-peel, juice, sugar, and rum. - -After drinking this, the young student will be in a fit state to -sally forth, with his fellows, and "draw" a Dean, or drown an amateur -journalist. - -I have a very old recipe, in MS., for "Bischoff," which I take to -be the original of the better known beverage called "Bishop," for -the manufacture of which I have also directions. For the sake of -comparison I give the two. - - - _Bischoff._ - - Cut into four parts each, three Seville oranges, and - slightly score the rinds across with a sharp knife. Roast the - quarters lightly before a slow fire, and put them into a bowl - with two bottles of claret, with a little cinnamon and nutmeg. - Infuse this mixture over a slow heat for five or six hours, - then pass it through a jelly-bag, and sweeten. It may be drunk - hot or cold, but in any case must never be allowed to boil. - - - _Bishop._ - - Two drachmas each of cloves, mace, ginger, cinnamon, and - allspice, boiled in half-a-pint of water for thirty minutes. - Strain. Put a bottle of port in a saucepan over the fire, add - the spiced infusion, and a lemon stuck with six cloves. Whilst - this is heating gradually--it must not boil--take four ounces - of loaf sugar, and with the lumps grate off the outer rind of a - lemon into a punch-bowl. Add the sugar, and juice, and the hot - wine, etc. Add another bottle of port, and serve either hot or - cold. - -I am prepared to lay a shade of odds on the "op" against the "off." - -Another old recipe has been quoted in some of my earlier public -efforts, under different names. I have improved considerably upon the -proportion of the ingredients, and now hand the whole back, under the -name of - - - _Halo Punch_. - - With a quarter pound of loaf sugar rub off the outer rind - of one lemon and two Seville oranges. Put rind and sugar into - a large punch-bowl with the juice and pulp, mix the sugar well - with the juice and one teacupful of boiling water, and stir - till cold. Add half-a-pint of pine-apple syrup, one pint of - strong green tea, a claret-glassful of maraschino, a smaller - glassful of noyeau, half-a-pint of white rum, one pint of - brandy, and one bottle of champagne. Strain and serve, having, - if necessary, added more sugar. - -Note well the proportions. This is the same beverage which some -Cleveland friends of mine, having read the recipe, thought _boiling_ -would improve. The result was--well, a considerable amount of chaos. - - - _Glasgow Punch._ - -The following is from _Peter's Letters to his Kinsfolk_, and is from -the pen of John Gibson Lockhart:-- - - The sugar being melted with a little _cold_ water, the - artist squeezed about a dozen lemons through a wooden strainer, - and then poured in water enough almost to fill the bowl. In - this state the liquor goes by the name of sherbet, and a few of - the connoisseurs in his immediate neighbourhood were requested - to give their opinion of it--for in the mixing of the sherbet - lies, according to the Glasgow creed, at least one-half of the - whole battle. This being approved of by an audible smack from - the lips of the umpires, the rum was added to the beverage, I - suppose, in something about the proportion from one to seven. - -Does this mean one of sherbet and seven of rum, or the converse? - - Last of all, the maker cut a few limes, and running each - section rapidly round the rim of his bowl, squeezed in enough - of this more delicate acid to flavour the whole composition. In - this consists the true _tour-de-maitre_ of the punch-maker. - -Well, possibly; but it seems a plainish sort of punch; and unless the -rum be allowed to preponderate, most of us would be inclined to call -the mixture lemonade. And I do not believe that since Glasgow has been -a city its citizens ever drank much of _that_. - -A few more punches, and then an anecdote. - - - _Ale Punch._ - - One quart of mild ale in a bowl, add one wine-glassful of - brown sherry, the same quantity of old brandy, a tablespoonful - of sifted sugar, the peel and juice of one lemon, a grate of - nutmeg, and an iceberg. - - _N.B._--Do not insert old ale, by mistake. And for my own - part, I think it a mistake to mix John Barleycorn with wine - (except champagne) and spirits. - - - _Barbadoes Punch._ - - A tablespoonful of raspberry syrup, a ditto of sifted - sugar, a wine-glassful of water, double that quantity of - brandy, half a wine-glassful of guava jelly, liquid, the juice - of half a lemon, two slices of orange, one slice of pine-apple, - in a long tumbler. Ice and shake well and drink through straws. - - - _Curacoa Punch._ - - Put into a large tumbler one tablespoonful of sifted - sugar, one wine-glassful of brandy, the same quantity of - water, half a wine-glassful of Jamaica rum, a wine-glassful of - curacoa, and the juice of half a lemon; fill the tumbler with - crushed ice, shake, and drink through straws. - - - _Grassot Punch._ - - This has nothing to do with warm asparagus, so have - no fear. It is simply another big-tumbler mixture, of one - wine-glassful of brandy, a liqueur-glassful of curacoa, a - squeeze of lemon, two teaspoonfuls sugar, one of syrup of - strawberries, one wine-glassful of water, and the thin rind of - a lemon; fill up the tumbler with crushed ice, shake, and put - slices of ripe apricots atop. Drink how you like. - -Most of the above are hot-weather beverages, and the great beauty -of some of them will be found in the small quantity of water in the -mixture. Here is a punch which may be drunk in any weather, and either -hot or cold. - - - _Regent Punch._ - - Pour into a bowl a wine-glassful of champagne, the same - quantities of hock, curacoa, rum, and madeira. Mix well, and - add a pint of boiling tea, sweetened. Stir well and serve. - -_Apropos_ of the derivation of "punch," I was unaware until quite -recently that Messrs. Bradbury's & Agnew's little paper had any -connection therewith. But I was assured by one who knew all about it, -that such was the case. - -"What?" I exclaimed. "How can the _London Charivari_ possibly have -anything to do with this most seductive of beverages?" - -"My dear fellow," was the reply, "have you never heard of Mark -_Lemon_?" - -I turned to smite him hip and thigh; but the jester had fled. - -And now a word or two as to "TODDY." One of the authorities quoted -in the punch difficulty declares that toddy is also an Indian drink. -So it is. But that drink no more resembles what is known in more -civilised lands as toddy than I resemble the late king Solomon. The -palm-sap which the poor Indian distils into arrack and occasionally -drinks in its natural state for breakfast after risking his neck in -climbing trees to get it, can surely have no connection with hot -whisky and water? Yet the authority says so; but he had best be -careful ere he promulgates his theory in the presence of Scotsmen and -others who possess special toddy-glasses. This is how I make - - - _Whisky Toddy_. - - The Irish call this whisky punch. But do not let us - wrangle over the name. Into an ordinary-sized tumbler which - has been warmed, put one average lump of sugar, a ring of thin - lemon peel, and a silver teaspoon. Fill the tumbler one quarter - full of water as near boiling point as possible. Cover over - until the sugar be dissolved and peel be infused. Then add one - wine-glassful--not a small one--of the best whisky you can - find--the "Pollok" brand, and the "R.B." are both excellent. - Then drink the toddy, or punch; for should you attempt to add - any more water you will incur the lifelong contempt of every - Irishman or Scotsman who may be in the same room. If Irish - whisky be used, of course you will select "John Jameson." - - 'Twixt ale-flip and egg-flip there is not much more - difference than 'twixt tweedledum and tweedledee. Both are - equally "more-ish" on a cold evening; and no Christmas eve is - complete without a jug of one or the other. - - - _Ale-flip._ - - Pour into a saucepan three pints of mild ale, one - tablespoonful of sifted sugar, a blade of mace, a clove, and - a small piece of butter; and bring the liquor to a boil. Beat - up in a basin the white of one egg and the yolks of two, mixed - with about a wine-glassful of cold ale. Mix all together in the - saucepan, then pour into a jug, and thence into another jug, - from a height, for some minutes, to froth the flip thoroughly - but do not let it get cold. - - - _Egg-flip._ - - Heat one pint of ale, and pour into a jug. Add two eggs, - beaten with three ounces of sugar, and pour the mixture from - one jug to the other, as in the preceding recipe. Grate a - little nutmeg and ginger over the flip before serving. - -Were I to ask What is - - - _A Peg_? - -I should probably be told that a peg was something to hang something -or somebody else on, or that it was something to be driven through or -into something else. And the latter would be the more correct answer, -for at the time of my sojourn in the great continent of India, a peg -meant a large brandy-and-soda. At that time whisky was but little -known in Punkahland, and was only used high up in the Punjaub during -the "cold weather"--and it is cold occasionally in that region, where -for some months they are enabled to make ice--but that is _une autre -histoire_. Rum I once tasted at Simla, and gin will be dealt with -presently. But since the visit of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, a peg -has always signified a _whisky_-and-soda. And yet we have not heard of -any particular decrease in the death-rate. Despite what those who have -only stayed a month or two in the country have committed to print, -alcohol is _not_ more fatal in a tropical country than a temperate -one. But you must not overdo your alcohol. I have seen a gay young -spark, a fine soldier, and over six feet in height, drink _eight_ pegs -of a morning, ere he got out of bed. There was no such thing as a -"split soda"--or a split brandy either--in those days. We buried him -in the Bay of Bengal just after a cyclone, on our way home. - -By the way, the real meaning of "peg" was said to be the peg, or nail, -driven into the coffin of the drinker every time he partook. And the -coffin of many an Anglo-Indian of my acquaintance was all nails. A - - - _John Collins_ - -is simply a gin-sling with a little curacoa in it. That is to say, -soda-water, a slice of lemon, curacoa--and gin. But by altering the -proportions this can be made a very dangerous potion indeed. The -officers of a certain regiment--which shall be nameless--were in the -habit of putting this potion on tap, after dinner on a guest night. -It was a point of honour in those evil, though poetical, times, to -send no guest empty away, and more than one of those entertained by -this regiment used to complain next morning at breakfast--a peg, or -a swizzle, and a hot pickle sandwich--of the escape of "Private John -Collins" from the regimental guard-room. For towards dawn there would -not be much soda-water in that potion--which was usually served hot at -that hour. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - - CUPS AND CORDIALS - - "Can any mortal mixture - Breathe such divine, enchanting ravishment?" - - "The evil that men do lives after them." - - Five recipes for claret cup--Balaclava - cup--Orgeat--Ascot cup--Stout and champagne--Shandy-gaff - for millionaires--Ale cup--Cobblers which will - stick to the last--Home Ruler--Cherry brandy--Sloe - gin--Home-made, if possible--A new industry--Apricot - brandy--Highland cordial--Bitters--Jumping-powder--Orange - brandy--"Mandragora"--"Sleep rock thy brain!" - - -I suppose there are almost as many recipes for claret cup as for a -cold in the head. And of the many it is probable that the greater -proportion will produce a cup which will neither cheer nor inebriate; -for the simple reason that nobody, who was not inebriated already, -would be physically capable of drinking enough of it. Let us first of -all take the late Mr. Donald's recipe for - -Claret Cup: - - _A._ 1 bottle claret. - 1 wine-glassful fine pale brandy. - 1/2 do. chartreuse yellow. - 1/2 do. curacoa. - 1/4 do. maraschino. - 2 bottles soda or seltzer.[10] - 1 lemon, cut in thin slices. - A few sprigs of borage; not much. - Ice and sugar to taste. - -Here is a less expensive recipe: - - _B._ Put into a bowl the rind of one lemon pared very - thin, add some sifted sugar, and pour over it a wine-glassful - of sherry; then add a bottle of claret, more sugar to taste, - a sprig of verbena, one bottle of aerated water, and a grated - nutmeg; strain and ice it well. - -Once more let the fact be emphasised that the better the wine, spirit, -etc., the better the cup. - -Here is a good cup for Ascot, when the sun is shining, and you are -entertaining the fair sex. - - _C._ Put in a large bowl three bottles of claret (St. - Estephe is the stamp of wine), a wine-glassful (large) of - curacoa, a pint of dry sherry, half a pint of old brandy, a - large wine-glassful of raspberry syrup, three oranges and one - lemon cut into slices; add a few sprigs of borage and a little - cucumber rind, two bottles of seltzer water, and three bottles - of Stretton water. Mix well, and sweeten. Let it stand for an - hour, and then strain. Put in a large block of ice, and a few - whole strawberries. Serve in small tumblers. - -Another way and a simpler: - - _D._ Pour into a large jug one bottle of claret, add two - wine-glassfuls of sherry, and half a glass of maraschino. Add - a few sliced nectarines, or peaches, and sugar to taste (about - a tablespoonful and a half). Let it stand till the sugar is - dissolved, then put in a sprig of borage. Just before using add - one bottle of Stretton water, and a large piece of ice. - -My ideal claret cup: - - _E._ 2 bottles Pontet Canet. - 2 wine-glassfuls old brandy. - 1 wine-glassful curacoa. - 1 pint bottle sparkling moselle. - 2 bottles aerated water. - - A sprig or two of borage, and a little lemon peel. - - Sugar _ad lib._: one cup will not require much. - - Add the moselle and popwater just before using; then put - in a large block of ice. - -Those who have never tried can have no idea of the zest which a small -proportion of moselle lends to a claret cup. - -My earliest recollection of a cup dates from old cricketing days -beneath "Henry's holy shade," on "a match day"--as poor old "Spanky" -used to phrase it; a day on which that prince of philosophers and -confectioners sold his wares for cash only. Not that he had anything -to do with the compounding of the - - - _Cider Cup_. - - Toast a slice of bread and put it at the bottom of a - large jug. Grate over the toast nearly half a small nutmeg, - and a very little ginger. Add a little thin lemon rind, and - six lumps of sugar. Then add two wine-glasses of sherry, and - (if for adults) one of brandy. (If for boys the brandy in the - sherry will suffice.) Add also the juice of a small lemon, - two bottles of lively water, and (last of all) three pints of - cider. Mix well, pop in a few sprigs of borage, and a block or - two of ice. - -Remember once more that the purer the cider the better will be the -cup. There is an infinity of bad cider in the market. There used -to be a prejudice against the fermented juice of the apple for all -who have gouty tendencies; but as a "toe-martyr" myself, I can bear -testimony to the harmlessness of the "natural" Norfolk cider made at -Attleborough, in the which is no touch of Podagra. - -For a good - - - _Champagne Cup_ - -_vide_ Claret Cup _A._ Substituting the "sparkling" for the "ruby," -the ingredients are precisely the same. - -A nice, harmless beverage, suitable for a tennis party, or to -accompany the "light refreshments" served at a "Cinderella" dance, or -at the "breaking-up" party at a ladies' school, is - - - _Chablis Cup_. - - Dissolve four or five lumps of sugar in a quarter of a - pint of boiling water, and put it into a bowl with a very - thin slice of lemon rind; let it stand for half-an-hour, then - add a bottle of chablis, a sprig of verbena, a wine-glassful - of sherry, and half-a-pint of water. Mix well, and let the - mixture stand for a while, then strain, add a bottle of seltzer - water, a few strawberries or raspberries, and a block of ice. - Serve in small glasses. - - - _Balaclava Cup._ - - "Claret to right of 'em, - 'Simpkin' to left of 'em-- - Cup worth a hundred!" - - Get a large bowl, to represent the Valley--which only the - more rabid abstainer would call the "Valley of Death." You - will next require a small detachment of thin lemon rind, about - two tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, the juice of two lemons, - and half a cucumber, cut into thin slices, with the peel on. - Let all these ingredients skirmish about within the bowl; then - bring up your heavy cavalry in the shape of two bottles of - Chateau something, and one of the best champagne you have got. - Last of all, unmask your soda-water battery; two bottles will - be sufficient. Ice, and serve in tumblers. - - - _Crimean Cup._ - -This is a very serious affair. So was the war. The cup, however, leads -to more favourable results, and does not, like the campaign, leave a -bitter taste in the mouth. Here are the ingredients: - - One quart of syrup of orgeat (to make this _vide_ - next recipe), one pint and a half of old brandy, half a - pint of maraschino, one pint of old rum, two large and one - small bottles of champagne, three bottles of Seltzer-water, - half-a-pound of sifted sugar, and the juice of five lemons. - Peel the lemons, and put the thin rind in a mortar, with the - sugar. Pound them well, and scrape the result with a silver - spoon into a large bowl. Squeeze in the juice of the lemons, - add the seltzer water, and stir till the sugar is quite - dissolved. Then add the orgeat, and whip the mixture well with - a whisk, so as to whiten it. Add the maraschino, rum, and - brandy, and strain the whole into another bowl. Just before - the cup is required, put in the champagne, and stir vigorously - with a punch ladle. The champagne should be well iced, as no - apparent ice is allowable in this mixture. - - - _Orgeat._ - - Blanch and pound three-quarters of a pound of sweet - almonds, and thirty bitter almonds, in one tablespoonful of - water. Stir in by degrees two pints of water and three pints of - milk. Strain the mixture through a cloth. Dissolve half-a-pound - of loaf sugar in one pint of water. Boil and skim well, and - then mix with the almond water. Add two tablespoonfuls of - orange-flower water, and half-a-pint of old brandy. Be careful - to boil the _eau sucre_ well, as this concoction must not be - too watery. - - - _Ascot Cup._ - -Odds can be laid freely on this; and the host should stay away -from the temptations of the betting-ring, on purpose to make it. -And--parenthetically be it observed--the man who has no soul for -cup-making should never entertain at a race meeting. The servants will -have other things to attend to; and even if they have not it should -be remembered that a cup, or punch, like a salad, should always, if -possible, be mixed by some one who is going to partake of the same. - - Dissolve six ounces of sugar in half-a-pint of boiling - water; add the juice of three lemons, one pint of old brandy, a - wine-glassful of cherry brandy, a wine-glassful of maraschino, - half a wine-glassful of yellow chartreuse, two bottles of - champagne. All these should be mixed in a large silver bowl. - Add a few sprigs of borage, a few slices of lemon, half-a-dozen - strawberries, half-a-dozen brandied cherries, and three bottles - of seltzer water. Put the bowl, having first covered it over, - into the refrigerator for one hour, and before serving, put - a small iceberg into the mixture, which should be served in - little tumblers. - -How many people, I wonder, are aware that - - - _Champagne and Guinness' Stout_ - -make one of the best combinations possible? You may search the wide -wide world for a cookery book which will give this information; but -the mixture is both grateful and strengthening, and is, moreover, far -to be preferred to what is known as - - - _Rich Man's Shandy Gaff_, - -which is a mixture of champagne and ale. The old Irishman said that -the "blackgyard" should never be placed atop of the "gintleman," -intending to convey the advice that ale should not be placed on the -top of champagne. But the "black draught" indicated just above is well -worth attention. It should be drunk out of a pewter tankard, and is -specially recommended as a between-the-acts refresher for the amateur -actor. - - - _Ale Cup._ - - Squeeze the juice of a lemon into a round of hot toast; - lay on it a thin piece of the rind, a tablespoonful of pounded - sugar, a little grated nutmeg, and a sprig of balm. Pour over - these one glass of brandy, two glasses of sherry, and three - pints of mild ale. Do not allow the balm to remain in the - mixture many minutes. - -One of the daintiest of beverages is a - - - _Moselle Cup_. - - Ingredients: One bottle of moselle. One glass of brandy. - Four or five thin slices of pine-apple. The peel of half a - lemon, cut very thin. Ice; and sugar _ad lib_. Just before - using add one bottle of sparkling water. - - - _Sherry Cobbler_ - - although a popular drink in America, is but little known - on this side of the Atlantic. Place in a soda-water tumbler - two wine-glassfuls of sherry, one tablespoonful of sifted - sugar, and two or three slices of orange. Fill the tumbler with - crushed ice, and shake well. Drink through straws. - - - _Champagne Cobbler._ - - Put into a large tumbler one tablespoonful of sifted - sugar, with a thin paring of lemon and orange peel; fill the - tumbler one-third full of crushed ice, and the remainder with - champagne. Shake, and ornament with a slice of lemon, and a - strawberry or two. Drink through straws. - - - _Home Ruler._ - - This was a favourite drink at the bars of the House - of Commons, during the reign of the Uncrowned King. It was - concocted of the yolks of two raw eggs, well beaten, a little - sugar added, then a tumbler of hot milk taken gradually into - the mixture, and last of all a large wine-glassful of "J.J." - whisky. - - - _Cordials._ - -In treating of cordials, it is most advisable that they be _home -made_. The bulk of the cherry brandy, ginger brandy, etc., which is -sold over the counter is made with inferior brandy; and frequently the -operation of blending the virtue of the fruit with the spirit has been -hurried. - -We will commence with the discussion of the favourite cordial of all, - - - _Cherry Brandy_. - - This can either be made from Black Gean cherries, or - Morellas, but the latter are better for the purpose. Every - pound of cherries will require one quarter of a pound of white - sugar, and one pint of the best brandy. The cherries, with the - sugar well mixed with them, should be placed in wide-mouthed - bottles, filled up with brandy; and if the fruit be previously - pricked, the mixture will be ready in a month. But a better - blend is procured if the cherries are untouched, and this - principle holds good with all fruit treated in this way, and - left corked for at least three months. - - - _Sloe Gin._ - -For years the sloe, which is the fruit of the black-thorn, was used in -England for no other purpose than the manufacture of British Port. -But at this end of the nineteenth century, the public have been, and -are, taking kindly to the cordial, which for a long time had been -despised as an "auld wife's drink." As a matter of fact, it is just -as tasty, and almost as luscious as cherry brandy. But since sloe -gin became fashionable, it has become almost impossible for dwellers -within twenty or thirty miles of London to make the cordial at home. -For sloes fetch something like sixpence or sevenpence a pound in -the market; and in consequence the hedgerows are "raided" by the -(otherwise) unemployed, the fruit being usually picked before the -proper time, _i.e._ when the frost has been on it. The manufacture of -sloe gin is as simple as that of cherry brandy. - - All that is necessary to be done is to allow 1 lb. of - sugar (white) to 1 lb. of sloes. Half fill a bottle--which need - not necessarily be a wide-mouthed one--with sugared fruit, and - "top up" with gin. If the sloes have been pricked, the liquor - will be ready for use in two or three months; but _do not hurry - it_. - -In a year's time the gin will have eaten all the goodness out of the -unpricked fruit, and it is in this gradual blending that the secret -(as before observed) of making these cordials lies. As a rule, if you -call for sloe gin at a licensed house of entertainment, you will get a -ruby-coloured liquid, tasting principally of gin--and not good gin "at -that." This is because the making has been hurried. Properly matured -sloe gin should be the colour of full-bodied port wine. - - - _Apricot Brandy._ - - This is a cordial which is but seldom met with in this - country. To every pound of fruit (which should not be quite - ripe) allow one pound of loaf sugar. Put the apricots into - a preserving-pan, with sufficient water to cover them. Let - them boil up, and then simmer gently until tender. Remove the - skins. Clarify and boil the sugar, then pour it over the fruit. - Let it remain twenty-four hours. Then put the apricots into - wide-mouthed bottles, and fill them up with syrup and brandy, - half and half. Cork them tightly, with the tops of corks - sealed. This apricot brandy should be prepared in the month of - July, and kept twelve months before using. - - - _Highland Cordial._ - - Here is another rare old recipe. Ingredients, one pint of - white currants, stripped of their stalks, the thin rind of a - lemon, one teaspoonful of essence of ginger, and one bottle of - old Scotch whisky. Let the mixture stand for forty-eight hours, - and then strain through a hair sieve. Add one pound of loaf - sugar, which will take at least a day to thoroughly dissolve. - Then bottle off, and cork well. It will be ready for use in - three months, but will keep longer. - - - _Bitters._ - - One ounce of Seville orange-peel, half an ounce of - gentian root, a quarter of an ounce of cardamoms. Husk the - cardamoms, and crush them with the gentian root. Put them in a - wide-mouthed bottle, and cover with brandy or whisky. Let the - mixture remain for twelve days, then strain, and bottle off for - use, after adding one ounce of lavender drops. - - - _Ginger Brandy._ - - Bruise slightly two pounds of black currants, and mix - them with one ounce and a half of ground ginger. Pour over - them one bottle and a half of best brandy, and let the mixture - stand for two days. Strain off the liquid, and add one pound of - loaf sugar which has been boiled to a syrup in a little water. - Bottle and cork closely. - - - "_Jumping Powder_" - -comes in very handy, on a raw morning, after you have ridden a dozen -miles or so to a lawn meet. "No breakfast, thanks, just a wee nip, -that's all." And the ever ready butler hands round the tray. If you -are wise, you will declare on - - - _Orange Brandy_ - -which, as a rule, is well worth sampling, in a house important enough -to entertain hunting men. And orange brandy "goes" much better than -any other liqueur, or cordial, before noon. - - It should be made in the month of March. Take the thin - rinds of six Seville oranges, and put them into a stone jar, - with half-a-pint of the strained juice, and two quarts of good - old brandy. Let it remain three days, then add one pound and - a quarter of loaf sugar--broken, not pounded--and stir till - the sugar is dissolved. Let the liquor stand a day, strain it - through paper till quite clear, pour into bottles, and cork - tightly. The longer it is kept the better. - - - _Mandragora._ - -"Can't sleep." Eh? What! not after a dry chapter on liquids? Drink -this, and you will not require any rocking. - - Simmer half-a-pint of old ale, and just as it is about to - boil pour it into a tumbler, grate a little nutmeg over it, and - add a teaspoonful of moist sugar, and two tablespoonfuls of - brandy. Good night, Hamlet! - - - - - CHAPTER XX - - THE DAYLIGHT DRINK - - "Something too much of this." - - "A nipping and an eager air." - - Evil effects of dram-drinking--The "Gin-crawl"--Abstinence - in H.M. service--City manners and customs--Useless to argue - with the soaker--Cocktails--Pet names for drams--The free lunch - system--Fancy mixtures--Why no Cassis?--Good advice like water - on a duck's back. - - -Whilst holding the same opinion as the epicure who declared that good -eating required good drinking, there is no question but that there -should be a limit to both. There is, as Shakespeare told us, a tide -in the affairs of man, so why should there not be in this particular -affair? Why should it be only ebb tide during the few hours that the -man is wrapped in the arms of a Bacchanalian Morpheus, either in -bed or in custody? The abuse of good liquor is surely as criminal a -folly as the abstention therefrom; and the man who mixes his liquors -injudiciously lacks that refinement of taste and understanding which -is necessary for the appreciation of a good deal of this book, or -indeed of any other useful volume. Our grandfathers swore terribly, -and drank deep; but their fun did not commence until after dinner. And -they drank, for the most part, the best of ale, and such port wine -as is not to be had in these days of free trade (which is only an -euphemism for adulteration) and motor cars. Although mine own teeth -are, periodically, set on edge by the juice of the grape consumed by -an ancestor or two; although the gout within me is an heritage from -the three-, aye! and four-, bottle era, I respect mine ancestors, -in that they knew not "gin and bitters." The baleful habit of -alcoholising the inner sinner between meal times, the pernicious habit -of dram-drinking, or "nipping," from early morn till dewy eve, was not -introduced into our cities until the latter half of the nineteenth -century had set in. "Brandy-and-soda," at first only used as a -"livener"--and a deadly livener it is--was unknown during the early -Victorian era; and the "gin-crawl," that interminable slouch around -the hostelries, is a rank growth of modernity. - -The "nipping habit" came to us, with other pernicious "notions," from -across the Atlantic Ocean. It was Brother Jonathan who established the -bar system; and although for the most part, throughout Great Britain, -the alcohol is dispensed by young ladies with fine eyes and a great -deal of adventitious hair, and the "bar-keep," with his big watch -chain, and his "guns," placed within easy reach, for quick-shooting -saloon practice, is unknown on this side, the hurt of the system -(to employ an Americanism) "gets there just the same." There is not -the same amount of carousing in the British army as in the days -when I was a "gilded popinjay" (in the language of Mr. John Burns; -"a five-and-twopenny assassin," in the words of somebody else). In -those days the use of alcohol, if not absolutely encouraged for the -use of the subaltern, was winked at by his superiors, as long as the -subalterns were not on duty, or on the line of march--and I don't -know so much about the line of march, either. But with any orderly or -responsible duty to be done, the beverage of heroes was not admired. -"Now mind," once observed our revered colonel, in the ante-room, after -dinner, "none of you young officers get seeing snakes and things, or -otherwise rendering yourselves unfit for service; or I'll try the lot -of you by court martial, I will, by ----." Here the adjutant let the -regimental bible drop with a bang. Tea is the favourite ante-room -refreshment nowadays, when the officer, young or old, is always either -on duty, or at school. And the education of the modern warrior is -never completed. - -But the civilian--sing ho! the wicked civilian--is a reveller, and -a winebibber, for the most part. Very little business is transacted -except over what is called "a friendly glass." "I want seven hundred -an' forty-five from you, old chappie," says Reggie de Beers of the -"House," on settling day. "Right," replies his friend young "Berthas": -"toss you double or quits. Down with it!" And it would be a cold -day were not a magnum or two of "the Boy" to be opened over the -transaction. The cheap eating-house keeper who has spent his morning -at the "market," cheapening a couple of pigs, or a dozen scraggy -fowls, will have spent double the money he has saved in the bargain, -in rum and six-penny ale, ere he gets home again; and even a wholesale -deal in evening journals, between two youths in the street, requires -to be "wetted." Very sad is it not? But, as anything which I--who am -popularly supposed to be something resembling a roysterer, but who -am in reality one of the most discreet of those who enjoy life--can -write is not likely to work a change in the system which obtains -amongst English-speaking nations, perhaps the sooner I get on with the -programme the better. Later on I may revert to the subject. - -Amongst daylight (and midnight, for the matter of that) drinks, the -COCKTAIL, that fascinating importation from Dollarland, holds a -prominent place. This is a concoction for which, with American bars -all over the Metropolis, the cockney does not really require any -recipe. But as I trust to have some country readers, a few directions -may be appended. - - - _Brandy Cocktail._ - - One wine-glassful of old brandy, six drops of Angostura - bitters, and twenty drops of curacoa, in a small tumbler--all - cocktails should be made in a small silver tumbler--shake, and - pour into glass tumbler, then fill up with crushed ice. Put a - shred of lemon peel atop. - - - _Champagne Cocktail._ - - One teaspoonful of sifted sugar, ten drops of Angostura - bitters, a small slice of pine-apple, and a shred of lemon - peel. Strain into glass tumbler, add crushed ice, and as much - champagne as the tumbler will hold. Mix with a spoon. - - - _Bengal Cocktail._ - - Fill tumbler half full of crushed ice. Add thirty drops of - maraschino, one tablespoonful of pine-apple syrup, thirty drops - of curacoa, six drops of Angostura bitters, one wine-glassful - of old brandy. Stir, and put a shred of lemon peel atop. - - - _Milford Cocktail._ - - (Dedicated to Mr. Jersey.) - - Put into a half-pint tumbler a couple of lumps of best - ice, one teaspoonful of sifted sugar, one teaspoonful of orange - bitters, half a wine-glassful of brandy. Top up with bottled - cider, and mix with a spoon. Serve with a strawberry, and a - sprig of verbena atop. - - - _Manhattan Cocktail._ - - Half a wine-glassful of vermouth (Italian), half a - wine-glassful of rye whisky (according to the American recipe, - though, personally, I prefer Scotch), ten drops of Angostura - bitters, and six drops of curacoa. Add ice, shake well, and - strain. Put a shred of lemon peel atop. - - - _Yum Yum Cocktail._ - - Break the yolk of a new-laid egg into a small tumbler, and - put a teaspoonful of sugar on it. Then six drops of Angostura - bitters, a wine-glassful of sherry, and half a wine-glassful - of brandy. Shake all well together, and strain. Dust a very - little cinnamon over the top. - - - _Gin Cocktail._ - - Ten drops of Angostura bitters, one wine-glassful of gin, - ten drops of curacoa, one shred of lemon peel. Fill up with - ice, shake, and strain. - - - _Newport Cocktail._ - - Put two lumps of ice and a small _slice_ of lemon into - the tumbler, add six drops of Angostura bitters, half a - wine-glassful of noyau, and a wine-glassful of brandy. Stir - well, and serve with peel atop. - - - _Saratoga Cocktail._ - - This is a more important affair, and requires a large - tumbler for the initial stage. One teaspoonful of pine-apple - syrup, ten drops of Angostura bitters, one teaspoonful of - maraschino, and a wine-glassful of old brandy. Nearly fill the - tumbler with crushed ice, and shake well. Then place a couple - of strawberries in a small tumbler, strain the liquid on them, - put in a strip of lemon peel, and top up with champagne. - - - _Whisky Cocktail._ - - Put into a small tumbler ten drops of Angostura bitters, - and one wine-glassful of Scotch whisky. Fill the tumbler with - crushed ice, shake well, strain into a large wine-glass, and - place a strip of peel atop. - -But the ordinary British "bar-cuddler"--as he is called in the -slang of the day--recks not of cocktails, nor, indeed, of Columbian -combinations of any sort. He has his own particular "vanity," and -frequently a pet name for it. "Gin-and-angry-story" (Angostura), -"slow-and-old" (sloe-gin and Old Tom), "pony o' Burton, please -miss," are a few of the demands the attentive listener may hear -given. Orange-gin, gin-and-orange-gin, gin-and-sherry (O bile where -is thy sting?), are favourite midday "refreshers"; and I have -heard a well-known barrister call for "a split Worcester" (a small -wine-glassful of Worcester sauce with a split soda), without a smile -on his expressive countenance. "Small lem. and a dash" is a favourite -summer beverage, and, withal, a harmless one, consisting of a small -bottle of lemonade with about an eighth of a pint of bitter ale added -thereto. In one old-fashioned hostelry I wot of--the same in which -the chair of the late Doctor Samuel Johnson is on view--customers who -require to be stimulated with gin call for "rack," and Irish whisky -is known by none other name than "Cork." The habitual "bar-cuddler" -usually rubs his hands violently together, as he requests a little -attention from the presiding Hebe; and affects a sort of shocked -surprise at the presence on the scene of any one of his friends or -acquaintances. He is well-up, too, in the slang phraseology of the -day, which he will ride to death on every available opportunity. Full -well do I remember him in the "How's your poor feet?" era; and it -seems but yesterday that he was informing the company in assertive -tones, "Now we _shan't_ be long!" The "free lunch" idea of the -Yankees is only thoroughly carried out in the "North Countree," -where, at the best hotels, there is often a great bowl of soup, or -a dish of jugged hare, or of Irish stew, _pro bono publico_; and by -_publico_ is implied the hotel directorate as well as the customers. -In London, however, the free lunch seldom soars above salted almonds, -coffee beans, cloves, with biscuits and American cheese. But at -most refreshment-houses is to be obtained for cash some sort of a -restorative sandwich, or _bonne bouche_, in the which anchovies and -hard-boiled eggs play leading parts; and amongst other restorative -food, I have noticed that parallelograms of cold Welsh rarebit are -exceedingly popular amongst wine-travellers and advertisement-agents. -The genius who propounded the statement that "there is nothing like -leather" could surely never have sampled a cold Welsh rarebit! - - - _Bosom Caresser._ - - Put into a small tumbler one wine-glassful of sherry, - half a wine-glassful of old brandy, the yolk of an egg, two - teaspoonfuls of sugar, and two grains of cayenne pepper; add - crushed ice, shake well, strain, and dust over with nutmeg and - cinnamon. - - - _A Nicobine_, - -(or "Knickerbein" as I have seen it spelt), used to be a favourite -"short" drink in Malta, and consisted of the yolk of an egg (intact) -in a wine-glass with _layers_ of curacoa, maraschino, and green -chartreuse; the liquors not allowed to mix with one another. The -"knickerbein" recipe differs materially from this, as brandy is -substituted for chartreuse, and the ingredients are shaken up and -strained, the white of the egg being whisked and placed atop. But, -either way, you will get a good, bile-provoking mixture. In the - - - _West Indies_, - - if you thirst for a rum and milk, cocoa-nut milk is the - "only wear"; and a very delicious potion it is. A favourite - mixture in Jamaica was the juice of a "star" apple, the juice - of an orange, a wine-glassful of sherry, and a dust of nutmeg. - I never heard a name given to this. - - - _Bull's Milk._ - -This is a comforting drink for summer or winter. During the latter -season, instead of adding ice, the mixture may be heated. - - One teaspoonful of sugar in a _large_ tumbler, half-a-pint - of milk, half a wine-glassful of rum, a wine-glassful of - brandy; add ice, shake well, strain, and powder with cinnamon - and nutmeg. - - - _Fairy Kiss._ - - Put into a small tumbler the juice of a quarter of lemon, - a quarter of a wine-glassful each of the following:--Vanilla - syrup, curacoa, yellow chartreuse, brandy. Add ice, shake, and - strain. - - - _Flash of Lightning._ - - One-third of a wine-glassful each of the following, in a - small tumbler:--Raspberry syrup, curacoa, brandy, and three - drops of Angostura bitters. Add ice, shake and strain. - - - _Flip Flap._ - - One wine-glassful of milk in a small tumbler, one - well-beaten egg, a little sugar, and a wine-glassful of port. - Ice, shake, strain, and sprinkle with cinnamon and nutmeg. - - - _Maiden's Blush._ - - Half a wine-glassful of sherry in a small tumbler, a - quarter of a wine-glassful of strawberry syrup, and a little - lemon juice. Add ice, and a little raspberry syrup. Shake, and - drink through straws. - - - _Athole Brose_ - -is compounded, according to a favourite author, in the following -manner:-- - - "Upon virgin honeycombs you pour, according to their - amount, the oldest French brandy and the most indisputable - Scotch whisky in equal proportions. You allow this goodly - mixture to stand for days in a large pipkin in a cool place, - and it is then strained and ready for drinking. Epicures drop - into the jug, by way of imparting artistic finish, a small - fragment of the honeycomb itself. This I deprecate." - - - _Tiger's Milk._ - - Small tumbler. Half a wine-glassful each of cider and - Irish whisky, a wine-glassful of peach brandy. Beat up - separately the white of an egg with a little sugar, and add - this. Fill up the tumbler with ice; shake, and strain. Add half - a tumbler of milk, and grate a little nutmeg atop. - - - _Wyndham._ - - Large tumbler. Equal quantities (a liqueur glass of each) - of maraschino, curacoa, brandy, with a little orange peel, - and sugar. Add a glass of champagne, and a _small_ bottle of - seltzer water. Ice, and mix well together. Stir with a spoon. - - - _Happy Eliza._ - - Put into a skillet twelve fresh dried figs cut open, four - apples cut into slices without peeling, and half a pound of - loaf sugar, broken small. Add two quarts of water, boil for - twenty minutes, strain through a--where's the brandy? Stop! - I've turned over two leaves, and got amongst the _Temperance - Drinks_. Rein back! - - - _Mint Julep._ - - This, properly made, is the most delicious of all American - beverages. It is mixed in a large tumbler, in the which are - placed, first of all, two and a half tablespoonfuls of water, - one tablespoonful of sugar (crushed), and two or three sprigs - of mint, which should be pressed, with a spoon or crusher, - into the sugar and water to extract the flavour. Add two - wine-glassfuls of old brandy--_now_ we shan't be long--fill up - with powdered ice, shake well, get the mint to the top of the - tumbler, stalks down, and put a few strawberries and slices - of orange atop. Shake in a little rum, last of all, and drink - through straws. - - - _Possets._ - - (An eighteenth-century recipe.) - - "Take three gills of sweet cream, a grated rind of lemon, - and juice thereof, three-quarters of a pint of sack or Rhenish - wine. Sweeten to your taste with loaf sugar, then beat in a - bowl with a whisk for one hour, and fill your glasses and - drink to the king." - -We are tolerably loyal in this our time; still it is problematical if -there exist man or woman in Merry England, in our day who would whisk -a mixture for sixty minutes by the clock, even with the prospect of -drinking to the reigning monarch. - - - _Brandy Sour._ - - This is simplicity itself. A teaspoonful of sifted - sugar in a small tumbler, a little lemon rind and juice, one - wine-glassful of brandy. Fill nearly up with crushed ice, shake - and strain. WHISKY SOUR is merely Scotch whisky treated in the - same kind, open-handed manner, with the addition of a few drops - of raspberry syrup. - - - _Blue Blazer._ - - Don't be frightened; there is absolutely no danger. - Put into a silver mug, or jug, previously heated, two - wine-glassfuls of overproof (or proof) Scotch whisky, and one - wine-glassful of _boiling_ water. Set the liquor on fire, and - pass the blazing liquor into another mug, also well heated. - Pass to and fro, and serve in a tumbler, with a lump of - sugar and a little thin lemon peel. Be very particular not - to drop any of the blazer on the cat, or the hearth-rug, or - the youngest child. This drink would, I should think, have - satisfied the aspirations of Mr. Daniel Quilp. - -One of the most wholesome of all "refreshers," is a simple liquor, -distilled from black-currants, and known to our lively neighbours as - - - _Cassis._ - -This syrup can be obtained in the humblest _cabaret_ in France; but -we have to thank the eccentric and illogical ways of our Customs -Department for its absence from most of our own wine lists. The duty -is so prohibitive--being half as much again as that levied on French -brandy--that it would pay nobody but said Customs Department to import -it into England; and yet the amount of alcohol contained in cassis is -infinitesimal. Strange to say nobody has ever started a cassis still -on this side. One would imagine that the process would be simplicity -itself; as the liquor is nothing but cold black-currant tea, with a -suspicion of alcohol in it. - - - _Sligo Slop._ - - This is an Irish delight. The juice of ten lemons, - strained, ten tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, one quart - of John Jameson's oldest and best whisky, and two port - wine-glassfuls of curacoa, all mixed together. Let the - mixture stand for a day or two, and then bottle. This should - be drunk neat, in liqueur-glasses, and is said to be most - effectual "jumping-powder." It certainly reads conducive to - timber-topping. - -Take it altogether the daylight drink is a mistake. It is simply ruin -to appetite; it is more expensive than those who indulge therein -are aware of at the time. It ruins the nerves, sooner or later; it -is _not_ conducive to business, unless for those whose heads are -especially hard; and it spoils the palate for the good wine which is -poured forth later on. The precept cannot be too widely laid down, too -fully known: - - _Do not drink between Meals!_ - -Better, far better the three-bottle-trick of our ancestors, than the -"gin-crawl" of to-day. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - - GASTRONOMY IN FICTION AND DRAMA - - "Let me not burst in ignorance." - - "A chiel's amang ye, taking notes." - - Thomas Carlyle--Thackeray--Harrison Ainsworth--Sir - Walter Scott--Miss Braddon--Marie Corelli--F. C. - Philips--Blackmore--Charles Dickens--_Pickwick_ reeking - with alcohol--Brandy and oysters--_Little Dorrit_--_Great - Expectations_--Micawber as a punch-maker--_David - Copperfield_--"Practicable" food on the stage--"Johnny" Toole's - story of Tiny Tim and the goose. - - -Considering the number of books which have been published during the -nineteenth century, it is astonishing how few of them deal with eating -and drinking. We read of a banquet or two, certainly, in the works of -the divine William, but no particulars as to the _cuisine_ are entered -into. "Cold Banquo" hardly sounds appetising. Thomas Carlyle was a -notorious dyspeptic, so it is no cause for wonderment that he did not -bequeath to posterity the recipes for a dainty dish or two, or a good -Derby Day "Cup." Thackeray understood but little about cookery, nor -was Whyte Melville much better versed in the mysteries of the kitchen. -Harrison Ainsworth touched lightly on gastronomy occasionally, whilst -Charles Lamb, Sydney Smith, and others (blessings light on the man who -invented the phrase "and others") delighted therein. Miss Braddon has -slurred it over hitherto, and Marie Corelli scorns all mention of any -refreshment but absinthe--a weird liquid which is altogether absent -from these pages. In the lighter novels of Mr. F. C. Philips, there -is but little mention of solid food except devilled caviare, which -sounds nasty; but most of Mr. Philips's men, and all his women, drink -to excess--principally champagne, brandy, and green chartreuse. And -one of his heroines is a firm believer in the merits of cognac as a -"settler" of champagne. - -According to Mr. R. D. Blackmore, the natives of Exmoor did themselves -particularly well, in the seventeenth century. In that most delightful -romance _Lorna Doone_ is a description of a meal set before Tom -Faggus, the celebrated highwayman, by the Ridd family, at Plover's -Barrows:-- - - "A few oysters first, and then dried salmon, and then ham - and eggs, done in small curled rashers, and then a few collops - of venison toasted, and next a little cold roast pig, and a - woodcock on toast to finish with." - -This meal was washed down with home-brewed ale, followed by Schiedam -and hot water. - -One man, and one man alone, who has left his name printed deep on the -sands of time as a writer, thoroughly revelled in the mighty subjects -of eating and drinking. Need his name be mentioned? What is, after -all, the great secret of the popularity of - - - _Charles Dickens_ - -as a novelist? His broad, generous views on the subject of meals, as -expressed through the mouths of most of the characters in his works; -as also the homely nature of such meals, and the good and great deeds -to which they led. I once laid myself out to count the number of times -that alcoholic refreshment is mentioned in some of the principal -works of the great author; and the record, for _Pickwick_ alone, was -sufficient to sweep from the surface of the earth, with its fiery -breath, the entire Blue Ribbon Army. Mr. Pickwick was what would -be called nowadays a "moderate drinker." That is to say, he seldom -neglected an "excuse for a lotion," nor did he despise the "daylight -drink." But we only read of his being overcome by his potations on -two occasions; after the cricket dinner at Muggleton, and after the -shooting luncheon on Captain Boldwig's ground. And upon the latter -occasion I am convinced that the hot sun had far more to do with his -temporary obfuscation than the cold punch. Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen -were by no means exaggerated types of the medical students of the -time. The "deputy sawbones" of to-day writes pamphlets, drinks coffee, -and pays his landlady every Saturday. And it was a happy touch of -Dickens to make Sawyer and Allen eat oysters, and wash them down with -neat brandy, before breakfast. I have known medical students, aye! -and full-blown surgeons too, who would commit equally daring acts; -although I doubt much if they would have shone at the breakfast-table -afterwards, or on the ice later in the day. For the effect exercised -by brandy on oysters is pretty well known to science. - -Breathes there a man with soul so dead as not to appreciate the -delights of Dingley Dell? Free trade and other horrors have combined -to crush the British yeoman of to-day; but we none the less delight -to read of him as he was, and I do not know a better cure for an -attack of "blue devils"--or should it be "black dog?"--than a good -dose of Dingley Dell. The wholesale manner in which Mr. Wardle -takes possession of the Pickwickians--only one of whom he knows -intimately--for purposes of entertainment, is especially delightful, -and worthy of imitation; and I can only regret the absence of a good, -cunningly-mixed "cup" at the picnic after the Chatham review. The wine -drunk at this picnic would seem to have been sherry; as there was not -such a glut of "the sparkling" in those good old times. And the prompt -way in which "Emma" is commanded to "bring out the cherry brandy," -before his guests have been two minutes in the house, bespeaks the -character of dear old Wardle in once. "The Leathern Bottle," a -charming old-world hostelry in that picturesque country lying between -Rochester and Cobham, would hardly have been in existence now, let -alone doing a roaring trade, but for the publication of _Pickwick_; -and the notion of the obese Tupman solacing himself for blighted hopes -and taking his leave of the world on a diet of roast fowl bacon, ale, -etc., is unique. The bill-of-fare at the aforementioned shooting -luncheon might not, perhaps, satisfy the aspirations of Sir Mota Kerr, -or some other _nouveau riche_ of to-day, but there was plenty to eat -and drink. Here is the list, in Mr. Samuel Weller's own words: - -"Weal pie, tongue: a wery good thing when it ain't a woman's: bread, -knuckle o' ham, reg'lar picter, cold beef in slices; wery good. What's -in them stone jars, young touch-and-go?" - -"Beer in this one," replied the boy, taking from his shoulder a couple -of large stone bottles, fastened together by a leathern strap, "cold -punch in t'other." - -"And a wery good notion of a lunch it is, take it altogether," said -Mr. Weller. - -Possibly; though cold beef in slices would be apt to get rather dryer -than was desirable on a warm day. And milk punch hardly seems the sort -of tipple to encourage accuracy of aim. - -Mrs. Bardell's notion of a nice little supper we gather from the same -immortal work, was "a couple of sets of pettitoes and some toasted -cheese." The pettitoes were presumably simmered in milk, and the -cheese was, undoubtedly, "browning away most delightfully in a little -Dutch oven in front of the fire." Most of us will smack our lips after -this description; though details are lacking as to the contents of the -"black bottle" which was produced from "a small closet." But amongst -students of _Pickwick_, "Old Tom" is a hot favourite. - -The Deputy Shepherd's particular "vanity" appears to have been -buttered toast and reeking hot pine-apple rum and water, which sounds -like swimming-in-the-head; and going straight through the book, we -next pause at the description of the supper given by the medical -students, at their lodgings in the Borough, to the Pickwickians. - -"The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent had not been -told to open them; it is a very difficult thing to open an oyster -with a limp knife or a two-pronged fork; and very little was done in -this way. Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham (which -was from the German-sausage shop round the corner) was in a similar -predicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin can; and the -cheese went a great way, for it was very strong." - -Probably the oysters had not been paid for in advance, and the man -imagined that they would be returned upon his hands none the worse. -For at that time--as has been remarked before, in this volume on -gastronomy--the knowledge that an oyster baked in his own shells, in -the middle of a clear fire, is an appetising dish, does not appear to -have been universal. - -It is questionable if a supper consisting of a boiled leg of mutton -"with the usual trimmings" would have satisfied the taste of the -"gentleman's gentleman" of to-day, who is a hypercritic, if anything; -but let that supper be taken as read. Also let it be noted that the -appetite of the redoubtable Pickwick never seems to have failed him, -even in the sponging-house--five to one can be betted that those -chops were _fried_--or in the Fleet Prison itself. And mention of -this establishment recalls the extravagant folly of Job Trotter -(who of all men ought to have known better) in purchasing "a small -piece of raw loin of mutton" for the refection of himself and ruined -master; when for the same money he could surely have obtained a -sufficiency of bullock's cheek or liver, potatoes, and onions, to -provide dinner for three days. _Vide_ the "Kent Road Cookery," in one -of my earlier chapters. The description of the journeys from Bristol -to Birmingham, and back to London, absolutely reeks with food and -alcohol; and it has always smacked of the mysterious to myself how Sam -Weller, a pure Cockney, could have known so much of the capacities -of the various hostelries on the road. Evidently his knowledge of -other places besides London was "peculiar." Last scene of all in -_Pickwick_ requiring mention here, is the refection given to Mr. -Solomon Pell in honour of the proving of the late Dame Weller's last -will and testament. "Porter, cold beef, and oysters," were some of the -incidents of that meal, and we read that "the coachman with the hoarse -voice took an imperial pint of vinegar with his oysters, without -betraying the least emotion." - -It is also set down that brandy and water, as usual in this history, -followed the oysters; but we are not told if any of those coachmen -ever handled the ribbons again, or if Mr. Solomon Pell spent his -declining days in the infirmary. - -In fact, there are not many chapters in Charles Dickens' works in -which the knife and fork do not play prominent parts. The food is, -for the most part, simple and homely; the seed sown in England by -the fairy _Ala_ had hardly begun to germinate at the time the novels -were written. Still there is, naturally, a suspicion of _Ala_ at the -very commencement of _Little Dorrit_, the scene being laid in the -Marseilles prison, where Monsieur Rigaud feasts off Lyons sausage, -veal in savoury jelly, white bread, strachino cheese, and good claret, -the while his humble companion, Signor John Baptist, has to content -himself with stale bread, through reverses at gambling with his fellow -prisoner. After that, there is no mention of a "square meal" until we -get to Mr. Casby's, the "Patriarch." "Everything about the patriarchal -household," we are told, "promoted quiet digestion"; and the dinner -mentioned began with "some soup, some fried soles, a butter-boat of -shrimp sauce, and a dish of potatoes." Rare old Casby! "Mutton, a -steak, and an apple pie"--and presumably cheese--furnished the more -solid portion of the banquet, which appears to have been washed down -with porter and sherry wine, and enlivened by the inconsequent remarks -of "Mr. F.'s Aunt." - -In _Great Expectations_ occurs the celebrated banquet at the Chateau -Gargery on Christmas Day, consisting of a leg of pickled pork and -greens, a pair of roast stuffed fowls, a handsome mince pie, and a -plum-pudding. The absence of the savoury pork-pie, and the presence -of tar-water in the brandy are incidents at that banquet familiar -enough to Sir Frank Lockwood, Q.C., M.P., and other close students -of Dickens, whose favourite dinner-dish would appear to have been a -fowl, stuffed or otherwise, roast or boiled. - -In _Oliver Twist_ we get casual mention of oysters, sheep's heads, and -a rabbit pie, with plenty of alcohol; but the bill of fare, on the -whole, is not an appetising one. The meat and drink at the Maypole -Hotel, in _Barnaby Rudge_, would appear to have been deservedly -popular; and the description of Gabriel Varden's breakfast is -calculated to bring water to the most callous mouth: - -"Over and above the ordinary tea equipage the board creaked beneath -the weight of a jolly round of beef, a ham of the first magnitude, -and sundry towers of buttered Yorkshire cake, piled slice upon slice -in most alluring order. There was also a goodly jug of well-browned -clay, fashioned into the form of an old gentleman not by any means -unlike the locksmith, atop of whose bald head was a fine white froth -answering to his wig, indicative, beyond dispute, of sparkling home -brewed ale. But better than fair home-brewed, or Yorkshire cake, or -ham, or beef, or anything to eat or drink that earth or air or water -can supply, there sat, presiding over all, the locksmith's rosy -daughter, before whose dark eyes even beef grew insignificant, and -malt became as nothing." - -Ah-h-h! - -There is not much eating in _A Tale of Two Cities_; but an intolerable -amount of assorted "sack." In _Sketches by Boz_ we learn that Dickens -had no great opinion of public dinners, and that oysters were, at that -period, occasionally opened by the fair sex. There is a nice flavour -of fowl and old Madeira about _Dombey and Son_, and the description of -the dinner at Doctor Blimber's establishment for young gentlemen is -worth requoting: - -"There was some nice soup; also roast meat, boiled meat, vegetables, -pie, and cheese." [_Cheese_ at a small boys' school!] "Every young -gentleman had a massive silver fork and a napkin; and all the -arrangements were stately and handsome. In particular there was a -butler in a blue coat and bright buttons" [surely this was a footman?] -"who gave quite a winey flavour to the table beer, he poured it out so -superbly." - -Dinner at Mrs. Jellyby's in _Bleak House_ is one of the funniest and -most delightful incidents in the book, especially the attendance. "The -young woman with the flannel bandage waited, and dropped everything -on the table wherever it happened to go, and never moved it again -until she put it on the stairs. The person I had seen in pattens (who -I suppose to have been the cook) frequently came and skirmished with -her at the door, and there appeared to be ill-will between them." The -dinner given by Mr. Guppy at the "Slap Bang" dining house is another -feature of this book--veal and ham, and French beans, summer cabbage, -pots of half-and-half, marrow puddings, "three Cheshires" and "three -small rums." Of the items in this list, the marrow pudding seems to be -as extinct--in London, at all events--as the dodo. It appears to be -a mixture of bread, pounded almonds, cream, eggs, lemon peel, sugar, -nutmeg, and marrow; and sounds nice. - -David Copperfield's dinner in his Buckingham Street chambers was an -event with a disastrous termination. "It was a remarkable want of -forethought on the part of the ironmonger who had made Mrs. Crupp's -kitchen fireplace, that it was capable of cooking nothing but chops -and mashed potatoes. As to a fish-kettle, Mrs. Crupp said 'Well! would -I only come and look at the range? She couldn't say fairer than that. -Would I come and look at it?' As I should not have been much the -wiser if I _had_ looked at it I said never mind fish. But Mrs. Crupp -said, 'Don't say that; oysters was in, and why not them?' So _that_ -was settled. Mrs. Crupp then said 'What she would recommend would -be this. A pair of hot roast fowls--from the pastry cook's; a dish -of stewed beef, with vegetables--from the pastry cook's; two little -corner things, as a raised pie and a dish of kidneys--from the pastry -cook's; a tart, and (if I liked) a shape of jelly--from the pastry -cook's. This,' Mrs. Crupp said, 'would leave her at full liberty to -concentrate her mind on the potatoes, and to serve up the cheese and -celery as she could wish to see it done.'" - -Then blessings on thee, Micawber, most charming of characters in -fiction, mightiest of punch-brewers! The only fault I have to find -with the novel of _David Copperfield_ is that we don't get enough of -Micawber. The same fault, however, could hardly be said to lie in the -play; for if ever there was a "fat" part, it is Wilkins Micawber. - -_Martin Chuzzlewit_ bubbles over with eating and drinking; and -"Todgers" has become as proverbial as Hamlet. In _Nicholas Nickleby_, -too, we find plenty of mention of solids and liquids; and as a -poor stroller myself at one time, it has always struck me that -"business" could not have been so very bad, after all, in the Crummles -Combination; for the manager, at all events, seems to have fared -particularly well. Last on the list comes _The Old Curiosity Shop_, -with the celebrated stew at the "Jolly Sandboys," the ingredients in -which have already been quoted by the present writer. With regard to -this stew all that I have to remark is that I should have substituted -an ox-kidney for the tripe, and left out the "sparrowgrass," the -flavour of which would be quite lost in the crowd of ingredients. But -there! who can cavil at such a feast? "Fetch me a pint of warm ale, -and don't let nobody bring into the room even so much as a biscuit -till the time arrives." - -Codlin may not have been "the friend"; but he was certainly the judge -of the "Punch" party. - -In this realistic age, meals on the stage have to be provided from -high-class hotels or restaurants; and this is, probably, the chief -reason why there is so little eating and drinking introduced into -the modern drama. Gone are the nights of the banquet of pasteboard -poultry, "property" pine-apples, and gilded flagons containing nothing -more sustaining than the atmosphere of coal-gas. Not much faith is -placed in the comic scenes of a pantomime nowadays; or it is probable -that the clown would purloin real York hams, and stuff Wall's sausages -into the pockets of his ample pants. Champagne is champagne under the -present regime of raised prices, raised salaries, raised everything; -and it is not so long since I overheard an actor-manager chide a -waiter from a fashionable restaurant, for forgetting the _Soubise_ -sauce, when he brought the cutlets. - -In my acting days we usually had canvas fowls, stuffed with sawdust, -when we revelled on the stage; or, if business had been particularly -good, the poultry was made from breakfast rolls, with pieces skewered -on, to represent the limbs. And the potables--Gadzooks! What horrible -concoctions have found their way down this unsuspecting throttle! -Sherry was invariably represented by cold tea, which is palatable -enough if home-made, under careful superintendence, but, drawn in -the property-master's den, usually tasted of glue. Ginger beer, at -three-farthings for two bottles, poured into tumblers containing -portions of a seidlitz-powder, always did duty for champagne; and -as for port or claret--well, I quite thought I had swallowed the -deadliest of poisons one night, until assured it was only the cold -leavings of the stage-door-keeper's coffee! - -The story of Tiny Tim who ate the goose is a pretty familiar one in -stage circles. When playing Bob Cratchit, in _The Christmas Carol_ at -the Adelphi, under Mr. Benjamin Webster's management, Mr. J. L. Toole -had to carve a real goose and a "practicable" plum-pudding during the -run of that piece, forty nights. And the little girl who played Tiny -Tim used to finish her portions of goose and pudding with such amazing -celerity that Mr. Toole became quite alarmed on her account. - -"'I don't like it,' I said," writes dear friend "Johnny," in his -_Reminiscences_; "'I can't conceive where a poor, delicate little -thing like that puts the food. Besides, although I like the children -to enjoy a treat'--and how they kept on enjoying it for forty nights -was a mystery, for I got into such a condition that if I dined at -a friend's house, and goose was on the table, I regarded it as a -personal affront--I said, referring to Tiny Tim, 'I don't like -greediness; and it is additionally repulsive in a refined-looking, -delicate little thing like this; besides, it destroys the sentiment -of the situation--and when I, as Bob, ought to feel most pathetic, I -am always wondering where the goose and the pudding are, or whether -anything serious in the way of a fit will happen to Tiny Tim before -the audience, in consequence of her unnatural gorging!' Mrs. Mellon -laughed at me at first, but eventually we decided to watch Tiny Tim -together. - -"We watched as well as we could, and the moment Tiny Tim was seated, -and began to eat, we observed a curious shuffling movement at the -stage-fireplace, and everything that I had given her, goose and -potatoes, and apple-sauce disappeared behind the sham stove, the child -pretending to eat as heartily as ever from the empty plate. When -the performance was over, Mrs. Mellon and myself asked the little -girl what became of the food she did not eat, and, after a little -hesitation, she confessed that her little sister (I should mention -that they were the children of one of the scene-shifters) waited on -the other side of the fireplace for the supplies, and then the whole -family enjoyed a hearty supper every night. - -"Dickens was very much interested in the incident. When I had -finished, he smiled a little sadly, I thought, and then, shaking me by -the hand, he said, 'Ah! you ought to have given her the whole goose.'" - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - - RESTORATIVES - - "Raze out the written troubles of the brain, - And with some antibilious antidote - Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff - Which weighs upon the soul." - - William of Normandy--A "head" wind at sea--Beware the - druggist--Pick-me-ups of all sorts and conditions--Anchovy - toast for the invalid--A small bottle--Straight talks - to fanatics--Total abstinence as bad as the other - thing--Moderation in all things--Wisely and slow--_Carpe - diem_--But have a thought for the morrow. - - -"I care not," observed William of Normandy to his -quartermaster-general, on the morning after the revelry which followed -the Battle of Hastings, "who makes these barbarians' wines; send me -the man who can remove the beehive from my o'erwrought brain." - -This remark is not to be found in Macaulay's _History of England_; but -learned authorities who have read the original MS. in Early Norman, -make no doubt as to the correct translation. - -"It is excellent," as the poet says, "to have a giant's thirst; but -it is tyrannous to use it like a giant." And not only "tyrannous" -but short-sighted. For the law of compensation is one of the first -edicts of Nature. The same beneficent hand which provides the simple -fruits of the earth for the delectation of man, furnishes also the -slug and the wasp, to see that he doesn't get too much. Our friend -the dog is deprived of the power of articulation, but he has a tail -which can be wagged at the speed of 600 revolutions to the minute. -And the man who overtaxes the powers of his inner mechanism during -the hours of darkness is certain to feel the effects, to be smitten -of conscience, and troubled of brain, when he awakes, a few hours -later on. As this is not a medical treatise it would be out of place -to analyse at length the abominable habit which the human brain and -stomach have acquired, of acting and reacting on each other; suffice -it to say that there is no surer sign of the weakness and helplessness -of poor, frail, sinful, fallen humanity than the obstinacy with which -so many of us will, for the sake of an hour or two's revelry, boldly -bid for five times the amount of misery and remorse. And this more -especially applies to a life on the ocean wave. The midshipmite who -over-estimates his swallowing capacity is no longer "mast-headed" -next morning; but the writer has experienced a cyclone in the Bay of -Bengal, ere the effects of a birthday party on the previous night -had been surmounted; and the effects of "mast-heading" could hardly -have been less desirable. In that most delightful work for the young, -Dana's _Two years before the Mast_, we read: - -"Our forecastle, as usual after a liberty-day, was a scene of tumult -all night long, from the drunken ones. They had just got to sleep -toward morning, when they were turned up with the rest, and kept at -work all day in the water, carrying hides, their heads aching so that -they could hardly stand. This is sailors' pleasure." - -Dana himself was ordered up aloft, to reef "torpsles," on his first -morning at sea; and he had probably had some sort of a farewell -carouse, 'ere quitting Boston. And the present writer upon one -occasion--such is the irony of fate--was told off to indite a leading -article on "Temperance" for an evening journal, within a very few -hours of the termination of a "Derby" banquet. - -But how shall we alleviate the pangs? How make that dreadful "day -after" endurable enough to cause us to offer up thanks for being still -allowed to live? Come, the panacea, good doctor! - -First of all, then, avoid the chemist and his works. I mean -no disrespect to my good friend Sainsbury, or his "Number One -Pick-me-up," whose corpse-reviving claims are indisputable; but at the -same time the habitual swallower of drugs does not lead the happiest -life. I once knew a young subaltern who had an account presented -to him by the cashier of the firm of Peake and Allen, of the great -continent of India, for nearly 300 rupees; and the items in said -account were entirely chloric ether, extract of cardamoms--with the -other component parts of a high-class restorative, and interest. -Saddening! The next thing to avoid, the first thing in the morning, -is soda-water, whether diluted with brandy or whisky. The "peg" may -be all very well as an occasional potation, but, believe one who -has tried most compounds, 'tis a precious poor "livener." On the -contrary, although a beaker of the straw-coloured (or occasionally, -mahogany-coloured) fluid may seem to steady the nerves for the time -being, that effect is by no means lasting. - -But the same panacea will not do in every case. If the patient be -sufficiently convalescent to digest a - - - _Doctor_ - -(I do _not_ mean a M.R.C.S.) his state must be far from hopeless. A -"Doctor" is a mixture of beaten raw egg--not forgetting the white, -which is of even more value than the yolk to the invalid--brandy, a -little sifted sugar, and new milk. But many devotees of Bacchus could -as soon swallow rum-and-oysters, in bed. And do not let us blame -Bacchus unduly for the matutinal trouble. The fairy _Ala_ has probably -had a lot to do with that trouble. A "Doctor" can be made with sherry -or whisky, instead of brandy; and many stockbrokers' clerks, sporting -journalists, and other millionaires prefer a - - - _Surgeon-Major_, - -who appears in the form of a large tumbler containing a couple of eggs -beaten, and filled to the brim with the wine of the champagne district. - - - _A Scorcher_ - -is made with the juice of half a lemon squeezed into a large -wine-glass; add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, or Hollands, and a -dust of cayenne. Mix well, and do not allow any lemon-pips to remain -in the glass. - - - _Prairie Oyster._ - -This is an American importation. There is a legend to the effect that -one of a hunting party fell sick unto death, on the boundless prairie -of Texas, and clamoured for oysters. Now the close and cautious -bivalve no more thrives in a blue grass country than he possesses the -ability to walk up stairs, or make a starting-price book. So one of -the party, an inventive genius, cudgelled his brains for a substitute. -He found some prairie hen's eggs, and administered the unbroken yolks -thereof, one at a time, in a wine-glass containing a teaspoonful of -vinegar. He shook the pepper-castor over the yolks and added a pinch -of salt. The patient recovered. The march of science has improved on -this recipe. Instead of despoiling the prairie hen, the epicure now -looks to Madame Gobble for a turkey egg. And a - - - _Worcester Oyster_ - -is turned out ready made, by simply substituting a teaspoonful of Lea -and Perrins' most excellent sauce for vinegar. - - - _Brazil Relish._ - -This is, I am assured, a much-admired restorative in Brazil, and -the regions bordering on the River Plate. It does not sound exactly -the sort of stimulant to take after a "bump supper," or a "Kaffir" -entertainment, but here it is: Into a wine-glass half full of curacoa -pop the unbroken yolk of a bantam's egg. Fill the glass up with -maraschino. According to my notion, a good cup of hot, strong tea -would be equally effectual, as an emetic, and withal cheaper. But they -certainly take the mixture as a pick-me-up in Brazil. - - - _Port-flip_ - -is a favourite stimulant with our American cousins. Beat up an egg in -a tumbler--if you have no metal vessels to shake it in, the shortest -way is to put a clean white card, or a saucer, over the mouth of the -tumbler, and shake--then add a little sugar, a glass of port, and -some pounded ice. Strain before drinking. Leaving out the ice and the -straining, this is exactly the same "refresher" which the friends of -a criminal, who had served his term of incarceration in one of H.M. -gaols, were in the habit of providing for him; and when the Cold Bath -Fields Prison was a going concern, there was a small hostelry hard by, -in which, on a Monday morning, the consumption of port wine (fruity) -and eggs ("shop 'uns," every one) was considerable. This on the word -of an ex-warder, who subsequently became a stage-door keeper. - -One of the most unsatisfactory effects of good living is that the -demon invoked over-night does not always assume the same shape in -your waking hours. Many sufferers will feel a loathing for any sort -of food or drink, except cold water. "The capting," observed the -soldier-servant to a visitor (this is an old story), "ain't very well -this morning, sir; he've just drunk his bath, and gone to bed again." -And on the other hand, I have known the over-indulger absolutely -ravenous for his breakfast. "Brandy and soda, no, dear old chappie; as -many eggs as they can poach in five minutes, a thick rasher of York -ham, two muffins, and about a gallon and a half of hot coffee--that's -what I feel like." Medical men will be able to explain those symptoms -in the roysterer, who had probably eaten and drunk quite as much -over-night as the "capting." For the roysterer with a shy appetite -there are few things more valuable than an - - - _Anchovy Toast_. - -The concoction of this belongs to bedroom cookery, unless the -sitting-room adjoins the sleeping apartment. For the patient will -probably be too faint of heart to wish to meet his fellow-men and -women downstairs, so early. The mixture must be made _over hot -water_. Nearly fill a slop-basin with the boiling element, and place -a soup-plate over it. In the plate melt a pat of butter the size of a -walnut. Then having beaten up a raw egg, stir it in. When thoroughly -incorporated with the butter add a dessert-spoonful of essence of -anchovies. Cayenne _ad lib_. Then let delicately-browned crisp toast -be brought, hot from the fire. Soak this in the mixture, and eat as -quickly as you can. The above proportions must be increased if more -than one patient clamours for anchovy toast; and this recipe is of no -use for a dinner, or luncheon toast; remember that. After the meal is -finished turn in between the sheets again for an hour; then order -a "Doctor," or a "Surgeon-Major" to be brought to the bedside. In -another twenty minutes the patient will be ready for his tub (with -the chill off, if he be past thirty, and has any wisdom, or liver, -left within him). After dressing, if he live in London and there be -any trace of brain-rack remaining, let him take a brisk walk to his -hair-dresser's, having his boots cleaned _en route_. This is most -important, whether they be clean or dirty; for the action of a pair -of briskly-directed brushes over the feet will often remove the most -distressing of headaches. Arrived at the perruquier's, let the patient -direct him to rub _eau de Cologne_, or some other perfumed spirit, -into the o'er-taxed cranium, and to squirt assorted essences over -the distorted countenance. A good hard brush, and a dab of bay rum -on the temples will complete the cure; the roysterer will then be -ready to face his employer, or the maiden aunt from whom he may have -expectations. - -If the flavour of the anchovy be disagreeable, let the patient try the -following toast, which is similar to that used with wildfowl: Melt a -pat of butter over hot water, stir in a dessert-spoonful of Worcester -sauce, the same quantity of orange juice, a pinch of cayenne, and -about half a wine-glassful of old port. Soak the toast in this -mixture. The virtues of old port as a restorative cannot be too widely -known. - - - _St. Mark's Pick-me-up._ - -The following recipe was given to the writer by a member of an old -Venetian family. - -Ten drops of Angostura in a liqueur-glass, filled up with orange -bitters. One wine-glassful of old brandy, one ditto cold water, one -liqueur-glassful of curacoa, and the juice of half a lemon. Mix well -together. I have not yet tried this, which reads rather acid. - -For an - - - _Overtrained_ - -athlete, who may not take kindly to his rations, there is no better -cure than the lean of an underdone chop (_not blue_ inside) hot from -the fire, on a hot plate, with a glass of port poured over. A - - - _Hot-pickle Sandwich_ - -should be made of two thin slices of crisp toast (no butter) with -chopped West Indian pickles in between. And for a - - - _Devilled Biscuit_ - -select the plain cheese biscuit, heat in the oven, and then spread -over it a paste composed of finely-pounded lobster worked up with -butter, made mustard, ground ginger, cayenne, salt, chili vinegar, and -(if liked) a little curry powder. Reheat the biscuit for a minute or -two, and then deal with it. Both the last-named restoratives will be -found valuable (?) liver tonics; and to save future worry the patient -had better calculate, at the same time, the amount of Estate Duty -which will have to be paid out of his personalty, and secure a nice -dry corner, out of the draught, for his place of sepulture. A - - - _Working-Man's Livener_, - -(and by "working-man" the gentleman whose work consists principally -in debating in taverns is intended) is usually a hair of the dog that -bit him over-night; and in some instances where doubt may exist as to -the particular "tufter" of the pack which found the working-man out, -the livener will be a miscellaneous one. For solid food, this brand of -labourer will usually select an uncooked red-herring, which he will -divide into swallow-portions with his clasp-knife, after borrowing -the pepper-castor from the tavern counter. And as new rum mixed with -four-penny ale occasionally enters into the over-night's programme of -the horny-handed one, he is frequently very thirsty indeed before the -hour of noon. - -I have seen a journalist suck half a lemon, previously well -besprinkled with cayenne, prior to commencing his matutinal "scratch." -But rum and milk form, I believe, the favourite livener throughout -the district which lies between the Adelphi Theatre and St. Paul's -Cathedral. And, according to Doctor Edward Smith (the chief English -authority on dietetics), rum and milk form the most powerful -restorative known to science. With all due respect to Doctor Smith I -am prepared to back another restorative, commonly known as "a small -bottle"; which means a pint of champagne. I have prescribed this many -a time, and seldom known it fail. In case of partial failure repeat -the dose. A valuable if seldom-employed restorative is made with - - - _Bovril_ - -as one of the ingredients. Make half-a-pint of beef-tea in a tumbler -with this extract. Put the tumbler in a refrigerator for an hour, then -add a liqueur-glassful of old brandy, with just a dust of cayenne. -This is one of the very best pick-me-ups known to the faculty. A - - - _Swizzle_, - -for recuperative purposes is made with the following ingredients:--a -wine-glassful of Hollands, a liqueur-glassful of curacoa, three drops -of Angostura bitters, a little sugar, and half a small bottle of -seltzer-water. Churn up the mixture with a swizzle-stick, which can -be easily made with the assistance of a short length of cane (the -ordinary school-treat brand) a piece of cork, a bit of string, and a -pocket knife. - -A very extraordinary pick-me-up is mentioned by Mr. F. C. Philips, -in one of his novels, and consists of equal parts of brandy and -chili vinegar in a large wine-glass. Such a mixture would, in all -probability, corrode sheet-iron. I am afraid that writers of romance -occasionally borrow a little from imagination. - -The most effectual restorative for the total abstainer is -unquestionably, old brandy. It should be remembered that a rich, -heavy dinner is not bound to digest within the human frame, if washed -down with tea, or aerated beverages. In fact, from the personal -appearances of many worthy teetotallers I have known digestion cannot -be their strong suit. Then many abstainers only abstain in public, -for the sake of example. And within the locked cupboard of the study -lurks a certain black bottle, which does _not_ contain Kopps's ale. -Therefore I repeat that the most effectual restorative for the total -abstainer--whether as a direct change, or as a hair of the dog--is -brandy. - -Our ancestors cooled their coppers with small ale, and enjoyed a -subsequent sluice at the pump in the yard; these methods are still -pursued by stable-helpers and such like. A good walk acts beneficially -sometimes. Eat or drink nothing at all, but try and do five miles -along the turnpike road within the hour. Many habitual roysterers -hunt the next morning, with heads opening and shutting alternately, -until the fox breaks covert, when misery of all sorts at once takes -to itself wings. And I have heard a gallant warrior, whilst engaged -in a Polo match on York Knavesmire, protest that he could distinctly -see _two_ Polo balls. But he was not in such bad case as the eminent -jockey who declined to ride a horse in a hood and blinkers, because -"one of us must see, and I'm hanged if _I_ can!" It was the same -jockey who, upon being remonstrated with for taking up his whip at -the final bend, when his horse was winning easily, replied: "whip be -blowed! it was my balance pole: I should have fell off without it!" - - - _Straight Talks._ - -In the lowest depth there is a lower depth, which not only threatens -to devour, but which will infallibly devour the too-persistent -roysterer. For such I labour not. The seer of visions, the would-be -strangler of serpents, the baffled rat-hunter, and other victims to -the over-estimation of human capacity will get no assistance, beyond -infinite pity, from the mind which guides this pen. The dog will -return to his own vomit; the wilful abuser of the goods sent by a -bountiful Providence is past praying for. But to others who are on the -point of crossing the Rubicon of good discretion I would urge that -there will assuredly come a time when the pick-me-up will lose its -virtue, and will fail to chase the sorrow from the brow, to minister -to the diseased mind. Throughout this book I have endeavoured to -preach the doctrine of moderation in enjoyment. Meat and drink are, -like fire, very good servants, but the most oppressive and exacting -of slave-drivers. Therefore enjoy the sweets of life, whilst ye can; -but as civilised beings, as gentlemen, and not as swine. For here is -a motto which applies to eating and drinking even more than to other -privileges which we enjoy: - - "Wisely, and slow; - They stumble who run fast!" - -A resort to extremes is always to be deprecated, and many sensible men -hold the total abstainer in contempt, unless he abstain simply and -solely because a moderate use of "beer and baccy" makes him ill; and -this man is indeed a rarity. The teetotaller is either a creature with -no will-power in his composition, a Pharisee, who thanks Providence -that he is not as other men, or a lunatic. There can be no special -virtue in "swearing off" good food and good liquor; whether for the -sake of example, or for the sake of ascending a special pinnacle and -posing to the world as the incarnation of perfection and holiness. In -the parable, the Publican was "justified" rather than the Pharisee, -because the former had the more common sense, and knew that if he set -up as immaculate and without guile he was deceiving himself and nobody -else. But here on earth, in the nineteenth century, the Publican -stands a very poor chance with the Pharisee, whether the last-named -assume the garb of "Social Purity," or "Vigilance," or the sombre -raiment of the policeman. This is not right. This is altogether wrong. -The total abstainer, the rabid jackass who denies himself--or claims -that he does so--the juice of the grape, and drinks the horrible, -flatulent, concoctions known as "temperance beverages," is just as -great a sinner against common sense as that rabid jackass the habitual -glutton, or drunkard, who, in abusing the good things of life--the -gifts which are given us to enjoy--is putting together a rod of -rattlesnakes for his own back. - -There is nothing picturesque about drunkenness; and there is still -less of manliness therein. There is plenty of excuse for the careless, -happy-go-lucky, casual over-estimater, who revels, on festive -occasions, with his boon companions. 'Tis a poor heart that never -rejoices; and wedding-feasts, celebrations of famous victories, -birthday parties, and Christmas festivities have been, and will -continue to be, held by high and low, from the earliest times. But -there is no excuse, but only pity and disgust, for the sot who sits -and soaks--or, worse still, stands and soaks--in the tavern day after -day, and carries the brandy-bottle to bed with him. I have lived -through two-thirds of the years allotted to man, and have never -yet met the man who has done himself, or anybody else, any good -by eating or drinking to excess. Nor is the man who has benefited -himself, or society, through scorning and vilifying good cheer, a -familiar sight in our midst. "Keep in the middle of the road," is -the rule to be observed; and there is no earthly reason why the man -who may have applied "hot and rebellious liquors" to his blood, as a -youth, should not enjoy that "lusty winter" of old age, "frosty but -kindly," provided those warm and warlike liquors have been applied in -moderation. - -I will conclude this sermon with part of a verse of the poet Dryden's -imitation of the twenty-ninth Ode of Horace, though its heathen _carpe -diem_ sentiments should be qualified by a special caution as to the -possible ill effects of bidding too fierce a defiance to the "reaction -day." - - "Happy the man, and happy he alone, - He who can call to-day his own; - He who, secure within, can say;-- - To-morrow, do thy worst, I've liv'd to-day!" - - - - - INDEX - - - "_Ala_," the fairy, 68 - - "Albion," the, 77 - - Alexander Dumas, 80 - - Allowable breakfast-dishes, 14 - - _Almanach des Gourmands_, 79, 184 - - Anchovy toast, 267 - - Angel's pie, 55 - - _Apium_, the, 129 - - Apricot brandy, 229 - - Artichoke, the, 130 - Jerusalem, 131 - - Ascot luncheon, 54 - - Asparagus, 124 - with eggs, 17 - - Aspic, 176 - - Athole brose, 241 - - - Baksheesh, 100 - - Ball suppers, 175 - - Banquet, a vegetarian, 132 - - "Beano," a, 121 - - Beans, 119 - "Borston," 120 - - Beef, "can't eat," 96 - - Bernardin salmi, a, 92 - - Birch's, 37 - - _Bischoff_, 211 - - Biscuit, a devilled, 269 - - Bishop, 212 - - Bisque, 89 - - Bitters, 229 - - Blackmore, R. D., 247 - - Blue blazer, 243 - - Bombay duck, a, 146 - - Bones, grilled, 189 - - Bosom caresser, a, 239 - - Bouillabaisse, 88 - - Bovril, 271 - - Braddon, Miss, 247 - - Brandy, apricot, 229 - cherry, 227 - ginger, 230 - orange, 230 - sour, 243 - - Brazil relish, 265 - - Breakfast, allowable dishes at, 14 - French, 27 - Indian, 31 - Mediterranean, 26 - with "my tutor," 32 - - Brillat Savarin, 106 - - Brinjal, the, 131 - - Broth, Scotch, 52 - - Buckmaster, 77 - - Bull's milk, 240 - - Burmah, food in, 203 - - Burns, John, 234 - - - Cabbage, the, 115 - - Calcutta jumble, 16 - - "Cannie Carle," 189 - - Canvass-back duck, a, 95 - - Carlton House Terrace, 91 - - Carlyle, Thomas, 246 - - Carrot, the, 121 - - Cassis, 244 - - Cauliflower, the, 115 - - Cedric the Saxon, 66 - - Celery, 129 - sauce, 164 - - Champagne and stout, 225 - - Charles Dickens, 52, 248 - - _Chateaubriand_, a, 70 - - Chef, Indian, 135 - - "Cheshire Cheese," the, 39 - pudding, 39 - - Chinaman's meal, a, 91 - - Chops, 50 - - _Chota Hazri_, 29 - - _Choufleur au gratin_, 116 - - Chowringhee Club, the, 135 - - Christmas dinner, a, 82 - - Chutnee, raw, 163 - - Chutnine, 163 - - Cinquevalli, Paul, 112 - - City dinners, 100 - - Clam chowder, 95 - - Cleopatra, 170 - - "Coal-hole," the, 187 - - Cobbler, champagne, 226 - sherry, 226 - - Cocktail, Bengal, 236 - brandy, 235 - champagne, 236 - gin, 237 - Manhattan, 236 - Milford, 236 - Newport, 237 - Saratoga, 237 - whisky, 237 - Yum Yum, 236 - - Cod liver, 102 - - Coffee tree, the, 7 - - Cold mutton, 162 - - Collins, John, 218 - - Coloured help, 94 - - Corelli, Marie, 247 - - Cow, milking a, 205 - - Crecy soup, 122 - - Cremorne Gardens, 184 - - Cup, ale, 226 - Ascot, 224 - Balaclava, 223 - Chablis, 222 - champagne, 222 - cider, 221 - claret, 220 - Crimean, 223 - Moselle, 226 - - Curry, Benares, 134 - dry Madras, 144 - locust, 140 - Malay, 140 - Parsee, 136 - powder, 139 - Prawn, 143 - rice for, 17, 145 - what to, 142 - when served, 141 - - Cyclone, a, 262 - - - Dana, 263 - - Delmonico, 95 - - Devilled biscuit, a, 269 - - Dickens, Charles, 52, 248 - - Dingley Dell, 249 - - Dinner, afloat, 101 - city, 100 - Christmas, 82 - an ideal, 101 - - Doctor, a, 264 - Samuel Johnson, 71 - - Donald, 220 - - Duck, Bombay, 146 - canvass-back, 95 - jugged, with oysters, 46 - Rouen, 87 - -squeezer, 93 - - Dumas, Alexander, 80 - - Dumpling, kidney, 190 - - - Early Christians, 63 - Closing Act, 181 - - Eggs and bacon, 13 - - Elizabeth, Queen, 66 - - Englishman in China, the, 92 - - Evans's, 181 - - - Fairy "_Ala_," the, 68 - kiss, a, 240 - - Fergus MacIvor, 67 - - Fin'an haddie, 23 - - Fixed bayonet, a, 91 - - Flash of lightning, a, 240 - - Flip, ale-, 216 - egg-, 217 - -flap, 241 - - Fowls, Surrey, 88 - - Free trade, 8 - - French soup, 97 - - _Fricandeau_, a, 104 - - - Garlic, 128 - - Gin, sloe, 227 - - Ginger brandy, 230 - - Glasgow, the late Lord, 191 - - Goats, sacrifice of, 198 - - Goose pie, 56 - - Gordon hotels, 71 - - Green, "Paddy," 182 - - Greenland, across, 110 - - Grilled bones, 189 - - Grouse pie, 48 - - Gubbins sauce, 14 - - - Haggis, 63 - - Halibut steak, a, 20 - - Happy Eliza, 242 - - Hawkins, Sir John, 113 - - Hawthornden, 84 - - Help, coloured, 94 - - Highland cordial, 229 - - Hollingshead, John, 181 - - Home Ruler, 227 - - Horatius Flaccus, 112 - - Horse-radish sauce, 164 - steaks, 191 - - Hotch potch, 53 - - Hotel breakfasts, 17 - "Parish," 21 - - Hot-pot, Lancashire, 42 - - Hunting luncheons, 48 - - - Indian breakfasts, 31 - - Irish stew, 50 - - - James I., King, 64 - - Japan, 92 - - Jesuits, the, 93 - - Johnson, Doctor, 71 - - John Collins, 218 - - "Jolly Sandboys," the, 51 - - "Joseph," 83 - - Jugged duck with oysters, 46 - - Jumping powder, 230 - - - Kent Road Cookery, the, 109 - - Kidney dumpling, 190 - in fire-shovel, 188 - - King James I., 64 - - Kiss, a fairy, 240 - - Kitchener, Doctor, 139 - - Knickerbein, a, 239 - - - Lamb, Charles, 146 - - Lamb's head and mince, 186 - - Lampreys, 106 - - Lancashire hot-pot, 42 - - Large peach, a, 15 - - Larks, such, 46 - - Lightning, a flash of, 240 - - Li Hung Chang, 91 - - Liver, cod's, 102 - - _Lorna Doone_, 247 - - Louis XII., 60 - XIV., 60 - - Lucian, 119 - - Luncheon, Ascot, 54 - race-course, 50 - Simla, 58 - - - Macaulay, Lord, 261 - - _Madere_, 94 - - Maiden's blush, 241 - - Majesty, Her, 107 - - Mandragora, 231 - - Marrow, vegetable, 130 - - Marsala, 94 - - Mayfair, 85 - - Mayonnaise, 153 - - Mediterranean breakfast, a, 26 - - Mess-table, the, 105 - - Miladi's boudoir, 190 - - Milk, bull's, 240 - - Mint julep, 242 - - _Mirepoix_, a, 89 - - Mutton, cold, 162 - - - Nansen's banquet on the ice, 109 - - Napoleon the Great, 107 - - Nero, 62 - - New York City, 95 - - Nipping habit, the, 233 - - "No cheques accepted," 18 - - - Off to Gold-land, 25 - - "Old Coppertail," 197 - - Onion, the, 128 - - Orange brandy, 230 - sauce, 161 - - Orgeat, 224 - - Out West, 96 - - Oven, the, 76 - - Overtrained, 269 - - Oysters, Aden, 172 - in their own juice, 173 - Kurachi, 171 - prairie, 265 - sauce, 137 - scalloped, 173 - stewed, 174 - Worcester, 265 - - - "Paddy" Green, 182 - - Parsnip, the, 129 - - Parlour cookery, 187 - - Payne, George, 82 - - Peake and Allen, 263 - - Pea soup, 118 - - Pease, 117 - - "Peg," a, 217 - - Pepper-pot, 195 - - Peter the Great, 106 - - Physician, an eminent, 108 - - Pick-me-up, "Number One," 263 - St. Mark's, 268 - - Pickles, hot, 269 - - Pie, angel's, 55 - goose, 56 - grouse, 48 - pigeon, 55 - pork, 49 - Wardon, 5 - woodcock, 47 - Yorkshire, 49 - - Poor, how they live, 109 - - Pope, Doctor Joseph, 146 - - Possets, 242 - - Pork, roast, 45 - - Potato, the, 111 - salad, 155 - - Port-flip, 266 - - Powder, jumping, 230 - - _Pre sale_, a, 90 - - Prison fare, 110 - - "Property" food, 258 - - Pudding, Cheshire cheese, 39 - plover, 46 - rabbit, 45 - snipe, 41 - - Pulled turkey, 94 - - Punch, 206 - ale, 214 - Barbadoes, 214 - Cambridge, 210 - Curacoa, 214 - Grassot, 214 - Glasgow, 213 - Halo, 212 - milk, 208 - Oxford, 210 - Regent, 215 - - - Queen Elizabeth, 66 - - - Rabbit pie, 45 - - Race-course luncheons, 50 - sandwich, 53 - - Rajah's hospitality, a, 196 - - Raleigh, Sir Walter, 113 - - Rat snakes, 204 - - Regimental dinner, a, 99 - - Rice for curry, 17, 145 - - Richardson, 81 - - Roasting, 76 - - Romans, the, 59 - - Royalty, 85 - - Rouen ducks, 87 - - - Salad, anchovy, 160 - a memorable, 157 - boarding-house, 150 - celery, 156 - cheese in, 158 - corn, 158 - Francatelli's, 150 - French, 151 - fruit, 161 - herring, 155 - Italian, 159 - lobster, 151 - maker, a gentleman-, 156 - orange, 161 - potato, 155 - Roman, 159 - Russian, 160 - tomato, 156 - - Salads, 147 - - Sala, George Augustus, 71 - - _Salmi Bernardin_, 92 - of wild-duck, 93 - - Salmon steak, 24 - - Sandhurst R.M.C., 67 - - Sandwich, a race-course, 53 - - _Sambal_, 168 - - St. Leger, the, 84 - - Sauce, carp, 165 - celery, 164 - Christopher North's, 165 - currant, 167 - goose, 168 - gooseberry, 166 - Gubbins, 14 - hare, 165 - horse-radish, 164 - orange, 161 - oyster, 137 - Tapp, 190 - _Tartare_, 166 - - Savarin, Brillat, 90 - - Saxon dining-table, a, 65 - - Scorcher, a, 264 - - Scott, Sir Walter, 67 - - Scalloped oysters, 173 - - Scotch broth, 52 - - Shandy gaff, rich man's, 225 - - Shepherd's pie, 45 - - Ship and Turtle, the, 38 - - Sidney, Harry, 183 - - Simla, luncheon at, 58 - to Cashmere, 200 - - Sligo slop, 244 - - Sloe gin, 227 - - Smith, Sydney, 147 - - Snipe pudding, 41 - - Soup, French, 97 - - "Spanky," 182 - - Spinach, 127 - - Sprats, 179 - - Staff of life, the, 7 - - Steaks, 50 - salmon, 24 - thoroughbred horse, 191 - - Steam-chest, the, 76 - - Stew, Irish, 50 - "Jolly Sandboys," 51 - oyster, 174 - - Stout and champagne, 225 - - Straight talks, 272 - - Suetonius, 61 - - Suffolk pride, 56 - - Such larks, 46 - - Supper, Hotel Cecil, 179 - ball, 175 - - Surgeon-major, a, 264 - - Surrey fowls, 88 - - Swizzle, a, 271 - - - Tapp sauce, 190 - - Tartar sauce, 166 - - Tea, 6 - _a la Francaise_, 28 - - Thibet, 200 - - Thumb-piece, 53 - - Tiger's milk, 241 - - Toddy, 215 - whisky, 216 - - Tomato, the, 126 - - Tomnoddy, Lord, 180 - - Toole, John Lawrence, 258 - - _Tournedos_, a, 89 - - Tripe, 177 - how to cook, 178 - - Tsar, the, 57 - - Tsaritza, the, 86 - - Turkey, the, 94 - pulled, 94 - - Turmeric, 139 - - Turnip, 127 - - Turner, Godfrey, 103 - - - Vegetarian banquet, a, 132 - - Vitellius, 61 - - _Vol-au-Vent financiere_, 90 - - - Waiter, the, 112 - - Wardon pie, a, 5 - - Wellington, Duke of, 107 - - West Indies, the, 240 - - West, out, 96 - - Whisky, sour, 243 - - Wild-duck, salmi of, 93 - - William the Conqueror, 261 - - Woodcock pie, 47 - - Working man, the, 270 - - Wyndham, 241 - - - Yates, Edmund's Reminiscences, 178 - - York, New, 95 - - Yorkshire pie, 49 - - - - - THE END - - - - - MILLER, SON, AND COMPY., LIMITED, - PRINTERS, - FAKENHAM AND LONDON. - - - - - FOOTNOTES: - - -[1] It is incorrect to speak of bread as the sole "staff of life." -Eggs, milk, cheese, potatoes, and some other vegetables, supply -between them far more phosphoric acid than is to be got from bread, -either white or brown. And a man could support existence on "beer and -baccy" as well as he could do so on bread alone. - -[2] In most recipes for puddings or pies, rump steak is given. But -this is a mistake, as the tendency of that part of the ox is to -_harden_, when subjected to the process of boiling or baking. Besides -the skirt--the _thick_ skirt--there be tit-bits to be cut from around -the shoulder. - -[3] The cannie Scot, however, never made his haggis from anything -belonging to the pig. The dislike of the Scots to pork dates from -very long ago, as we read in a note to Sir Walter Scott's _Waverley_. -King "Jamie" carried this prejudice to England, and is known to have -abhorred pork almost as much as he did tobacco. His proposed banquet -to the "Deil" consisted of a loin of pork, a poll (or head) of ling, -with a pipe of tobacco for digestion. - -[4] This dish must somewhat resemble the "Fixed Bayonet," which at one -time was the favourite tit-bit of "Tommy Atkins," when quartered in -India. It consisted of a fowl, stuffed with green chilis, and boiled -in rum. The fowl was picked to the bones, and the soldier wound up -with the soup. Very tasty! - -[5] Kidney potatoes should always be boiled, as steaming makes them -more "waxy." - -[6] Doubtful starters. - -[7] Formerly Assistant-Surgeon Royal Artillery. A celebrated lecturer -on "The Inner Man," and author of _Number One, and How to take Care of -Him_, etc. - -[8] "Of all the delicacies in the whole _mundus edibilis_ I will -maintain it to be the most delicate--_princeps obsoniorum_. I speak -not of your grown porkers--things between pig and pork--those -hobbydehoys; but a young and tender suckling, under a moon old, -guiltless as yet of the sty, with no original speck of the _amor -immunditiae_, the hereditary failing of the first parents, yet -manifest--his voice as yet not broken, but something between a -childish treble and a grumble--the mild forerunner or _praeludium_ of -a grunt. He must be _roasted_. I am not ignorant that our ancestors -ate them seethed, or boiled--but what a sacrifice of the exterior -tegument! - -"His sauce should be considered. Decidedly a few bread-crumbs, done -up with his liver and brains, and a dash of mild sage. But banish, -dear Mrs. Cook, I beseech you, the whole onion tribe. Barbecue your -whole hogs to your palate, steep them in shalots, stuff them out with -plantations of the rank and guilty garlic--you cannot poison them, or -make them stronger than they are; but consider, he is a weakling--a -flower."--_Lamb on Pig._ - -[9] Our then commanding officer was noted for his powers of -self-control. I once noticed him leave the table hurriedly, and retire -to the verandah. After an interval he returned, and apologised to the -President. Our revered chief had only swallowed a flying bug. And he -never even used a big D. - -[10] An excellent aerated water and a natural one, is obtained from -springs in the valley beneath the Long Mynd, near Church Stretton, in -Shropshire. In fact, the Stretton waters deserve to be widely known, -and are superior to most of the foreign ones. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Cakes & Ale, by Edward Spencer - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CAKES & ALE *** - -***** This file should be named 43278.txt or 43278.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/2/7/43278/ - -Produced by David T. 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