Talking of vegetables, can the inhabited globe offer anything to vie with
the English potato justly steamed? I do not say that it is always--or
often--to be seen on our tables, for the steaming of a potato is one of
the great achievements of culinary art; but, when it _is_ set before you,
how flesh and spirit exult! A modest palate will find more than simple
comfort in your boiled potato of every day, as served in the decent
household. New or old, it is beyond challenge delectable. Try to think
that civilized nations exist to whom this food is unknown--nay, who speak
of it, on hearsay, with contempt! Such critics, little as they suspect
it, never ate a potato in their lives. What they have swallowed under
that name was the vegetable with all its exquisite characteristics
vulgarized or destroyed. Picture the "ball of flour" (as old-fashioned
housewives call it) lying in the dish, diffusing the softest, subtlest
aroma, ready to crumble, all but to melt, as soon as it is touched;
recall its gust and its after-gust, blending so consummately with that of
the joint, hot or cold. Then think of the same potato cooked in any
other way, and what sadness will come upon you!