THE SAVOY UNDER MONS. RITZ (THAMES EMBANKMENT)
The first information that I received as to Mrs. "Charlie" Sphinx
having returned from Cannes was in a little note from the lady herself,
delivered on Sunday at lunch-time, to the effect that Charlie had been
asked to dine that evening with his official chief, and that if I was
not otherwise engaged I might take my choice between dining quietly
with the pretty lady at her home, or taking her out somewhere to dinner.
I went to the telephone at once.
"No. 35,466, if you please"; and being switched on to the Savoy, and
having asked for a table, I received the answer I expected, having
applied so late, that every one was taken, but that the management
would do what they could to find space for me in a supplementary room.
This meant dining in one of the smaller dining-rooms, and as at the
Savoy the view of one's neighbours and their wives is no unimportant
part of the Sunday dinner, I went to headquarters at once, and asked if
M. Echenard, the manager, was in the hotel, and if he was, would he
come to the telephone and speak to me.
M. Echenard was in the hotel, and as soon as I had secured his ear I
made an appeal to him that would have melted the heart of any tyrant.
I wanted to take Mrs. Sphinx out to dinner, and he must be aware that
it would be quite impossible for her to dine anywhere except in the big
room of the restaurant.
"If it is possible, it shall be done," said M. Echenard, and, telling
him that I would come down by cab at once and order dinner, I switched
off the telephone, wrote to Mrs. Sphinx that I should like to have
the felicity of taking her out, and would call for her a little after
eight, and then went down by cab to the Savoy.
In the office on the ground-floor, an office crowded up with books and
papers, I found M. Echenard--who, with his little moustache with the
ends turned upwards and carefully trimmed beard, always has something
of the look of the Spanish senores that Velasquez used to paint--and
his spectacled secretary.
I could have a table in the big room, I was told, and, having achieved
this, I wanted to be given one of the two tables on either side of the
door of entrance, tables from which one can see better than any others
the coming and going of the guests. This was impossible. There was,
however, a table for two which had been engaged, but the taker of which
had given up his claim at the last moment; and though dukes and scions
of Royalty would have to feed in the supplementary rooms, Mrs. Sphinx
should have that table.
The ordering of the dinner came next, and to take on one's self the
responsibility of this with such a chef as Maître Escoffier in the
kitchen is no small matter.
_Hors-d'œuvre_, of course, and then I suggested _Bortch_ as the soup,
for of all the restaurants where they make this excellent Russian dish
the Savoy takes the palm.
_Timbales de filets de sole à la Savoy_, hinted M. Echenard, and though
I didn't quite know what that was, it sounded well, and went down on
the slip of paper. I wanted a _mousse_ for the entrée, for I know that
there are no such _mousses_ to be got elsewhere as the Maître can make;
and then M. Echenard suggested _Poulet de grain Polonaise_, and as he
described the method of cooking, and how the juices of the liver soaked
into the bird, and the essence of the chicken permeated the liver, I
gave up my first idea of the celebrated _canard en chemise_. That was
my idea of a little dinner, but M. Echenard insisted on the finishing
touches being administered by a _parfait de foie gras_, English
asparagus, and _pêches glacées vanille_. It was a dinner that had,
perhaps, an unusual amount of cold dishes in it; but it is one of the
customs of Savoy cookery to have, if possible, one cold dish at least
in the menu, for, the hot dishes being served scrupulously unadorned,
the cold ones give M. Escoffier and his staff a chance of showing what
they can do in the way of decoration.
Mrs. "Charlie" Sphinx, being a soldier's wife, was ready to the second
when I called for her, and during the few moments that I had to wait
in the ante-room of the restaurant, with its two fireplaces, its
white-and-gold paper, great palms in pots, comfortable armchairs of
terra-cotta colour, and Satsuma china, I could look with a comfortable
superiority on the less lucky men who were sitting staring at the
door and looking disappointed each time that the African gentleman,
whose place is there, swung it back to admit some lady who was not the
much-expected guest.
Mrs. Sphinx was in blue and white, and was wearing diamonds and
turquoises. She had on for the first time a new diamond crescent, and
looking round the room where everybody was smart I was pleased to be
aware that the lady I had the honour of squiring was quite the smartest
there.
And the company in the restaurant, the great room with mahogany panels,
golden frieze and gold and red ceiling, of the Savoy on a Sunday night
is as fine a society salad as any capital in the world can show. There
was on this particular evening in our immediate vicinity, a lady who
once won celebrity on the stage, which she left to take a title, and
then become the chatelaine of one of the great historical houses of
England; there was a good-looking fellow who was one of the best-known
men about town and left fops-alley at the opera for the green-room of
a comedy theatre; there was an Indian prince, the first swallow of the
dusky, jewelled flight that comes each summer to our shores; there was
the manager of one of the best-known of our comedy theatres, with whom
was dining one of the most beautiful of our actresses and her husband;
there was a lady who has the notoriety of having nearly ruined the
heir to the throne of one of the kingdoms of Europe, and whose brown
diamonds are the envy of all the connoisseurs of the world; there was
a party of South African stockbrokers, who from their appearance did
not suggest wealth, but whose united incomes would make the revenues of
half a dozen Balkan principalities. And around the tables the waiters
in their white aprons and the _maîtres d'hôtel_ and the silver-chained
_sommeliers_ moved noiselessly, and the master-spirit of the whole, M.
Ritz, just back from Rome, with his hands clasped nervously, almost,
with his short whiskers and carefully-clipped moustache, a duplicate
of the present Secretary of State for War, went from table to table
with a carefully graduated scale of acknowledgment of the patrons. M.
Echenard was there also, and there is no restaurant in the world in
which the chain of responsibility from manager to waiter is carried
out with greater thoroughness. Mrs. "Charlie" Sphinx was doubtful as
to trying the caviar. I should have remembered that she did not care
for it; but the grey-green delicacy in its setting of ice tempted her,
and she owned to almost liking it. About the _Bortch_ soup there could
be no two questions, and the cream stirred into the hot, strong liquid
makes it, in my humble opinion, the best soup in the world. The fish, a
fish-pie, with its macaroni and shrimps, was delicious, and then came
the triumph of the dinner. Cased in its jelly covering, served on a
great block of ice, melting like snow in the mouth, Maître Escoffier's
_mousse_ was an absolute masterpiece. The _poulet_, too, was as good
to eat as it had sounded when M. Echenard had described it to me, and
the _parfait de foie gras_ was another delight. The asparagus and the
ice were but the trifles of the dinner; but the ice swan that bore the
little mock peaches was a very graceful piece of table decoration.
Mrs. Sphinx through dinner, while sipping her glass of Clicquot, had
told me all the gossip of southern France; of the dance at the club at
Cannes at which she had arranged the cotillon and led it; of the races
of the big yachts for the various cups; of a magnificent scheme she
had evolved, by which, now that the Guards have been sent on foreign
service, Gibraltar was to become a second Monte Carlo or Nice, a scheme
which would involve a few batteries and casemates being removed to
make way for a casino, and when we had drunk our café Turc, brought
by the brightly clothed Asiatic, and when I had smoked my cigarette
and my guest had despoiled the great basket of roses on the table, the
band, which plays delightfully, softly, and unobtrusively, had come to
the end of its programme, and it was time to be moving. This was the
bill, a moderate one for such an admirable dinner:--Two couverts, 1s.;
bortch, 3s.; sole savoy, 6s.; mousse jambon, 6s.; poulet polonaise,
8s.; salade, 2s.; foie gras, 6s.; asperges verts, 7s. 6d.; pêches
glacées vanille, 7s.; one bottle champagne 133, 15s.; café, 2s.;
liqueurs, 2s.; total, £3: 5: 6.
When I put Mrs. Sphinx down at her house-door, her last words were,
"That _mousse_ was an absolute dream."
12_th April_.
* * * * *
The following are the _recette_ of the _timbale de filets de sole
Savoy_, kindly written out for me by Maître Escoffier, and two menus
of typical Savoy dinners for a party that numbers six or eight, a
dinner-party in fact.
_Timbale de filets de sole Savoy_
_(Proportions pour six couverts)_
_Avec de la pâte à foncer, préparez et cuisez une croûte à timbale;
après l'avoir vidée glacez-la intérieurement et tenez à l'étuve.
Préparez une petite garniture de bon macaronis cuit tendre, lié avec de
la béchamelle et parmesan rapé, beurré et pincée de poivre rouge._
_Prenez huit filets de sole moyenne, tendre et bien blanche,
aplatissez-les légèrement, salez-les, masquez-les avec une mince couche
de farce de poisson aux truffes; roulez-les sur eux-mêmes en forme de
petit baril, entourez-les d'une bande de papier beurré. Rangez les
filets de sole dans une casserole ou plat à sauter, en ayant soin
que la casserole soit juste de grandeur pour les maintenir serrés;
mouillez-les avec un bon court bouillon au vin blanc, faites partir
le liquide en ébullition, couvrez la casserole, laissez pocher sans
bouillir douze à quinze minutes._
_Mettez dans une casserole dix-huit écrevisses moyennes avec beurre, un
demi verre de vin blanc, sel, et poivre; couvrez la casserole et cuisez
les écrevisses dix à douze minutes sur un feu vif; aussitôt vif retirez
la chair des queues; mettez-les dans une casserole avec deux bonnes
truffes coupées en lame, un morceau de beurre, tenez au chaud. Avec
les carapaces préparez un beurre d'écrevisses._
_Faites réduire quelques cuillerées de bonne béchamelle avec addition
de crème double, passez la sauce a l'étamine et ajoutez le beurre
d'écrevisses, tenir au chaud; au moment de servir garnisser le fonds de
la timbale avec le macaronis; dressez sur le macaronis les filets de
sole à la garniture de truffes et queues d'écrevisses, saucez le tout
avec la sauce préparée au beurre d'écrevisses; recouvrez la timbale et
servez bien chaud._
[Illustration]
Make a crust (_pâte à foncer_) for the timbale. Bake it and scoop
out the inside, then glaze the inside, and keep it on the stove. Get
ready a little garnish of good macaroni, cooked until it is soft, add
Béchamel sauce, grated Parmesan cheese, butter and a pinch of red
pepper. Take eight fillets of medium-sized soles, tender and very
white. Bat them out lightly, salt them, and just cover with a thin
layer of fish stuffing made with truffles. Roll the fillets into the
shape of little barrels, and put a band of buttered paper round each.
Arrange them in a saucepan, or a shallow pan (_à sauter_), taking care
that this saucepan is of such a size that the fillets are all packed
quite closely together, moisten them with a good strong stock, made
with white wine, and then let all the liquid boil away. Put a cover
on the saucepan, and let it simmer but not boil for twelve or fifteen
minutes.
Put in another saucepan eighteen medium-sized crayfish, half a glass of
white wine, salt and pepper, cover the saucepan, and cook the crayfish,
from ten to twelve minutes, on a brisk fire. Then take the flesh of
the tails, put it in a saucepan with two nice truffles, cut in slices,
and a piece of butter, and keep warm. With the shells of the crayfish,
prepare a crayfish butter.
Boil down a few teaspoonfuls of good Béchamel, with (double) cream,
pass the sauce through a tammy, add the crayfish butter and keep warm.
Just before serving, put the macaroni at the bottom of the timbale,
arrange the fillets of sole on the macaroni, a garnish of truffles and
tails of crayfish. Pour over it all, the sauce already prepared with
the crayfish butter. Cover the timbale again, and serve very hot.
Canapés Moscovites.
Pommes d'amour.
Consommé aux nids d'Hirondelles.
Filets de truite aux laitances.
Désirs de Mascotte.
Caneton de Rouen en chemise.
Petits pois aux laitues.
Suprêmes d'écrevisses au Château Yquem.
Ortolans Cocotte au suc d'ananas.
Cœurs de Romaine.
Asperges à l'huile vierge.
Belle de nuit aux violettes.
Friandises.
Caviar.
Canapés aux crevettes rouges.
Consommé Nurette.
Paillettes au Parmesan.
Mousseline d'éperlans aux truffes.
Filets de poulet au beurre noisette.
Artichauts aux fines herbes.
Agneau de lait à la broche.
Petits pois frais.
Nymphes glacées au champagne.
Cailles aux feuilles de vigne.
Salade Mignonne.
Asperges d'Argenteuil.
Pêches de Vénus voilées de l'Orientale.
Mignardises.
* * * * *
JOSEPH AT THE SAVOY
"Drive to the Strand entrance of the Savoy, but don't go into the
courtyard," I told my cabman; but he insisted on driving down, and his
horse slid the last ten yards like a toboggan.
It was in the afternoon and few people were about, and I looked into
the grill-room to find a _maître d'hôtel_, and to ask him if he could
tell me where M. Joseph was at the moment. Smiler, the curry cook,
appeared instantly. Because I talk a little bad Hindustani, Smiler has
taken me under his protection, and thinks that I should not go to the
Savoy for any other purpose than to eat his curries.
It was not Smiler, however, whom I wanted to interview, but M. Joseph;
and messengers were sent to various parts of the hotel to find the
director of the restaurant.
A little man, with rather long grey hair, bald on the top of his head,
with very dark brown eyes looking keenly out from under strong brows,
with a little grey moustache, Joseph arrests attention at once, and
his manner is just the right manner. In a short black coat, white
waistcoat, and dark trousers, he came to meet me, and put himself
entirely at my service. I very soon told him what I wanted. Since
the change of dynasty at the Savoy, Joseph, who temporarily left his
Parisian restaurant, the Marivaux, to come to the banks of the Thames,
has been the dominating personality among the Savoyards. That being
so, I wanted him to tell me something of his climb up the ladder of
culinary fame, I should be much obliged if he would take me through his
kitchen, and as I proposed dining in the restaurant that evening, I
should be glad if he would think me out a dinner of the cuisine Joseph.
I ended by saying that I had invited a lady to dine with me.
"A lady!" said Joseph, in rather a startled tone; but I assured him
that the good angel who was to be my guest knew as much of good cooking
as any male gourmet, and was aware that there are some culinary works
of art in the presence of which conversation is an impertinence.
"I will give you soup, fish, roast--nothing more," said Joseph; and
misinterpreting my silence, he went on: "In England you taste your
dinners, you do not eat them. An artist who is confident of his art
only puts a small dinner before his clients. It is a bad workman who
slurs over his failures by giving many dishes." This is exactly what I
have been preaching on the housetops for years, and, being thoroughly
in accord on that subject, we settled down on a sofa in the corridor
for a chat.
I am the worst interviewer in the world. I had been told that Joseph
was born in Birmingham of French parents, that he is an adept at _la
savate_, and that the one amusement of his life is pigeon-flying;
and when I accused him of all this he pleaded guilty to each count.
Directly we began to talk cookery I had no cause to ask leading
questions. It is the absorbing passion of Joseph's life. "If I had
the choice," he said, with conviction, "between going to the theatre
to see Coquelin or Mme. Bernhardt and watching the faces of six
gourmets eating a well-cooked dinner, I should choose the latter."
When I referred to the dinner at which some of the great lights of the
theatrical world were present, and he cooked a considerable portion of
the dinner in their presence, Joseph replied that as it is the art of
actors and actresses to make an effect on the public, he wished to show
them that there could be something to strike the imagination in his art
also.
Since '67, when Joseph entered the kitchen at Brébant's as a marmiton,
he has given all his mind to cookery. He has been in every position
that goes to the making of a real artist, and even when he walks
the streets "looking at my boots" he is waiting for some flash of
inspiration. "I cannot sit down in my office and create a new dish to
command. An idea comes to me, and when I am free I try it in my own
kitchen at home. I never experiment on the public." Many other things
he told me, of how as a schoolboy he used to peep into the kitchens of
the Anglais and other big restaurants in envy of the cooks, and of the
genesis of some of the dishes in the long list of the specialities of
his cuisine. With a sudden turn to the subject of literature, Joseph
wrote down for me his contribution, made the day before, to a young
lady's album. This is it:--
"C'est la première côtelette qui coûta le plus cher à l'homme--Dieu en
ayant fait une femme."
Then, passing the table-d'hôte room, with its great marble
chimney-piece and walls with an Oriental pattern on them, on our way we
went to the kitchens, where M. Henri Thouraud, the chef, a tall, plump,
good-looking Parisian, with a light moustache, received us.
First, I was shown the means of communication between the kitchen and
various parts of the hotel, and the close touch kept between M. Joseph
in the restaurant and the chef in the kitchen, each knowing the other's
methods, for they have worked together off and on for twenty years; and
then my attention was turned to the arrangement of the kitchen and the
battalion of cooks, every man having his duty assigned him, every man
having his place in that chain of responsibility which runs from chef
to marmiton.
Every master of the culinary art has his own ideas as to the
arrangement of his kitchen, and M. Joseph has made some changes from
the arrangements of Maître Escoffier in the great white-tiled room in
which the roasting and boiling is done.
Two plump fowls were spinning and dripping before the roasting fire,
there was a steamy heat in the air, and I was rather glad to move into
the cooler atmosphere of the rooms on a lower floor, where I was shown
all the good things ready to go to the fire or the buffet.
It was explained to me that though the English beef is good for
roasting, the French beef only is used for _bouillon_, and looking
at the two I could understand the reason. The vegetables and all the
poultry for the Savoy come from France, and I was beginning to feel
quite ashamed of England as a food-producing country, when a handsome
compliment to the English mutton restored my confidence. The long array
of birds, from turkeys to snipe, resting on a bed of crushed ice with a
free current of air round them, looked appetising, and so did the fish
and the score of varieties of cold entrées, most of them embedded in
amber jelly, and the _petits fours_ and sweet-meats fresh drawn from
the oven. The carving of the harps, and birds, and Prince of Wales's
feathers out of a solid block of ice to form pedestals for ices is
artist's work, and so is the making of baskets and flowers from sugar.
M. Joseph slightly went beyond his three dishes in the menu I found
awaiting the good angel and myself:--
Petite marmite.
Sole Reichenberg.
Caneton à la presse. Salade de saison.
Fonds d'artichauts à la Reine.
Bombe pralinée. Petits fours.
Panier fleuri.
We were among the familiar surroundings, the walls of mahogany
panelling, the golden ceiling; but there was one novelty, and that was
that pushed up to our little table was another one, with on it a great
chafing-dish, some long slim knives, and a variety of little plates
containing lemons, grated cheese, and a number of other condiments,
and while we drank our soup, made with the famous _bouillon_, of which
I had been told the secret, Joseph mixed the delicate liquid in which
the slices of sole were later to be placed, soaked the croûte in the
savoury mixture, and, finally, on the white filets placed the oysters,
pouring over them also the foaming broth.
The good angel was equal to the occasion. Not only was she radiantly
handsome, but she appreciated the special beauties of this most
excellent sole; and when Joseph came back to the table to carve
the duck, he knew that his audience of two were enthusiasts. In an
irreverent moment I was reminded of the Chinese torture of the Ling
Chi, in which the executioner slashes at his victim without hitting
a vital part in the first fifty cuts, as I watched Joseph calmly,
solemnly, with absolute exactitude, cutting a duck to pieces with a
long, thin knife; but irreverence faded when the rich sauce had been
mixed before our eyes and poured over the slices of the breast--the
wings and legs, plain devilled, coming afterwards as a sharp and
pleasant contrast.
The Panier Fleuri, which ended our dinner, a tiny fruit-salad in a
basket cut by Joseph from an orange, was a special compliment to the
good angel. The bill was: Two couverts, 1s.; champagne, 18s.; marmite,
2s. 6d.; sole Reichenberg, 5s.; caneton à la presse, 18s.; salade, 1s.
6d.; fonds d'artichauts, 2s. 6d.; bombe, 3s.; café, 1s. 6d.; liqueurs,
4s.; total, £2: 17s.
It was no empty compliment when on leaving I told M. Joseph that the
dinner was a perfect work of art.
* * * * *
The following are the _Créations de Joseph_:--
Sole de Breteuil--Sole à la Reichenberg--Filets de soles Aimée
Martial--Sole d'Yvonne--Pomme de terre Otero--Pommes de terre de
Georgette--(dédié à Mlle. Brandès)--Sole Dragomiroff--Pilaff aux
moules--Homard à la Cardinal--Homard Ld. Randolph Churchill--Queue
de homard Archiduchesse--Homard d'Yvette--Darne de saumon Marcel
Prévost--Filets de maquereau Marianne--Filets de sole Duparc--Côte
de bœuf Youssoupoff--Poularde Marivaux--Poularde Vladimir--Poulet
Gd. Maman--Poulet Archiduchesse--Caneton à la Presse--Caneton froid
Jubilé--Foie gras Souvaroff (chaud ou froid)--Bécasse au Fumet--Filet
de laperau à la Sorel--Cailles à la Sand--Aubergines "Tante
Pauline"--Crêpes du Diable--Crêpes Christiane--Pêches Cardinal--Pêches
Rosenfeld--Le Soufflé d'Eve--Fraises à la Marivaux--Ananas Master
Joe--Ananas de Daisy--Les paniers fleuris aux quartiers d'orange.