THE CAFÉ ROYAL (REGENT STREET)
My sister-in-law is the daughter of a dean. I do not make this
statement through family pride, but because it is pertinent to what
follows.
Man and boy, these six years or so, I have known little Oddenino,
who now rules the destinies of the Café Royal. The little man, with
his quiet, rather nervous manner and big serious eyes, went from the
management of the East Room at the Criterion to the Washington in
Oxford Street, then to the big hotel at Cimiez, and has now put the
Café Royal into shape.
During the summer of 1897, I was one day, towards lunch-time, pacing
up and down the passage which leads from the pillared door in Regent
Street to the café and grill-room portion of the big establishment, a
passage which has on one side the bookstall where the French papers are
on sale, and on the other the manager's offices, when a door opened and
Oddenino appeared. I asked him what he was doing in the Café Royal, and
he told me that he had come as manager. Then he put his head on one
side and considered me. With the utmost politeness he suggested that I
was waiting for a lady, a soft impeachment which I admitted, and that
I was not in the best of tempers, which was also true. He was deeply
grieved, but tried to console me by saying that when I came back to
town in the autumn I should find a comfortable room upstairs to wait
in, and went on to tell me of the other improvements he intended to
make. One great grief he had, and that was that some people thought
that the company that frequented the restaurant was rather Bohemian.
How anybody could think so, I told him, I could not understand, and
as a triumphant proof of this I told Oddenino that the first lady
whom I would bring to dine in the redecorated restaurant should be my
sister-in-law, the daughter of a dean.
In the autumn the opportunity arrived for carrying out my promise. My
brother was away slaughtering many driven partridges in Wiltshire,
and my sister-in-law--did I mention that she is the daughter of a
dean?--was left in solitary dignity in town. I went in the afternoon
of the day we were going to dine to apprise Oddenino of our impending
visitation--that word has a comforting clerical sound--and to order
dinner.
My sister-in-law is not partial to shellfish, so the oysters with which
I should have begun the feast were not to be thought of, nor were
most of the most delicate ways of cooking a sole to be considered.
My sister-in-law has always said that my idea of a perfect dinner is
semi-starvation, so I included two entrées instead of one in the menu.
This was the dinner which I, in consultation with Oddenino, settled
upon:--
Hors-d'œuvre Russe.
Pot au feu.
Sole Waleska.
Noisette d'agneau Lavallière.
Haricots verts à l'Anglaise.
Parfait de foie gras.
Caille en cocotte.
Salade.
Pole nord.
When I suggested an ice, and Oddenino wrote down _pole nord_, I asked
him what particular ice that meant. It was only a cream ice served on a
pedestal of clear ice, he said; but he thought that _pole nord_ to end
a menu sounded grand and mysterious.
I should, out of compliment to my sister-in-law, have liked to have
driven up to the Café Royal in an equipage such as dignitaries of the
Church use, with a hammer-cloth and a white-wigged coachman; but a
humble coupé had to suffice.
We went up the staircase, which has been regilt and refurbished,
and has more flowers and plants than of yore, and into the little
waiting-room at the top of the stairs, which Oddenino had promised to
have built for me to save wear and tear of my temper. It is not a very
large waiting-room, a promise only of better things to come, a slice of
the first of the big rooms partitioned off by a screen of mirrors. Some
easy-chairs look comforting even to a hungry man, and, no doubt, not
only my temper, but that of others, will profit by it in the future. A
table had been kept for us in the first room, and when my sister-in-law
had settled down she began looking carefully at the diners at the other
tables. I asked if there was any one whom she expected to see, and was
told that she was looking for the actresses I had promised to point out
to her. Our table commanded a fine view of the room we were in and the
big room, the windows of which look on to Glasshouse Street. There was
scarcely a vacant table, but nowhere could I see an actress to point
out to my sister-in-law. There was a celebrated doctor, clean-shaven
and with white hair, dining _tête-à-tête_ with his wife; there was a
well-known barrister, invincible in licensing cases, who was giving a
dinner to his wife and daughter; there was a big dinner-party of men
all hailing from the Stock Exchange; there was a smart little lady
talking hunting to three entranced youths; but nowhere could I see a
face that I recognised as belonging to an actress.
My sister-in-law thought that she had been defrauded, but luckily the
fat waiter, an old ally of mine, appeared at the right moment with the
caviar, and the _sommelier_ was anxious to know whether I would have
the Clicquot vin rosée, which poor M. Nicol used to say was the best
champagne in the cellar, iced. My sister-in-law approved highly of the
soup, and indeed it was excellent, simple and strong. Then came the
_sole Waleska_, and I was anxious to see whether my sister-in-law--who,
I have omitted to state, is the daughter of a dean--appreciated the
delicacy of the sauce and the almost imperceptible flavouring of
cheese. She did, and I forgave her on the spot for not liking oysters.
The _noisette d'agneau_ was not quite on a par with the glory of the
remainder of the dinner, for the tiny morsels of lamb, the foundation
of the _plat_, might have been more tender; but I am sure that if the
dear departed geese of Strassburg could have looked upon their livers,
placed snugly in a great _terrine_, to which the blocks of truffle
gave a half-mourning effect, and covered decently with a fair coating
of transparent jelly, they would have been consoled for all their
over-eating and subsequent demise.
At this period of our dinner little Oddenino came up, and I asked him
to point out some of the alterations to my sister-in-law. He showed her
the new lamps, which cast a pleasant rosy light on the tables; the new
carpet; sent the _maître d'hôtel_ to fetch samples of the new china and
glass and silver which by now have been taken into use; explained how
the kitchen, which is under the rule of M. Charles, has been doubled
in size; and how the serving arrangements, which of old were _coram
populo_, and carried out with an accompaniment of shrill female voices
and much clashing of plates, were now safely concealed behind a wall of
mirrors. I told Oddenino that I thought that even now too much noise
came through the open door which leads to the serving-room; for I
hold a really good dinner to be so sublime a thing that the homage of
absolutely silent attendance is due to it; and the little man, looking
suddenly as sorrowful as if he had lost a near relation, promised to
have swing doors put up, so that not a whisper should penetrate to the
dining-rooms.
The quails were delicious. Their flesh almost melted in one's mouth,
as my sister-in-law remarked. When the _pole nord_ came the ice proved
not to be an ordinary one, but a semi-fluid delicacy cased in harder
cream ice. The ice pedestal was in the shape of a bird resting on
rocks, and when I made a feeble little jest about Andrée's pigeons
my sister-in-law laughed. I reproved her austerely, telling her that
if she laughed thus she would be taken for an actress. Whereon she
retorted that she did not want to be taken for an actress, but that
she wanted to be one. I opened my eyes in a query, and she said that
if actresses were given every night such a dinner as she had eaten she
wanted to be an actress.
I paid my bill while my sister-in-law admired the beautiful
flower-decked Minton china, a trayful of which was brought to her, the
glasses with a golden N and a crown on them and the heavy silver. The
bill was: two couverts, 1s.; hors-d'œuvre, 2s.; pot au feu, 2s.; sole
Waleska, 3s. 6d.; suprême d'agneau, 3s. 6d.; haricots verts, 1s. 6d.;
parfait de foie gras, 4s.; caille cocotte, 5s.; salade, 1s.; pole nord,
2s. 6d.; café, 1s. 6d.; one bottle '67, 15s.; liqueurs, 2s.; total, £2:
4: 6.
I told my sister-in-law that if we were not to miss the first act of
the play we were going to see, we had better be going, so she laid down
the straw through which she had been sucking her _crème de menthe_, and
with a sigh, a tribute of remembrance to the quails, put on her gloves.
I have now a sister-in-law who is the daughter of a dean, but who wants
to become an actress.
1_st November_.
* * * * *
Since writing the above the Café Royal has definitely taken its place
once again as one of the first-class restaurants of London. Little
Oddenino has continued making improvements, putting in a lift, making a
cloak-room, and adding generally to the comfort of the place.
I asked the little man to send me the menu of a dinner given to the
late Mr. "Barney" Barnato before he started on his ill-starred journey
to the Cape, and also to ask M. Charles to give me the _recette_ of the
_soles Waleska_. M. Oddenino sent me a menu, which is a good specimen
of a Café Royal dinner for a large party; but which I do not recognise
as the Barnato menu, and also the _recette_ for _filets de sole
St-Augustin_--named after him, for his "front name" is August--the very
latest delicacy in fish.
Here are menu and _recette_--
Solera 1852 Hors-d'œuvre Russe
Huîtres natives
Consommé Prince de Galles
Turbotin à la Polignac
Veuve Clicquot 1889 Suprême de volaille à la Montpensier
Côtelette d'agneau de lait à la Régence
Corbeille de pommes soufflée
Giesler 1884 Parfait de foie gras
Extra dry Bécassine rôtie sur canapé
Salade de cœur de laitue
Château Lafite 1875 Nageoires de tortue à l'Américaine
Martinez 1863 Asperges nouvelles Anglaise. Sauce mousseline.
Ananas glacé
Soufflé au fromage
Grande Fin Champagne, Corbeilles de fruits
Waterloo 1815 Café
Here is the _recette_ of the _filets de sole St-Augustin_, to which
both M. Charles, the _chef_, and M. Oddenino, its godfather, have set
their signature--
_Recettes de filets de sole St-Augustin_
_Prenez une belle sole bien fraîche, enlevez-en les filets, pliez-les
en deux, mettez-les dans une casserole avec un morceau de beurre, sel,
poivre et un bon verre de champagne._
_Faites cuire les filets de sole, aussitôt prêts retirez-les et faites
réduire la cuisson aux trois-quarts, ensuite ajoutez-y une demie-pinte
de crème et laissez réduire un moment le tout ensemble._
_Mettez à part dans une casserole vingt-quatre queues d'écrevisses avec
une truffe fraîche emmincie, un peu de beurre, sel et poivre, faites
chauffer le tout doucement et mélangez ensuite votre sauce avec la
garniture._
_Dressez les filets de sole sur un plat rond, saucez par dessus, ajoutez
un peu de fromage rapé pardessus, faites glacer au four et servez très
chaud._
[Illustration]
Take a large, perfectly fresh sole. Fillet it. Fold the fillets in two,
and put them in a saucepan, with a piece of butter, salt, pepper, and a
glassful of champagne. Let the fillets cook until they are done, then
take them out, and boil down the stock to three-quarters, then add to
it half a pint of cream, and boil it all down together, for a moment.
In another saucepan (a silver one), put the tails of twenty-four
crayfish, with a truffle, freshly cut up, a little butter, and a little
salt and pepper. Let this get hot very slowly, and mix your sauce with
the garnish. Arrange the fillets of sole on a round dish and glaze them
over. Serve very hot.