put it in a saucepan; pour on it by degrees some of the best oil; with
that certainty which science alone gives to the hand, and stir it
carefully, whilst a slow, equal fire performs the great work of cookery.
Be, above all, attentive to enrich it, at proper intervals, with a
delicate gravy extracted from a young fat chicken or from a succulent
lamb. Unceasingly watch, lest the ebullition, by going on too rapidly,
force this delightful mixture to overflow the side of the vessel; and
when your practised palate informs you that it is worthy of your guests,
present it to their impatient sensuality.[V-12]
So it appears the ancients were acquainted with pearl barley, and barley
water; the latter took the name of diet drink (_ptisana_), which we only
associate with melancholy reminiscences.[V-13] Hippocrates was not only
in raptures with the virtues and properties of this aliment,[V-14] but
he also conferred the highest praise on that sweet and insipid drink,
which our doctors order their patients, as did the oracle of Cos, and
which at that time was called “barley broth.”[V-15]
_Oats_ occupied an honourable place after barley. Pliny fancied these
two plants so analogous, that the owner of a field who had sown barley
might find oats at the time of harvest, whilst precisely the reverse
might happen to his neighbour.[V-16] Nature, in our days, is not subject
to such frolics; and our farmers are tolerably certain that, by care,
labour, and God’s assistance, they will gather from the soil what they
have sown.
“In order to develop a strong flavour of vanille in black oats, wash
this seed, boil it a moment in water, and employ the decoction as you
would potato flour, and it will form excellent creams.
“In Normandy and Lower Britany they make with flour of oats a delicious
soup. The following is the manner they obtain it. They take white oats
and put them in the oven; when sufficiently dried, they are fanned,
cleaned, and carried to a mill, the grinders of which are freshly
sharpened. The miller takes care to hold them a little way off, in order
that they may not crush the grain, and that this last may preserve the
shape of rice; by this means they remove the whole of the
pellicle.”--PARMENTIER.
The Greeks and Romans knew how to appreciate oatmeal:[V-17] they used it
to make a kind of gruel, such as we have already described, and also a
substantial thick milk, which they prepared as we do.[V-18]
_Rice_ was also held in great esteem by them: they considered it as a
food very beneficial to the chest; therefore it was recommended in cases
of consumption, and to persons subject to spitting of blood.[V-19]
_Millet_, so called from the multiplicity of its seeds,[V-20] abounded
more particularly in Gaul, in the time of Strabo.[V-21] Pliny pretends
that no grain swells so much in cooking, and he assures us that sixty
pounds of bread was obtained from a single bushel of millet, weighing
only twenty pounds.[V-22] This naturalist also speaks of another kind of
millet, coming originally from India, and which had only been in
cultivation ten years in Italy. The stalk resembled that of the reed,
and often attained the height of ten feet; its fecundity was such that a
single grain produced innumerable ears of corn;[V-23] therefore, if so
prolific, and capable of making good and economical food, why should it
not be, in 1858, cultivated largely wherever the climate may allow it?
Some writers place _Panic Grass_ among the wheats, because certain
nations made bread of it.[V-24] The higher classes of Rome and Athens
always resisted this bad taste. They preferred spelt, or red wheat, a
super-excellent grain,[V-25] which was much honoured by the Latins, if
we can credit the charming letter, written by Pliny the younger, to
Septilius Clarus, on the occasion of a dinner, where the latter failed
to join the guests. Among other delicate dishes with which he desired to
treat his friend, he had ordered a spelt cake to be made.[V-26] This
same flour was the base of the Carthaginian pudding; which the reader
may taste if he will, here is the recipe:--
CARTHAGINIAN PUDDING.--Put a pound of red wheat flour into water; when
it has soaked some time, place it in a wooden bowl, add three pounds of
cream cheese, half a pound of honey, and one egg; beat this mixture well
together, and cook it on a slow fire in a stewpan.[V-27] Should this
dish not be sufficiently delicate, try the following:--
When you have sifted some spelt flour, put it in a wooden vessel, with
some water, which you must renew twice a day for ten days. At the end
of that time squeeze out all the water, and place the paste in another
vessel; reduce it to the consistence of thick lees, pass it through a
piece of new linen, and repeat this last operation; dry it in the sun,
and then boil it in milk.[V-28]
As regards the exact seasoning of this exquisite Roman dish, it is your
own genius which must inspire you with the proportions.
Let us not omit to notice the _Erupmon_ of the Greeks, the _Irion_ of
the Latins, the _Indian Wheat_ of the moderns. This plant produces a
wholesome and easily digestible food; it was well known in Italy in the
time of Pliny,[V-29] at which period the peasants used to make a crisp
sort of heavy bread, probably somewhat similar to that which is still
used in the south of France.
Since the famine of 1847 great attention has been paid to this flour;
much was imported into England from America, where it is used in
domestic economy; when green, its milky pulp is an excellent food: the
various advantages of this flour, however, are not sufficiently
developed to give all the benefit of its goodness to the world; habit
and prejudice assist materially to prevent its being generally employed.
The Romans also ate it as hasty-pudding, parched or roasted, with a
little salt. A writer equally remarkable for his elegant and easy style,
as well as for the justness of his observations, informs us that, in our
days, the Indian inhabitants of the unfruitful plains of Marwar never
dress Indian corn in any other way.[V-30]
Such are the principal _graminea_ which the ancients thought worthy of
their attention, or allowed to appear on their tables, with more or less
honour according to the degree of esteem in which they were held. It is
probable that the cooks in the great gastronomic period of Rome and
Athens, who knew so well the capricious nature of their masters’
palates,[V-31] had to borrow from magiric chemistry, then so
flourishing, some wonderful means of giving to various kinds of cereals
a culinary value they now no longer possess--what might we not expect
from a Thimbron,[V-32] a Mithoecus,[V-33] a Soterides?[V-34] This latter
performed a feat which does him too much honour to be unnoticed here.
The King of Bithynia, Nicomedes, was taken with a strange, invincible,
and imperious longing which admitted of no delay; he ordered his cook,
Soterides, to be sent for, and commanded him to prepare instantly a dish
of loaches. “Loaches, Sire!” cried the skilful, yet terrified cook; “by
all the gods, protectors of the kingdom, where can I procure these fish
at this late hour of the night?” Kings ill brook resistance to their
will.[V-35] Nicomedes was not celebrated for patience when pressed by
hunger. “Give me loaches, I say,” replied he, with a hollow and terrible
voice; “or else----” and his clear, fearful, pantomimic expression made
the unfortunate cook understand too well that he must either obey or
immediately deliver up his head to the provost of the palace. The
alternative was embarrassing; nevertheless, Soterides thought how to get
out of the scrape. He shut himself up in his laboratory, peeled some
long radishes, and with extraordinary address gave them the form of the
fatal fish, seasoning them with oil, salt, black pepper, and doubtless
several other ingredients, the secret of which the illustrious _chef_
has not handed down to posterity. Then, holding in his hand a dish of
irreproachable-looking fried fish, he boldly presented himself before
the prince, who was walking up and down with hasty strides awaiting his
arrival. The King of the Bithynians ate up the whole, and the next day
he condescended to inform his court that he never had loaches served he
so much liked.[V-36] This digression, which the reader will kindly
pardon, sufficiently shows to what height the art of ancient cookery was
carried, and of which this work will furnish new and abundant proofs.
The cereals having had so much of our attention, we have now to consider
those grains or seeds which serve as the bases or necessary adjuncts to
different dishes.
VI.
GRAINS: SEEDS.
One of the most important was _Mustard_ seed. Pythagoras maintains (and
no one has contradicted his assertion) that this seed occupied the first
rank amongst alimentary substances which exercise a prompt influence on
the brain.[VI-1] Indeed the ancients attributed to it the same qualities
that we do at the present day.
Mustard, according to their opinion, excites the appetite, gives
piquancy to meat, strengthens the stomach, and facilitates digestion. It
is better suited, say they, to bilious constitutions than to lymphatic
persons; and they recommended its use in summer, rather than in
winter.[VI-2]
The good Pliny, always disposed to adopt, without much examination, any
stories, provided they were but slightly exaggerated, was convinced, and
affirms, with his accustomed good humour, that this plant is a sovereign
remedy against the bite of the most venomous serpents: it is only
necessary to apply it to the wound. And, again, if taken inwardly, there
is nothing to fear from the poisonous effects of certain
mushrooms.[VI-3] The doctors of the 19th century are, apparently, little
inclined to adopt the method recommended by the worthy naturalist.
Mustard seed is only mentioned in the Bible as a term of comparison; its
alimentary qualities are nowhere indicated.[VI-4]
The Romans, and other nations after them, fermented this seed in new
sweet wine. It is from this, perhaps, we must seek for the origin of the
word mustard, “_mustum ardens_” (burning wine)[VI-5]; some gastronomic
writers give it another derivation, not generally adopted. This
condiment, say they, was formerly called _sauve_ or _senevé_. It was
only towards the close of the 14th century that this name was changed.
Philip the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, marching against the inhabitants of
Ghent, who had revolted from him, and the city of Dijon having supplied
him for this expedition with a thousand men-at-arms, the prince, in
gratitude, granted to that city, amongst other privileges, that of
bearing his arms, with his motto, “_Moult me tarde_.” The whole of this
was carved on the principal gate of Dijon, but an accident having
destroyed the middle word, the two others _moult tarde_ caused many a
smile at the expense of the Dijonnais; and as they traded in _senevé_
(mustard), this grain was called in derision _moutarde_, when it came
from Dijon, a name it has preserved ever since.[VI-6] If this etymology
is not true, at least it is ingenious.
_Coriander_, amongst the Romans, appears to have possessed the same
property as mustard, that is to say, they considered it was
strengthening and digestive.[VI-7] They employed it also in a very
useful manner during the great heat of summer: they mixed it with
vinegar, after it had been well bruised or pounded, and laid it over any
kind of meat, which this coating preserved in a perfect state of
freshness.[VI-8]
Pliny classifies the bitter seed of the _Lupin_ as a grain pertaining to
that of wheat;[VI-9] and if you soak it, he says, in boiling water, it
becomes so mild that it can be eaten.[VI-10] Zeno, of Citium, was of the
same opinion. This philosopher, with all his wisdom, could not help
showing his bad temper, even towards his best friends at times, but was
very affable after he had quaffed several cups of delicious wine. One
day he was asked for an explanation of this contrast in his temper.
“That is very simple,” he replied; “I am of the same nature as the
lupins: their bitterness is insupportable before they are soaked, but
they are of an exquisite mildness when they have been well
steeped.”[VI-11]
We strongly doubt, nevertheless, whether this plant has ever been
honoured by the patronage of connoisseurs and people of delicate taste;
a very high authority in cookery--Lycophon, of Chalcis--used to say,
with a kind of disdain, that this despicable plant was hardly good
enough for the common fare of the mob, or to feast the guests at a
beggar’s table.[VI-12]
It was principally used as food for cattle, and not without reason, if
it be true that twenty pounds of lupins are sufficient to fatten an
ox.[VI-13]
The lovers of etymology, who may be classified in the family of readers
of logogriphs, were in raptures at finding the following: “The Latin
name of _Lupinus_ has been given to this grain because the lupin wears
out and destroys the land nearly as the wolf destroys and devours the
flocks; whereupon they exclaimed, with pride, ‘_Lupinus à
lupo!_’ ”[VI-14]
At the period when the gods did not exact much, but were contented with
humble offerings, men placed on the altars loaves made of _Linseed_
meal; a treat the immortals gratefully accepted, though certainly it
would not much tempt us[VI-15] of the present day.
The Asiatics afterwards thought of pounding the linseed, frying it, and
mixing it with honey; these cakes seemed to them too good for their
divinities, so they ate them themselves.[VI-16]
In the time of Pliny, the Lombards and Piedmontese ate this miserable
bread of the gods, and even found in it a most agreeable flavour:[VI-17]
these nations have since improved their taste.
Shall we mention _Hempseed_, the _Cannabis_ of the ancients, which was
served fried for dessert?[VI-18] That hemp should be spun and made into
ropes, well and good; but to regale one’s-self with it after
dinner,--when the stomach is overloaded with food, and hardly moved from
its lethargic quietude by the appearance of the most provoking viands
that art can invent--what depravity! What strange perversion of the most
simple elements of gastronomy!
The Arabs, that wandering nation, who are not yet acquainted with the
roasting-spit, nor the voluptuousness of a delicious repast, formerly
intoxicated themselves with a beverage extracted from linseed;[VI-19]
we, who are in possession of generous wine, let us deplore such
excesses, and not imitate them.
VII.
VEGETABLES.
All nations have sown vegetables, and judged them worthy of their
particular attention; sometimes they have even confounded many of these
plants with the cereals, because they were converted into flour and
bread,[VII-1] especially in time of famine.[VII-2]
After the Deluge, when God made a covenant with Noah he said, with
respect to the food of man:--“Even as the green herb have I given you
all things;[VII-3]” and, subsequently to that epoch, the holy writers
frequently demonstrate, in their simple and interesting style, the
various uses which the Hebrews made of vegetables. Esau, pressed by
hunger, sold his birth-right to Jacob for a dish of lentils.[VII-4]
Among the presents which David received from Shobi, were beans, lentils,
and parched pulse.[VII-5]
The four Hebrew children were fed with vegetables, at the court of
Nebuchadnezzar, King of Babylon.[VII-6] It is sufficient, we think, to
indicate these passages, without uselessly increasing the number.
The heroes of Homer, those men covered with iron and brass, whose
terrible blows dealt death and desolation, reposed after their exploits,
partaking of a dish of beans or a plate of peas.[VII-7] Happy simplicity
of the Homeric ages! Patrocles peeled onions! Achilles washed cabbages!
and the wise Ulysses roasted, with his own hands, a sirloin of beef!
One day the son of Thetis received under his tent a deputation sent by
the Greeks, to entreat him to be friends with Agamemnon. The young hero,
who could only be accused of a little pride and passion, invited these
worthy personages to dinner, and, with the assistance of his friend,
gave them a magnificent banquet, in which vegetables occupied a most
conspicuous place.[VII-8]
Sixteen Greek authors have devoted their vigils to profound researches
concerning the qualities of these useful plants; their works have not
been transmitted to us, but their names are to be found inscribed in the
gastronomic treasure which Athenæus--that grammarian, philosopher, and
epicurean--has bequeathed to the meditations of posterity.[VII-9]
But it is principally with the Romans that this interesting branch of
the magiric art flourished. They have told us that this great family of
herbs took the name of vegetables (_legumina_), because they were chosen
and picked by the hand;[VII-10] and their most celebrated
horticulturists have prided themselves on the preparation of the ground
to which they were confided, on the attention which they claimed, and on
the Hygeian virtues which experience attributed to them. Heathen
theology, too, consecrated several of them to the solemnities of their
religion, and some nations even considered them worthy of their homage
and the fumes of incense.[VII-11]
Virgil himself seems to regret his inability to sing of gardens and
vegetables. Perhaps a rapid sketch of what the great poet says on this
subject, may not be misplaced here.
“Si mon vaisseau long-temps égaré loin du bord,
Ne se hâtait enfin de regagner le port,
Peut-être je peindrais les Ciens chéris de Flore;
Le Narcisse en mes vers s’empresserait d’éclore,
Les roses m’ouvriraient leurs calices brillants,
Le tortueux concombre arrondirait ses flancs;
Du persil toujours vert, des pâles chicorées
Ma muse abreuverait les tiges altérées,
Je courberais le lierre et l’acanthe en berceau,
Et du myrthe amoureux j’ombragerais les eaux.”[VII-12]
One more fact will serve to show to what extent the Romans carried their
enthusiastic affection for leguminous plants: we know that illustrious
families did not disdain to borrow their names from them. The
appellations, Fabius, Cicero, and Lentulus, thus enhanced the humble
renown of beans (_faba_), peas (_cicer arietinum_), and lentils
(_lenticula_).[VII-13] The eminent orator we have just named gave the
preference one day to a dish of beet-root, instead of oysters and
lampreys, of which he was passionately fond.[VII-14] It is true that,
since the promulgation of the Licinian law,[VII-15] which allowed but
little meat and plenty of vegetables, the voluptuaries of Rome invented
most astonishing ragouts of mushrooms and pot-herbs. So true is it that
the genius of man develops itself more particularly under difficult
circumstances, and that the art of cookery owes, perhaps, the perfection
and glory which it has attained to the impediments with which its
formidable enemy, frugality, seems always ready to surround it.
Apicius, that profound culinary chemist, who nobly expended immense
treasures in inventing new dishes, and who killed himself[VII-16]
because the remainder of his fortune was not sufficient for him (though
to another it would have seemed magnificent)--Apicius shows us what he
believed to be the most suitable manner of preserving vegetables.
“Choose them,” he says, “before they are perfectly ripe, put them in a
vessel coated with pitch, and cover it hermetically.”[VII-17]
The reader will decide for himself between this process and those which
science has since discovered.
The capitulars (or statutes) of Charlemagne enter, on the subject of
vegetables, into some instructive details. They inform us that lettuces,
cresses, endive, parsley, chervil, carrots, leeks, turnips, onions,
garlic, scallions, and eschalots, were nowhere to be found, except in
the emperor’s kitchen-gardens. Charlemagne had all those vegetables
sold, and derived from them a very considerable revenue.[VII-18]
Anderson makes an observation (under the date 1548), which deserves to
be noticed here, were it only on account of its singularity. “The
English,” says he, “cultivated scarcely any vegetable before the last
two centuries. At the commencement of the reign of Henry VIII., neither
salad, nor carrots, nor cabbages, nor radishes, nor any other
comestibles of a like nature, were grown in any part of the kingdom;
they came from Holland and Flanders.”
According to the author of a project, printed in London in 1723, in
8vo., “for the relief of the poor, and the payment of old debts, without
the creation of new taxes,” Queen Catherine herself could not procure a
salad for her dinner. The king was obliged to send over to Holland for
a gardener to cultivate those pot-herbs, with which England is, perhaps,
better furnished now than any other country in Europe.
Anderson asserts (1660) that cauliflowers were not known in England
until about the time of the Restoration. And, lastly, the author of the
“State of England,” printed in 1768, remarks that asparagus and
artichokes were only introduced a few years antecedent to that date.
VIII.
DRIED VEGETABLES.
BEANS.
This innocent vegetable, which with us certainly awakens no lugubrious
thoughts, was formerly consecrated to the dead. It was offered in
sacrifices to the infernal gods, and its mysterious virtues evoked by
night, spirits, and shadows.[VIII-1] The Flamen of Jupiter could not eat
it, and he was forbidden to touch a bean, or even to pronounce its
name;[VIII-2] for the fatal plant contains a little black spot, which is
no other than a noxious character--a type of death.[VIII-3]
Pythagoras and his followers carefully avoided this dismal food, in the
fear of submitting a father, sister, or beloved wife to the danger of a
cruel mastication;[VIII-4] for who knew where wandering souls might rest
during the course of their numerous transmigrations.
Grave writers say the cause of this abstinence is, that beans are
difficult of digestion; that they stupify those who make use of them as
food; and that hens who eat them cease to lay eggs.[VIII-5] What more
shall we say? Hippocrates, wise as he certainly was, had some of these
strange fears, and he trembled for his patients when beans were in
blossom.[VIII-6]
In spite of such ridiculous prejudices, this plant had numerous and
enlightened defenders. When green, it was served on tables renowned for
delicacies; and, when fully ripe, it frequently replaced both wheat and
other corn.[VIII-7] One of the festivals of Apollo--the
_Pyanepsia_--owed its origin and pomp to the bean. This vegetable then
obtained preeminence over all that were boiled in the saucepan, and
offered to the God of Day and the Fine Arts.[VIII-8] Is it possible to
imagine a more brilliant rehabilitation?
If we are to believe Isidorus, this plant was the first culinary
vegetable of which man made use;[VIII-9] he was, therefore, bound to
preserve a grateful remembrance of it.
King David did not deem it unworthy of him,[VIII-10] and the Prophet
Ezekiel was commanded to mix it with the different grains of which he
made his bread.[VIII-11]
We possess few certain indications proving the different culinary
combinations to which beans gave rise among the ancients. All we know
is, that they ate them boiled,[VIII-12] perhaps with bacon;
raw,[VIII-13] with salt, we should imagine; or fried[VIII-14] with fat,
butter, or oil.
Two kinds especially attracted the attention of true connoisseurs of
that class of _gourmets_ elect, whose palate is ever testing, and whose
sure taste detects and appreciates shades, of almost imperceptible
tenuity--first, the bean of Egypt, recommended for its rich, nutritious,
and wholesome pulp; this bean was also cultivated in Syria and
Cilicia:[VIII-15] and secondly, the Greek bean, which passed at Rome for
a most delicious dish.[VIII-16] Certain gastronomists, however,
preferred another vegetable of which we are going to speak.