THE MENACE OF MODERN MIXED MENUS
Gluttony and Avoirdupois--Contentment--Fletcherism and Political
Economy
While it is true that "Variety is the spice of life," and that an
appetising variety of plain food is more tempting than a monotony of
the most highly-spiced dishes, every tendency of modern menus is a
menace to health, and the only way to counteract the menace is to be
especially careful in observing the rules of Epicurean Economy.
If the soup is particularly good, there is a temptation to go on and
completely satisfy the appetite on it. It requires the restraint of
civilized suppression to keep from following the example of Oliver
Twist, calling for more and more till the supply or appetite is
exhausted.
Then comes the fish: Who can resist accepting a generous helping
of this course, served in any one of the dozens of styles that are
familiar to the patrons of French restaurants? And how hard it is to
refrain from cleaning up the plate in a hurry so that none of it will
be whisked away by the waiter to make room for course number three.
Nothing has been said of the Hors d'oeuvres of the French menu, or
the Ris Tavel of the Dutch East Indian gorge, or the Smoer Gose of a
Scandinavian "Spread." A fairly ravenous person, given time enough, and
with no one looking, can be counted on to make a "square meal" on these
"appetizers" alone before the soup is announced.
Mention of the "_Roast_," the "_Entrées_," the "_Légumes_," the
"_Dessert_," and a bewildering variety of cheeses to be followed by
fruit, nuts and raisins, with several different wines, cordials,
coffee, and cigars or cigarettes on the side. Even mention of them is
likely to cause psychic indigestion.
If one goes to a restaurant with a quarto, gilt-top appetite, and scans
one of the monster, modern, mixed menus for a suggestion of what he
shall order, he will, undoubtedly, see five or six items that will
appeal to his imagination as "just the thing"; and if the cost is no
special reason for restraint, he will put down on his order list twice
or three times as much as he can possibly eat in order to be as many
kinds of a _fam dool_ as he can be at the moment.
This is not an unreasonable or fantastic illustration of the menace of
a multiple menu and a colossal appetite in convenient conjunction. It
is said that an amorous lover has neither conscience nor discretion.
This may sometimes be the case; but it is always a sure betting
proposition that an opulent, ravenously-hungry person will measure off
with his eager eyes much more than his tummy can possibly hold.
Then follows the inclination of the average human being to "get his
money's worth," even if he "must die for it." This is not alone a human
characteristic exaggerated in sumptuously-civilized communities, but it
is an animal trait as well. If a racehorse is turned out in a field of
clover that stands as high as his neck, he will very likely eat himself
to death. Likewise, if a little child, with the animal characteristics
uppermost, is given a bag of sweets, he will be sure to want to put
himself securely outside of the whole bag-full in the shortest time
possible, so that he will make certain that no one will take it away
from him.
GLUTTONY AND AVOIRDUPOIS
The menace of the munificent menu also leads to the uncomfortable
acquisition of surplus avoirdupois. On some persons it has quite the
opposite effect, however. The writer remembers that it was a tradition
in his college that the thinnest man of a class was always the biggest
glutton. Each year, a prize of a combination knife, fork, and spoon,
was given to the grossest eater of the junior class. Within my memory
the recipient was always a very thin and cadaverous fellow.
As a matter of fact, the hardest work done by the body is performed
within the body. It is the work of digestion, general metabolism, and
the constant and never-ceasing pumping of the blood through hundreds of
miles of veins and arteries. If this work is measured in terms of heat
units thrown off (calories) the internal activity of the body is as two
to three parts of the whole heat energy released into the surrounding
air.
It is quite possible to increase this heat expense by 20 to 50 per
cent. by merely overloading the stomach a little, and crowding the
mechanism of metabolism to its utmost. Sometimes the crowding is
carried so far that the organism cannot stand it; sometimes bursts;
and, there you are--dead.
CONTENTMENT
The supremest felicity is not wanting anything. If one cannot think of
a single thing in the wide, wide world, not even oblivion, that they
would have in addition to what they are enjoying at the moment, their
cup of contentment is full.
In regard to eating, to have Fletcherized a few morsels of the finest
food that anyone's mother ever made, until there is no desire for more,
and yet the contentment is of that calm sort that indicates that there
is no overloading of the stomach, is gastronomic Heaven, and it carries
with it a blanket of general contentment that covers the universe.
On the other hand, to have eaten unwisely, as the result of animal
voracity, over-estimate of capacity, and greed of getting outside of
all that must be paid for, or, in slavish deference to aggressive
hospitality, is Hell from the finish of the meal until the finish of
the "spell of sickness" that may follow the gorge. It were almost
possible to sink into the depths of such gluttony on any one, two or
three of the best dishes possible to imagine; only a modern multiple
mixed menu is liable to bring this degradation, and hence the menace of
it.
Suppose, again, you are framing up a business deal, and have a customer
"on the string." The best way to get at his heart and pocket-book is
through the sociability accompanying a sumptuous meal.
You seek a Princess' Restaurant, a Ritz-Carlton or a Waldorf, and make
a spread of your Epicurean generosity, your bank account, and your
business web or net. If you insist on filling your guests full of
everything, you must set the example. Results: Similar in all cases.
Science is not even secure against the temptation of the monumental
menu. The writer has known the citadel of scientific conservatism
to be captured by five-dollar still-wine and fifty-cent cigars, as
accompaniments of six-course dinner-dreams. This, too, in the interest
of an Epicurean Economy that put all of the academic teachings in the
back-number list, and favored fifty-cent banquets with nary a cigar to
top off the feast.
FLETCHERISM AND POLITICAL ECONOMY
It may be argued that the waste attendant on sumptuous living is the
most prolific means of keeping money in circulation: of putting bread
into the mouth of the servant class: and that Spartan simplicity would
throw the world back two thousand years in the civilized progress it
has made.
That might be true of some forms of sumptuousness, but not as to the
wanton waste of food through the temptations of magnificent menus.
Food is the realest of all forms of wealth. Scarce ever a grain of
wheat or kernel of corn is wasted. The story of the Englishman who
visited Kansas, and from there took home to London a colossal joke
at the expense of corn and Kansas, illustrates the permanence and
indestructibility of food wealth.
Riding through the State, with a native Kansan, an English
globe-trotter wondered at the endless fields of yellow "maize." He
called it maize, but the Kansan called it "corn."
"What in the world do you do with all this maize?" said the mobilized
Cockney. "Oh, that is easy," replied the native: "We eat what we can
and we _can_ what we can't."
In due season this strange answer was interpreted to the visitor and he
determined to can the joke for serving up at his club in London.
Arriving in England, the joker made deliberate preparations to open his
can of Kansas corn to the best effect. He invited a set of chappies to
dine with him and the _pièce de résistance_ was Kansas canned corn.
Having engineered the matter to the right point of curiosity, the host
told the story of his visit to Kansas and finally exploded his _finale_
in this wise: "Do you know, these Americans out in the West are a jolly
lot. They have a dry sort of wit, too. I was travelling in company with
one of them through the State of Kansas, which is the great maize State
of the country. They don't call it maize, however, they call it corn,
and what we call corn they call wheat. Well, I was amazed at the miles
and miles of maize--no pun intended and no apology needed--and asked my
companion whatever in the world they did with it all. And what do you
think he said: He said, 'We eat what we can and the rest we put up in
tins!'"
It took the perpetrator of the joke another week to find out why no
one laughed, and spoiled everything by still waiting for the point
after the real explosion took place: and no international incident is
recorded in the history of that day.
Yes, the really most vital wealth is stored in the food treasuries.
Profusion of it carries down the prices and this raises wages by
comparison. There is always a spot-cash market for food at some price,
which is not the case with many other forms of property.
But the waste of the food material itself is insignificant compared to
the waste of energy that must take place to get rid of it, the moment
it is swallowed and beyond personal responsibility. The transportation
of a carload of wheat by rail from Saskatchewan to the Atlantic
seaboard by rail and across the ocean by steamer is small as compared
with the expense of getting a mouthful of bolted bread through an
alimentary canal that is congested with indigestion.